Suzy Says

Frosty Fern

Happy new year, y’all! It started out a frosty one here, -2C outside and +4 inside, which is not that much of a plus. Ever notice that everything is worse in metric? Temperatures are colder and distances are further (though bra sizes are stupendous).

My brother was working a 72 hour shift, so I went over to his place to make sure the pipes had not burst in the sub-freezing temperatures. Though it’s only about a quarter of a mile away, it’s also about 5 Fahrenheit degrees colder over there in the winter, so the entire garden was heavily frosted, sparkling in the sun.

No pipes were harmed during the cold night, but I left his tap dripping, just in case. And fed Scout, the mini cat whose tiny body contains the loudest meows known to catdom. Since we were inside, I could pet her silky fur – not even Jonathan can pet her outside. Her youth spent as a stray cat is too deeply imprinted, and she must be very clever to have escaped the many predators for as long as she did – she was at least a year old when she turned up on my brother’s doorstep one day.

Back at home, I continued my tidying up activities. I had the week off between Christmas and New Year’s Day, and I decided to use the gift of time to try and create a little order from chaos, especially in the studio/storage room. There’s still a long way to go, but I’ve made significant inroads. And there were a couple of unexpected rewards (in addition to unusual virtue). I found the lovely Rita’s ID tag:

I have put it carefully away in my jewelry box, remembering the happy times I spent with that beautiful, wonderful girl, the star of the neighborhood.

I also came across an “At Home” card my maternal grandparents sent out after their wedding in 1924:

The only wedding picture I have of them shows them in a field with a grumpy preacher and one attendant each, so I get the impression that this was not a conventional wedding, and might even have been an elopement, given that my grandmother left home in order to go to high school*. I always think my grandfather looks like he won the lottery:

The card still smelled faintly of my grandmother’s lily of the valley perfume, even though she’s been gone for almost 40 years. I am lucky to have so many wonderful memories.

My delightful co-worker Erin gifted me with a lovely red clock for Christmas. It was out of the box for less than two minutes before it found itself on the wall, looking perfect:

I also organized the books by color:

Pretty, no? A good start to the new year so far, I’d say!

A YEAR AGO: Back home from the last trip of the year to San Francisco.

*She moved in with her scandalous Aunt Luella, who got married in a pink dress and wore the dress to parties afterwards, bobbed her hair, and went to teacher’s college. She taught at the same high school where my grandfather was the principal – and my mother was a student.

The darkness that shadowed the end of 2013 carried into 2014, with losses all around me, including the shocking murder of a beloved Sheriff’s Deputy, which horrified the entire county; the sudden loss of my friend Joel; and the loss of my job.

Trips to San Francisco: A mere three, versus last year’s nine times.

Rainfall for 2014 to date: 32.75 inches. At this time last year, we had about 5 inches. Still a long way to go to get out of the drought, though: 11 trillion gallons, to be precise.

Power outages: 7. One in February, one in April, three in May and June, including one on my birthday, and one in July. Go figure. The final one was on Christmas Eve.

I read 100 books this year, a marked improvement over last year’s 83, though to be fair, some were kid lit and some were YA. I will never be too old for YA. Favorites this year were:

• Kitty Genovese: The Murder, the Bystanders and the Crime That Changed America, by Kevin Cook
  The Genovese murder was a cause célèbre that we all grew up hearing about – the girl murdered while many people stood by and watched but didn’t help. This legend is far from the actual, though horrible, truth and Cook’s meticulous research debunks the myths while revealing the truth about Kitty and her killer. I really felt like I got to know Kitty and the place and time she lived (and died) in. A fascinating read.
• The Enchanted by Rene Denfeld
  Perhaps a strange choice for someone trying to escape the gloom of real life, this novel is set in an unnamed prison and is narrated by a killer on Death Row. The author is a former death row penalty investigator, and her knowledge is reflected in this remarkable book. Despite the darkness of the subject, the writing is, at once, moving, poetic, and beautiful, both reflecting and transcending its subject.
• The Short, Tragic Life of Robert Peace by Jeff Hobbs
  Although the title is something of a spoiler, I couldn’t put down this memoir of the author’s roommate at Yale, who overcame so much to be there but was not, in the end, able to escape his demons. Beautifully written and unforgettable, this is a haunting, complex, and fascinating read.

• We Were Liars by E. Lockhart
  I was originally attracted to this because its setting – kids spending summers together on an island in New England – reminded me of my youth, but it revealed itself to be so much more. I did not guess the shocking twist at the end at all, and both the surprise and the lyrical writing stayed with me for several days.

In my quest for escapism, I re-read several childhood favorites, such as From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (I still think the character I most closely resemble in fiction is Claudia Kincaid) and Harriet the Spy. I found “Harriet” to be much darker than I remembered, with the bleakness of Harrison Withers’ life, the disturbingly carnivalesque Mrs. Golly, and the protracted revenge Harriet’s schoolmates take against her, apparently sanctioned by their parents – bullying long before the internet. But I did enjoy the glimpses of long-ago New York in both of them.

And the TV shows that I enjoyed the most were also on the dark side: the half season of Mad Men, Orange Is the New Black, True Detective, and Rectify. Escapist fun was provided by House of Cards and Nashville, along with the ever-enjoyable and ultra stylish Sherlock, House of Lies, Suits (which is set in New York, but clearly filmed in Toronto – I have fun spotting locations and remembering my Bay Street days) and White Collar.

On the bright side, I managed to stay out of the courtroom and remained subpoena free for the first time in two years. Score!

I did a little blog improvement, adding a peek back at the previous year’s posts to this year’s blog posts, and a page with my end of day reports for the jobette. Here’s a look back at what happened this year:

January: Happy New Year! A beautiful party. Curses! The flu foils and spoils my plans. Stella the foster dog decides to meet the neighbors. A beautiful oceanside walk. Is there any other kind? A visit from dear friend (and professional cook) Paul. Driving adventures.

February: Shopping with Stella. My sister’s misadventures in the City. manicures and a movie. Visiting Erica and Jessica – and the rarely open Museum. A look around the garden. First power outage of the winter.

March: Refreshing my hair and my spirit at the little salon in the big woods. My intrepid brother once again takes the Polar Plunge. An earthquake, a cat burglary, and my jobette boss meets the President! Clyde’s antics. Stella wins her Canine Good Citizenship award on Dad’s birthday. He would have been proud of Megan and Stella. A tragic loss shocks our little community. Farewell to a hero. A delightful play.

April: The ludicrous bureaucracy of healthcare begins (not that it ever ends). Another lovely evening at the theater. An afternoon at the beach. Another power outage, this one driven by someone driving into a power pole at midnight. My blog turns thirteen! A conference in the City. A memorable visit to the de Young Museum. Jessica’s 11th birthday. An early heat wave.

May: More healthcare madness. Home improvements. A field trip. The beginning of the bathroom fix up. It can be useful having an outdoor shower, especially during a heat wave. Too many losses. Megan’s birthday. Car repairs.

June: A bright and beautiful birthday to me! Silly me! Progress on the bathroom front. A sunny Sunday. Adventures in transportation. I would prefer transportation to be a little less adventurous. Farewell to a friend. A reading at the bookstore, and some unexpected art.

July: Anniversaries all around! The pleasures of my commute Renovations continue apace in the bathroom. Goodbye, electric lime green plywood floor! A birthday celebration for a beautiful girl. Fantastic, faux pho.

August: A snow day, California style. Meetings and modernism. More modern art, a visit to the inimitable Swan Oyster Depot, and a diamond as big as the Ritz. The bathroom is better and brighter. Working on the new and improved door. The anniversary of Dad’s death arrives for the thirteenth time. A brand new (to me) tree! My back gets back at me.

September: Happiness is a new puppy! And new iThings. Dinner and a play with two of my favorite girls. The always delightful County Fair. Welcome rain. And other news. Dramatic Before and After pictures.

October: I suddenly lose my job. Why not? Loss is the theme of the year. A little jaunt to the south coast lifts my spirits. Living in limbo: I don’t recommend it. But dinner and a movie with people you love always helps. Celebrating my fifth Hooterville anniversary with tacos! Early morning job testing.

November: A happy Halloween, both in San Francisco and in Hooterville. Clyde gives me a Stephen King style scare. No news is not particularly good news. A lovely evening out with friends. A not very productive trip to San Francisco. A rainy trip home. A happy Thanksgiving.

December: Walking the dogs with my sister between storms. Getting ready for Christmas. After the storm. A grueling job interview. A merry Christmas after a Christmas Eve power outage. Lichen’s new and unusual house. A sparkling soirée.

I kept my new year’s resolution for 2013 of staying out of the courtroom, and am encouraged to set one for this year, too: spend more time with friends (especially Erica and Jessica) and family (especially Jonathan). May the new year be bright and beautiful for all of us!

A YEAR AGO: Recapping 2013.

Bright and beautiful

Jarrett’s birthday is located a couple of weeks before Christmas, inevitably leading to the dreaded combo gift suffered by so many December babies. Not everyone is clever enough to have their birthday and Christmas evenly spaced six months apart, like I did. But his desk looked like this when he arrived at work on his birthday:

It’s nice to be loved by your office family.

Jarrett’s birthday was also celebrated by the Festival of Lights at the Botanical Gardens in the Big Town, so he and the wonderful Kalli came by to check it out.

We were greeted by someone handing out miniature candy canes, and plunged into a magical world of glittering sea monsters, shooting stars, peacocks, and flying sea urchins. A volcano spewed lava and smoke:

while a ship sailed rough seas in a nod to our maritime history and the whale watching season:

We came across a fire pit, where we were equipped with long bamboo poles and a marshmallow to toast:

Outside the fire pit area, mysterious globes glowed in the bushes:

There’s something magical about lights sparkling in the wintry darkness when the days are so short. It gives me hope and reminds me of the Christmas lights I loved as a child and still do. Especially when I’m with people I love.

Audrey was not my favorite cat the morning after Christmas, when she mercilessly woke me up at 5:45 am by pounding on the sliding glass doors. They don’t fit very well, so they create quite a racket when played by Audrey, especially with the added bonus of screeching claws on glass. You’d think I’d be used to being bossed around by a very small and very determined cat, but you’d be wrong.

It was 32 (0C) degrees outside and 44 (6C) inside as I grumpily made coffee. Hello, winter!

Despite the Audrometer going off too early and too insistently, it was a great Christmas. It dawned bright and beautiful after the power outage storms of Christmas Eve, and for the first time in years, we could celebrate it on Christmas Day itself.

After the cheese biscuits were made, the pears for salad roasted, the salad dressing whisked together and the table set:

I settled down to watch the Queen’s message and read the last chapter of “The Box of Delights” by the tree, where the stockings were, if not hung, at least placed with care:

Surprisingly, especially since two of the stockings have feathers on them, the cats have more or less left the tree alone. Roscoe tried to climb it and removed about 6 ornaments when I first put it up, but other than that, they have pretty much ignored it.

Erica and Jessica arrived bearing the Bûche de Noël of bliss:

It was made of a sort of flourless sponge cake using almond meal, brushed with tangerine syrup, filled with a mocha ganache, covered with chocolate buttercream, and adorned with meringue mushrooms dusted with cocoa. I was charmed to note that the mushrooms had dark “gills”, just like real ones. Erica is a genius.

Jessica was swathed in a plush Totoro onesie, as soft inside as it was outside:

We watched “A Charlie Brown Christmas” together, and she remarked on the “blatant Christianity” in the show, though she considered Snoopy “hilarious”. I find it interesting that she considers Christianity to be the same as Greek, Roman, or ancient Egyptian mythology.

Jonathan arrived with the ham he smoked all day over apple wood, glazed with Jack Daniel’s, honey from our bees, onion marmalade from our onions, cardamom, and other secret spices:

It was as delicious as it looked.

After dinner, Jessica and Jonathan took turns at the annual reading of Red Ranger Came Calling to an appreciative audience:

I filmed Jessica reading, but the limitations of WordPress don’t allow me to post it (at 38 seconds, it’s twice as big as allowable). You’ll have to take my word for it that Jessica’s performance had real showmanship this year, and she gave Jonathan a run for his money. I love it that Dad’s tradition of reading out loud to us lives on.

A YEAR AGO: A merry Christmas, even though it was a day late.

Of the many delights of finally getting some real rain (not having to water the garden; not feeling guilty about either watering or not watering the garden; frogs singing; making a dent in the drought), driving and walking dogs are not among them.

As you all know, I’m not one of Nature’s drivers, even in the best of circumstances, and I think we can all agree that pouring rain on rough and curvy roads are not the best of circumstances. Visibility was poor enough and the rain was pouring enough the other day that my back was aching from tension by the time I got home from the jobette. On the bright side, though: no power outages yet.

At Megan’s house, the dogs were bored out of their minds, while yet not wanting to go outside into the suboptimal weather. Megan had to drag them outside for necessary business, and they tried to get back inside as soon as possible. Once inside, they immediately expressed their boredom by sighing, getting in the way as much as caninely possible, and generally making a nuisance of themselves until Megan gave them bones to chew, which is the dog equivalent of sitting your kid in front of the TV.

We took advantage of a break between storms to get the dogs out of the house and hopefully get some of the naughtiness out of the dogs. We headed for the Headlands, overlooked by the village:

Ravens wheeled lazily over the ocean:

I love to watch them waft lightly in the air currents, like they’re surfing on the air.

Stella watched them with me. One of the surprising things about Stella, who does everything 150%, 150% of the time, is that she likes to watch birds, butterflies, and the ocean:

We enjoyed watching the waves together, and I enjoyed watching Stella gaze at the scenery with her golden eyes. We caught up with Megan and Star, and watched a little girl fly a kite with her father before heading back to the car.

At Megan’s house, we attacked the carcass of Turkzilla together, removing the remaining meat and breaking it up to make broth. While the broth was brothing, we made a turkey pot pie, Megan making the roux and sauce while I cut things it up. It was nice to be cooking together in her little kitchen with the fire roaring, the rain falling outside, and the dogs napping on the couch. It was a great day, full of simple pleasures.

A YEAR AGO:

A long day heading home from San Francisco.

The Morning After

The rain kindly held off on Thanksgiving Day, even giving me enough time on the day after to move the buckets of wood for the outdoor fireplace under cover and to put the hanging plants out to get a shower. I had just finished all this when the rain began to fall and the cats came running back inside.

As I tidied up the house, I wondered why I had bothered tidying the day before. After all, I knew the house would be a mess the day after, even with people washing dishes as we went along the feast preparation road. It’s just one of those things about having a really small house and a kitchen that is undersized even by Manhattan standards. I guess I want to act like I am tidier and more civilized than I really am.

Erica and Jessica arrived bearing gifts: wild mushroom tartlet appetizers; three different kinds of cranberries (chutney, made with figs and quince; relish; and shrub, which you will hear more of later); rolls; and a spicy pumpkin pie, truffle-like in its utter richness. Oh, and a meat thermometer.

I had put Turkzilla in the oven about two and a half hours prior to their arrival, and applied foil after its initial hour in the oven because of the undue brownness. Erica opined that I had unwittingly fast roasted it at 400 degrees in foil rather than roasting it at a slower, more civilized pace, and that all 22 pounds of it might in fact be cooked. The meat thermometer claimed it was, though we turned the oven down dramatically and left it in there a couple more hours just to be sure. It looked pretty good:

After the turkey crisis was handled, I showed the girls my new bathroom, which Jessica pronounced “much improved”. I think Rob should make a little plaque with his initials on it and install it near the baseboards somewhere. An artist should sign his artwork.

Erica went to hunt mushrooms for dyeing (and found a bag’s worth of different hues), so Jessica and I explored my jewelry box, which mollified me after the rejection of my jewelry in the big city. Jessica thinks my jewelry taste is impeccable, and accessorized me for the evening with a string of jade beads my father brought me from China, my mother’s moss agate earrings, and a turquoise pin that had been my grandmother’s. She accessorized herself with my moonstone necklace:

When Erica came back from foraging, she made magical cocktails in my grandmother’s wine glasses with the cranberry shrub. Shrubs date from Colonial times (how Thanksgiving is that?), and are sweetened vinegar-based syrups that can be mixed into soda water or other fruit juices. Erica mixed it with clementine soda and added vodka to mine for extra fun:

I couldn’t resist eating the pickled cranberries in the drink – delicious and intense!

Lichen arrived with the happy news that he has found a new house and mostly moved into it. He said that it looks like a two story wine cask, and it’s just a few miles south. Though it doesn’t have a kitchen, the owners have invited Lichen to design an Ikea kitchen which they will then have shipped up from the Bay Area. Apparently, you can design it on a computer and see how it will look, move things around, etc. before your landlords buy it for you. I’m so happy for Lichen, and we are planning go over and check it out next weekend. I was also pleased to hear that Michael found an affordable place in Hooterville. Maybe things really do work out for the best.

At the end of the evening, Megan and I sat chatting by the fire with a last glass of wine, and I thought that I actually feel more thankful now that the future is so uncertain, rather than less. I am rich in family and friends who are family, and I know that whatever happens, they will do their best to help me, and I will never really be alone. I have a lot to be thankful for.

A YEAR AGO:
Thanskgiving prep.

You already knew that Megan is the best sister in the world, right? Just for extra proof, as if any were needed, she got up at 5:00 am after working four 12 hour night shifts to drive her pathetic older sister to the county seat in the stormy Saturday darkness. When I was about 14 and she was 5, Megan told me, “I’ll catch up with you one day. You’ll see!” She should have said, “I’ll pass you and leave you in the dust*.”

In my defense, I have never driven the switchbacked mountain road that leads there, and starting in the storm-tossed darkness did not seem like the best idea. I hate driving at night, whereas Megan is so used to it after so many years of night shifts and night time ambulance driving that she navigated through it all with one hand on the wheel. I think she likes Wednesday, leather seats and all.

The Ridge and the road to the city were littered with tree branches and pine needles (follow the red needle road!), which Megan said were more slippery and dangerous than they looked, having been called to many pine needle induced accident scenes over the years. Despite driving carefully through the redwoods and up and down and around and about the crazy road to the county seat (on our way back, we passed a couple of guys who had pulled over to throw up together**), we made good time.

Despite living here for five years now, I honestly don’t think I’ve been to the county seat since being helicoptered there with Dad when he had his stroke fourteen years ago. I tend to go to Santa Rosa for things that cannot be found on the coast.

Megan dropped me off at the test center, where I was joined by about ten other testees. The person giving the test said that 21 people had registered for it, but that half showing up was about par for the course. She added that this was also the case for interviews, which I found surprising.

We all took our places in a conference room and dutifully filled in the little multiple choice bubbles with the Number Two pencils we had been instructed to bring with us. There were 100 questions. I was pretty confident about the spelling, grammar, and punctuation, but less so about the word problems. At least there wasn’t any math. X-Y = Zzzzz for me.

I finished the test first, and we are supposed to get our results in 10 business days.

Megan and I attempted to shop, but the selection was lacking, so we headed back to the coast, stopping for a belated breakfast at the Boonville General Store. It felt much later than 11:30, but that’s what happens when you get up long before the sun. I had hoped to buy dinner for Megan and Rob at Libby’s, but they were closed, despite the sign saying they were open. We weren’t the only ones to be disappointed – several other cars stopped, tried the doors, and left. We’re planning to meet up with Erica and Jessica for Halloween on Friday, so maybe we can stop in then.

*Somehow, the baby of the family has become its matriarch, and never got any of the traditional “baby” slack from the rest of the family. Go figure.

**I felt really sorry for them. There was a looong way to go before they’d hit any straight roads. Kind of like being seasick in the middle of the ocean.

A YEAR AGO:

Virtual Walk.

Seasonal decorations at Luna Trattoria

How better to take a girl’s mind off pending unemployment than dinner and a movie with two of her favorite girls?

As Megan and I set off for the Big Town, the rain that had been promised all day finally materialized, bucketing merrily down as Megan navigated the twisty roads. The bucketing didn’t last long, though, and there was a mere tenth of an inch in the rain gauge this morning. Come on, rain! You can do better than that!

We met our dear friend Lu at Luna Trattoria, a new restaurant which has been getting a lot of buzz. All of my co-workers at the jobette just love it. It’s a pretty, friendly place, owned by a family from the Emilia- Romagna region of northern Italy. As the menu notes, it’s authentic Italian food, not Italian American food.

Megan had feather-light gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce, Lu had pasta with Sangiovese sauce, and I had spaghetti carbonara, which reminded Megan and me both of our father and our friend Davide, who worked with Dad at the University of Siena. We visited Davide at his home in Milan as well as his very, uh, rural* country home in the Italian Lake district (home of George Clooney). Davide taught Dad to make this dish, which uses pancetta, white wine, eggs, etc. to create a delicious dish. They used to say they’d open a restaurant together one day, Il Due Davidi (The Two Davids). I wish they had and I wish they were still here, drinking wine, cooking, and laughing together.

After dinner, we headed to the movie theater to see “Gone Girl”, which you may remember was one of my favorite books a couple of years ago. I found myself sitting right next to my co-worker and his date. After the movie, I asked him what he thought of it and he opined that perhaps it had not been the best choice for a date movie. On the way out of the theater, we ran into our beloved former swimming teacher Sallie, who was as wonderful and glowing as ever. Gotta love a small town! And a fun evening with the girls.

A YEAR AGO:

LA at last!

*And I do mean rural. Dirt floors and no hot running water.

By the time I got home from the jobette on Tuesday, it was pretty obvious that I had a cold. Because, you know, why not? Maybe my immune system was weakened by stress, along with my ever tenuous mental health.

Megan had left some Sudafed* on the table for me, and I thought I had some Afrin, but alas, it turned out that I did not. There is no substitute for either of these things, and unfortunately for me, Sudafed alone was not mighty enough to decongest my nose.

As often happens, just when I needed sleep the most, I felt too lousy to sleep. I was awake at 1:30 am, while yet being too tired to read, so I actually watched an episode of The Love Boat, thinking about how the guy who played Gopher became a Congressman later and how Julie the cruise director got fired from the show for her coke habit, which must have been pretty spectacular considering it was the early 80s. I followed up this Velveeta-esque cheesefest with a Scooby Doo cartoon chaser. The Mystery Machine started to look pretty cool to me, and I was actually trying to solve the mysteries, which would have been painfully obvious to Nancy Drew, when I realized that I was probably pretty sick.

Roscoe was unimpressed with my choice of television fare in the dark hours, and Audrey and Clyde left the room completely. I’m blaming it on my weakened and feverish condition.

The next day, Megan came by to check on me and bring me watermelon popsicles for my sore throat, which also happen to be magically delicious. Between those and the meds, I’m on the mend.

A YEAR AGO:

The Impatient Patient

*When Megan bought it, she got her driver’s license out to show the pharmacist, and he told her that the non-drowsy Sudafed, which she was buying, was not the kind used for meth manufacture – the drowsy kind is. Which is kind of counterintuitive.

Elk Cove Sunset

Just because you’ve lost one job doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep doing the one you still have (at least for now). So Megan and I headed down to the beautiful south coast to distribute jobette related materials.

It was a beautiful day, hot by our standards, with not a cloud or a wisp of Karl in sight. September and October are often the warmest and least foggy months in our part of California, and it was probably around 80 degrees, even at the coast, where it’s usually in the 60s, even in the summer.

Since it was late in the day, Franny’s was our first stop (with ten minutes to spare before they closed). Megan got a spicy Mexican mocha for herself and a bag of gummy body parts for Jessica’s Christmas stocking. What says “Christmas” more than squishy, edible people pieces? Here’s look at Franny’s less alarming delicacies:

We stopped in at the feed store across the street on non jobette business: a) to get cat food for Megan’s kitties; and 2) to ask the store owner if we could post a Stella flyer in the window. The owner took one look at Stella’s smiling face and said that she has a good friend whose beloved dog passed away last year and was thinking of getting another one. This person has had nothing but pit bulls her whole life, so she is very knowledgeable about the breed.

Megan sent the store owner some photos and video of Stella and has since made contact with the potential adopter. They will meet in person soon, and if all goes well, Stella will have a new home with 45 fenced acres and another dog to play with, which should be perfect for her. Stay tuned!

Of course, we also had to stop off at Anchor Bay for fabulous Thai food. Amusingly, although we ordered separately and I knew ahead of time what I was getting and Megan didn’t, we ended up getting the same thing (orange chicken; Panang curry; cucumber salad). Great minds think alike. It was really fun to have Megan there with me, and she was a lot of help wrestling boxes and brochures.

As we came around a steep curve, we suddenly came across a cow standing right by the road. I don’t know who was more surprised. The cow seemed to be making up its mind about something, and Megan floored it as much as you can when driving a corkscrew downhill. As she drove, she explained that cows can ram your car repeatedly, and cause quite a lot of damage which is not covered by insurance. I’m still learning the finer points of living in the country, it seems.

The cow didn’t follow us, and it reminded me that this was the second time Megan’s quick thinking had saved us on the south coast. Last time, she pulled the car out of the way of a maniac who had crossed over into our lane in order to pass someone. While coming over a hill with no idea we were there. Fortunately, Megan has quick reflexes and calmness in a crisis, unlike her sister, and pulled over to safety where we both caught our breaths for while, glad we still had them.

You’d think we saw each other all the time, living about 100 yards apart, but we don’t, so we have to make time when we can, even when it’s work related. It was hard to feel like it was work to drive beside the ocean and through the redwoods together, though. I’m lucky that my sister also happens to be my best friend.

A YEAR AGO:

Wine Whine

My hard-working sis is working an extra shift this week, and I stopped by to say hello and goodbye this morning. Attire: kitty pajamas, sweater, and sandals (like Peppermint Patty, I wear them even in winter). I was surprised that the car was full of dogs and she was ready to go. It turns out that she had come over to my house yesterday morning, only to find that I was already gone to the jobette (I left early to buy groceries, gas, cat food, and go to the library).

She was planning to drop the dogs off at our friend Lu’s house, where they can play with their friend Harlow and run around the big, fenced yard while Megan is at work. At least we had a couple of minutes to catch up with each other’s news (Megan’s cat Ramona is experiencing age-related health issues; I had my hair cut) and promise each other we’d try to spend some time together on Friday. For girls who live about 100 yards away from each other, we don’t see each other very often. Still, it’s good to know she’s there.

The wonderful Angelika cut my hair on Friday. It was high time, since the last time she cut it was in March! On my way there, I came across a flock of little boys riding their bikes down the Ridge, each with a fishing pole tied to the handlebars. They rode into the parking lot at the firehouse to let me pass, waving and smiling. It was kind of an Andy Griffith moment. Nice to know that kids still want to go fishing with their friends on a fine, late summer day.

At Angelika’s little salon in the big woods, the garden was looking lovely:

As was I after my haircut. Angelika is from Germany, where they apparently take hair styling very seriously. She studied for four years, as if it were college, apprenticing after two years. She has never said so, but I think she’s appalled that in the US, it’s about nine months of training instead. All I can say is, even after six months, my hair still had its shape, even when I didn’t blow dry it.

She and her boyfriend have been converting their garage to an artist’s studio, installing windows that she traded haircuts for. Her boyfriend traded cutting down trees for lumber, which somehow seems appropriate. I love how this kind of thing is still possible around here. A visitor told me this week that we live in a sort of fairyland up here, and sometimes, it seems like we do.

It’s not all fairies, though. Some of it is bugs.

Like the cricket who found its way onto my stove, leaping away in horror when I turned the burner on, then retreating to a safe distance to watch the proceedings with interest, occasionally waving his antennae in approval.

Or the termites wafting gently through the autumn sunlight. I didn’t even know they flew until I moved to Hooterville. They eventually lose their wings, which lodge nicely in the cobwebs the less Martha Stewart among us have in our houses, and retire to eat someone’s house, possibly mine, though I have not caught them yet.

On the other hand, Erica’s insect encounter was less benign:

“My washing machine just broke because a banana slug got electrocuted on a circuit board.

Now I’m looking for new fuses to solder in, after cleaning out slug bits and carbon, because soldering that thing in is going to be cheaper than the $450-600 to have a repairman replace the board.”

The hazards of living in the country. Or fairyland. You decide.

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.

Dad and Megan

“All the things I long for, those are not things in the future. Those are things in the past.”
— Jo Nesbø

Thirteen years ago, my life changed forever with one early morning phone call. I will never forget my sister’s tight, tense voice as she told me that our father was gone, nor the shock of hearing those words. I will never forget my brother’s strong, work-callused hand seizing mine as we walked through the echoing, impersonal vastness of SFO, saying “Let’s do this.” I felt his strength pour into me as he held my hand so tightly that summer morning, just as I felt Megan’s through the phone just hours before.

Dad, we got through that dark day and the 4,745 days since, whether they were dark or light or something in between, with each other, the way we always have and always will. Thank you for teaching us what love is and the importance of family, no matter what happens. Together we are holding hands and walking into the future. We just wish you were walking beside us.

So far, I’ve successfully gone two nights with the slowly improving bathroom exposed to the elements.

Rob removed the old door and started to frame in the doorway for the new door, which is narrower:

The new door also needs to have a hole drilled in it for the lovely doorknob set. As you can see, it’s shiny and beautiful after its sojourn in the Rob spa:

Maybe sanding and varnishing are the door equivalent of microdermabrasion for people.

Rob hasn’t had time to finish the door installation yet, so in the meantime, I’ve had to be cautious about facility usage during the dark and dangerous night hours.

I’ve been leaving the lighted X on to discourage skunks and other unwanted visitors from partying in there, and when I do, I put on the light on the back porch by the sliding glass doors. Then I can check for potentially escaping cats before heading back inside. To quote Alex from Happy Endings, “I’m not as dumb as I am.”

So far it’s worked, but I have to admit I’ll be glad not to have a hole in the house one of these days. Also I’m dying to see how the new door looks when it’s installed. Rob thinks it will make the room look bigger as well as brighter.

It occurred to me that we have shopped local(ly) for everything other than the X, and even that came from San Francisco, less than 200 miles away. And that we have spent very little. Rob bought the medicine chest for $7 and the floor tiles – all of them! – for $6 at a thrift store. The towel rod and lighting fixtures were found and rehabbed, and the copper pipes for the shower rod were found in James’ vast collection of things and stuff. The door and its accessories were the highest ticket items at $200, but were bought just a couple of miles from my house. Other than that, we bought a basket of sundries at the hardware store, and that’s it.

It’s amazing what can be done with ingenuity and skill – Rob’s, anyway! 🙂

*Now I have that Counting Crows song stuck in my head.

While I was working in the City, Rob was working at my house.

It’s nice to know that he was there, and I’m sure the kitties appreciated it. Audrey in particular loves Rob, and I’m sure they all enjoyed petting breaks while Rob was working there.

Here’s look at the vent he constructed for the bathroom fan:

As you can see, the hole with the mesh is protected by a little copper “house” Rob made, and in turn, it’s protected by the eaves of the house in case it ever rains again. The fan seems to be quieter now that it vents outside, though I could be imagining things.

Inside the house, the glass towel rod has been installed:

Rob found it at the dump, removed the paint and dirt from the 60 year old glass, and replaced the battered metal ends with copper ones he made. I think it’s gorgeous. Almost too nice to cover up with towels!

He also got a medicine cabinet at a thrift store for $7. It fit almost perfectly into the space of the old one, other than a tiny crack which Rob filled in while I was away.

He also hung up a letter from an old movie marquee in San Francisco:

I love it, and it casts a beautiful rosy light, as well as going nicely with the copper fittings. This was my find, and therefore more expensive, like the door, which is currently being worked on in Rob’s workshop and cabaret:

This is an old Airstream-type trailer beside my house, which Rose used to store her pottery equipment. Rob moved in a stand to hold the door, some lights, and a heater, and closed up the front with a heavy duty canvas tarps. It’s like a nightclub in there: dark, smoky, and exclusive.

The door apparently required much sanding (some with machinery, some by hand) and coats of varnish, and it’s just about ready. Before Rob installs it, he’s going to install moldings and baseboards, and I think paint the bathroom, since he can’t stand it. I’m considering painting the bathroom door to the hallway shiny black and getting new knobs from our neighboring window and door emporium down the Ridge, but that’s about as far as I’ve gotten.

Well, it’s certainly been a skimpy month around here blog-wise. And you know what that means: I’ve been working a lot. Work is not only time-consuming, but it’s no fun to write about in the time that hasn’t been consumed, and the workosity drains the fun out of you and makes you just want to have an adult beverage and forget about work.

As Red Forman put it on That ’70s Show: “Work’s not about fun, it’s about work! It’s about seeing how much you can take…and then taking some more.”

I have to admit that I enjoy work the most when watching other people do it.

Speaking of work, Rob’s been hard at work on the extractor fan. It wasn’t as simple as just putting in the fan. He had to cut a hole in the loft and then the side of the house and add a Bender-like hose thing for the steam to exit the house. And being Rob, he also added a little copper shelter to the side of the house so it looks nice, too. ‘Cause that’s how he rolls.

While Rob is working on my house, Megan’s in the next county at the Reggae on the River Festival. She’s not so much getting her Marley on as she is helping out our dear friends Lu and Rik with their Emergency Medical Services endeavors at the festival. Lu and Rik intrepidly spend most of the summer providing medical services to festival goers. It’s about 104 F there (40 C), so Megan is maintaining her night shift hours and hiding on the shade during the daylight, like a vampire. To paraphrase Barbara Harris in Peggy Sue Got Married*: “Megan, you know what the sun is? Stay away from it!”

As soon as Megan gets back, I’m heading to San Francisco for some meetings. Well, two days later, but still. The trip is not made less stressful by the fact that Wednesday is acting up again. It seems to be the same problem as before, so it looks like there is more time and money in her future and mine. My brother is sure I can get to the city and back unscathed, since I probably do not have time to get it dealt with before, but I can’t say this makes me too happy.

To quote the immortal (and some would say, immoral) Scarlett O’Hara: “I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

*Filmed not far away in Petaluma, like “American Graffiti”. Features a very early role by Jim Carrey. And Barbara Harris was quite wonderful in Hitchcock’s final film, Family Plot, filmed partly in San Francisco.

Birthday Girl

So it’s this weekend, and I still haven’t written about last weekend! After work, I stopped by the family property for Kalli’s birthday party and BBQ. Jarrett’s beautiful girlfriend celebrated her 21st birthday* on a beautiful day, surrounded by friends and family.

Being from Willits, where, as you know, they usually keep the heat which occasionally escapes out to the Coast for a vacation, she came prepared with a wonderful canopy (we all immediately decided that we should look into getting one) for shade:

as well as lots of coolers (stocked with ice and beverages), tons of food, and tents. She and Jarrett and their friends had plenty of room to camp in the huge garden.

Jonathan manned the grill as usual, producing pulled pork, chicken, and vegetarian options for burritos, garnished with onions from the garden and peppers from somewhere else (the garden ones are not quite ready yet, though there are green beans, peas, summer squash, and strawberries galore).

After dinner, there were pies. The one on the left is a blackberry pie, made from blackberries picked that day, and the other is cherry, both made from scratch, though the cherries were picked by someone other than us:

Dave and Jennifer joined us. They are digging a new well down at their place, and getting started on preparations for building their house there. It was great to see them and catch up on their news. I feel so lucky to have such great friends, family, and family who are also friends – not to mention friends who are family!

*Like many other beautiful girls, including my niece Cat and my cat Audrey, her birthday is July 2.

I was on my way home from the jobette last night when my phone rang. I don’t usually answer the phone in the car*, but I was stopped at a light, and far enough back that I knew it wouldn’t be my turn to turn onto the highway before the light turned red again (hello, summer!). Also it was Rob, who rarely calls.

Rob was at the hardware store a mere two blocks away, shopping for wiring for the bathroom fan and other sundries, so I met him there. We divided the labor by the socialist principles of “Each according to his need; each according to his ability”, meaning that Rob picked stuff out and I paid for it. It worked out well, since I still have no idea what the difference is between finishing nails and escutcheon pins (though I enjoyed saying “escutcheon”) or what kind of wiring we needed. The little basket of sundries cost about $60, but it’s still cheap at the price.

It was fun to spend time in the hardware store with Rob (and spend time we did – there was a fair amount of meandering involved), and I’ve really enjoyed working on this project with him. I think he is having fun using his manual skills and his creative, design skills. Also I love him.

We went our separate ways from there. I stopped off at the post office and UPS on jobette related issues, then went to my coworker and friend’s house:

to let her cats back into the house and feed them. She is on vacation so I am cat sitting. Her cats are the total opposite of mine: I had to physically eject one of them, and she tried to get back in. When I arrived that evening, they were sitting sadly on the front porch, looking as if I were late picking them up from school. I bet Megan wishes my cats were more like these cats!

*Well, it’s illegal. But it’s mostly because I hate talking on the phone. I consider the lack of cell service around here to be a plus, rather than a minus.

Today is the birthday of fabulous girls: Audrey, the queen of my house, has been bossing me around for seven years now; it’s my niece’s birthday in far off Australia (though maybe it was yesterday, or tomorrow, or last week since she is on the other side of the world), and Jarrett’s lovely girlfriend Kalli is also celebrating a birthday, though her official party will be held next weekend at the family property. Happy birthday, beautiful girls!

Yesterday was the jobette’s birthday. It was founded five years ago, and since I have worked there for three and a half years now, I like to think I’m part of its success. We got lunch from The Q, turned the sign to “Closed”, and drank local sparkling wine (voted best in the state at the California State Fair), followed by cake. It was really fun, and I love the people I work with.

After the celebration, it was back to business as usual, including my yearly performance review, which went well. It’s nice to be appreciated.

Of course, it was also Canada Day, and Megan and Rob’s 23rd anniversary. I passed Rob in the driveway and wished him a happy anniversary. He looked confused, and then said it was the 27th and he still had a few days. He looked horrified to learn that he was wrong on this point. Later, I texted Megan to wish her a happy anniversary and she had also forgotten. So they were even.

Perfect Poppy

On summer solstice Sunday, Megan and I headed to the Big Town to say farewell to my late friend Joel. Not far from the same place traffic ground to a halt this winter, Megan and I actually witnessed an accident as it occurred.

A guy in a white truck came around the corner, hit a telephone pole, snapping it off, and then hit a power pole, where the truck (a) came to a halt; (2) had its hood peeled open like a sardine can, right in front of our eyes. Megan pulled into a driveway across the highway from the accident and grabbed her EMT kit from the trunk. She went over to check on the passengers as gas poured from the totaled truck.

I stayed where I was, since I knew from my siblings’ years of EMS that unnecessary observers are not welcome on scene, and there was nothing I could do to help. Megan later told me that the passengers were fine, not intoxicated, and that something just failed in the truck, making the driver lose control as he came around one of the many curves.

Everyone was fine, and someone had called 911 and started controlling traffic by the time we got back on the road, passing the ambulance, sheriff, and highway patrol cars racing to the scene. On our way home, they were still on scene.

Arriving at Joel’s service, however, everything was serene. The Botanical Gardens donated the use of one of the gardens in honor of his status as a Master Gardener. It was a beautiful day, and friends and family gathered among the blooms and fruit trees to remember Joel: his humor, his gift for writing, his compassion and activism in working with homeless youth, the great love he and his husband Jim shared, and how their marriage just made their love stronger and deeper. Jim now wears both wedding rings and feels that Joel is still with him. There were tears, but there was also love and laughter, and that’s the way Joel would have wanted it.