Suzy Says

Christmas Jessica

Merry Christmas, y’all! Hope you are having a wonderful, festive day!

We had a wonderful, festive evening yesterday, though a much smaller gathering than at Thanksgiving. My brother’s girlfriend Rio was in Portland with her brand-new grandson; Clayton had to stay in the city to finish up a painting job; and Lichen scorned Christmas like an unreformed Grinch, as he had promised.

But Erica and Jessica swept in, bearing a silver platter of incredible truffles: dark chocolate with whipped white chocolate and peppermint filling, adorned with crushed candy cane:

They were so good that I forgot to take a picture until they were nearly gone.

Jonathan arrived with Hamzilla, Turkzilla’s only slightly smaller cousin:

He also brought a keg of our hard cider and a bottle of applejack, made by freeze distilling the hard cider. Jonathan reminded me that Hoho, our wonderful grandfather, used to make it using the plentifully available snow around his house in New York state. I had forgotten about that.

Along with Hamzilla, we had salad with roasted pears and fresh pomegranate, mashed potatoes from the garden, Erica’s refreshing salad of fennel and oranges, and of course, cheese biscuits:

After dinner, we had the traditional reading of “Red Ranger Came Calling”, with Jonathan and Jessica alternating pages:

I think Jessica would make an excellent actress. She is utterly poised and confident, and her reading is so expressive. She packs a lot of showmanship into her reading.

Jonathan had invited a couple of friends, and this posed something of a dilemma to us, since we did not have stockings for them. We had planned to open ours before they arrived, but this plan was foiled by their timing. We feared that we would have to be rude and open ours in front of them, but we procrastinated long enough that they left before we could open the stockings. As they left, they said to Jonathan, “You really undersold this evening!”

A YEAR AGO: A wonderful Christmas

Merry Christmas to us!

And Merry Christmas Eve to everyone else!

I am pleased to say that yesterday’s pouring rain is just so yesterday. Today dawned bright and clear, so we will be able to use the outdoor living room during, and more importantly, after the party, when Megan and I like to sit by the fire and talk about the evening after everyone else has gone home.

I was spectacularly unmotivated yesterday, and it took a while for me to leave the comforts of my cat-strewn bed to start Christmas-related chores. I first went over to my brother’s place with the remains of the Jack Daniel’s left over from Thanksgiving’s cranberries. JD will be using the JD to glaze the Christmas ham, combining it with huckleberries we picked this summer and honey from our bees, then smoking it all day over apple wood from our trees.

Arriving back at the house, I lit the oven and started making pastry for the mincemeat tarts. I was up to my elbows in flour when there was a knock at the door. It was Jennifer, one of my siblings’ land partners, bearing an enormous bag of mandarins:

They were the last of the harvest from her former neighbor’s farm in Grass Valley. They are organic, though not certified so (it’s a huge hassle getting certified). Jennifer also brought a little gift for me and one for the cats: a hand-knit, organic (certified) wool catnip toy*. She is so thoughtful! She went on her way with a hug and a kiss. I love my friends.

While the tarts were baking, I figured I might as well prep the pears for the salad and roast them in the oven after the tarts were done, which I did. And since I already had the cutting board out, why not mince up the shallots and make the dressing?

While I was slicing and dicing, Megan and Rob were retrieving his car from the Big Town and bringing it to our brother’s place for repairs. Good thing they built that mechanic’s pit over there!

Last night, Megan came over and we put the stockings together:

We think we did a creditable job this year. Our brother is getting the large gifts you see under the tree. Someone always gets something extra each year, and this year, it’s his turn. We left a couple of empty boxes out for the cats to sit in.

After the stockings were done, we watched the Sex & the City movies and drank wine until 1:00 am, even though I knew I had to get up and get the house and Self ready for tonight’s party, not to mention making cheese biscuits. It was so fun!

*Audrey went insane with the catnip toy. She came to sit on my lap and was soaking wet from drool, all over her neck and head. Gross! Everything she does is extreme. Clyde, on the other hand, ignored the catnip toy in favor of climbing on Megan’s shoulder and lying there as he does with me. He has never done this before. He purred and slept his way through the movies.

A YEAR AGO: Getting ready!

It’s 6:00 am. Do you know where your Suzy is?

She is sitting in bed with the cats in attendance, a cup of black coffee already drained to its silty lees sitting on the bedside table. The Christmas lights are on and the heater is doing its Sisyphean task in what Wilco calls the bible black pre-dawn.

My plans for sleeping in until it was light out on this day off were foiled not by the cats, as they usually are, but by a loud and mysterious crash. I went downstairs to investigate, and all of the things and stuff for the stocking stuffing remain on the table. The tininess of my house makes investigations like this extremely efficient, and within less than a minute it was pretty obvious that nothing was amiss, other than my being awake.

I am wondering if it wasn’t a miscreant getting into the garbage cans outside, but not enough to go out into the pouring rain and darkness to find out.

Today’s plans include making mincemeat tarts, doing as little housework as I can get away with, bringing my brother some Jack Daniel’s for the ham glaze, and a stocking stuffing party with Megan, for tomorrow we party!

We intended to have StuffFest 2016 last night, but Fate, as it so often did, had other plans.

Megan woke up in the afternoon after the third of her night shifts. She had the last appointment of the day with Dr. Sue, which always means a long wait since all the other delays of the day have snowballed into one big delay. After her appointment, Megan went to buy the last few Christmas dinner and stocking items, and got home around 8:00 pm. Within minutes of arriving home, she learned that Rob’s car had given up the ghost and that he needed a ride home from the Big Town – where she had just come from.

She alerted me that our stocking party was postponed and got back in her car to return from whence she came and then drive home again. Hopefully today will go a little smoother and the stockings will be stuffed and laid by the tree with care, ready for tomorrow.

On Saturday, Megan and I went to pick up Jessica at the Navarro General Store for our long-awaited trip to the Festival of Lights. We got there first, giving us time to admire Santa in his huge (moving!) snow globe:

I enjoyed watching Santa in the seasonably cold weather, though Jessica commented that “It’s not like the Navarro Store is a cultural cornerstone.” This is true. It is also a scary place to boy shop, being almost entirely populated by the dentally challenged and overalls enthusiasts. Megan and I have had many enjoyable games of “I’ll fight you for him” there.

On our way to the Gardens, we decided to put Dad’s ornament on the tree near Dark Gulch:

Here’s a closer look at the ornaments:

Jessica considered carefully where to locate the bird ornament:

I wish Dad had known her. He would have loved her. Here’s the ornament in its new home:

It’s nice to know it’s there. Somehow it makes me feel that Dad is part of Christmas this year.

Arriving at the Gardens, Megan’s parking karma held, as she pulled neatly into the last space available, which was also right out front. This year, there were parking attendants sending dejected cars to the “event parking” far, far away. I imagine that when we left, our spot was filled in about .000003 seconds.

The Gardens are always beautiful, but they are especially magical when they are dressed in holiday lights:

I loved the smoking volcano:

And the ship with a whale:

We stopped to roast marshmallows and warm up a little by the fire:

You will be unsurprised to hear that both my marshmallow toasting and eating techniques left much to be desired. They also left marshmallow in my hair.

When we got home, we had a fun movie extravaganza: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Legally Blonde, and The Devil Wears Prada. Clyde always loves company, and even Audrey was slightly less disdainful than usual. Jessica observed, “Cats are so easy to spoil. And there are no consequences.” This is true, unlike with kids and dogs. At some point in the evening, Audrey was meowing and I asked her what she wanted. Jessica said, “She’s not going to tell you. She’s a cat. And you’re an inferior human. It’s how cats think.”

Later, when I was writing out a shopping list for Megan – we split up the final Christmas shopping this week – Jessica remarked that “Handwriting is the written equivalent of the sound of someone’s voice. Isn’t it cool how we all learn to write the same letters and numbers, but we all do it in our own way?” Yes, and you are the most amazing kid ever.

It was so fun to hang out with her and finally have our sleepover. I hope there are more to come. It’s good to know we’ll be seeing her (and the inimitable Erica) this Saturday, too!

A YEAR AGO: Making Christmas.

Going to the craft fair to admire Lichen’s beautiful work had a sort of reverse domino effect, with me doing things earlier in the week that I would normally have done on that Saturday.

On Thursday, I came home, started chicken broth bubbling on the stove, ready for Friday’s after work cooking fiesta, and then hauled the old white faux tree and its accessories out of the storage loft. I set it up with minimal fuss and shedding. It has not become less Charlie Brown-ish over the years (I showed a photo of it to a co-worker, who pronounced it the saddest tree she had ever seen), but I would like to think we both have a certain vintage charm:

This year, its vintage charm was enhanced with mercury glass bells, which actually ring, mercury glass pinecones, clear glass icicles, and clear plastic snowflakes, as well as a few glittery silver balls. And the new bird ornament, in honor of Dad:

Surprisingly, the cats seem to be uninterested in the tree. They are more interested in sitting on or by the heater or on my lap, all of which are fine with me. Last night, Clyde was sleeping on the heater and snoring peacefully. I find his snore both adorable and hilarious, much like Clyde himself.

I wound colored lights up the driftwood banister:

and added another string of white lights outside, this time in the honeysuckle bush by the back porch, so it’s extra festive outside:

The weather forecast for Christmas Eve, when we will be celebrating, looks hopeful for sitting outside by the fire, so hopefully we can enjoy the extra sparkle. You can never have too much.

On the bookshelves, I have a cute reindeer and a growing collection of Christmas cards:

To top it all off, there is mistletoe from a young admirer hanging over the sliding doors. You never know…

A YEAR AGO: A little staycation.

Our plans to go to the Festival of Lights with Erica and Jessica went awry. It was pouring all day, so we postponed the sparkle to a less rainy day. A rain check!

Later in the afternoon, the rain let up and Megan persuaded me to go with her to the Village for the Candlelight Shopping Night. The Village looked festive and magical in its holiday finery:

Shops stayed open late and were dressed in holiday lights, as well as having flickering candles in Mason jars at their doors, making a chain of winking lights along Main Street.

We picked up two little white, glittery bird ornaments, one to go on my ancient white Christmas tree, and the other to go on the permanent Christmas tree near Dark Gulch. Someone decided to put ornaments on this tree a couple of years ago, and the holiday look is there year round. We thought we’d like to add an ornament to this eternal Christmas tree in honor of our father. A bird ornament seemed just right for an ornithologist. Here’s mine on my vintage tree:

Also I like the idea that we both have one. It makes me feel connected and like we are sharing something.

We also picked up a couple of little things for Jessica’s stocking. And of course, we stopped by the bookstore, where the Great Catsby sat atop the greeting card carousel looking down disdainfully at the throngs who had the temerity to crowd his territory. Don’t even think of petting me, his face said clearly.

No one shared Catsby’s annoyance, though, as the bookstore filled with the sound of carolers singing and booksellers passing homemade cookies and authors signing books. Replete with bookishness and holiday songs, we headed back to the car. As we neared the historic hotel in the middle of town, Megan proposed that we stop in for a drink. Why not? And what could be more festive than a holiday cocktail:

I ordered the raspberry lemon drop martini and Megan got the pomegranate martini. Hers was definitely better, but they were both pretty and delicious. It was so nice to sit at a little table in the window, watching the people go by and the holiday lights shine.

A YEAR AGO: The holiday lights were shining.

The Ancient Trees

Instead of taking the left turn off the bridge which connects Highways 1 and 128, we went right, toward Anderson Valley, where the vines were sleeping their winter sleep and the surrounding hills were just beginning to turn green from their summer gold:

Our first stop was our beloved Libby’s, to pick up our last supper:

In keeping with our frequent Libby’s experience, they were sold out of our favorite al pastor, but at least they weren’t unexpectedly closed. The parking lot was so full that we had to park almost a block away, and the modest dining room was full. We sat at the bar for the last time, waiting for our orders and remembering the many happy times and delightful dinners we had had there:

Libby’s closed forever on December 10, when Libby and her husband started their well-deserved retirement. I’m glad for them, but sad for us.

With our Libby’s delicacies safely stowed, we once again turned our attention to some fun for the girls, who had been patiently waiting in the car. We made our way to Hendy Woods, a grove of old growth redwoods in the Valley. Some of the trees are more than 300 feet tall, and it is estimated that many are 1,000 years old. It has never been logged.

We headed into the woods with the curious dogs. The woods were hushed and mysterious:

There were fields of clover and fountains of ferns under the green canopy. As always when I am in the redwoods, I feel a kind of awe, and also that I would not be surprised to see a dinosaur come lumbering out of the ancient woods. Or some kind of magical creature. The trees’ presence is both peaceful and powerful.

Look up. Way up:

Some of the fallen trees’ trunks look like sculptures:

It was wonderful to walk the quiet trails with the happy dogs. The trail ended at the Navarro River, fringed with weeping willows:

As Megan observed, we are so lucky to live where we can go from the beach to the redwoods to the river, all in one day!

A YEAR AGO: A wild storm and power outages for everyone!

It was a beautiful day in Elk

Here it is this weekend, and I still haven’t written about last weekend!

In my defense, though, I had to stage the giant office Christmas End of Year Celebration and clean it up, along with myriad other meetings and drama. The week ended with a birthday party for my boss and a scary drive home in the stormy late night darkness, but I survived it all!

It is still raining hard this morning, making me feel that we are going to have to cancel or at least postpone our plans for going to the Festival of Lights at the Botanical Gardens, followed by the Candlelight Shopping Night in the Village with Erica and Jessica. It is not good weather for strolling around outside, though it seems to be good weather for Clyde to lounge on my shoulder and impede my typing to the best of his fuzzy ability.

Last weekend was a completely different story, though. It was sunny and beautiful. Megan and I hopped in her little red car along with Star and Stella and headed for the little town of Elk. Our first stop was the ever-delicious Queenie’s:

It had been years since I was there – a search of the dusty archives shows my last visit was three years ago! – so it was long overdue. We sat at a table by the window and ordered. The fact that there were only about 6 other patrons gave us hope that the wait for delicacies would not be as long as usual, but this hope turned out to be in vain. It took about 40 minutes to get our lovely breakfast, prompting Megan to wonder whether they were growing the potatoes.

Still, it was up to the usual high standard when it finally arrived at our table, and, as always, worth the wait. There are worse things than chatting with your sister while waiting for someone else to cook for you, not to mention clean it up afterwards.

Our next stop was the community center, where our dear friend Lichen was showing his beautiful cement casts of leaves. It was a Christmas craft fair, and to my (possibly biased) eye, Lichen’s work really stood out among the gnomes and tree decorations:

He had already sold four of them by the time we got there! Despite the holiday atmosphere, Lichen was as undelighted by the prospect of Christmas as ever, so it’s unlikely that he will show up this year. You never know, though!

At this point, we decided that it was time that the dogs had some fun, having been marooned in the car all day so far. We took them to Greenwood State Beach.

It took us a while to climb down to it (and even longer to climb back up – there may have been some complaining by some of us), but the ocean was spectacular when we got there:

Despite the wind, we didn’t really need our jackets. It was hard to believe it was December! The dogs played happily on the beach while we admired the scenery. Here you see the girls posing on the beach in their cheerful bandannas:

Some of us think it’s an invasive weed, but I think pampas grass is pretty, with its lovely plumes:

I also like dandelions, though, and most people think they’re an invasive weed, too.

After our arduous (to me) trek, we stopped in at the Elk Store for black cherry limeade to refresh us for Part Two of our day, which took us to Anderson Valley, the redwoods, and the river.

A YEAR AGO: Heartbreak.

Random snacks which magically appeared on my desk this week: Tamales (chicken with green (tomatillo) sauce (labeled “Palo Verde”); a little bag of cinnamon graham crackers in the shape of the characters from “Frozen” (do I really want to bite off Elsa’s head?) and some very out of season raspberries and blueberries.

In the misandry department:

At the gas station, a man was messing around with the windshield washing squeegee and making jokes while his annoyed wife or girlfriend put gas in the car. Finally, she grabbed the squeegee from him, snapping, “That’s enough from the penis gallery!”

At the post office, the girl ahead of me in line was shipping a really big box. Thinking it was a Christmas present, I said, “Someone will be happy to get that!” She said, “It’s a break up box. I’m sending him everything he ever gave me, all the love letters, everything. If I’m lucky the girl he was cheating on me with will open it.”

I told her I was proud of her and that it was a brave gesture. Also that guys like that don’t change, so really, she had won. The time will come when that guy cheats on the latest girl too. Liars and cheaters don’t change. Darlene, the postal clerk, chimed in with some war stories of her own. Before we went our separate ways, the shipper gave me a big hug. I hope she is doing OK.

Poor Megan accidentally overbooked herself, and probably wished she could duplicate herself like Homer on “The Simpsons”, though with less disastrous results. Her boss texted Megan to remind her that she was working on Thursday night, and Megan realized that she had agreed to teach a CPR class for our friend Rik at 1:00 on Friday afternoon, barely giving herself enough time for 4 hours of sleep after four 12 hour night shifts in a row.

Rik and his wife Lu, who are both EMTs, have gone to Standing Rock to help out, and Megan took over the CPR classes they were scheduled to teach so they could go. She figured it was her way to help since she couldn’t go.

In the end, the class was rescheduled, so she could collapse into bed with the dogs and get some sleep, but I am always proud of my sister, The Little Megan That Could.

In happier news, Jonathan’s girlfriend Rio became a grandmother for the third time on November 30 when her son’s wife gave birth to Leo at 10:51 am Pacific time. Not so little Leo, who weighed 9 pounds 2 ounces, joins his big brother Henry, who is a little more than 2, like Cindy Lou Who. It will be a merry Christmas in their home!

As is our post Thanksgiving tradition, Megan and I met Kalli and Jarrett at the annual craft fair in the Village.

The Village was packed, with sillier-than-usual visitors meandering all over the roads without looking for cars or even other pedestrians, and there was a theme of poorly trained kids and dogs with their utterly oblivious parents. Every time I encounter either of these breeds, my long-ago decision to keep them firmly out of my house is reaffirmed as being 100% correct, an unusual feeling for someone as decision-challenged as I am.

The crowds in the Arts Center were a little less madding. I loved the tomato sculpture:

And this little mushroom sculpture:

Note how the stem is patterned with little hands.

I loved how this was made simply, with sticks and pinecones, accented with a serendipitous Fall leaf:

It was fun to wander through the rooms of lovely things, admiring the skill of the artists. For a lightly populated area, we certainly have a lot of wonderful artists. I think the beauty of the area both draws them and inspires them.

We parted ways afterwards, with Jarrett and Kalli heading to meet their friends and Megan and I to run a couple of errands and stop by Rio’s place on the way home to repo some turkey. Megan had missed the memo that Jonathan was planning to make the carcass into soup on Saturday, and since she had paid for the turkzilla, she wanted some pre-soup leftovers. It seems that no matter how big a turkey she buys, she somehow never gets the leftovers. This year, she did, though.

Clayton, Rio, and Jonathan were hard at work painting the guest cottage at her estate. Clayton is a professional house painter, and it’s always a pleasure to watch an expert at work. They had a system going, with Clayton applying the paint with a very long handled roller and Rio and Jonathan applying the brushwork. Henry Ford would have been almost as proud of us as he would have been on cider making day, when our assembly line was a model of efficiency.

We headed home with Megan’s hard-won leftovers, Star wedged between our seats looking like a ship’s figurehead. It had been a good day.

A YEAR AGO: Lights in the darkness.

There ended up being a lot of people jammed into my bijou residence for dinner, but I’m pleased to report that the evening didn’t involve stitches, handcuffs, Narcan or the Fire Department. Surveying the wreckage this morning, though, I now understand why they call it Black Friday. And wonder why I bothered cleaning at all yesterday. I probably wonder this every year.

The cats and I are sitting in bed together, procrastinating. It’s all about teamwork, my friends.

The turkey turned out great, despite sort of overflowing from its capacious roasting pan:

I am not convinced that the two day dry brining extravaganza was notably more delicious than my American grandmother’s simpler technique of rubbing the bird with butter, salt, and sage and then throwing it in the oven, but I’m glad I tried the fancy. Certainly the meat was moist, even the next day.

Here you see Jonathan making gravy while Jessica supervises:

The honey and harissa roasted Brussels sprouts with their piquant relish were a hit, even among the sprout agnostics and atheists. They vanished pretty fast, along with the cranberry-bourbon relish.

Erica and Jessica brought an exquisite version of Tarte Antoinette with them:

I think this is the fourth version of this delight: last year’s original, then the Bûche de Noël version, then the Junapalooza tartlet version, and now something that looks like a sheet cake, but is actually a pie. Sheet pie! Note that it is decorated with rose geranium leaves, which smelled divine, and sprinkles for festivity and cuteness. You can never have too much.

Jonathan brought tarts he made from huckleberries picked last summer. They tasted like a summer day:

I took a stealth photo of Jessica in her lovely thrift store dress:

Now that she is grown-up sized, I feel weird about making her pose in front of other people. She noted that it is a relief now that she can buy grown up clothes, since clothes designers seem to feel that kids have no taste.

Jarrett and Kalli joined us. It had been too long since we saw them, and it was great to catch up. They brought the irrepressible Archimedes with them, the artist formerly known as the World’s Cutest Puppy, on the fourth anniversary of his adoption.

The cats were not impressed with this canine visitor. Clyde hid in the studio, his desire for petting and admiration for the crowd warring with his dog terror, and Audrey sat on the stairs, gazing at everyone, but especially Archi, with utter disdain and disgust. It’s how she rolls.

Lichen was missing, on this, his birthday evening, but you know how he is about his birthday in particular and the holidays in general. We missed him, but we did have Clayton with us, our intrepid partner in cider making, who had ridden up here on his motorcycle from San Francisco on Thanksgiving Day. I love it that we are seeing him more often these days.

Jonathan expertly tapped the keg of our home-made cider, and we, the cider makers, toasted each other, the orchard, and the day we made that dream come true. I will always remember that day as a particularly special one.

Because everyone is always welcome at these celebrations (or any time, really – my door is literally open), some of my brother’s ham radio buddies joined us, bearing an odd selection of jumbo-sized gifts: a huge jar of marinated artichokes; a jug of cheap red wine; and a chocolate cheesecake the size of a wagon wheel, which has cornered the market on the valuable real estate in my refrigerator.

The rain held off so that the outdoor living room could be used, and after the guests left, Megan and I sat by the fire, drinking Cointreau and discussing the party. As Jessica sighed happily that evening looking around her with a plate of food on her lap, “I love my life!”

A YEAR AGO: It was T-Day eve. And things were not going according to plan.

Ready to Go

I was planning to sleep in until it was light(ish) outside on this T-Day, but the ever-willful Audrey had other ideas, as she often does. She woke me up at 4:30 to start my doorman duties. I tried to go back to sleep, but at 5:00 am I gave up, got up, and made coffee. Since I was up anyway, I texted Megan, who was still at work, to wish her a happy Thanksgiving and she responded “Calling cops to ER! Yeah! Happy Thanksgiving!” so I guess I should not complain about wayward cats.

It’s just as well that the Audrometer went off as early as it did, though, because it’s about 1:00 pm now and I have finally had time to sit down after running around all day. As usual, I have no idea when people will show up or who will be here, but the house and I are as ready as we’re going to be. For some reason, this year I was finally able to let go of worrying about how the house looks and accept Megan’s always sage advice that the visitors are coming to see me, not the house.

I had the bright idea of dragging the wicker chairs from outside and putting them in front of the heater to dry off from the nearly 13 inches of rain we have received season to date (versus last year’s 3.5 at this time). I cleaned up a bit outside and collected cushions and blankets for those who will brave the chill to sit by the outside fireplace.

I was listening to Curtis Mayfield and working on the dressing when my brother appeared with a bucket of ice, in which he embedded the keg containing the cider we made from our apples. Then he headed home to make tarts from huckleberries he picked during the summer, while I finished off the dressing prep, scrubbed the potatoes we grew and put them in a pot, and prepped for this recipe for honey and harissa roasted Brussels sprouts with lemon relish.

Much like a couple of years ago, I experienced some turkey trauma this year. I was foiled in my attempt to try the splaying technique allowing for braised turkey legs with caramelized onions, though I carried through with the dry brining attempt. The recipe said to roast the bird at 450 degrees for half an hour, but after about 15 minutes it was alarmingly brown. I covered it with foil and managed to jam it back in the oven, though it pretty much touches the top of the oven. I turned it down dramatically and am currently hoping for the best.

After that, I preened and am wearing pearls and a Murano glass necklace bought in Venice ~mumble~ years ago. It goes perfectly with my pink blouse. I’m hoping that the rain holds off and that I will have time to put my unusually elegantly shod feet up and read about Victorian murderesses before the company arrives.

Moon Set Morning

This spectacular sky greeted me as I arrived at work one morning last week. I stopped to take a picture as I marveled at its beauty. On Monday, the super moon had been so huge and close to the ocean that there was a shining pathway of light across the rippling waters. I kept being distracted by the breathtaking sight and sneaking peeks as much as I could as I drove to work.

I wish now that I had stopped to take a photo of it, much as I wish I had taken one of the double rainbow over the ocean on my mother’s birthday a couple of years ago. It has finally occurred to me that one really does regret things one hasn’t done much more than those one has done. So I think my new year’s resolution is going to be to stop and take photos when I see something amazing, and to try and have fewer regrets about things left undone.

My resolution of spending more time with friends and family has been pretty successful. My sister texted me to meet her at Ledford House after work on a Friday night, and even though we arrived after the sun had set so we couldn’t enjoy the view, we did enjoy kirs (local champagne dashed with framboise liqueur and a twist of lemon) and hanging out. We did some Thanksgiving and Christmas plotting, and laughed at memories of Christmases past, including the one where Megan had to stitch me up at home, leaving me with a rakish scar. Hopefully this year will be a little less eventful.

A YEAR AGO: Enjoying Benedict Cumberbatch’s amazing Hamlet.

It was a dark and stormy Halloween, but we did not let that deter us from the determined hunt for candy.

Jessica was dressed as Hel, the Norse goddess of the dishonorable dead:

Apparently the Norse afterlife is extremely complicated, with miscellaneous gods and goddesses in charge of various afterworlds. Jessica’s make-up, created by her ever-crafty mother, was suitably complex:

It was made of latex and items from Erica’s toolbox of make-up. Pretty impressive!

Our first stop on our All Hallows Mystery Tour was the Village. Jessica really wanted to go there, even though Megan expressed her doubts that much would be happening there, given the inclement weather, our late start, and light population of potential candy dispensers, but Jessica’s childhood nostalgia won out.

As Megan had predicted, there were few houses with occupants willing to give out treats, even those with lights on which turned out to be duds. After my umbrella turned inside out and my lower half got soaked, I repaired to the car to wait it out, leaving the braver souls to battle the elements. I later learned that Megan had predicted my ignominious retreat to Erica. When I said that she knows me well, she responded that she has been managing me for 45 years.

Eventually, even the intrepid duo admitted defeat, and we made our way damply to the Big Town, where we hit the candy jackpot. Look at this haul:

We also hit the decorating jackpot. Many of the houses had gone all out, with little graveyards, eyes blinking from the bushes, as well as more traditional themes. I loved these happy pumpkins:

And this walkway:

It seems Martha Stewart may have a little pied-à-terre here:

As always, I was amused at Jessica’s authoritative police style knock. It consists of five or six firm raps, often with a crescendo. I’m sure the people on the other side of the door wonder what they have done and expect someone to roar, “Open up! Police!”, only to find a svelte young girl standing daintily on their doorstep. The Police Knock is rendered even more delightful by the courtesy chaser. Once Jessica has successfully scored her swag, she thanks the donor warmly and wishes him or her a happy Halloween in a cheerful chirp.

When we could barely carry Jessica’s giant bag of candy, we made our way to the Haunted Hall of Horrors. After a long wait in the rain, we were welcomed by the infamous Madame LaLaurie*, since the theme was haunted New Orleans. The sets were just magnificent. Two of my coworkers were actors in the show, and they told me that they spend 6 weeks preparing the sets.

We wended our way through various rooms, encountering voodoo priestess Madame Laveau, going through bayous with moving bridges (where I was squirted with water by a swamp monster), through disorienting strobe lights, and a cemetery with ghouls rising from coffins. Jessica and I ran out of the door squealing, only to be greeted by someone with a chainsaw who chased us down the alley. Just when you think you’re safe…

Megan had again correctly predicted that I would scream within five minutes of going in, and I later learned that while Jessica and I were running and squeaking, Megan was calmly walking through it, observing everything with a detached eye. I guess it’s not surprising that the person who is unafraid of real life blood and guts and having actual brains in her hair is unperturbed by fake gore.

It was a great Halloween. I hope this is the beginning of a new tradition!

*Played by none other than Cinderella Wallace from our cemetery tour. She is a friend of one of my coworkers, so I was able to tell her how much we enjoyed both of her performances.

A YEAR AGO: A foggy Halloween without Jessica. Halloween is much better with Jessica!

South Coast View

During a break between storms, Megan and I once again wended our way to the south coast. Coming around a corner, we found the view above to be so lovely that we stopped to take a picture. As we got back in the car, Megan observed that it looked like something out of “The Hobbit”, especially as we drove through a wind-snarled tunnel of witchy trees, bending to meet over the road. Not for the first time, I thought that I wouldn’t be surprised if a mythical creature emerged from the tulgy wood.

Arriving in Point Arena, we headed straight for Franny’s Cup & Saucer, as any right-thinking person would. Usually our forays to Point Arena are on Sundays, when Franny is resting up from her culinary endeavors, so we were happy to be there on a day when we could indulge in deliciousness and cuteness. It seems that ballets are scheduled for Sunday and plays for Saturday, though not on the same week.

Besides being a place where you can (and should) buy exquisite confections:

Franny’s is also a place where you can (and should) buy things of great cuteness:

for stocking stuffers, or just because, always the best reason for doing anything. Franny’s is where I bought the sparkly skull ring which I valiantly put in Erica’s Christmas stocking a couple of years ago, and picked up a couple of things for the Fab Girls’ stockings this year.

We also got mini vegetarian pizzas for lunch and decadent chocolate, raspberry and pistachio confections for later.

With a little time before the play began, we went to the garden and pet supply emporium across the street, where we discovered one of Dr. Karen’s vet techs at her Saturday job, along with her adorable dog Rex. It was so nice to catch up with her while shopping for food and treats for our bosses, and a welcome surprise.

The play itself, The Deep Blue Sea, was not my favorite, though the acting was good and I liked the set. The story is set in post WWII London and concerns a very neurotic woman who is married to one man while living with another who is total jerk. I couldn’t understand why she would put up with the boyfriend. I have never had a high tolerance for people who indulge their neuroses and self-destructive behavior, so I just wanted to smack the leading lady and order her to wake up and smell the coffee.

Still, it was interesting, and I am glad that we have access to the National Theater of London out here in the middle of nowhere.

After the play, we decided to go to Libby’s in Anderson Valley to pick up dinner, much like Ben figuring that if he was in Albuquerque, he might as well hit Hooterville. We were extra motivated to go to Libby’s, since we recently received the tragic news that Libby’s is closing forever on December 10. No more al pastor for us! We seriously discussed asking Libby for her recipe now that she is closing the restaurant, and whether we could get 20 orders and freeze them in the body freezer over at Jonathan’s place. These are important matters.

Unfortunately, the culinary gods were once again scowling on us, and Libby’s was defiantly closed at a time when it should have been open. We were not the only ones to drive happily into the restaurant parking lot and dejectedly out again. We added two hours to our drive time home, but it was a beautiful drive through the Valley, with the grape vines flaunting their fall foliage in gold, crimson, and ochre. The hills are already changing from summer gold to winter green, with all the early season rainfall we’ve been getting. All in all, a fun outing, if not an entirely successful one. No matter what, I always have a good time with my sister.

A YEAR AGO: Sigh.

Megan and I headed for the beautiful south coast in her little red car on a rainy Sunday morning.

The ocean was showing off, as it does when stormy weather is afoot, and a few valiant Naked Ladies flaunted their spiky pink blossoms by the roadside. Orange nasturtiums climbed ruined wooden fences, and bright California poppies starred the rolling hills, still summer golden.

We made our usual pilgrimage to Anchor Bay Thai Kitchen:

and picked up dinner to go. Later I would discover that it was not up to the usual high standard, including shocking oversights like no dressing on the cucumber salad or peanuts in the Massaman curry. I emailed the restaurant and the owner apologized, saying that she was out of town for a couple of days so the kitchen was in less experienced hands. She also refunded the cost of dinner, which I thought was a generous gesture. I hope I didn’t get anyone in trouble, but I thought she should know. I’m sure next time it will be as wonderful as usual.

Our arrival at the theater was perfectly timed, since we were taking our seats in the balcony just as Katerina Novikova started her introduction to the ballet, “The Golden Age”. Katerina gives explanations and interviews in Russian, French, and English for broadcasts of the Bolshoi Ballet, and it must be a tough job. It appears that she is not reading from a TelePrompter, which makes it all the more impressive. She looked particularly lovely in a bronze satin gown.

The ballet is set in the 1920s, and somehow the costumes managed to convey the flapper look:

The costumes were quite magnificent, multi textured and dramatic. The story is about a young fisherman who falls in love with a beautiful dancer at the cabaret called The Golden Age. The dancer is a friend, or possibly more, of a gangster who owns the club. Drama ensues amid the stunning sets, with the dancing set to music by Shostakovich.

During the intermission, Katerina interviewed the lead ballerina, who was dancing this wonderful role on her birthday. She seemed surprised that Katerina knew this and wished her happy birthday. I enjoy the interviews during the intermission and seeing the dancers practice, warm up, and kid around with each other. It’s endearing to see them acting like kids when in full make-up and costume. We also got a behind-the-scenes look at the costume making, which is so intricate and beautiful. And yet it has to be strong enough to stand up to the strenuous performances.

Before we knew it, the magic was over and the cast was taking their bows, with arms full of red roses. Back in reality, we headed for home. About halfway there, we had to pull over under some wind-gnarled trees to wait for the storm’s fury to abate, since it was like driving through a waterfall, and even with the windshield wipers on high, we could barely see the road.

Eventually the rain slowed down enough to let us get on our way, talking about how much we enjoyed the ballet and how lucky we are to have access to world-class ballet. We are looking forward to the rest of the season.

A YEAR AGO: The Food Fairy stopped by with an armload of gardeny goodness.

I saw a dream come true.

Years ago, my siblings scratched and clawed an epic 80 foot by 80 garden out of the pygmy and the scrub. The next year, they added an orchard, bringing the whole thing up to a palatial 13,000 square feet.

The orchard includes peaches, which is how you make the world’s most expensive peach pie, plums, cherries, Asian pears, and many different kinds of apples, which is how you make the world’s most expensive cider.

After years of pruning and care, the trees finally produced enough apples to be ciderized. There was some debate about when to pick them. Too early, and there wouldn’t be enough sugar. Too late, and they’d be falling off the trees and/or breaking branches because of the weight of the fruit. Eventually, the day came, and crates and crates were picked by hand.

Then our good friend Clayton came up with his trusty, theft-proofed van, which was loaded up with freshly-picked apples:

and driven over to Rio’s new estate, which she could not have bought at a better time. Not only did it provide mountain lion free lodging for Clayton, it also provided the perfect venue for cider making.

We took over the studio building with the car port, setting up tables with cutting boards and knives off to the side, and the press itself in the place of honor in the middle.

We had a tub of water just outside. First you wash the apples in the water, then put them in buckets to bring them to the chopping block:

It was sort of gourmet apple filling!

There the apples were chopped in half and put in bowls:

eventually being tipped into the wooden hopper of the cider press and milled by hand:

As a storm gathered its strength and started howling outside the carport, Jonathan observed that even if the power went out, no electricity was required, since every step of the process was done by hand, even wheeling the pomace to the compost pile:

After the bucket was full of crushed apple, a wooden lid was fitted into it and it was pressed down to extract the rest of the juice:

It took all day, but we pressed nearly 40 gallons. It was nice to think that we were doing it the same way it had been done for hundreds of years.

Jonathan saw it as a tribute to our English ancestry, since cider is such a tradition in our father’s homeland. I often used to drink cider with him at the pub with his old dog Jesse sleeping peacefully at our feet.

When we planted the orchard, we hoped that one day we would be able to make our own cider from our own apples, and that dream came true on a stormy Saturday, with all of us together, celebrating the past, the present, and the future, all together.

A YEAR AGO: Our good friend Paul was here. And I got up close and personal with my buddy, the Moon.

It’s 9:00 am. Do you know where your Suzy is?

She is lounging in bed with coffee, cats, and the sun streaming through the skylight.

You may be wondering how this is possible in the middle of the week. My boss gave me the rest of the week off, and after working a 14 hour day yesterday, I was thrilled to wake up when it was actually daylight out and just take it easy instead of getting up 8 hours after I got home (in the dark) and heading back to work (in the dark).

Later, after reading my fan mail, I headed to beautiful downtown Hooterville, where I discovered that my mailbox was overflowing with fashion magazines and voting materials*, making me wonder how long it had been since I ventured to the post office. I stopped in at the Gro, got a hello shoulder hug from the owner, Doug, and a freshly baked croissant. When I got home, I put the croissant in the oven to heat up while I started scrambled eggs Dad style. You finely chop some bell pepper and onions and saute them in butter. When they are softened, whisk together eggs with a half shell of milk and some salt and pepper. Add a little more butter to the pan, then pour in the eggs and scramble. It is a magically delicious breakfast, especially when served with a warm croissant with five days of freedom ahead of you.

Tomorrow, I’m planning to head north to the Drive Thru Tree. I’ll take storied Highway One beside the mighty Pacific until it meets 101. After driving thru the Chandelier Tree, I will head to Trinidad. Not that Trinidad! This one is one of the smallest and oldest cities in California. It’s supposed to have nice beaches and a little lighthouse.

Mostly I just wanted to get away for an overnight trip that wasn’t too much of a hassle or too much driving but would be fun. It appears that I am now priced out of San Francisco and even Santa Rosa. My original plan was to stay in Santa Rosa and make a foray to Bodega Bay on a Hitchcock pilgrimage, but hotels were $200 a night. So I decided to head north instead of south.

Stay tuned for postcards from the road!

*All those propositions break my brain. They are not the kind of propositions I enjoy. However, my strong-minded American grandmother impressed on me how important it is for women to vote, and I have never missed voting in an election since I came of age, even when I had to vote absentee. I still wish all that reading was more amusing, though.