Suzy Says

Before I tell you about the county fair, I have an announcement to make: it’s raining! It started yesterday evening and I rushed to put the hanging plants out so we could all enjoy the welcome, effort-free watering. I was thrilled to find half an inch of rain in the rain gauge this morning (imagine its surprise) and the usual leak puddling on the kitchen floor. As I write, it’s still raining and the garden and I are sighing with happiness. The kitties, not so much.

Roscoe has gone back to bed, as he often does in weather which is not up to his standards. Audrey is sitting on the front porch glaring at the rain, and Clyde is sitting on the back porch, watching it like it’s a movie.

As for the fair, Megan and I ventured to the beautiful Valley on a Sunday afternoon, the last day of the festivities. It was foggy on the coast, but sunny in the Valley, where the giant apple (does it have a name? Andy Apple sounds good to me) greeted us:

Inside the fairgrounds, we passed the Ferris Wheel, which always reminds me of Henry and Fern in “Charlotte’s Web”, and also of my horror when I actually tried it out a few years ago:

We met up with Jessica, who scampered off to go on the rides with hr friends, and Erica, who was our fearless guide to the fabric and fiber building. Inside, someone was demonstrating the correct way to shear a sheep, and Erica’s gossamer shawl had taken every prize known to fairdom:

including grand champion, first place, division champion…you get the picture. I imagine her fellow contestants heartily wish her back in Portland when fair time rolls around.

She spun, dyed, designed and crocheted (or possibly knitted) this wonderfully webby creation herself. Even Charlotte would be impressed:

and no photo can do it justice. I did try, though.

Jessica had a couple of her haikus prominently posted in the window of another building:

I love how she mixed mythology with Addams family aesthetics.

Jessica was excited to show us the “snack size sheep”, but alas, they had packed up and gone home. We soon learned that the major drawback of going to the fair on Sunday afternoon is that the 4-H kids had packed up their bunnies and fancy fowl and things like that, as well as most of the animals, which are kind of my favorite part. There’s always next year…

We stopped by the agricultural building to admire the biggest pumpkins:

The biggest one was 700 pounds!

Jessica posed by the array of apples:

I remarked wistfully to Jessica that she wouldn’t want to meet up with us at the fair much longer (this was the first year she had gone off to the rides with her friends, and she is 11 and a half now), and she said cheerfully, “The hormones haven’t kicked in yet!” Then she added, “Maybe I’ll be like you and never grow up.”

I hope so.

It’s certainly been a good year for plays. Friday marked the third play I attended this year, and the second one based on a beloved film. Last time, it was The Breakfast Club, produced and acted in by teenagers, and this time, it was The Graduate, produced and acted in by grown-ups. They were both wonderful.

Before the play, Megan and I met up with Lu at Frankie’s in the Village, where we sat outside to enjoy our chicken pesto piadines (basically a big salad inside a flap of flatbread, and impossible to eat daintily, at least by me) and a bottle of local, organic wine:

It was from Yorkville Cellars, where I stopped in to drop off some jobette-related materials but didn’t drink the wine, even though I wanted to, and which, it turns out is delicious.

We had a lovely time messily eating our salad sandwiches and catching up on each other’s lives, though it was strange to be there without any dogs. Frankie’s owner has her own rescued pit bull, and welcomes dogs of all kinds on the patio of the restaurant. One of the things I love about this county is how dog-friendly it is.

After dinner, we made our way to the theater, which was lit up festively:

We picked up our tickets at the box office, and settled into our seats. The play was directed by one of the dancers from the burlesque show I enjoyed last year, and speaking of dancers, Lu’s niece played the stripper in “The Graduate”, doing a wonderful job with wit and style. She is part of the same burlesque troupe as the play’s director, and is also a fire dancer and belly dancer, so you can imagine that the girl has moves!

The cast was all great, especially Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson, who followed the tradition started by Kathleen Turner of courageous full nudity on stage. The drama and comedy of the film were beautifully captured, and of course the soundtrack is fabulous. It was a wonderful evening with two of my favorite girls.

Happy Labor Day, y’all! I am celebrating by doing as little as possible, whereas for my hard-working sibs, it’s business as usual. There are no holidays for emergency services*.

I did get back to work at the jobette on Saturday, though. I was careful of my back, and let my co-workers know that hauling around 30 pound boxes of visitor guides is out of the question for at least a week. While I was couch bound, I was touched by all the sweet and caring emails from my colleagues. My favorite was the one which read simply, “Drugs help.”

It seemed like a pretty long day, and I wondered if drugs, in addition to helping, stay in your system for a while. Though I hadn’t taken any in more than 24 hours, I still felt more out of it than usual.

When I finally got home from the jobette, I was greeted by Luna as usual, but also by a miniature Luna. I dropped my things on the driveway in surprise, wondering if it was the drugs, but it turned out to be a puppy! Mark had adopted a sweet little girl named Lupe:

Needless to say, I wasted no time in picking up Lupe and cuddling her, which I have done every time I have seen her since, despite the very scented flea collar she sports. It smells a lot like Old Spice, combining the snuggly, wiggly puppy experience with Old Guy fragrance.

She is super happy and adorable. Luna seems to enjoy teaching Lupe how to be a patrol dog, and I’m glad to know there will be two sentinels keeping the monsters at bay as Lupe grows up. She does need to learn about the cat flap, though:

*On the bright side, we can finally have Christmas on Christmas Day this year, since it falls on a Thursday. Yay!

Today I felt improved enough to venture a couple of miles down the Ridge to look for a new (to me) doorknob for the other door in the bathroom. You may recall that after buying the new door and accessories, it became painfully obvious that the cheapo knob on the cheapo hollow core door would have to go.

My back did not enjoy jouncing down the dirt driveway or the dirt road leading to my neighbor’s place:

I ignored it, though, and looked through boxes of vintage doorknobs and faceplates before narrowing it down to three finalists, and finally the winner:

I knew I wouldn’t find a match, but I did find one in the same kind of tone and with a taper, so I think they will work well together. The new knob got the Rob seal of approval, too. Currently we are planning to paint the now blue door shiny black, which should look great with the black and white floor tiles. I think Rob is also going to paint the bathroom white after mudding in the wall next to the new door. It’s going to look great.

When I got back home, I put on the heating pad and then applied Glam Glow’s Thirsty Mud mask and Bright Mud eye treatment while enjoying the soap operatic antics on Nashville. The best line of the season has to be Juliette Barnes saying, “I guess nice just ain’t my color.”

Did you ever see that movie Final Destination? The flick that spawned a million sequels? In the first (and only one I’ve seen), a bunch of kids are boarding a plane for a school trip when one of them has a premonition that the plane is going to crash. He and some friends leave the plane, and kaboom!

Our friend the Reaper is not to be shaken off so lightly, so the rest of the movie entails the ever more ridiculous demises of the escapees, the point being that you can’t escape Fate, or the Reaper, depending on how you look it.

A couple of weeks ago, I arrived at the jobette to discover that the internet was out, meaning that we also had no phone, so the boss closed up for the day (Snow day! California style!). I was going to San Francisco the next day, so I just took that day off, too, since the entire Big Town was cut off from the world*. I won’t exactly say that I was thinking, “Haha! I’m on my way to unlimited internet!” all the way to the City, but it did occur to me that for once having crappy and expensive satellite internet paid off, since it was unaffected by the destruction of the fiber optic cable that cut off the Big Town from civilization.

However, while staying at the modest motel in San Francisco which is my home away from home, the internet was out for a day and a night as the motel managers upgraded the system. Anyone who has ever had anything upgraded knows that “upgrade” is code for “chaos”. Eventually, it was back up and running, though not notably improved, being slower than it was before it was improved. At least it worked.

A couple of days after I got back from the city, the crappy and expensive satellite internet experienced technical difficulties requiring the personal attention of a technician. The first appointment was four days later. While waiting for the appointment, I used my phone to check email, but other than that, I was web-free. Other than cobwebs, that is.

The day before the technician was due to appear, they called to tell me that the technician’s truck had broken down and he would come the next day. I later learned from the technician that his truck hadn’t broken down, and this was a frequent lie/excuse when the satellite company overbooked his services. Once they even told a customer that he had broken his leg, which made it a little embarrassing when he turned up without a cast on. This guy covers most of northern California and drives about 400 miles a day. I don’t know how he does it.

He made sure that everything was in working order before he left, since it would be three to four weeks until he could return if something turned out to be wrong. So far, so good.

*I later learned that many cell phones didn’t work, as well as ATMs and food stamp cards, for two or three days.

Sleeping Clyde

It was a good trip to the City. The drive home…not so much.

Along about Novato, the traffic slowed to an ooze, sometimes giving up on oozing to just sit there in the baking heat. I had the Blue Jays game on the stereo through my iPhone and the air conditioning blasting. It seems that Novato is the new Santa Rosa, where the traffic used to grind to a halt before they widened the highway there.

Later, I passed a CHP car with lights flashing, and a lot of broken glass by the side of the road, but otherwise no sign of a car accident. There were lighted signs on the highway telling me to conserve water* (though how, exactly, I was supposed to do this while in the car, I don’t know), but nothing warning me of delays of more than hour or incredibly slow traffic.

I finally got home close to 6:30, and Megan came by to pick up her pizza and help me unload the car, not necessarily in that order. She was amused when I told her that the counter guy at Victor’s – who is now used to my extreme take-out ways – told me that people from LA take Victor’s pizza home with them, too. So maybe I’m not that extreme after all.

The kitties were definitely happy to see me, and I was happy to see them. Also making me happy were: eating pizza while watching the final season of The Killing; sleeping in my own bed with the clean, country air pouring in the balcony door; kitties sleeping with me; waking up to the birds singing and a sunny Saturday.

It’s good to be home.

*There were billboards in San Francisco suggesting that we stop washing our cars to conserve water, so I drove my dusty, dirty car with pride on the hilly streets.

I’m pleased to announce that the floor is done in the bathroom:

So much nicer than lime green plywood! Here’s what it looked like in progress:

Rob did it bit by bit, partly because the tiles are not self stick and needed some kind of goop to be applied and then set for a day or two before being walked on, and partly so I was still able to use the bathroom while the floor was being worked on. When I couldn’t use the sink (the stage above), I realized that other than the bathroom, I only have one mirror in the house (upstairs on the side of the armoire/cat perch), a shocking oversight on the part of the frivolous and vain.

Still on the to do list:

• Install the extractor fan to help minimize dampness. Mark has allegedly ordered it, and even when it does arrive, wiring and switches are involved, so it won’t be quick.
• Take out the current towel rods and install the glass one with copper ends which Rob rescued and renovated.
• Repair the medicine cabinet. Ironically, this was the catalyst for the bathroom project and remains undone. The existing one had the mirror/cover hinges screwed into plastic, and surprise! They broke. It now hangs by a thread and at a dejected angle. Rob is thinking of expanding it and making it work with his Robness, but again this will not be a quick fix. I bet it will be cool when it’s done, though.

Rob thinks the whole room should be repainted (or painted at all, since it’s apparently just primer on there now), but I can’t say the project fills me with enthusiasm.

What I am enthusiastic about is the new door. Rob and I went to visit our neighbor who sold us the screen door for the sleeping loft’s balcony (for which I am thankful more than half of the year) to find one for the bathroom.

We wanted one that was narrower than the existing door, so it could actually clear the shower pan when opened, and had glass panes to let in light. We found one that was a little narrower (24 inches wide) than we wanted (though still wider than Megan and Rob’s front door, a mere 18 inches), but really beautiful:

The door needed accessories, like hinges and a beautiful vintage doorknob set:

I may well be a doorknob, because the door and its accoutrements were far and away the most expensive items at about $200 total (the tiles cost $6 total, and the light fixtures and towel rods were free other than refurbishing supplies), and also totally unnecessary. I could have just kept the door I had, but it makes the bathroom really dark, even in the summer. Let there be light, I say.

As soon as Rob and I got back to my house, we looked at the other bathroom door, with its cheap, shiny knob, and Rob said, “That’s gotta go.” I agreed, thinking of the many other lovely sets at the neighbor’s place. I could get one that’s less expensive, right? That’s what always happens: you fix one thing, and everything else looks terrible. Good thing the labor costs are so low!

Back when I lived in San Francisco, I wrote a post about my walk home from work. It was a beautiful walk through a beautiful city. Sometimes I still miss living there, but it’s more like I can’t believe I ever lived there than wanting to live there now. Even if I did, I’m priced out of the market: the average one bedroom apartment rents for $3,500 a month. And you can pay up to $50,000. A month.

I thought it might be fun for you to come along with me on my long drive to the Big Town. So settle back into Wednesday’s lovely leather seats, pray that no lights appear on the dashboard, get ready for some tunes, and let’s go!

Yes, the dirt/gravel driveway is in horrible shape, and you can feel the wheels cringe as you bounce and jolt your way down it. On the bright side, there is currently a tree covered with a cloud of white flowers arching over it in a splendidly bowery manner.

The Ridge is slightly better, especially once you pass the firehouse and get to the part that was paved in honor of Jim and Joel’s wedding last summer. Coming around a curve, the trees part, and you have a panoramic view of the Pacific. I never get tired of this reveal, and it’s where I try to gauge the weather for the day: white caps heralding storms, how far out to sea the fog is, etc. Sometimes you’ll see a migrating whale or a fishing boat. In any season and in all weathers, it’s always beautiful and always changing:

On your left is a field with happy cows and horses grazing peacefully among the elegant barn buildings. Yes, a barn can be elegant! At sunset, the field is suffused with pink. Across the street is beautiful downtown Hooterville, home of the post office, hardware store, and the Gro, its beating heart.

When you reach Highway 1, you turn left to go to the city and right to go to the Big Town. You cross the iconic Hooterville bridge:

the first of many – and pass a field of llamas across from a fancy inn, over a hill and you’re at Dark Gulch, where the trees provide eternal shade. You follow the curves past a resort and reach one of my favorite parts of the drive: a steep curve bordered by tall eucalyptus trees, which create a magical golden light when it’s sunny. There’s a peek of ocean beyond.

More curves and you pass the lovely cemetery with its walk to the ocean – not a bad place to spend eternity. Then the little town with the deli and inn (celebrating 75 years this year) with the bar which Megan and I enjoy so much. Around another curve is a beach beloved by kayakers and divers. Coming home, the descent to that beach is my absolutely favorite view, and on the way to work, I keep peeking at the view in the rearview mirror.

The highway more or less straightens out after that. You pass a beautiful Victorian house, now draped with wisteria, across from another field bordering the ocean, and soon you’ll get your first sight of the Village, perched dramatically on a long rocky finger jutting into the ocean. It looks like a postcard:

You arrive at the first traffic light of the drive, the last one before you arrive in the Big Town, home of the jobette, the Safeway, DMV, and other necessary but non-scenic places. I often think of it as the Ellsworth to the Village’s Bar Harbor.

On the way home, I often pass the Cal Trans prisoner work crews heading back to prison. I always wave at them, even though it’s not very likely they can see me behind the barred windows. But I’m thankful for their work clearing brush and other wildfire dangers from the sides of the highway, and I think it’s a great idea to give the prisoners a meaningful job to do as well as getting them outside for a few hours. Win-win as far as I’m concerned.

And there you have it! Maybe it’s a little long, but it’s a lot better than gridlocked traffic on a freeway. As a visiting writer for the Village Voice put it, “If I had guts, I would move to Mendocino County, California…During the summer, tourists flock to the wineries and the town serves as a popular seaside retreat. When winter arrives, it feels as empty as an abandoned fishing village off the coast of Newfoundland. It takes guts to survive, but the lifestyle payoff is enormous.”

I couldn’t agree more.

I just adore a bookstore view*

Amazingly for someone who has been reading since the age of three, I had never attended a reading** at a bookstore before this week. It was at the lovely bookstore in the village:

which not only boasts the view you see above, but has a resident cat, Catsby, and a staff who adore Miss Stella (unlike Catsby). They served nibbles and local wine as we joined the standing room only crowd in the back room, usually devoted to children’s books.

The lecture was given by Lloyd Kahn, an expert on tiny and alternative homes. Interestingly, he actually published his first book on this subject more than forty years ago, but it is now becoming a hot topic, partly because of people’s desire for “green” living, and – I’m guessing – partly because of the challenging economic times.

There was a slideshow with various small homes, ranging from gypsy caravans to converted school buses and collapsible homes that can be carried on a pick up truck. They ranged from the very basic to the very fancy (radiant heated floors and granite counter tops). It was fascinating to see how creative people are, and we learned that if you are going to live in a very small space, it’s important to have the windows at eye level to avoid feeling claustrophobic. Curved ceilings (though not as curved as mine) also help with this. We’ll have to keep all this in mind if/when we build over at the family property.

On our way back to the car, we noticed that several buildings in the Village were wrapped with felting:

And even quilts:

I later learned that this is called “yarnbombing” and is a form of graffiti or street art, in that it’s not a permanent art installation. This installation was done with the permission of the businesses involved, but often installations are not, and those are considered guerilla art. These particular pieces are mostly hand woven and hand dyed, as well as hand knitted or felted. Truly amazing! You just never know what you’ll find in this little corner of the world.

*Imagine Eva Gabor in “Green Acres” saying this.

**Due to my work schedule, I was unable to attend the reading by Damien Echols at the Ferry Building in San Francisco last night. He is the author of the one of the most moving and amazing books I have ever read, Life After Death, and was wrongly sentenced to death at the age of 18, spending nearly 20 years on Death Row before finally being freed.

Woke up to yet another Wednesday power outage. At least it wasn’t in the middle of the night. What’s up with these out of season power outages? Maybe there’s a quota to fill, and since we hardly had any over the winter, now’s the time?

You’re probably wondering how the bathroom fix up is coming along. Anyone who has been through any kind of renovation or watched even a couple of hours of HGTV will not be surprised hear that it can be summed up in a word: slowly.

It’s partly because of the general Jamesian qualities of the room (all 7 feet by 5 feet of it), showcasing his inventive and carefree building practices, which have caused a few complications and will undoubtedly cause more, and partly because Rob’s been busy helping out over at the property where he can.

Still, a lot has happened since you last checked in with our heroine’s sanitary arrangements. Back then, Rob had just installed the shower pan, using found materials and creativity to make it straight, carefully sealed and glued in tight.

Up next were the faux tiles. It was slightly alarming to note that the little shavings Rob took off to make them meet properly were basically cardboard, but as he said, this is what they’re made for, so hopefully they will be OK. They have to be better than the mold-happy plastic stuff that was in there before. Right?

Here the first sheet of tiles has been applied and is being held into position while it dries. You can also see the sheetrock covering the cancelled window:

Here both sheets of tile are up:

Rob and I looked on line for a shower rod that would follow the lines of the shower pan, but they varied between $129 and $300, which equaled no for our non-budget. It seems a little odd to me that you can buy the shower pan standard but not the rod, though maybe they expect you to put in glass doors or something.

So Rob came up with something that was not only cooler, but basically free, since he found all the parts and then soldered them together. He added a support beam, so the rod isn’t supporting the entire weight of the shower curtain, especially when it’s being pulled aside:

It’s made out of copper, and I think it’s beautiful. Here’s a close-up, so you can admire Rob’s artistry:

I got some copper finish curtain rings and a copper finish shower caddy (note to Self: some editing of shower products is in order). Here you see Supervisor Clyde melted beside the shower, since we are in Day Three of the third heat wave in six weeks. That’s not math I enjoy.

After almost a month, I had kind of forgotten about taking a shower inside, though I was glad it was summer while showering out on the back porch. Rob took out the water flow restrictor before reinstalling the showerhead (don’t tell Big Brother; I think it’s illegal), thus rendering the shower fabulous. I’m not saying it can clear the cobwebs out of my head early in the morning*, but it feels awesome.

*Not even atomic café can do that.

Birthday Garden

As you can see, my birthday dawned bright and beautiful. All the doors are open, and scent from the honeysuckle bush is wafting in. There seem to be more flowers than ever this year, and the hummingbirds are buzzing around it all day.

Yellow Dog came by, still looking for Schatzi after nearly a year. I wish I could tell him that his friend is no longer here to play with him. I should try and find his continued visits comforting rather than sad. I didn’t realize what an integral part of my day seeing Schatzi was until she was gone. She would trot by a few times a day, never coming in the house but always nearby. I could always count on seeing her smile and her distinctive prance. We all miss her so much.

Speaking of coming in the house, Yellow Cat just came a few steps into the hallway by the “front” door. It’s lucky for him that Audrey is Elsewhere. He certainly is a handsome boy. Even though I don’t live in Michigan, where they are considering a limit on the number of pets per household, I think I’ll self-impose a three cat limit for this household. I’m sure part-time cat staff Rob and Megan would agree.

While coffee perked, I waited for the ever-slow satellite interwebs to download my email, which was taking longer than usual. I was horrified by the number of messages until I realized that about 99% were birthday, not work, related. Huzzah! There was a really nice one from John and a text from my brother saying, “I’m so glad you were born. When do you want your party?”

I’m looking forward to champagne (already chilling) and Season Two of Orange Is the New Black, which will be released on Friday. It used to be that Sex & the City started their new seasons near my birthday, so OITNB is my new birthday present. I’m looking forward to watching it with my fellow fan Megan.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes! It’s lovely to be loved!

Outside Roscoe, Inside Clyde

So Roscoe decided to stay out on the town last night, even though Hooterville is not renowned for its nightlife. He probably wasted his allowance on that fake ID.

When he hadn’t come home by the time I went to bed, I turned into Anxiety Girl, able to leap to the worst conclusion at a single bound. Unfortunately for Self, Anxiety Girl’s superpowers do not include sleeping. Roscoe eventually slunk home at 1 am, ate a fashionably late dinner, and then curled up against me purring and went to sleep as if nothing had happened. Everything was fine as far as he was concerned.

Unlike Self, he merrily leaped out of bed five hours later, though he can look forward to a nap this afternoon. Whereas I could have used a little more beauty sleep. Ask not for whom the alarm tolls. It tolls for thee.

I have to say, it’s been fun coming home and finding Rob here. The way he thinks is both unique and entertaining. Also it’s fun to see the developments on the bathroom front.

Yesterday, I arrived just as Rob was installing the shower pan. The new drain hole was in a different spot than the old one, so Rob cut a new hole and put the cut out piece in the old hole to seal it. Or as he put it, “I put the new hole in the old hole!” After installing the shower pan, he created a confection of towels and wood to clamp it in place as it dried overnight:

As you can see in the background, Rob has cancelled the window, as Mark puts it, by sheetrocking over it. He also removed the peeling green wallpaper from around the shower and painted over it, ready to tile. Here’s the cancelled window from the outside:

Yes, having a drafty window in my shower was a little odd, and the wood was rotten, but it always makes me sad to see windows boarded up and know that no-one will ever look out of them again. Also the bathroom is a dark cave without a window, so Rob is trying to figure out if he can cut one in the door to the back porch or maybe put a narrow one beside the shower, or both. Stay tuned.

We’re on Day Three of the latest heatwave, which broke records in downtown San Francisco yesterday by hitting 90 degrees, and it was about the same here in Hooterville. Today is supposed to be the final day of this hellacious weather – for now, they always come back in my bitter experience – and it was the perfect time to enjoy the outdoor shower on the back porch:

It’s a relic from the good old (or possibly bad old) days when there was no bathroom at all, simply an outhouse and an outdoor shower, both of which must have been uncomfortable when it was below freezing in the winter. But on a warm morning like this, it was delightful to shower outside and admire the view:

It’s close to high noon and the temperatures are inching up inexorably. Audrey is lounging in a lounge chair on the balcony and the boys are puddles of melted fur in front of the floor fan. Let’s hope Karl the Fog comes riding in on his silvery mist to save us all soon.

So…

In order to tell you something really cool, I’m going to have to show you something really embarrassing. Not that it should come as a total shock to you after reading about my house’s eccentricities for the past few years. I finally convinced Mark to do something about the horrors of my bathroom. You know, the room with: no insulation; no heating; a shower pan made out of painted wood where the drain is not the lowest part, so it doesn’t, you know, drain; a floor made out of electric green plywood…you get the picture. And here it is:

Whatever mystery panels were on the wall were, as you can see, impossible to clean. Even with straight bleach and a scrub brush. So I had kind of given up on the entire thing. The door is open to the back porch so you can’t see the window in the shower. It does kind of give you an idea of the scope of its awkward tininess, though, and a peek at the lime green floor. It’s a long way from the gracious bathroom I had in San Francisco:

The project started off slowly, with an actual, real (I think plastic, though) shower pan appearing at my house, where it sat outside during a couple of late season showers and the first heat wave of the season. Then Rob appeared with some black and white tiles he had found somewhere. Yesterday, he said he’d start to work on it today, just in time for the second heatwave of the season.

I was pretty sure he wouldn’t find Jimmy Hoffa or a million dollars (finders keepers!) under the mystery panels. If I was on one of those HGTV shows, he’d find a horrible problem which would cost so much money that they could no longer afford the sixth bathroom or closet annex on their house, and they’d be both furious and devastated. Since this is reality, not to be confused with reality TV, he simply found that it was wet. So when I came home from the jobette today, there was a fan blowing onto the bathroom, which was converted into a job site:

Clyde is inspecting it. Here’s the view from the back porch:

The window is gone, along with the shower, so I’m going to have to be really careful about going in and out of the bathroom tonight, since my goal at night is to keep Self and cats safely in the house and out of the darkness, which as we all know is The Enemy. I tried to call Rob to ask him about all this, but when I heard his phone ringing in the bathroom, I figured I should hang up and bring it to his house, where he wasn’t.

Stay tuned…

No sooner had last week’s heat wave finally abated than Megan and I chased it to Wilits, where the heat usually lives. Megan was questing for pepper plants and other things not readily available on the generally cool and breezy Coast. It’s a beautiful drive on highway 20:

This is looking west toward the coast from the 3,000 foot summit, where it sometimes snows in winter, as Megan can tell you from first hand experience, having driven a patient through blinding snow on that icy road in the deep country darkness back in the good old (bad old?) ambulance days. Even longer ago, it was a wagon route for the first settlers in this part of California.

Arriving in Willits, we made our way to the garden center, accompanied by Miss Stella. I was surprised and pleased by how much positive attention Stella received while we were in Willits. A guy on his way back to work at City Hall stopped to pet her, and she was welcomed at the garden center, where she relaxed in the greenhouse:

Many fellow shoppers took the opportunity to pet her, and Stella soaked up the attention as she always does. She loves town, and she loves attention. She also enjoyed the shade:

in a beautiful little tree-lined park in the historic downtown:

You wouldn’t be surprised to see Wally and the Beav chasing each other around in that park. It was like being in the past (one of my favorite places).

Megan was dissatisfied by the pepper plant selection at the first garden center, so we followed a local’s suggestion and visited a second nursery:

where Megan bought every pepper plant in sight and I amused myself by taking pictures of the quaint garden gate:

Megan didn’t really buy all the pepper plants, but she bought enough that they had to make extra beds for them and borrow all my leftover soil from last year to house them. I think there are 20 plants. We will be in pepper heaven this summer!

As if herding cats for three days (and nights) wasn’t enough, Rob also did some home improvements while I was away in San Francisco. You have to love coming back to a house that’s better (and prettier) than you left it.

He hung up this picture, which is not easy when you have curved walls:

It’s in the sleeping loft, but I can still see it from downstairs.

I fell in love with this vintage dove planter:

even though it needed some repairs. Rob not only repaired it, but wrapped together copper wires to make an absolutely gorgeous hanger for it. He then installed it in the peak of the balcony outside my bedroom door:

It looks so perfect that I’m not even going to plant anything in it. I’m just going to enjoy it swaying in the wind, whether I’m inside or outside. I’ll add some photos of the balcony soon – I have a kind of retro thing going on out there. Also the remedial roses are FINALLY looking good, after cutting them back ruthlessly twice. I was surprised and delighted to see that the little rose that could is finally blooming – the flowers are white.

Rob put up a hose reel I bought to keep the hose from sprawling all over the balcony:

While he was up there, Rob installed a proper door handle on the screen door we bought last year, and a little bumper thing so it doesn’t smash up against the roof every time I open it.

Much better than the hook and eye I had put on to keep it closed and the kitties in. Speaking of kitties: Rob put a cover over the crawl space in the studio so the cats can’t use it as an exit:

I had it plugged up with storage bags of clothes and blankets, but again, this is much better.

He is also working on the “front” door, which has been slowly separating and getting harder and harder to open. Here you see the work in progress from the inside:

And the outside – kitty proofing the door with an old piece of carpet he found:

As he observed, gravity is your friend…until it isn’t. Good thing for me that Rob is always my friend.

Rhododendrons in my garden this evening

The calendar may say April – just – but summer has come to Hooterville.

In the usual way of summer, it made a dramatic entrance, hitting its unsuspecting audience over the head with a sledgehammer of heat while giggling wickedly. When I came home from the cool climes of the jobette yesterday evening, I was surprised to discover that it was 80 degrees both inside and outside my house.

Before removing work wear, accessories and make-up, usually the first things I do, I dragged out all the fans – the upstairs, the downstairs, and the portable one which can be positioned to blow air directly on Self – and placed them throughout the house, as well as turning on the ceiling fan, even though it’s really more of a whisk stirring the hot air around than anything else. As usual, the outside cooled down long before the inside, and I slept with the balcony door open and the screen door closed, sadly coated in a sheet and dreaming of blankets.

That was once I got to bed, though. On the first warm night of the year, Roscoe was scarce. I kept calling him, even though I knew it to be pointless. He finally swanned in just after midnight, had a fashionably late dinner, and then went to bed.

We were all awakened at 6:30 by Mark’s rooster crowing loudly and repeatedly. I gave up and got up, releasing the cats into the garden, not to appear again until dinner time.

I had quarterly calls scheduled all day today (and tomorrow, and all of Friday morning), and I did them in the shady parts of the garden, moving my chair as the sun shifted. It gave me time to notice the damage done by Mark’s rabbit, Changa (it means “monkey”) on her frequent visits. It occurred to me that the rabbit ornament on my “front” door may in fact be a secret sign to rabbits everywhere that there’s an all you can eat buffet on the premises, much as hobos used to leave coded symbols scratched on people’s front doors during the Great Depression.

So really, I may have brought it on myself.

Garden Audrey

I’m back home in Hooterville. The cats definitely missed me. Both boys sat on me simultaneously on Thursday night while I watched the hockey playoffs – which did not end satisfactorily – and Audrey sat on my lap when I went to bed to read. Both she and Roscoe slept with me, though the baby boy was up in his club house (my grandiose name for the storage space over the bathroom). That’s been his favorite spot lately.

It’s funny how different they all are, and how unpredictable. Clyde is the mama’s boy, yet he’s been sleeping in his own room lately. Roscoe is independent and dignified, yet he almost always sleeps with me. Audrey is…well, Audrey. Difficult, demanding, horrified if you dare to pick her up, but when she wants to be petted, she wants to be petted. Or is it worshiped? They are all such characters.

Megan was less than charmed by them while I was away, since they decided to drive her crazy in turns. I told her that they are often in the house when I get home from work, even though the door is open, so it might be easier for her to shut them in and feed them before she goes to work at 5:00 in the afternoon.

Needless to say, it did not work out this way. At all. They were nowhere to be seen, and in the end, Rob had to come over about a million times to find them all and get them in, leading to this text exchange between Megan and me:

Megan: What was that about them being in the house in the afternoon?

Me: I’m sorry.

Megan: I think they’re bored when you’re gone so they amuse themselves by torturing me.

Me: It’s entirely possible.

Megan: They’re in the woods snickering.

Me: Plotting how to drive you crazy tomorrow.

Megan: I don’t doubt it.

I stayed up late on Wednesday night and was rewarded by a midnight power outage.

I was mystified by this, since it wasn’t rainy or windy, and annoyed by this, since I love the accoutrements and comforts of civilization.

Fortunately, I still had a flashlight by my bed, and headed downstairs to call my buddies at PG&E. As usual, I was the first one to alert them to the situation, so I resigned myself to a long night. I had a hard time sleeping, especially after an update informed me at about 2 am that the power would be out until 2 pm.

I texted Megan and she was the coffee fairy, with room service, no less. She also had the news that someone had driven into a power pole on the Ridge (apparently, it is not the first time this has happened, and when I drove by the location later, I could see why. It is located right near a curve, and I can see that someone could easily miss it in the foggy, inky, midnight blackness.) and supposedly been arrested, though no one came to visit Megan in the ER that night, so the driver must have been unscathed.

It was foggy and grey out, so the house was dark and freezing. Although the heater burns propane, it needs electricity to turn it on, thus rendering it a useless plastic box during power outages, which only occur during the cold months.

Of course.

Unfortunately for all concerned, I was slated to take Rob to the Big Town for dental surgery that day, when I was both sleep-deprived and cranky. It took both of my brain cells to get us there in one piece. I dropped him off at the dentist’s office, wished him luck, and headed to the grocery store for a few last minute items for Jessica’s birthday party this afternoon.

After that, I went to the library for the usual book exchange and to attempt to deal with my work emails, which rapidly overload my inbox if not handled quickly. I couldn’t make the wifi work on my creaking, aged MacBook, though I could on my iPhone. Go figure. I packed up all my stuff and headed to the Company Store, where I was able to access the wifi and deal with the most urgent work things, though by then I was in an even less lovely mood.

I was still having a better time than Rob was. Arriving at the office more than two hours after dropping him off, they were still working on him. I settled in to wait with my new library book, a fascinating read about the Kitty Genovese case. About an hour later, there was a loud noise, and it appeared that the huge aquarium in the waiting room had developed a fatal flaw in the glass. It began leaking with increasing rapidity, and the nurses and receptionists applied towels and called for reinforcements in the shape of boyfriends, who appeared with a ShopVac.

The fish were relocated to a bucket, but not before the exiting water shorted out a fuse, taking the computers with it and flushing the dentist out from wherever he was torturing Rob. Inspection from across the room revealed no dripping blood on his hands, which I took to be a good sign. He was not pleased with the destruction of his office decor, however, including the new laminate flooring, or the patient who asked if she could post about it on Facebook.

Eventually, the remains of Rob appeared, semi-frozen and even less chatty than usual, about four hours after I left him there. We were both glad to get home, though my happiness was tempered not only by Rob’s discomfort, but by the sight of a slim black cat leaping from the Ridge to the haul road which runs behind my house.

At my house, I saw Clyde, but Roscoe didn’t appear until several minutes later, so he might have been the cat I saw. The thought of my cats playing on the road fills me with horror, though they may have been doing it for years without my knowledge. Ignorance really is bliss.

In decanting the groceries from the car, I discovered that the six pack of Strongbow cider** I had bought for today’s gala was missing in action. It was listed on the receipt, so I must have left it in the cart in my sleep-deprived haze. I hope one of those poor schmos who keep rounding up the carts from all over the parking lot find it and enjoy it after a long day of thankless tasks.

At least the power was – and is – back on.

*To quote the great Iggy Pop. You can enjoy the fun version of No Fun here.

**I always enjoyed drinking cider at the pub with my Dad, and trying out the artisan ones when we were in places like Somerset and Herefordshire. I was looking forward to that Strongbow!

Navarro Beach

When work permits, I’ve been going for walks with Megan and Stella on Thursday afternoons.

When Megan wakes up after the last of her long night shifts, she gets caffeinated and calls me when she’s ready to deal with the Stellanator. Stella is a lot of dog, and not just because she weighs 65 pounds (Megan is working on refining this). Everything she does, she does 150%, whether it’s running, eating, or jumping for joy. Even just walking by you, she can body check you with an elan that an NHL player would be proud of. As Megan says, she’s a pit bull in a china shop.

We were trying to think of a different place to take her last week. Stella is a city girl who loves to window shop and meet new friends, but this requires beng on a leash. She is welcomed by most of the shopkeepers in the Village, though Catsby, the book store cat, looks at her with complete disgust as the booksellers fawn over Stella and give her treats. You can’t please all the people all the time, and you can almost never please cats.

We wanted to find a place where we could let her off leash to run around, but it had to be: close by; not overly populated with other people and dogs; not open ended so she couldn’t run off somewhere. Megan is still working on Stella’s recall skills, though they – and all her other skills and manners – have improved hugely in the four months Megan has been fostering her.

We decided on Navarro Beach, which is at the mouth of the Navarro River. We were the only ones there on a windy Thursday afternoon:

We let Stella off the leash, and she ran joyfully across the wet sand, exploring the cold ocean water, which made her run to Megan in alarm. She looked like a pretty happy dog:

Stella burned off some of her apparently boundless energy, and we walked the beach and talked. I picked up some smooth stones to add to the collection in the honeysuckle planter outside the kitchen door, which is already leafed out and will bloom soon.

Eventually, we headed home up the hilly, curvy road:

I think we’ll be back soon!