Suzy Says

The vertigo is fading, though it still rears its ugly head when I lay down my pretty one, and reminds me that it’s still around when I sit up in the morning. I am in line for a referral to a physiotherapist, who is supposed to do some kind of desensitization therapy which I hope will get rid of the vertigo for good (which would definitely be good). A friend of a friend is also casting a spell for me. Whatever works.

Maybe it’s the “it will take you longer to recover because of your age” remark from the doc (who is at least 15 years older than I am), but I keep worrying that this is the beginning of the long, slow decline into old age, even though I’m not that old and I have always been pretty healthy. Maybe I took it for granted all these years. I promise to appreciate it more if the vertigo goes away forever. I swear!

While I was languishing in dizzy world, my sibs were busily canning the garden produce, and I came home one day to find that either the Food Fairy had stopped by, or Santa was doing a trial run*. There were jars of tomato sauce, relish, and salsa verde:

So in the depths of winter, we can open a jar and taste summer again.

*I may not have a chimney, but I do have a wide variety of unlocked doors for the jolly old elf to choose from. Assuming Luna and Lupe (or Audrey) don’t chase him away.

A YEAR AGO: Rejoicing over the Giants’ third World Series win in 5 years. Next year, boys. Next year.

NASA worthy contraption. Doesn’t everyone have one?

What better way to celebrate my 6th anniversary of moving to Hooterville than a BBQ with my family and our old friend Paul?

We have known Paul since the long ago Pier 39 days, when he, Megan, and Jonathan all lived on boats there. Now he lives in Florida in the winter, where he hosted me a few years back, and in the Hamptons in the summer, where he caters for the rich and (in)famous and refuses to give me any celebrity dish, no matter how many times I ask him. He claims the stars don’t talk to the help, but I remain convinced that he’s holding out on me.

Fortunately for us, he also caters to the poor and unknown, and he and Megan pulled up at our brother’s place with bags full of food. Jonathan had the wood going in the Weber – no charcoal briquettes for us – and Tenacious D blasting. Paul set to work cutting up chickens and marinating them in soy sauce, Dijon, brown sugar and vinegar:

Before moving on to slicing up sweet potatoes and zucchini, which he dusted with a magical blend of spices before putting them on the BBQ.

It had been a while since Paul visited us, so the Waltons-sized picnic table my brother built was new to him, and I reminded him that the slab of quarter-sawn white oak he was using for a cutting board (seen in the photo above) was the piece Jonathan cut out to accommodate the sink on the slab of wood he installed as a counter top in the kitchen of my San Francisco apartment many years ago.

Paul was on a road trip with his 90 year old father and much younger uncle. They had driven from Florida on a magical mystery tour of meeting various relatives, some of whom Paul had never met before and his father hadn’t seen in decades. We were a brief stop between San Francisco (where Paul’s Dad and uncle stayed while Paul came up here) and Seattle, where they are headed next. Paul says they will all stop by on their way back to San Francisco, and will hopefully stay for a couple of days.

While dinner was slowly cooking over the BBQ, we admired the NASA sized telescope which a fellow ham radio aficionado had given to my brother:

For free. The reflective lens needed cleaning, which Jonathan did, very carefully, and other than that, the whole contraption, which dates back to the 1950s or so, is in perfect working order. He aimed it at the moon, and I was completely unprepared for what I saw when I peeked through the lens. I could see every crater, dip, and mountain on the moon! The shadowy side was ridged with mountains, not at all smooth, the way it appears from a distance. I could practically see the flag planted up there. It was amazing.

Dinner was also amazing, and it was great to sit by the fire after a long day, eating and talking with some of my favorite people in the world. I’m glad Paul is coming back soon and we’ll have more time together.

A YEAR AGO: Cats vs. birds. And a sad farewell.

I ended a tough week on a high note: meeting a friend for dinner after a mere 10 hour day. I was afraid I’d be late, but I was only 15 minutes late. We hugged hello, and then I ordered a medicinal margarita, doing my little bit to help with the Stage Three water shortage in the Big Town by not ordering water.

Most of the Big Town’s water supply comes from a river, which has been awash in ocean water for the past couple of weeks due to the Supermoon and super high tides, making it undrinkable. That, and the seemingly endless epic drought plaguing all of California led the City Council to issue an edict banning the use of glasses, silverware, and china dishes in restaurants in the Big Town. This order was drastic enough to make the “Washington Post” take notice, way across the country where they have many other things to worry about, like next year’s election, and set off controversy in our little corner of the world (What about the trees? It takes tons of water to make plastic! The visitors will freak out!).

So my libation arrived in a paper cup, but was no less delicious for that, and our adobada arrived on paper plates and was eaten with plastic cutlery, but no less delicious for that. It actually felt like we were at an inside picnic and made it more fun.

Partly because of the margarita and partly because of the long and tiring week I’d had, I had reserved a room at a hotel about two blocks away. I know the owner and he gave me a great deal, and I was glad I didn’t have to face the long, dark drive to Hooterville.

Instead, I popped a “Gilmore Girls” disc into the DVD player, applied a face mask and eye treatment, and popped open a bottle of wine for a mini spa evening. I used every single pillow on the bed to lean against in luxuriousness, and I slept well that night.

In the morning, I had coffee overlooking the working harbor:

and then ran a few errands, since I was already in the Big Town, and it was nice not having to squeeze them in before or after work. As I drove home, I felt like I had accomplished a lot, and that’s always a nice feeling.

A YEAR AGO: Living in limbo is not fun.

Megan and I hopped in her little red car and headed over to Lichen’s place on the magical South Coast.

It was a postcard day, without a cloud in the sky, the ocean impossibly blue with waves crashing against the wild, rocky coastline with its dark, windswept trees. After a short and pretty drive, we arrived at Camp Lichen, where Marley was joined by a pretty, stripy cat named Mouser:

who is visiting indefinitely while his owner is off doing other things, much like the Lovely Rita and me so many years ago.

When Lichen isn’t creating beautiful landscapes at other people’s houses (and his own) or training wayward pets or cutting people’s hair (the ostensible reason for the visit was a haircut for Megan), he is making leaves out of cement:

Sometimes they’re painted and sometime they’re not, but either way, they make amazing art, whether in the garden or inside the house. He is so talented.

Megan perched on a wooden stool on the deck overlooking the garden and the ocean:

while Lichen cut her hair. Megan inherited Mom’s glossy, thick, wavy hair, and Lichen actually has to thin it out. Mom never lost her hair, even with years of chemo and radiation. She just got regular density hair, and it never really went grey, either.

After the haircut, we finally got a look at the kitchen:

You may remember that when Lichen moved in last winter, there was no kitchen and his landlords kindly allowed him to design one from Ikea and had it installed. I was worried that it would look too dark, but it looks great, though my photo is a little glare-y due to the sun being so sunny that day. You know how it is.

Before we left, Lichen loaded us up with pumpkins. If the Great Pumpkin really is looking for the most sincere pumpkin patch, I know where he’ll be on Halloween:

We set off homewards with hugs and waves. We are so lucky to have such great friends.

A YEAR AGO: Another visit to the South Coast. Must be the time of the season.

Well, the week started out with a bang that made me whimper.

When my boss arrived on Monday, she flooded my desk with a tsunami of hand-written paper, all of which had to be typed up or made into charts:

While I was still assessing the damage and estimating the girl hours to get it done, she asked me to come into her office and close the door.

I immediately felt like I was being called to the principal’s office, and started mentally going through the things I could have done, followed by the things I could have been caught doing, and pretty much came up blank, since all I ever do is work.

My boss then told me that she is retiring at the end of the year, aka two months from now. An internal person has agreed to take the job, and she does not have an assistant, so I’m assuming I still have a job. But it will be different, and I kind of feel like I’ve had enough new jobs and bosses over the past few months. I tried not to take it personally that she’s leaving six months after I arrived. Maybe it will be a good thing. I will almost certainly be typing fewer hand-written pieces of paper.

Later, as I sat at my desk packaging up the remains of my boss’ lunch for her to take home to her dogs (a literal doggie bag!), I thought of how weird my job is, and that was before I got the call from the woman in Hawaii who is looking to adopt and would like us to give her a heads up if any patients tell us they would like to give up their child.

When I got home, I found deconstructed bird all over the lovely living room carpet:

Deconstructed birds are much more delightful in high end restaurants than on my floor. It was the perfect end to the perfect nine and a half hour day. After I vacuumed, I had a dose or two of Vitamin V, which always improves my outlook.

A YEAR AGO: Things were even worse. I lost my job, which I still miss every single day. And the jobette was in mortal peril. I still miss the jobette every single day, too.

Saturday was my last day of working at the jobette. For real-real, as Jessica used to say in her long-ago youth. They have hired someone to work from Tuesday through Saturday, so they will only need me on Saturdays to fill in for her if she has to work an event or something.

I walked slowly through the familiar shop after I turned out the lights, and turned the sign to “Closed”, feeling a little sad. It was just a summer job, but it kept me connected to my former work family and the visitors. I guess it’s always hard to say goodbye.

Fortunately, my brother and sister decided to have an impromptu BBQ that evening for no particular reason, so I headed over there after I went home and changed out of my work clothes and corralled the kitties.

Our good friend Lichen was there:

Here’s a view of the canopy Rob picked up at the mall. You can see some of the Waltons-sized picnic table my brother built out of redwood a couple of years ago:

In case you’re wondering who the mystery dog is in the picture, it’s Marley. Marley is at Camp Lichen for a few days, learning valuable lessons like how not to whine his ass off when temporarily left in the car by his owner. Lichen is an excellent dog trainer, being both gentle and intolerant of nonsense.

Jonathan grilled up a simple dinner of sausages, and I thought that it won’t be long until he is manning the ‘cue for the traditional Christmas ham. This year the equally traditional split pea soup will be made of beans from the garden. I have heard rumors that I should resurrect making parsnip vichyssoise for Christmas Eve from the garden’s parsnips. And that there are plans afoot to make hard cider from all those apples.

Later, the moon rose over the garden:

I suck at taking moon pictures, y’all. Even though the moon and I are pretty close after the mystical experience we shared a couple of years ago, I have never been able to take a good photo of her. Maybe she needs to start considering selfies and stop letting Kim Kardashian have all the fun.

A YEAR AGO: Bugs and fairies. You know, the usual.

It seems strange that I had more to write about when spending more time at home in Hooterville than I do now I’m out in the world five or six days a week. It’s probably because I’m spending that time immured in work in my office, and who wants to read about that? Work has severely decreased my reading time as well, and I am at an all-time low for books read this year. Even someone as math-challenged as I am can figure out that + work = – fun.

It was a preview of coming attractions this morning. I left early to fit in some grocery shopping before work, and it was both dark and foggy, rendering high beams useless. The fog throws the light back at the car instead of lighting the dark road, so you have to drive along in an anemic puddle of light, hoping that a deer doesn’t suddenly loom up in the road. When it comes to hitting deer (and falling in the water when he, Megan, and Rob lived on boats at Pier 39 in San Francisco), my brother says there’s only two kinds of people: them that has, and them that will. I’m hoping to stay in the latter category as long as possible.

The familiar Ridge, which I have driven so many times, becomes a scary and unknown place in the dark, a likely setting for a horror novel, and speeds which seem moderate or even slow in daylight hours seem extremely speedy when deprived of daylight. There are no streetlights at all on the Ridge or on storied Highway One, so it’s like driving blind. Indeed, I am often blinded by traffic heading the other way. I squint more when driving in the dark than I ever do in the bright California sun, blasted by the headlights of oncoming traffic. The anemic puddle of light is pretty much my only option, since most traffic is heading south in the morning (also mysterious, since they are heading away from the Big Town, where the jobs are), and I’d just be turning the high beams on and off every five seconds.

Pretty soon, I will be driving in the dark both ways, especially after the twice-yearly madness of the time change. It has taken me a while to realize that the entire purpose of the time change is to make sure that you have to get up in the dark for 9 or 10 months of the year. As soon as there is a glimmer of hope in the pre-dawn hours, it is cruelly snatched away by the Powers That Be. I find it mysterious that we have not risen up and rebelled, especially since most of us have to rise when it’s still dark out, which just adds insult to injury. It’s still going to get dark sooner than most people would prefer, but that’s the time when you curl up with your cats and a book or a hockey game, maybe a glass of wine, and enjoy the comforts of home. It’s cozy. And it’s Nature! Deal with it!

/Rant

A YEAR AGO: My bathroom remodel is almost finished. Brought to me by Rob, using all found and reclaimed materials.

Megan and I caught up with our good friend Lu before she and her boyfriend Rik took off for Central America for three weeks. Rik and Lu are both EMTs, and most years, they go on a mission of mercy to Honduras to provide medical care to villagers living in rural areas with no doctors or hospitals. This year, they decided to take a vacation instead, though they will also look in on their patients, make sure the ambulance is still running, and check on supplies. I am in awe of their courage and commitment.

We met up at the bookstore, which has a stunning view:

And its own resident cat, the Great Catsby, who was resting up from the exhaustion of dealing with his adoring public (not seen in the picture: a sparkly fuchsia mouse tucked next to his magnificent fur, like a teddy bear for cats):

Lu ordered some books, which will await her return, and I made a mental note of some small gifts for Jessica’s Christmas stocking. I know it seems early, but it’s already September, so the festive season starting with the County Fair (in a couple of weeks), then Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas, has already begun. The Naked Ladies flaunting their pink loveliness by the side of the road tell me that fall has arrived.

We peeked into the pub through its heavy velvet door draperies, and discovered that it was too crowded for us to have dinner, as we expected, so we went to our usual spot, where we scored a table by an open window and admired the artwork on display:

It looks like something Rob would make.

The play was “The Normal Heart”, a moving piece about the early days of HIV/AIDS, when no-one knew what it was, what caused it, how it was spread, and it basically seemed like a huge and sudden plague. Living in San Francisco, I remember this all too well and the many we lost. This lovely remembrance blackboard was in the lobby, and the audience was invited to add their own lost loved ones:

The lobby also boasts a tiny, yet surprisingly well-stocked bar, and a creative bartender who creates a signature drink for each production. This one was Pride Punch: vodka and triple sec shaken with ice, poured into a glass, and then cranberry juice poured slowly over a spoon until the drink blushes:

I said, “Come for the drinks, stay for the play,” and the bartender said that there are many people who do come there just for the drinks. I stored this valuable information away for future reference.

A YEAR AGO: Little Miss Lupe, my workout partner, came into my life. Also the MacBook I’m merrily typing away on. Sometimes it seems like September really is the new year, just like when you’re a kid.

Driving down the Ridge one morning this week, I saw a young deer dash across the road. It looked like the car may have hit the deer. I stopped, thinking of the “Never Just One” theory, and although another deer didn’t appear, a dog did. He went to investigate in the bushes where the deer was last seen. I joined him, and could find no sign of the deer, so the car must just have clipped the little guy. At least he wasn’t too injured to run away. The driver, who had parked his car on the road too, was very relieved to hear that the deer was in running condition. It was funny, though, because he himself looked more like the kind of guy who would hunt a deer rather than worry about one, wearing a trucker’s hat and plaid shirt.

We both got back in our cars and went on our deerless ways, but I couldn’t help thinking about the deer and how afraid I am of hitting one, or a cyclist, and how much likelier this scenario would be as the mornings and evenings got darker earlier. With the long hours I’m working these days, I’m kind of dreading the darkness driving as fall and winter approach.

A YEAR AGO: Apparently I am never too injured to shop. Or have a spa day.

I had my filling replaced last week. It was about as unpleasant as you’d expect, though the old silver (really more grey or black looking) filling has been replaced by an almost invisible tooth colored one. With all the strides in medical and dental technology, you’d think they would have found a way to decrease or do away with the high pitched noises and make-up destroying water sprays, but apparently not. I still kind of wish they could just knock you out, like they do for dogs undergoing any kind of dental procedure*. Ignorance (or least unconsciousness) can be bliss.

At least the freezing wore off in time for me to join some friends for a glass or two of local wine at a soiree at a historic inn, which just happens to be on my way home. Of course, it also happened to be the only day this week that I wasn’t marooned behind several slow-moving cars, so I was almost regretful as I turned off the beautifully empty highway.

The regret wore off as I was warmly greeted by my friends, who were standing near the Audubon-certified golf course. It’s nice to know that something as man-made and man-centric as a golf course can still be respectful of the wildlife in the area. And there can’t be too many ocean-view golf courses. The Inn itself hosted James Dean when he was here filming “East of Eden” and horrifying the current inn owner’s grandfather with his shocking language, t-shirts, and putting his booted feet on the bar.

*We also keep people alive way longer and in more horrible circumstances than we do our pets. Not sure exactly what to make of this.

A YEAR AGO: A door to door tree delivery. Yes, you read that right. A tree.

The year has tipped over into dark mornings already. The boys wait impatiently for 6:15 or even 6:30 am, whenever their Staff considers it light enough to open the doors – Miss Audrey, of course, is exempt from any and every rule – and scamper off into the early morning, looking for trouble to get into.

And the year has tipped over from constant weeding and watering in the garden on the family property to preserving and canning. I wonder if every year my sibs think they have overdone the planting once they start with the weeding and the canning. Even if they do, it never seems to stop them.

Last weekend, they made relish from the tons of cucumbers, as well as onions and garlic they grew. And they made jam from the relentlessly productive strawberries. They just keep putting out more and more fruit. I stopped by on my way home after work that day to find my hard-working sibs enjoying adult beverages after a long, hot day of canning.

Speaking of finding: Rob had found a canopy at the dump mall, which needed some repairs but was, as Jacques Pepin would say, perfectly fine. It kept the sun off as they labored over the outdoor propane burners and pressure cooker. I love it that Rob is always finding things he can fix at the mall.

It was nice to sit under the canopy with my family and talk about the present (canning), the past (summers in Maine), and the future (Jonathan’s upcoming 50th birthday). I reminded myself that I should take more time to be with them, though it’s hard when you work six days a week. Still, I’m always glad when I do it.

Finally arriving home, I discovered a pot of home-made blackberry jam on my kitchen table:

Citlali had stopped by and left it as thanks for borrowing milk and eggs over the past week or so. I feel so lucky to have such great neighbors and friends. And it’s fun to never know what you might find when you come home. Maybe a Bowflex! Maybe some jam! Maybe a bunny! Who knows?

A YEAR AGO: Ah, the vagaries of country interwebs.

I came home from a long day at work (is there any other kind?) to find that the Bowflex fairy had stopped by my house:

The BF had thoughtfully adorned the machine with a sparkly purple bow, so you know who it was: Erica, who knows my love of all things sparkly. I was delighted by its arrival and sorry that I had missed the Dynamic Duo and their fabulousness. They were unable to attend Kalli’s annual birthday party in July, so it’s been far too long since I have seen them. I must remedy this soon. Look how gorgeous they are:

Erica also provided a manual, so Megan and I are going to help each other figure it out. We can Bowflex on Sundays, which will change things up from my working week routine of using the treadmill while watching “Bewitched” with Mark’s dog Lupe:

Everyone needs a workout buddy.

A YEAR AGO: Back home from a trip to the City.

I’m not sure if the overcast skies over the last few days are because of fog or the wildfires raging in the next county:

The last I heard, there were 50,000 acres burning. Highways, including the one I took to Reno a couple of years ago, are closed, and thousands have been evacuated. It reminded me of the terrible wildfires my brother fought so bravely and so long a few years back, when the smoke veiled the Bay Area hundreds of miles away.

Megan is working as a medic at the Reggae on the River festival up in Piercy with our dear friends Lu and Rik, and there are wildfires there as well. She texted me that there had been hundreds of dry lightning strikes, which is what caused the massive fires here years ago. The drought has made every Californian’s dread of fire that much worse, and our wonderful Governor, Jerry Brown, has had to declare a state of emergency in the Golden State.

I hope the firefighters stay safe and that containment comes soon.

A YEAR AGO: A trip to Oakland.

Kalli’s birthday camping party has become an annual tradition, and a delightful one, too.

Kalli, Jarrett, and an entourage of their many friends convened at the family property on a recent Saturday. Megan and I were a little concerned about the head count of 30 or more, but we needn’t have worried. They arrived with a keg of beer and coolers full of food. Jonathan made 10 pounds of pulled pork, and I made a more modest quantity of chicken filling for the evening’s taco dinner.

We were lucky to have any chicken filling at all. I got up early on Saturday, did a few loads of laundry, and set the chicken to cook in the slow cooker. A couple of hours later, I went to check on it and discovered that it was ice cold. As in, the chicken was still frozen. I tried unplugging the slow cooker and plugging it back in again – pretty much the limits of my expertise with any form of technology – and it still didn’t work.

I took the whole thing, chicken and all, over my brother’s place. We put the chicken into our friend Lu’s crockpot, which she had lent to him a couple of weeks earlier, and I took it back to my place while Jonathan dismantled mine. Spoiler alert: the heating element had met an untimely demise, taking the rest of the slow cooker with it. So much for that. The good news is that I managed to get the chicken filling done on time.

Meanwhile, tents were merrily growing in the garden:

And the tents’ occupants were playing beer pong. They soon discovered that the drinking part of the game didn’t work so well in the pygmy puff dust, so it became more of a game of skill while drinking the beer in your hand.

We had some visiting dogs, including a darling little spotted brother and sister rescued from under a house a couple of months earlier. Lucky, the sister, was a little unsure about all the unknown people and found a safe spot:

I’m not usually one for small dogs, but they were so cute and really warmed up to the attention as the party went on. Another of Jarrett’s friends had recently traded in a problematic girlfriend for the adorable Atticus:

Definitely an upgrade.

Kalli thoughtfully provided Party Survival Kits:

These included provisions like Band-Aids, sunscreen, a toothbrush, condoms, gum, disinfectant wipes, and other things you might need when camping in the middle of nowhere with some of your best friends.

We had a great BBQ despite the near kitchen emergency, and in the morning Jarrett made bacon, eggs, and home fries on the outdoor gas stove (if you can call it that – it’s two rings hooked up to a small tank of propane, last seen in Erica’s al fresco samosa frying at Junapalooza). Then the visitors set off home, with more happy memories and plans for next year.

A YEAR AGO: The joys of faux pho. And the sadness of memory.

Above you see a rare photo of the Mysterious Mr. Roscoe in his native habitat. Unlike his little brother Clyde (I think of Roscoe as being the big brother even though they are litter mates and the exact same age), Roscoe tends to go out and stay out all day, unless the weather isn’t up to his high standards. You know how native Californians are.

So I often don’t see him when I’m home, which makes it all the more surprising that I was an observer of his superhero antics yesterday. He came around the corner into the kitchen, leapt gracefully onto the kitchen counter, snatched a mouse from behind (or possibly on top of) the microwave, and then jumped onto the floor, mouse in mouth, and vanished into the woods.

All this happened much faster than the time it took me to write it or you to read it, and there was no time for me to intervene in the mouse’s interests (sorry, mouse!). The casualness and the athleticism were equally impressive.

Makes me wonder what else I miss when I’m not home.

Last Friday, I left work early, went home, and lured all the kitties into the house with treats and dinner. Then I turned lights on inside and out* and headed for the beautiful South Coast.

Even though it was an overcast day and the Pacific was living up to its name with millpond flatness, the South Coast was as beautiful as always. There’s something magical about it to me, though I can’t explain why. It seems wilder somehow and the drive prettier than the northbound one I do nearly every day. Maybe it’s because I don’t drive it as often that it seems more special.

I headed to Anchor Bay for delicious Thai food. I was pleased to note that the restaurant was full at the Floridian hour of 5:30. I ordered sparkling fresh spring rolls, which arrived with a sweet, yet spicy dipping sauce, and an order of Panang curry, which is scented with kaffir lime leaves, Thai basil, and peanut sauce. There was enough left for me to take home with me for dinner another night.

Wednesday and I turned around and went back the way we came. After a couple of curvy miles, I heard a fire engine screaming, and I began to look for places to pull over, not an easy task on narrow and winding Highway One. Eventually, I located someone’s driveway and cowered by the mailbox as the fire truck raced by.

The fire truck may have raced by, but traffic soon ground to a halt, reminding me of the mysterious episode on the Ridge the afternoon before (I still don’t know what happened, and no-one else does, either). I began to worry that I would miss the movie in Point Arena as I turned the car off, though I tried to comfort myself that there would be endless, horrible ads** before the movie.

After several minutes, cars started to move again, and I came across the cause of the pause. A truck had blasted into a fence on the southbound side of the road (though facing north), and a car had smashed into the hill on the other side of the road, also facing north. It was completely crumpled. Things seem to have been a lot more eventful on the roads lately than usual in our little corner of the world.

I made it to the lovely theater in time for Love & Mercy, a new film about the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson. Brian has had a fascinating and sometimes tragic life, and the film chose to focus on two different facets of it: when the Beach Boys were tremendously successful but Brian wanted to try new things musically, and later, when he had a nervous breakdown and fell into the thrall of the evil Eugene Landy, who overmedicated him and cut him off from his family. Brian was played by Paul Dano in his young incarnation and John Cusack in the older one, and both actors did a fine job, though Cusack looks nothing like Wilson. It’s flawed, but worth looking for if you can find it – the film has not been widely released, despite buzz for Dano as a possible Oscar candidate.

I’m pleased to report that the drive home was uneventful. I went to sleep with Wilson’s divine harmonies dancing in my head and the cats cuddled up beside me.

*Sorry, ecology! But it was after 10 pm and totally dark by the time I got home, summer or no summer.

**How right I was. There was a lengthy and embarrassing ad for a new Meryl Streep movie, and another for some animated movie which was so bad that it ruined “More Than a Feeling” for me, the song blasting in the background during the visual torture of the trailer. And I love that song!

A YEAR AGO: Kalli’s birthday camping party was in full swing.

I was both surprised and delighted by the gentle rain that started falling in the early afternoon on Thursday. It was still raining when I drove home, and I made a point of driving more slowly than usual, remembering that the first rain after a long drought makes the roads extra slippery. And they are already extra curvy. The summer tourist traffic helped in this effort, and I reminded myself to be thankful that the visitors kept me driving below the speed limit.

Traffic slowed dramatically as I approached the sharp curve leading to a state beach, and I thought that perhaps the time had finally come that I could take a picture of my favorite view on the coast, even though it would be in the rain. But I couldn’t get my phone out in time, and soon learned that the cause of the slowdown was a car accident. Two cars heading in opposite directions had ended up in the southbound lane (the side I was on). It must have happened recently, since there were no flares or emergency services on scene. We just drove carefully around the crashed cars.

I thought the excitement was over, but I was wrong. Along about my friend Jim’s road, traffic on the Ridge was crawling along as far as my eye could see:

I passed a blue PG&E truck at the next road, which made me worry that the power was out. I texted Megan, but she was in the Big Town hanging out with Lu, so she had no idea what was going on in Hooterville. As I crept along the Ridge at less than 5 miles an hour, I wondered if I would be able to get home at all, or if I’d have to turn around and head over to my friend Erin’s place again, especially when traffic ground to a halt.

Just as I was about to turn the car off, it started inching along again. Arriving at the road where our friend lives whose skills and heavy machinery made the garden at the family property possible, I saw two Highway Patrol trucks, and let a third one turn off to join them. They all had their lights flashing, but I couldn’t see any crashed or stopped cars, or any sign of anything other than the CHP trucks themselves.

For some mysterious reason, traffic eased up after that, and the rest of the way home was uneventful. The power was on, the garden and its resident frogs were overjoyed about the rain, and the cats were napping. All was right with the world.

A YEAR AGO: Of cats and carpentry.

A red and white striped tent appeared in the park in the Village, and that could only mean one thing: Flynn Creek Circus was in town!

They are a small, local circus which has begun to tour internationally and garner the acclaim they deserve for their amazing aerial acts.

Megan and I snapped up tickets for the Fourth of July show. We perched on elaborate cast iron benches which wouldn’t have looked out of place at a Victorian garden party, and prepared to enjoy the show. The circus kicked off with a glamorous girl walking, dancing, and even jumping across the tightrope in heels, making her my personal hero:

Later, she switched to pointe shoes, but the heels amazed me the most. She was followed by “a unicycle built for two”, which was a couple doing acrobatics on a unicycle, including his sweeping her off her feet and onto his shoulders mid-ride, and, incredibly, jumping rope while on a unicycle. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it.

Even more unbelievable was the act that followed. This guy balanced a board on top of a cylinder, and then stood on that, and added another layer of cylinders and board, and then another. And then he stood on his hands on top of it all:

I was completely amazed and enraptured, along with the rest of the audience. The show concluded with two kids doing aerial silks. Megan works with one of the kids’ mother, and apparently this kid is still in high school and is only allowed to do circus work if he keeps his grades up at school. As far as I can see, he is doing great at both. It was impressive to see the skill, focus, and grace of all of the artistes. Once again, I feel so lucky to live in an area with so many talented people who share their art and vision with us all.

Back at Megan’s house, we made a stir fry for dinner. Everything in it, other than the noodles and shrimp, came from the garden over at the family property, and Megan also picked 15 pounds of peas for us to take to work and share with our co-workers. There are still peas left! And the orchard is teeming with ripening fruit: apples, pears, plums, and peaches. It’s summer!

A YEAR AGO: Come along on my drive to the Big Town! It’ll be fun!

Jerry Seinfeld gets his car back from the valet, and something is amiss.

Jerry: Boy, do you smell something?
Elaine: Do I smell something? What am I, hard of smelling? Of course I smell something.
Jerry: What is it?
Elaine: I think it’s B.O.!
Jerry: What?
Elaine: It’s B.O. The valet must have had B.O.
Jerry: It can’t be. Nobody has B.O. like this.
Elaine: Jerry. It’s B.O.
Jerry: But the whole car smells.
Elaine: So?
Jerry: So when somebody has B.O., the “O” usually stays with the “B”. Once the “B” leaves, the “O” goes with it.

— Seinfeld, “The Smelly Car”

I may have solved the Mystery of the Cat at Midnight, without any help from Nancy Drew (though I still envy her blue convertible and general efficiency). It seems that Roscoe may in fact have been amusing himself with a late bird behind the box of my late father’s letters.

Working all the time has not improved my general domestic disability, but the strange smell that made its odoriferous appearance lately was above and beyond my lack of housekeeping skills. I pulled out the couch, but there was only a crop of unscented dust bunnies back there. I virtuously vacuumed them up and replaced the couch. The smell was still there, so I kept hunting. Oh Nancy, where art thou?

My house is small, and basically one room, so the places to look in this game of stink hide and seek were limited. Eventually, I thought to remove the box of letters, revealing a very dead Steller’s Jay. I swept the deceased onto a dustpan and removed it to the woods, but even though the “B” was gone, the “O” remained, and it seemed that the removal made the O worse.

I mopped the entire area under the stairs with Clorox and water, which I had previously believed had omnipotent cleaning powers. But it was powerless against the O. As Jerry said, “This is not just an odor – you need a priest to get rid of this thing! It’s a presence! It’s The Beast!” I borrowed Nature’s Miracle from my sister, thinking that if it gets rid of skunk smell, it can get rid of dead bird smell, but The Beast just laughed at it and turned up the stink. I applied more Clorox and prayed. Rob came by and applied Pine Sol, crawling around under the stairs with a sponge which went straight into the trash, but the cure was temporary. At this point, I have to hope it fades with time, or move. Any cleaning or exorcism tips gratefully accepted.

A YEAR AGO: Birthdays and anniversaries. Unscented.

Megan and I pass each other in our cars most days. One of us is on her way to work, and the other one is on her way home. I always look for her, much as I used to listen for her coming home at night when she lived with me as a teenager, and it always makes me happy to see her and exchange waves. Even in the brief time I see her, I have some idea of how her night shift went. If we meet up closer to town, she left late, and if her windows are open all the way, she’s tired and the cool air is helping to keep her alert on the long drive home.

On Friday, I was delighted by the sight of a fawn so young that she still had her spots. So Bambi! She was in the company of another young deer, and as I waited for them to cross the highway – they had chosen a deeply curved area with a 15 mph speed limit – Megan came around the curve just in time to see them and be delighted in turn. I enjoyed sharing that special moment with her, even in passing, though as she observed later, we both hoped they found a better place to hang out than the highway.

We decided that we had to stop meeting like this, so we took Saturday off from chores and work and everything else, even (gasp!) dog walking, and headed to the Big Town for a plant sale. We brought along treats for the nursery owner’s dog, Rusty, who expects such things from us. Rusty had just had a bath and was super soft and fluffy, as well as super appreciative of the treats.

We enjoyed browsing the real flowers and the faux ones:

If I could afford it, I’d have a grove of these faux ones. No drought guilt, and they are fabulous!

I bought a few plants for home and one for my office, which is slowly undergoing a beautification project. On our way home, we stopped off in the Village, which was packed with visitors. I swear this has been the busiest summer for tourists since I moved here.

Traffic was heavy in the oceanfront bookstore, exhausting Catsby, the bookstore cat, who napped on one of the many cushioned window seats after an overdose of attention:

It was fun to browse, even though cat petting was out of the question, and I even picked up a couple of early stocking stuffers for Jessica which were too cute to resist and made me feel efficient, an unaccustomed, yet delightful emotion.

Arriving back at Megan’s house, we made nachos and watched GirlTV™. It was a lovely end to a lovely day.

A YEAR AGO: Coincidentally, I was at the very same bookstore!