Suzy Says

Jessica in a shawl made by her mother

Erica and I are almost birthday twins, with mine being the day before hers, though come to think of it, several years ahead, too. So maybe we aren’t birthday twins, but we decided to celebrate our June birthdays together with a Junapalooza at the family property on Saturday.

I’m both pleased and embarrassed to report that I didn’t do a thing but show up. In my defense, though, I’m the only one who works at least five days a week (and complains eight days a week about it), and Erica actually enjoys cooking (it’s become a tyrannical chore for me. See the five days a week thing). Sometimes I picture her cackling over her cauldron like a fairytale character.

Erica’s fairytale basket was filled with scented dal and chutney made from her own figs and quinces. She also brought a deeply chocolatey three layer cake covered with Swiss buttercream and sprinkles, which, as Erica said, tasted exactly like ice cream, so it was like having cake and ice cream all at once.

As if that weren’t enough, she also bought a flask of high quality gin, a bottle of pink grapefruit juice, and a jar of handmade lavender syrup, which were all whirled into delightful pink cocktails with the addition of ice:

For those of you who want to try making your own lavender syrup at home, be careful to only put in the flowers, since the stems can make the syrup bitter. Other than that, it’s just water and sugar. We need to come up with a name for this delightful confection. It’s the perfect thing for a summer evening.

When Lichen appeared, he brought his own libation ingredients. He set to work zesting limes (he brought his own zester), and made frozen strawberry margaritas, the glasses rimmed with sea salt, which he also brought. We could drink pink as well as think pink*!

The pink theme continued with a raspberry pie made from raspberries grown on the property and picked that very day, which may be why it was mostly demolished before I got a photo opp:

The pie and cake were preceded by the dal and chutney, as well as butter chicken. Jonathan grilled the chicken on the BBQ before putting it in the sauce Megan made. We also had forbidden rice and Megan’s home-made naan with cilantro and shallots. The garlic and onions in the butter chicken sauce came from the property, as did the cilantro and shallots in the naan. It was all delicious, and it was nice to sit by the fire and talk after dinner, replete with deliciousness.

Jessica and I fantasized about an alternate reality, in which we lived in a mansion within walking distance of a charming village with bookstores, cafes, chocolatier, patisserie, cheese shop, charcuterie, and other essentials. The village would be far enough away that we couldn’t see it or hear it, but we wouldn’t have to drive there. Rain would be “plentiful”, as Jessica put it, and there would occasionally be snow, enough to make snowmen and play in. It would never be hotter than 85 degrees F (Erica and Jessica had just suffered through a day of 104 degree heat – and baked a cake in it). Erica would be the chatelaine and run everything. It would be heavenly! A girl can dream.

A YEAR AGO: Around the house.

*I was shocked to learn that Erica and Jessica hadn’t seen Funny Face, starring Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn, with Kay Thompson, the immortal author of the immortal Eloise books (how I love them!) as a Diana Vreeland character admonishing everyone to “Think pink!” It also has some of the first supermodels from the days when they were stunning: Suzy Parker, Dovima, Sunny Harnett. I think a communal viewing is in order, pink drinks non-optional.

The Evil Genius Recovering

Maybe I should have put a camera on Audrey. She came home on Saturday hopping like a bunny, not using her back left leg. It didn’t seem broken or dislocated, but she was definitely in pain. She kept growling, even when sitting on my lap. She was no better on Sunday, so on Monday, Megan took Audrey to the vet.

As you know, Audrey does not take kindly to the indignity of the cat carrier or the curviness of the road, so she pooped, threw up, and howled the entire way. As usual, we delivered a foamy furious feline to the unsuspecting vet staff. They x-rayed her leg and took blood tests, and all looked fine. It seemed the problem was one of her toes, though there was no puncture wound or cut or anything.

Dr. Carl gave her shots for pain, nausea, and inflammation, and I wish he could have given them to me, too, because the bill was almost $500. Audrey is back to her old self today, able to walk on all fours and demanding whatever it is she happens to want at the time. Dr. Carl called her “a fierce little woman” , and that about sums it up.

Megan multi-tasked by taking her dogs for a walk while Audrey was being treated, and took the patient home as well, where she closed her inside for a nap. I worried that I overreacted in sending Audrey to the vet, but Dr. Carl said that if your animal can’t walk for 24 hours, he or she needs to be seen. I’m just glad that Audrey is OK and that I have a sister who is kind enough to be a cat taxi.

A YEAR AGO: Car problems instead of cat problems. Why not?

On Saturday, I made a special appearance at the jobette. It was Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial opening of the summer tourist season, and I decided to go in and help out, partly because I’m still on probation at the new job, so I didn’t get paid for Memorial Day, and partly to help out my former work family.

It was good to be back. I took down all the expired event postings in the lobby, refreshed the supply of visitor guides and other tourism materials, added up all the sales and visitor sheets, balanced the cash, updated the database, took out the trash, watered the inside and outside plants (which I suspect has not been done since I left), and washed the dishes. Oh, and turned off the heat, which was blasting when I arrived.

I had a great time chatting with the visitors, and sold $160 worth of art. I imagine my former employers were pleased when they arrived at the office on Tuesday.

I went home and collected the al pastor which I had put in the slow cooker on Friday night. It was my first attempt at making this, and I think from now on I will just leave it to Libby’s, even if they are almost never open. It turned out to be atomically spicy, despite the fact that I only added a teeny can of chipotles in adobo sauce to a 5 pound roast, along with an entire pineapple, a bottle of beer, some red onion, and a couple of tablespoons of chili powder.

To be fair, I have a low spiciness tolerance and believe that food should come in hot, medium, mild and Suzy. But still. I texted Erica in a panic, and she suggested that I drain off the sauce and put in a can of tomato sauce. I didn’t have any tomato sauce – all I had was an extremely unhelpful jar of spicy red pepper sauce – so I went over to Megan’s, even though it was early, since I had to deal with it before heading to the jobette.

Fortunately, she had a can, so I swapped the sauces, and I think it worked just fine. Rob helped me to load the giant slow cooker into the car and we headed over to the family property, where Megan’s birthday BBQ was in full swing:

Erica and Jessica were there, as well as Jarrett and Kalli and Dave and Jennifer. Jarrett had invited his dog Archi’s brother (and his owners), and I couldn’t get over how alike they look:

Lichen also came, bearing rose lemonade for Jessica, and all together, there were nearly 20 people. Erica fried up samosas she had made in a special pot outside by the Waltons-sized picnic table:

They were, of course, delicious.

Erica had also brought a giant, industrial sized jar of mayonnaise:

It turned out to be an elaborate practical joke. Megan hates mayonnaise (we are a family of picky eaters), but Erica bet her that she would be digging into this one. Megan was horrified until she discovered that the jar actually contained vanilla bean-bourbon vanilla pudding, chocolate espresso cookie crumbs, and sea salted caramel sauce, all made from scratch by Erica the Evil Genius. It was insanely delicious.

Erica said it was the hardest dessert she had ever made, since she had to hide the cookie crumbs and sauce inside the pudding, so it still looked convincingly like mayonnaise. Only Erica!

Meanwhile, I was discussing designers with Jessica, saying that I love it that she actually knows who Charles James, Schiaparelli, Claire McCardell, and Madame Grès are (she has all these and more on her Pinterest boards). She said that sometimes it seems like designers are playing a practical joke to see if people will actually wear their crazy clothes. “It’s like, ‘Go home, fashion, you’re drunk!’” Jessica said, referring to some of the more outrageous confections at Fashion Week.

When it was time to go home, Jessica once again offered her arm and asked if she could escort “Fair Suzy” to her car. I love this tradition!

A YEAR AGO: Celebrating Megan’s birthday, of course!

One thing about Wednesday – and it’s not just Wednesday, it’s every new car, it seems – is the endless binging and bonging and nagging. Sometimes it’s useful (“Uh, Suz…you left the lights on”) and sometimes it’s just annoying (Yes, I realize that my seatbelt isn’t on. Because, you know, I didn’t put it on). And then there’s the autolock feature, snapping all the locks shut as if a horde of carjackers was attacking me as I lurch down the narrow dirt driveway at 5 miles an hour. I have tried to no avail to turn this off, and I can never quite get used to it.

I have also gotten to the point where I am phobic about warning lights on the dashboard, which seem to happen more often than I would like. The other day, the “low tire pressure” light came on, and it took a couple of days before I could get to the tire place. Once there, Rick the tire guy* informed me that the two front tires needed to be replaced. He said that I shouldn’t go out of town or anything, which I found alarming.

As usual when anything alarming happens to the car, I immediately thought of my brother, and on my way home that night, I stopped by his place. He took a look and noted that the tire on the passenger side was more worn than the one on the driver side. He said that if they both looked like the one on the driver’s side, he wouldn’t replace them, but when you do one, you have to do both.

He also said that low tire pressure is the main reason for wear like that (besides, of course, our rough and bumpy roads). I had been relying on the light telling me to get the tires checked rather than taking Wednesday to have Rick check her tires every couple of months as I did with Miss Scarlett. My general automotive ineptitude makes it impossible for me to put air in the tires, let alone read the pressure, and I’d much rather take it to the pros and get it done right and quickly. The problem is I haven’t been doing it enough.

Jonathan said I should just drive more slowly**(!) and replace them within the next month or so, since it’s not winter and I don’t have to worry about rain. He added that it might be worth just doing it now for the peace of mind, though the cost of two new tires is not conducive to peace of mind.

*He also told me that his wife, who used to work behind the counter and do the books, had died of lung cancer at Christmas, which I was very sorry to hear. He said he was working as much as possible to try and keep his mind off it, but he still looked stricken.

**No matter how I try, I am an impatient driver, which is not good, especially during tourist season. Jonathan pointed out that going 10 miles over the speed limit gets me to the Big Town about two minutes sooner and risks a ticket, though he added that when he’s driving long hauls, like between here and LA, it’s worth it, since he gets there about an hour and a half sooner. It’s all relative. Just ask my relative.

A YEAR AGO: Things were sad.

Star & Stella

Megan pointed out a shocking oversight in my blog: I never told you that she and Rob officially adopted Stella!

You may remember that Stella came into our lives at the puppy tail end of 2013, when Monica heroically agreed to find homes for two year old Stella and her 11 (yes, 11) puppies. Being Monica, she somehow managed to finagle a free room at one of the loveliest resorts on the coast as a nursery, and also found homes for all of the babies.

Megan and Rob agreed to take Stella on a trial basis, partly because Star is, as Megan puts it, “dog selective”, and partly because their hearts were still broken over the loss of their beloved Schatzi. It turns out that Stella and Star are a great match, and it’s good for Star to have another dog around again. Star, like me, can be nervous and unsure, but Stella just barges right into life fearlessly. Nothing bothers her, and she does everything 110%, 110% of the time, whether it’s sleeping, eating, or playing.

The other day, Megan stopped by to see me at work while Rob was at a doctor’s appointment, and brought the dogs with her. Stella was almost as happy to see me as Star, and I’m convinced that I have extra credit with Star because I was there with Megan when Star was rescued from her bad old life. Stella is definitely part of the family now, and it just goes to show that dogs choose us, not the other way around.

Star turned seven on Cinco de Mayo this year, marking her fifth year with Megan and Rob. I bet she doesn’t even remember the bad old days, and it’s so nice to see her cuddle up with Stella, two happy dogs in a happy home.

A YEAR AGO: A field trip with Megan and Stella.

Marco

Megan woke up after her fourth long night shift last week to find a series of texts from our dear friend Lu. Lu had taken her huge, sweet Rottweiler Marco to see Dr. Karen and discovered that he had the same cancer that claimed Lichen’s Rottweiler Padawan at this time of year a few years ago.

Marco’s cancer was so advanced that the bone in one of his legs was almost gone, unbeknownst to Lu and probably Marco, and had spread through his great chest, so it was clear that the time had come. As you may remember, Marco suddenly and inexplicably went blind three years ago, and I’m sure many people would have put him to sleep then. But Lu and Rik dabbed doorways and the location of his food and water bowls with different essential oils, so he could negotiate his way around the home he had lived in most of his life, and it worked well.

When Megan arrived at Lu and Rik’s house, Rik was giving Marco a warm bath in the outdoor clawfoot tub, a treat which Marco always loved. Tears were pouring down Rik’s face as Marco basked in the warm, soapy water. He enjoyed a towel dry before settling down in front of the heater, surrounded by family and friends. Dr. Karen’s dedicated staff made one last house call, making Marco’s farewell as peaceful and comfortable as possible.

Poor Harlow, his little sister (she and Marco can be seen together here), was very sad. Her forehead was wrinkled all evening, and she sniffed him carefully. At least she knew what happened – I would think it would be much harder for Harlow if Marco just disappeared one day. Hopefully she will adjust, along with Lu and Rik, but Marco leaves a big hole in our lives. He may have been 137 pounds, but the biggest thing about him was his heart.

Marco was too big to bury, so he was cremated. There is a local glassmaker who will make the ashes into a special piece of glasswork, so Marco will always be with the people who loved him. Sleep well, gentle giant. You are loved and missed.

A YEAR AGO: The other side of the circle of life, celebrating Jessica’s 11th birthday.

Birthday Girl

As you know, Jessica’s twelfth birthday was April 15, but we celebrated it a couple of days later, on a Saturday – about the only day of the week we can all get together now. And celebrate it we did! We started off by meeting at Franny’s Cup & Saucer in beautiful downtown Point Arena. Jonathan joined us, adding an uncle to the auntourage, and there wasn’t enough room in Franny’s teacup sized establishment to fit us all at once as we perused the pastries and chocolates in the glass case.

Eventually, we repaired with our choices to the bench outside and shared them while chatting. I observed to Jessica that she wouldn’t want to do this kind of thing much longer since she was growing up, and she replied “Hormones don’t make you stupid!” Thinking of some beaux in my distant past, I said, “Oh yes, they do, “ and she said, “Not that stupid! You will always be fabulous!” accompanied by a hug.

We had enough time to stop by the pier at Point Arena and watch the surfers skimming over the waves:

I was amazed by their skill in maneuvering through the rough waters and avoiding the many jagged rocks in the bay.

We made our way to the B. Bryan Preserve, where we were joined by two fair sized groups. It soon became clear that this was a much fancier deal than it was nearly two years ago, when Megan and I had our magical safari together: just us and Frank, the curmudgeonly guide. I’m glad for their success, but I’m also glad that Megan and I have that special enchanted memory together.

After the mini talk about the Preserve’s mission to save and breed these beautiful, endangered animals, we loaded into a 1967 Range Rover, equipped with a canvas roof and apparently not equipped with shocks, which were plenty as we jounced over the rough terrain.

Unlike our earlier trip, we stayed in the Range Rover for most of the tour, though we also drove right into the vast, fenced fields where the zebra and antelope played. Also unlike last time, when Frank admonished us that this wasn’t a petting zoo (it still isn’t), we could actually pet a few month old Grevy’s zebra, little Karen Sue:

Her mother died giving birth to her, and Karen Sue was saved by none other than our dear vet, Dr. Karen – hence her name. Since Karen Sue was hand raised, you can pet her, but those days will end when she joins the regular herd in the next few months. So this was a special treat. And those teddy bear ears are as soft as they look. I imagine I am one of the very few people who has stroked a live Grevy’s zebra.

We ended at the Rothschild giraffes, where Sonny, Buster and Jagger (my favorite from last time) have been joined by two more brothers. In fact, Frank was on his way to pick up the “new” boys after our last tour. Like Megan and me, Jessica was charmed by feeding the giraffes. There really is nothing like seeing one swooping down toward you, their huge, soulful eyes, fake looking lashes, and black tongues. You really haven’t lived until you’ve kissed a giraffe.

At the end of the tour, Jessica pronounced it “Totally awesome” while jumping up and down. We then headed to Anchor Bay, where some of the best Thai food ever is to be found and enjoyed. Just like the Preserve, Megan and I were the only ones in our party to have been there before, and we couldn’t wait to share its joys.

Just like the Preserve, everyone was delighted and impressed. We shared our dishes and still had enough to take home and enjoy another night. We kissed Erica and Jessica goodbye and headed home as the sun set over the glorious Pacific. The immortal Lou Reed put it best when he sang, “Oh, it’s such a perfect day/I’m glad I spent it with you.”

A YEAR AGO: Meetings and manicures.

Brothers

The cats seem to enjoy my new schedule as much (or as little) as I do. Clyde the mama’s boy has reverted to his endearing, though awkward, habit of sleeping on my head, and even Her Audreyness sits on my lap as much as possible – when she’s not demanding to be let in or out or chasing dogs, that is.

As for the Mysterious Mr. Roscoe, he is his elusive and glamorous self, basking on the balcony in the spring sunshine or napping on top of the armoire, which has the advantages of being warm, topped with a quilt, and impossible to sneak up on.

The other evening, I petted his head and knocked off a scab, which in turn revealed an alarming amount of ickiness. He must have had a scratch that got infected. And he already has a huge scratch on his throat which has been healing up for a while. I cleaned out the scratch as best I could, applied Vetericyn, and hoped for the best while Roscoe hid in horror. I feel like a bad parent for not noticing earlier, but at least he’s on the mend.

Speaking of on the mend….Megan took Rob to the County seat for an appointment with a specialist who may have come up with a non narcotic way of dealing with the pain caused by Rob’s crumbling spine. As you may recall, Rob has had two surgeries on his neck over the past few years, and he isn’t eager to do an encore. Based on the experience he had at the new doctor’s, though, he may be able to put it off indefinitely.

The doctor numbed the nerve, and it basically eliminated the pain. Since it worked well, the doctor will kill the nerve with radio waves, and that should last about a year. The nerve may grow back, and it may grow back in a different place, but it can just be re-zapped with no side effects to Rob. He happened to be walking past my house when I got home from work, and you should have seen how happy he looked. Seeing Rob happy makes me happy, too.

A YEAR AGO: A less than fun day.

I’ve been quite the cultural maven lately.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Megan and I enjoyed a breathtaking performance of A Streetcar Named Desire, beamed all the way from London to our little corner of the world. And just a couple of days ago, Megan and I met up with Lu and Jennifer for dinner and a play. So sophisticated!

We picked Jennifer up at the property, where she and Dave are hopefully going to start building their home this year, and headed to the Village, where we met up with Lu. We ordered a pizza, salad, and a bottle of local wine and headed upstairs to grab a table under the cozy eaves while dinner was being made.

It was nice to laugh and talk as we shared dinner. I had thought we’d given ourselves way too much time, but before we knew it, it was time to head to the theater. We took our seats in the second row and prepared to enjoy the classic Gaslight. As soon as the lights went down and the play started, we were caught up in the magic and the drama, and we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

There were some differences between the movie, starring Ingrid Bergman and the evilly suave Charles Boyer, and the play, but I was the only one in our group who had seen the movie, so I was alone in my dramatic mental comparing and contrasting. I think the theater did very well with a minimal set:

and a minimal cast, including the actor who played the father in Other Desert Cities and now played the Inspector who rescues the damsel in distress. This year’s season also includes performances of Mauritius and The Normal Heart, which we would all like to see, so there are other lovely evenings in my future.

A YEAR AGO: Playing with Stella on the beach.

As I mentioned, there were photos of Me in the care package John sent after Ramona’s death, and I thought I’d share some with you.

Here I am with my mother’s father, Hoho, at what seems to be one of my very first Christmases. That’s a photo of Mom with her cat Smokey on the shelf beside us:

Nana and Hoho had their Christmas tree in the front parlor, which had 7 foot high windows and a beautiful fireplace. I recently made the mistake of stalking the house on line, and discovered that egregious renovations had been done to its Victorian magnificence, but the beautiful fireplace remains*.

This time, Daddy’s Daddy is holding a fancily dressed me:

For some reason, I seem to think that this is my third birthday party. Daddy’s Daddy is looking at me like I’m from another planet. Maybe it’s my freakishly square, yet blobby head. I once told my Dad that I thought I was an ugly baby, and he responded matter of factly, “Yes, I felt quite sorry for you.” Side note: I bet that plant on the sideboard didn’t make it.

This is Jonathan and me at a house we rented in Kent before Megan was born:

Even then, we loved cats!

I’m in my early 20s here. I still love that hair! Even though it’s my natural color:

You might think I’m wearing jeans, but they are actually linen pants which I dyed. I’m looking up a profiterole recipe for Megan’s birthday.

My dear friend A, she of the near-fatal illness a few years ago, took this picture of me not far from her 17th century home in the red light district of Amsterdam:

We always had such a great time together. One of these days, I hope to get to London to visit her. A girl can dream. And remember the past with love.

*The attic also remains untouched. When I was a girl, Smokey’s bed was still up there, though Smokey himself was long gone.

A YEAR AGO: Clyde is a merry little outlaw.

Jarrett and his sister Denise

It was a family reunion at the property last weekend. Jarrett met his half sister and some of his cousins for the very first time! Above, you see Jarrett with his sister Denise, who also has a twin sister Danielle, who couldn’t make it on this trip. These relatives live in southern Illinois, about six hours drive from Chicago, so it was a long, strange trip for them, especially the seemingly endless curvy roads that lead to Hooterville.

Dinner was a family affair as well. Erica helped me to plan everything. We delegated Jarrett to be in charge of taco toppings and beer, Erica made beef filling, and I made chicken filling, using the slow cooker I recently bought. At the last minute, Jonathan reminded me that it was, in fact, Pi Day, and yet we had no pie. So Megan and I went to the Gro and picked up some apples. When we got back to Jonathan’s place, he had made the crust, and I peeled the apples (one of my few special skills is the ability to peel an apple in one long piece) and cut them up Nana style (cutting pieces off until you get to the core). Jonathan made them into a filling and took over from there, with this delicious result:

Dave and Jennifer joined us, even though I later learned that it was their anniversary and they had other plans originally, which I thought was really nice. Before dinner, some of us tried out our archery skills:

while some of us watched:

That’s Jarrett’s beautiful girlfriend Kalli keeping an eye on him.

Erica, of course, took one shot and hit the bull’s eye. The only thing more impressive than Erica’s archery ability was Jessica’s poise and politeness. As soon as they arrived, Jessica walked right up to the strangers, put out her (now Suzy-sized) hand and said, “Hi, I’m Jessica. What’s your name?” I was delighted by her courtesy and how unintimidated she was by a group of strangers.

Hi, I’m Jessica

We all gathered around the picnic table Jonathan built and had a great, happy dinner together, getting to know each other and trading stories about our pasts and hopes for the future. It was a great time, and I hope we all see each other again soon.

A YEAR AGO: What do you know? Having dinner with friends over at the family property.

Dad and Jonathan in Maine

This is one of the batch of photos John very kindly sent me recently. It shows Dad and Jonathan in Maine. I’m guessing that Jonathan is about 6 in this photo, which would make Dad about 40. See? Kittenish! I am further guessing that this is on Otter Cliff, a spectacular headland more than 100 feet high. We often walked from Sand Beach to Otter Cliffs along the ocean path.

I look back at those golden summer days with great fondness, when we’d be dropped off at the beach for hours, or sailed with Jonathan at the helm (“if not duffers, won’t drown”), or went to the annual book sale at the library, or had popovers as big as our heads at Jordan Pond House after climbing the Bubbles*.

As you know, I’ve been feeling pretty lucky lately. And I am lucky to have had a father who was not only my parent, but my best friend. I am thankful for all the wonderful moments we had together, from the rocky shores of Maine to the sunlit canals of Venice to the gilded palaces of Russia.

But when I think of Dad, as I do every day, I think of all the small moments, like his rolling around on the floor with me and laughing, or telling me stories, or carrying me on his shoulders. Yes, he was a great scientist, but he was also a great father.

Happy birthday, Dad. I’m glad you were born. And I’m glad I was born to you and Mom.

*You can imagine what their nickname was.

A YEAR AGO: Thinking about Dad. And dogs. Of course.

A couple of days after we buried Megan and Rob’s beloved cat Ramona under the chinquapin tree on the family property, I came home to find a Fed Ex package waiting for me. I rarely, if ever, get Fed Ex packages. Even the Grand Jury summons came by humble mail. So I was both mystified and curious.

Inside, there was a selection of photos – you know, the actual printed ones – in a plastic bag with no note. The photos were of Ramona and her sister Harriet as kittens, along with some of me as a kitten and some of Dad at what now appears to me to be quite a kitten-ish age, though he was likely a bit older than I am now in most of them. John had found them and sent them to me.

Here you can see Ramona on the down-filled couch and her sister Harriet on the carpet at my now million dollar former apartment in San Francisco in December, 2001, freshly arrived from their rescue from southern California.

I thought it was an amazingly kind gesture and thanked him accordingly. Even by email, it was clear that he was both self-deprecating and embarrassed, which is what I would expect after knowing him for more than 25 years. As I observed to a friend, he is the best ex-husband ever.

A few days after that happy surprise, I got a less happy one. John texted me saying that he was in his local ER with high blood pressure and a racing heart. Fortunately, it was an anxiety attack rather than a heart attack, and all tests came back clean – his heart is fine. He has since seen his doctor and hopefully all is now under control. He said it made a big difference knowing that I was prepared to go down there and look after his cats, including the irrepressible Jack, the last of our cats together. We’ve been in touch every day ever since* and he is doing fine. I’m thankful that he is healthy and well, and that we are still friends and have each other’s backs, no matter what.

*He texted me yesterday to say “Thanks for checking in with me every day. It means a lot.”

A YEAR AGO: A young man with a bow tie is rather naughty. Also: a culinary challenge.

Well, we’re hovering on the brink of yet another time change. I have finally realized that the entire point of the exercise every single time – whether it’s forward or back – is to plunge us back into the hateful darkness in the morning.

As soon as there is even a glimmer of early morning light, the Powers that Be change the clock, ensuring that getting up at 5 am is much worse than it already is. Clearly the Powers do not routinely get up in the cold and dark day after day.

So I can look forward to already being late when I get up tomorrow; getting up in abject darkness; driving to work in darkness; and my body knowing full well that it’s 4 am when I drag it out of bed.

Awesome.

Time to stop the madness, peeps! Who’s with me?

Speaking of madness, my brother once again made his annual leap into the chilly river where it meets the cold Pacific. You might think that Jonathan does this just for the hell of it – and it does sound like the kind of thing he’d do – but it’s to benefit Special Olympics.

This year, he and his team were dressed as rubber duckies, including fuzzy duck hats and yellow rain slickers:

The boxes they are wearing represent bathtubs, and each one was personalized. Jonathan is on the far right, and his reads “USS SemiconDUCKtor”, a nod to his electrical experiments. Everyone had little containers of bubble mixture and wands to make bath bubbles. They sang a stirring rendition of the Rubber Ducky song from “Sesame Street”, and I wish WordPress would allow me to post the film of it, because it was hilarious. Not only does my brother make a great Christmas ham, he is a great big ham. 🙂

I was surprised and delighted that Erin (who would rescue me from the closed road adventure just two days later) and Rob turned up unexpectedly to join Megan and me in cheering them on. I was so happy and touched to see them both. We watched together as the team tossed off their costumes and ran into the frigid water.

Jonathan, of course, was jumping and diving and even swimming around before running back out:

He said the water was so cold that it made the air feel warm when he got out. He was glad to get into his commemorative sweatshirt, though:

and we were all glad to be there to support him. Jonathan and Megan raised about $300, and it’s great to know that the money will stay local and benefit local residents. Just being there was exhilarating!

A YEAR AGO: At the Polar Plunge, of course.

Well, Monday did not go as planned.

I was about a mile and a half from my house when I was stopped by a line of other stopped cars. A member of the local volunteer fire department (not my brother) informed me that the road was closed due to a huge propane* leak, and it might not be open for “several hours, or maybe overnight.”

This was unwelcome news to someone who had left the house 11 hours earlier. There was nothing to do but turn the car around and drive back the way I’d just come. I parked off the road and called Megan, to let her know that she had the opposite problem: she couldn’t get to work.

Megan said she’d get the cats in, feed them, and close the doors which I always leave open for them when their doorman is absent. At least that was one less thing to worry about. Ever the worrier, I was wondering if I’d have to sleep in my car and go to work in the same clothes without benefit of make-up, toothbrush, or shower, an almost unthinkable proposition (even though I thought it).

I called my friend Erin, who lives nearby, and asked if she was up for an unexpected guest for an unspecified period of time.

Fortunately, she was, so I headed to her place, where I was warmly welcomed . I hung out with her son while Erin made dinner and her husband helped to deal with the propane situation (he is also on the fire department). We had a happy dinner together in her lovely, redwood-paneled dining room. We were just considering sorbet when Megan texted me to let me know that the coast was clear.

I thanked my gracious hosts and headed home in the dark. I was so happy that I could actually go home that I didn’t even worry about the horror of night driving. I got home about 14 hours after I left it, and got into my PJs and went straight to bed without passing Go or collecting $200.

When I left the house in the early morning darkness a few hours later, I had this strange feeling of déjà vu…

A YEAR AGO: I was having a lot more fun, having both my ‘do and my ‘tude refreshed with a visit to the wonderful Angelica.

*Surely the bane of the country dweller’s existence. So expensive! Those hideous tanks! The icky smell! And now this. To paraphrase Eric Clapton, “She don’t like, she don’t like, she don’t like…propane.”

When the storms blew through here earlier this month, they not surprisingly wrenched the tarpaper off the former bathroom window:

which was, as Mark puts it, “cancelled” when Rob fixed up the bathroom last year. I don’t think I ever showed you the toilet paper holder he made from copper pipe to match the shower curtain rod which he also made:

He also covered the outlet/light switch with copper to match:

It was Rob to the rescue as usual, just like Mighty Mouse. Come to think of it, he kind of is Mighty Mouse. Small in size, big on help. Only without the tights. He turned up one day to fix the window before the next storm gets here. He gathered some old wood planks from James’ collection of things and stuff, and voilà:

So I’m all set in case it ever rains again. Which it doesn’t seem it ever will. It’s been in the 60s and sunny every day since the storm went away, while the rest of the country has been freezing its collective butt off.

Rob’s repair delivery wasn’t the only pleasant surprise I received over the past few days. The mail* contained a letter from Jessica! It read as follows:

Dear Suzy,

How are you? I am recovering from a cold, but other than that, I am doing fine. What’s new? Are you doing anything for valentine’s day? I am planning a valentine’s party! Might not happen though. 🙁

What’s the weather like over there? It’s raining over here. Yay! I hope that you get lots of rain.

Sincerely,

Jessica

XO XO

The “sincerely” part was my favorite. I wasted no time in writing her back, as you can see above, and also acquiring more stationery, so I can keep writing to her.

So far, I’m doing a decent job in keeping my new year’s resolution to spend more time with family and friends. We’ve been having family dinners about once a month. This month’s was at my brother’s place, and we had barbecued chicken and salad by the fire. A friend of my siblings’ was there from the Bay Area. They have known each other since the long ago days when they lived on boats at Pier 39. Though I don’t remember meeting him back then, I probably did, and somewhat awkwardly, it turned out that he helped my siblings to move my stuff out of the apartment when John and I broke up.

Despite that slight weirdness, we had a great time and I really liked him a lot. He was completely wowed by the beauty of the area and the garden, and by the blanket of stars in the sky. Both Venus and Mars blazed beside the crescent moon. He’s planning to come back up with his son this summer, if not before. Old friends, new friends, your family, and old and new memories – what could be better?

*As Jerry Seinfeld put it, “Without bills, magazines and junk mail, there is no mail.” I’m always delighted when there’s an exception to this rule, which is followed far too strictly for my taste.

A YEAR AGO: Visiting Erica and Jessica. And a peek at the local museum.

Well, it’s been quite a day.

I left home in the foggy, grey dawn, making my way to the county seat for orientation and paperwork for my brand-new job. I gave myself two hours to get there, and I needed most of it, partly for the curvaceous drive and partly to locate the building, which was new to me, and parking, which was far away.

The actual paperwork and proceedings went relatively quickly, and then I set off for the Big Town, another hour and a half away. I got there around 12:30, and thought it would be a good idea to call my new boss and ask if I could grab some lunch and then report to work.

She was surprised by my call, and also by the idea that I was supposed to work today. She herself was headed to the county seat for the rest of the day, and the person who is supposed to train me will not be in until Thursday. She said she’d call me about coming in tomorrow, but as of 6:30 this evening, she hasn’t called me, so I’m not sure what’s happening other than my not getting up at 4:30 tomorrow. Clearly they are in dire need of my services. 🙂

Not being at work freed me up to meet Megan and Rob over at the family property to bury Ramona, their beloved thirteen year old cat. Megan stayed with me after bringing* Ramona and her sister home from San Diego when they were just babies, so it seems fitting that I was also there at the end.

Ramona had health issues for some time, but had taken a dramatic turn for the worse over the past day or so, and it was time to let her go. Dr. Carl took care of her in his compassionate but no nonsense way, and Rob brought her home to the family property late this afternoon, where we said goodbye. Ramona looked so peaceful and so beautiful. We petted her, kissed her farewell, and laid her to rest near little Henry Etta James and Jed the Wonder Dog. She is in good company and will always be with us.

A YEAR AGO: A look around the garden.

*Bonus: the pop up pictures in this very old post still work, unlike most of them, so you can delight in the cuteosity of baby Ramona and Harriet. Enjoy!

Megan and I went on a little adventure to the south coast on Sunday. We could not have had a nicer day for it. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue, and it must have been at least 70 degrees. No jacket required.

It was an all girl road trip, with Star and Stella in the back seat and Megan and me in the front. Megan drove, so I could enjoy the scenery, which was spectacular. The ocean was showing off, as were the whales and dolphins frolicking in it. Calla lilies unfurled their white flags by the side of the road, and drifts of yellow daffodils nodded in fields. The road meanders through hills, some steep and some rolling, dotted with cows and sheep on one side, and a precipitous cliff overlooking the ocean on the other, fringed with dark trees twisted by years of wind.

Our first stop – first things first, you know! – was the fabulous Thai restaurant in the tiny town of Anchor Bay:

We ordered take-out for dinner, and while it was being prepared, wandered with the dogs through a small, secluded ocean view cemetery:

The ground was starred with wild irises:

and gravestones ranging from the ancient:

to the modern:

I loved how this couple had their wedding date and rings engraved between their names, and that his side reads “Gone fishing” while hers reads “Gone dancing”. Somehow I feel that their love lives on.

We stowed the dogs and the Thai food in the car and set off for the quirky little city of Point Arena. We went to the pier and found a rough wooden table on the deck of the chowder house. As we waited for lunch to arrive, we admired the view:

and the intrepid surfers. As Megan said, they must be experts to risk the rocks as well as the waves. While surfer watching, we moved away from the table, and a giant seagull made his move on our unprotected lunches. He only managed to knock over my nearly empty lemonade glass, which must have been a huge disappointment to him.

After lunch, we took the dogs to the Stornetta Public Lands, which recently became the newest part of the California Coastal National Monument, thanks in part to efforts at the jobette, along with many others. You may recall that my boss actually met the President when the lands were signed into protected status, something that still totally thrills me.

The dogs, however, were more thrilled by the sights, sounds, and smells of this new playground, especially cow fan Star. It soon became apparent that the lands are still in use by the Stornetta family for grazing their justly famous dairy cows*, so we divided our time between admiring the scenery:

and keeping an eye out for cow calling cards, as well as keeping Star from rolling in them. I also began to worry about getting a sunburn. In January.

Somehow, the day was almost over, and as we headed back to the car, I stopped to watch the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs in the last, golden light of day, thinking of how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful place with such a wonderful family, including Star and Stella.

*The brand name is Clover Stornetta, and I have to admit that their billboards always make me laugh.

A YEAR AGO: Driving, and lots of it – also to the beautiful south coast.

In the spirit of keeping my new year’s resolutions (if I can’t be part of the 1%, I can at least be part of the 8% who actually keep their resolutions), we had a family dinner on Saturday night.

Like the best things in life, it was something of a communal effort. Megan bought the ingredients after her daily dog walk on Friday, bringing them (the ingredients, not the dogs) to my house along with her bigger than mine pot. Megan tends to have kitchen equipment which is on the epic side due to the endless preservation of garden produce after the endless work of producing it. She also appears to have a wider latitude in chili production as well, since she asked me if I wanted to put in broccoli and/or zucchini, the mere suggestion of which I found surprising.

So I made chili ordinaire on Friday afternoon: ground turkey; crushed tomatoes; black, pinto, and kidney beans; garlic; onions; red bell pepper; chili powder and cumin. Oh, and a dash of sugar – it brings out the tomato flavor. I also took some butter out of the freezer to thaw for garlic bread.

On Saturday, I was driving home from the jobette in the misty rain when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I waited until I had pulled into the driveway and gotten out of the way of any incoming neighbors to check it, and I had a text from Megan asking if I wanted her to come over and start on the garlic bread.

Arriving at my humble abode, I found Megan in the kitchen peeling garlic and the chili (original typo here was “child”. Hee!) slowly warming up on the stove. I try not to think about how many days/weeks/years of my life I have spent peeling garlic, and it was nice to be spared the peeling and chopping. Megan was displeased by the job she did cutting the loaf of bread for garlic bread, reminding me of how my paternal grandfather always declared that women could not cut bread. It was good enough for me, though, and apparently for everyone else, too.

Dave and Jennifer, my sibs’ land partners, arrived shortly before Jonathan did, and even Rob made a special guest appearance. We all enjoyed the chili and garlic bread while catching up on each other’s lives and discussing the news. Audrey deigned to be petted while Clyde made his displeasure clear when his dinner failed to appear. Roscoe failed to appear until all the guests had left and the cats’ dinner was served, which is what he usually does. He’s not much for parties.

Jonathan’s new year’s resolution is to get us better prepared for an earthquake. He feels we are overdue for one, and if we all invest a little money, he can store enough food and water to keep us going for a couple of weeks. He has a “Seal a Meal” thing which can be used to seal food like rice and pasta while it’s still in boxes and/or plastic bags, and then put them in 50 gallon drums for safe keeping. There’s a well and water storage tank over at the property, and the electricity there is all off the grid, so we should be able to get by.

Not to be a crazy survivalist or anything, but it’s good to be ready just in case. I’ll be glad to help him keep his resolution. And so far, everyone is glad to help me keep mine.

A YEAR AGO: Stella makes a (temporary) break for it.

I put away all the Christmas decorations yesterday, and now the house looks sad. Bigger, but sad. Sundays are always melancholy, but the one when you put away the holiday glitz and start getting ready to go back to work after a week off is definitely the winner (or possibly the loser, depending on how you look at it).

I considered leaving the white lights glittering on the banister, but decided it really had to be all or nothing, so nothing it was. However, I did move the orchid with the flower spikes beside the sliding glass doors in the living room where the Christmas tree used to be. It can get sunshine to make it bloom, while not freezing its buds off.

As I cleaned up all signs of the dear, departed holiday, it occurred to me that not only does Jarrett get the dreaded combo gift for his birthday, he doesn’t even get a blog post from me about his birthday dinner. I will try and make up for this shocking oversight now.

After our sparkling visit to the Botanical Gardens to admire the lights display, we repaired to a little Italian restaurant to celebrate Jarrett’s birthday.

We had a plate of calamari to start, and it was incredibly light, crispy, and tender – my brother thought this was because it had never been frozen. It didn’t even need the dipping sauce! Megan and Jonathan both had light as air gnocchi with pesto, which they both pronounced delicious. I had a delightful penne alla vodka. Of course, we had a bottle of wine to share as well.

We needed it to toast the fact that Jarrett’s mother has a new job this new year. She is going to move to LA to practice her sushi-making art at some high end restaurant, who wooed her and convinced her to move there from San Francisco.

Even though she doesn’t drive.

I’m sure she will love it, though, and her new bosses have found her a house within walking distance of the restaurant. Something tells me she’ll be having visitors…

After dinner, the server asked if we would like coffee. My brother remarked that he’d love a brandy with his, but the restaurant only has a license for beer and wine. The server returned to our table with a tray of small glasses and said, “I can’t sell this to you, but I can give it to you,” and distributed Limoncello to all of us. We were both surprised and delighted and wasted no time in toasting Jarrett’s birthday.

The attentive server apparently took note of our toast, since she returned to the table with a big meatball with a lit candle stuck in it, along with the owner/chef and the entire staff, who gathered around to sing “Happy Birthday” to Jarrett with his family and the rest of the restaurant’s guests. It was a wonderful small town moment, and the perfect end to a perfect evening.

A YEAR AGO: An equally wonderful, but very different, birthday celebration.