Suzy Says

This week was a pretty busy one: usual jobette from Monday through Wednesday with the enhancement of 6 am calls on Tuesday and Wednesday; fourth quarter calls starting at 7 am on Thursday and Friday; and the unpleasant surprise of having to work on Saturday. I don’t usually mind filling in once in a while, but why did it have to be this week?

Our good friend Paul turned up on Tuesday. I was sorry that we were all working on Tuesday and Wednesday while he was here, and he drove back to San Francisco on Thursday. He is now making his way to LA to visit his grandchildren, then down to San Diego to visit some cousins, then back up to SF To see his uncle and then come back up here next weekend when none of us (I hope) are working.

Faithful readers may remember that I stayed with Paul in Florida one winter a few years ago, and that he took me on a tour of the Hamptons, where he has spent the summers cooking for the rich and (in)famous for more than 20 years. He has been our friend since he and my siblings lived on boats at Pier 39, back in the days before the sea lions moved in, with their twin specialties of barking and stinking. I used to be able to hear them from my apartment on Russian Hill, though I thankfully couldn’t smell them.

Being the hostess with the leastest, I had shamelessly asked Paul if he’d make me dinner when he had told me he was coming to visit. After we hugged hello and caught up a bit, I asked him what he was making for dinner. Being a guy, he had not planned or shopped. So we perused the contents of the refrigerator and freezer (like my Dad, and to a lesser extent, Self, Paul has mastered the art of making something good with whatever is on hand). We needed a few more things, so we and Wednesday went back down to the Gro and bought them.

Paul made chicken Francese, which was new to me and something like this, with Paul’s enhancements. With it, he roasted potatoes and zucchini. It was delicious! The next night, it was crispy fried shrimp in a Gorgonzola herb sauce over fresh pasta. It’s very relaxing to sit on the couch and sip wine while a professional cook makes dinner for you. I could get used to this.

I’m ending the year the same way I started it – in my beloved San Francisco. This was a banner year for trips to the City: 9, an all-time high since moving to Hooterville four years ago. There was a lot more travel this year, some less fun (Atlanta) than others (LA).

This was a year full of endings and beginnings. I finally got divorced after almost a decade of being separated. While it was good to get the formalities out of the way after a long separation, it was still sad to put “The End” on our story. I am grateful that John and I are still friends and have many happy memories of our many years together. I did not manage to stay out of court, though on an unrelated matter. Summertime subpoenas have to stop! New year’s resolution: a subpoena- and court-free year.

The loss of our beloved Schatzi cast a shadow over the latter part of the year, a loss that resonates through every day, though I am thankful she was in our lives as long as she was. She was an unforgettable gift.

A new dog found her way into our lives (temporarily) at the Christmas season, when we were least looking for one, in the form of Stella the foster dog. There is no better way to honor our Schatzi than by rescuing another dog.

I said goodbye to my battered old car Miss Scarlett and said hello to a newer, fancier one, which took some getting used to.

I started my moments. This was inspired by a friend who writes down something funny or beautiful or delightful that happens to her each day on a slip of paper and then puts it in a jar. At the end of the year she reads all the slips of paper and remembers all the great things that happened.

This was fun to do for a year and a good exercise in much needed-discipline. It really made me appreciate the small moments every day: cuddling with the cats; the sun setting over the Pacific; a spider web jeweled with dew.

Favorite books of the year: Ann Leary’s The Good House, a great portrait of small town life; and the utterly poetic Ordinary Grace. I also read two outstanding books about Detroit, a place near and dear to my heart – Detroit: An American Autopsy and Detroit City Is the Place to Be. The charasmatic Charlie LeDuff, the author of “Autopsy”, also showed the equally charasmatic Anthony Bourdain around Detroit on an episode of “Parts Unknown”, which is well worth watching.

I only read 83 books this year, a significant drop from last year’s 103, a continuing decline which I attribute to the more work, less fun aspect of the new (though not improved) economy.

Rainfall for the season: 5.14 inches. Last year at this time: 24.20. The drought is getting alarming. January and February of 2013 were the driest in recorded history in California. People in the Village are having water delivered!

No power outages so far this season. None! There were 6 at this time last year.

Here’s what happened to our heroine this year:

January:

Started the year off right by heading to San Francisco. Got a new look for my old car and a new iPhone (which has yet to ruin and/or take over my life, possibly due to the lack of cell service here). Wednesday was also Weirdsday. However, Friday was Funday. Yet another trip to San Francisco, this time for (mostly) professional reasons. Royal Treasures of the Louvre at the Legion of Honor. An epic day to get my photo taken for my work website. Spoiler alert: I hated the finished product, although my hair looked awesome.

February:

The cats react to a visiting chicken. An update on Archi, The World’s Cutest Puppy. Beautiful woodworking. Scout’s vet adventure. My intrepid brother takes a Polar Plunge.

March:

Schatzi gets a check-up. Little did we know it would be her last one and that we only had five months left with our beloved girl. Divorce and taxes. Why not? Dad’s birthday. First day of spring. Working on the endless divorce paperwork. A lovely trip to the South Coast.

April:

A late season storm. Haiku. Jessica turns ten! In San Francisco. Breakfast at Swan Oyster Depot. There isn’t a better start to the day. My welcome home included a screen door on the sleeping loft balcony, which has made life about 1,000% better. Thank you, Rob! Jessica’s birthday BBQ. More divorce paperwork, with moral support from my sister. An evening at the theatah.

My blog also turned twelve on April 20, though I failed to note the fact. Sorry, little blog!

May:

Amazing woodworking show. A walk with Star and drinks with Monica in Little River. Birth of an orchard. An early birthday celebration for Megan. A delightful dinner with delightful friends. The end (almost) of the decayed old hot tub. Needless to say, the motor is still there. Megan’s actual birthday, complete with a hand-made picnic table and a daring cliff rescue, both courtesy of our intrepid brother.

June:

Birthday baseball in beautiful San Francisco. Impressionists on the Water at the Legion of Honor. Back home for my birthday BBQ. Monica’s birthday party.

July:

A cavalcade of health problems: Megan’s flu; Jessica’s broken leg; Clyde’s mystery illness. Everyone on the mend. Thinking about summers past. The truth about Schatzi. Wedding plans and peaches.

August:

A lovely stroll with Star and my sister. A frantic Friday. Clyde meets the mysterious Slobber Monster. Megan takes care of the patient. The devastating loss of our much loved Schatzi. A day at the beach with Star. The twelfth anniversary of our adored father’s sudden death. I will never stop missing him until I catch up with him. How to make a really expensive peach pie. A beautiful, joyous wedding. A surprise in the mail – and at the door.

September:

Celebrating our incredible brother’s birthday. A long drive to Reno. Enjoying the spa. Back home in the fresh air! Megan’s last gift to her beloved girl. The County fair. The wonder of a south coast safari. A look around a delightfully eccentric local town.

October:

Last minute car repair before heading to San Francisco. My divorce becomes final as I drive across the Golden Gate Bridge. A soirée in the Village. Audrey does not enjoy her visit to the vet. A local landmark reopens. An epic journey to Los Angeles. The delights of Santa Monica. The glamor of Hollywood. A fascinating tour of downtown LA. A virtual walk with Megan and Star at Big River.

November:

A happy Halloween. A quick trip to Atlanta. The delights of Hockney and Bulgari at the De Young – not to mention the view from the top. A late season barbecue with family and friends. The beginning of the end of Miss Scarlett. Thanksgiving preparations.

December:

Thanksgiving recap. A conference starring my boss. So proud! A long and busy day. The end of the road for Miss Scarlett. ~sob~ Of frozen pipes and Christmas trees. Puppies! And meeting Stella. A surprise dinner and a play for our nephew, Jarrett. A brand new (well, to me) car! Working hard – or hardly working? A merry Christmas.

Thanks for coming along with me on another year of adventures, great and small. I wish you all a joyful and healthy new year!

Sunny Christmas Morning

Our Christmas Day (aka Boxing Day or St. Stephen’s Day, neither of which exist here in the US of A) dawned sunny and beautiful, as you can see above. As the day progressed, it warmed up enough to have the doors open while I cleaned the house and got everything ready for the feast:

You can see my world famous cheese biscuits in the Wedgwood biscuit barrel, salad in the matching bowl, as well as the family silver and wine glasses. My brother smoked the ham over wood Lichen trimmed from the apple, peach and cherry trees on the family property, glazing it with honey from our bees (who sadly perished in the extreme cold snap earlier this month), bourbon, shallots, and other secret ingredients. He also made a lemon tart to go with the mincemeat tarts.

Erica and Jessica appeared in the afternoon bearing a beribboned sprig of mistletoe, Jessica festively dressed in velvet and sporting Gucci loafers:

Here’s a close up of her amazing shoes, which she found at a thrift store for $5:

As she said, “What are the chances of finding Gucci shoes in a thrift store? In my size?” I would have been as thrilled as she was. I almost was, to tell you the truth.

Jessica also came up with the perfect name for the new car: Wednesday, as in Addams. Dark, gothic, and a little dangerous. I’m pretty sure Wednesday would embrace the tinting, though.

Dinner was magically delicious, and after dinner, we opened our stockings. If I do say so myself, I think everyone was really pleased with them this year, from the chocolate ammo in reusable ammo boxes for the boys to the fantastic Sephora skincare set for Megan to the sparkly skull ring and Shakespearean insult gum for Erica.

We pulled the Christmas crackers, put on our hats, groaned at the jokes, and then had the traditional story reading of the magical Red Ranger Came Calling. If you’re not familiar with this delightful tale, you owe it to yourself to pick up a copy and correct this shocking oversight. Jessica started off the reading:

Later, she and Jonathan took turns:

I honestly don’t know who did a better job. It was a wonderful moment, and it’s nice to know that Dad’s legacy of reading aloud lives on.

Needless to say, I woke up to a huge mess this morning. But as a wise man once said, “One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas day. Don’t clean it up too quickly.”

You all know that we have known our “nephew” Jarrett since he was about four years old, right? When we met, my brother and sister were living on boats at Pier 39* and Jarrett’s Mom was one of their neighbors**.

Jarrett was a cute little kid with no father in his life, so my siblings stepped in to fill the void. Jarrett lived with them – on land – during his last two years of high school, just like Megan lived with me***. So he kind of grew up with us, and even if he isn’t actually related to us, he’s still family.

This year, he can’t join us for Christmas due to his work schedule (Sound familiar? How’s that for a family thing?), and his birthday is located a couple of weeks before Christmas, leading to the dreaded combo gift most of his life. His lovely girlfriend Kali rented a little cabin near the Big Town for his birthday this year, but what she didn’t tell Jarrett was that we were taking him out to a birthday dinner and a play.

Surprise!

We managed to all get to the Wharf before Jarrett and Kali and were seated at our table by the window when they appeared. Jarrett was so surprised! We had a great time at dinner, watching the crab fishermen heading out on the turning tide and catching up on our lives. I tried to remember the last time we three siblings had gone out to dinner together and failed – it was probably with Dad, so it was a long time ago. It was about time!

After dinner, we headed to the theater – the same one where we saw “Boy Gets Girl” earlier this year – to see a special production of Shakespeare’s “All’s Well That Ends Well”. The friend I’m working with on the restaurant app got us the last row of five seats together (his wife is the head of the theater), and Megan, Rob and I barely had time to sit down before the lights went down and the play began. We were a little worried about Jarrett and Kali, even though nothing could have happened between the Big Town and Village (could it?), and when the lights went up for the intermission, they were in the back row. They turned up a few minutes late after walking Archi and had to knock on the door to get in.

We all enjoyed the play. Shakespeare’s language always captivates me, and this play is particularly amusing with its plot twists and comedy. As Jarrett said, “It’s like a Shakespearean Jerry Springer!”

We had a wonderful time and it was a memorable evening. All really is well that end well.

*The smell of waffle cones always brings me back to those live aboard days, though I probably haven’t been to Pier 39 in more than 15 years.

***Now I listen for the sound of her car coming home in the morning like I used to listen for her coming in from dates at night.

Wow, I really have a lot of catching up to do! Today I’m getting ready for a quick and business-like trip to San Francisco, and I haven’t even told you about Thanksgiving yet.

In keeping with the the theme, I was clearly having too much fun at Thanksgiving to take pictures. I took pictures of the outdoor living room after I set it up for guests:

And the table indoors, with my American grandmother’s wineglasses (still unscathed!) and my English grandmother’s ivory-handled silver and Wedgwood:

But that was it. I didn’t even take a picture of Jessica!

It was a lovely, sunny day, as you can see in the outdoor picture, though it did get chilly once darkness fell. My brother brought over a load of firewood so people could (and did) sit outside. My little house was overflowing with friends, family, food, and good cheer.

The turkey, if I do say so myself, came out perfect, despite the challenges of my odd little oven. I simply did it Nana style (she of the wineglasses): rubbed with butter, dusted with sage, salt and pepper. I really think a free range, organic bird makes all the difference. With it, we had the stuffing Jonathan made, along with his excellent gravy and mashed Yukon Gold potatoes and my famous cranberry-bourbon relish. We also had a salad of bitter greens with roasted pears and fresh pomegranate, with a honey-shallot dressing.

Erica brought rolls made with delicata squash from the family garden. To go with them, she made a beurre composé with clementine zest, paprika, and Strega liqueur which was out of this world. She also brought Brussels sprouts made in a magical Erica way which vanished almost immediately, and THREE pies. Two were made of a special squash with home-made sea salted caramel (Erica is, after all, the girl who makes her own chocolate nib spiked marshmallows and graham crackers from scratch before making s’mores), and one was an apple pie for Jonathan, who famously dislikes pumpkin pie.

However, the squash pies won him over with their truffley goodness (or is it evilness?) and the apple pie was almost as unscathed as the wineglasses when the party was over.

We talked to our good friend Paul, who wasn’t able to be here and will also not make it for Christmas, though he is planning to visit in January. It looks like a quiet Christmas this year, since Jarrett has to work and I think Lichen said he was going to visit his birth family in SoCal this year. Lichen turned up for Thanksgiving bearing gifts: a sprig of blue hydrangea he had dried himself for Jessica (which just happened to match her Erica Original dress); shower gels for Megan and me; and the bottle of Strega for Erica, which was immediately put to good use in the beurre composé merveilleux. Only Lichen would bring gifts on a non gift holiday only days after his own birthday.

He was joined in his usual eating spot on the stairs by Audrey, who loves Lichen. She slunk around and allowed other people to admire her before hanging out with her buddy. Clyde was his charming party self, working the room for pets. I thought Roscoe was outside, but after everyone left, he appeared from upstairs, where he was likely hiding under the bed until the coast was clear.

It was an amazing Thanksgiving and I am incredibly grateful for my family, my friends, and my life in our little corner of the world.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I always say that organization is the key to surviving the holidays, but delegating helps, too.

As I type, Jonathan is making the stuffing, meaning that I get out of peeling chestnuts, which has now been officially decreed to be in violation of the Geneva convention. I did buy all the stuff for the stuffing, and chop up the bread ahead of time so it would be appropriately stalenized, and then dropped it all off at his place yesterday, so it’s not like I was no help.

Erica has made pies, rolls, and some kind of magic Brussels sprout thing. Megan called me from her fourth 12 hour night shift in a row last night to see if there was anything else we needed, though she had to run due to one patient needing to be restrained (if you ever need a hand restraining a crazy person, she’s your girl) and another having a heart attack. She valiantly bought the things for salad on her way home this morning and dropped them off at my place.

I peeled pears for the salad and prepped them while watching the 85th annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. I was delighted by the Hello Kitty and Snoopy balloons as well as the always fabulous Rockettes. Not for the first time, I wondered if I’m the only one who would rather have it be mostly balloons and floats rather than insipid musical production numbers. I feel the same way about the Oscars: I wish it was mostly gowns and then the big awards and that’s it. I realize this is an unpopular view, however.

While peeling and thinking great thoughts like this, I noticed a huge white and brown bunny loping slowly by. I think it’s one of Mark’s pet rabbits. Fortunately, the kitties seemed more weirded out by the rabbit than anything, since I would hate to have to explain to my long-suffering landlord that my pets had exterminated his pet on a national holiday.

The Thanksgiving Bunny

I de-cobwebbed the house as best I could and set up the outdoor seating area. I just have to vacuum and the house will be about as good as it gets. Jonathan will be bringing over the stuffing pretty soon and I’ll get the big turkey in my tiny oven. I’m looking forward to a happy evening with my loved ones. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!

So I gave myself a little treat this morning.

Most days, I get up in the cold and dark, and you know how I love that. Today, it was still dark-ish, and the house was 46 degrees F (7C). I let the demanding Miss Audrey out, put on the outside lights, and then put on the heat and headed back upstairs to bed.

I snuggled down with Roscoe and went back to sleep. When I woke up, the sun was shining and the house was warm. I put on my sparkly new slippers with the warm, fuzzy insides and went to make coffee. Audrey came back inside and the boys went out…for about five minutes. Roscoe went back to bed and Clyde basked in front of the heater while Audrey had breakfast and I read Postsecret, my Sunday ritual.

I also gave myself a treat on Friday. Megan and I met Lu and her daughter Allie in town. We admired the Christmas trees at North Star Nursery (they always make it so hard to wait until after Thanksgiving to put up my tree) and bought some bulbs for indoor winter color. I know this sounds ridiculous to those of you with real winter, but I really miss color in the garden during the winter. I got some paper whites:

And an amaryllis bulb. I’ve never grown indoor plants before, so we’ll see how it goes. The paper whites are in the basket with river pebbles. Below it is a picture of my father at about the age of 9 (in 1940) with his friend (and later best man) Brian, with guns they found in a downed German plane. Below that is a card sent to my mother to congratulate her on her engagement to Dad in the late 1950s. It’s like a wonderfully sparkly valentine:

We ran a few errands and are pretty much ready for Thanksgiving later this week. Even buying groceries is fun with Megan and Star. We wrapped up the day with Gilmore Girls and Skinny Girl (“girling it up”, as Lu calls it) to keep my mind off my car problems. No matter what happens, we have each other and I have a lot to be thankful for on Thanksgiving and every day.

The evil elf

It was a happy Halloween this year. You may remember that last year it was raining and Erica tried everything to bribe Jessica to stay home. In case you were wondering, this is not a winning strategy. I don’t think there’s a kid alive who can resist the candy’n’costume combo.

This year, it was clear and beautiful:

I did not need the warm scarf I wore or the winter jacket, which I ended up taking off and lugging around. Where’s a lady’s maid when you need her? Oh, that’s right – they’re all at Downton Abbey.

We met up with Erica and Jessica in the Village, where Erica handed over Jessica’s overnight bag, somewhat surprising (though delighting) us. Erica was off to compete in a contest with her incredible handmade costume in a neighboring county and would be staying overnight there. Her parting words of wisdom were that Jessica should start trick or treating right away, while the candy donors were still fresh. So we did:

Once again, I was amused by the “Open up, police!” quality of Jessica’s knock. One guy said, “You have a heavy knock!” and she said “Thank you!” She thanked everyone and wished them all a happy Halloween without any prompting from her auntourage, which made us proud(er).

Many of the houses in the Village were creatively decorated, especially one with dry ice floating out in the evening air and a ghost that moved around:

I loved the skeleton dragon perched on the roof of this house:

Megan and I agreed that if we lived in the Village, we’d decorate our houses like crazy and have fun with it.

On our way back to the car, we stopped off to admire the amazing fire dancers and then picked up some things for dinner. We visited Dr. Karen’s haunted house on the way out, and Jessica added to her giant haul of candy. Back at Megan’s house, we had dinner and watched a movie while Jessica sorted throug her bag of treats. It was a happy Halloween.

On Saturday, I made a special appearance at the jobette. The guy who has taken over Saturdays from me was at a jobette-related event in the City. I made good use of my time by selling a piece of art for $150*. I seem to be good at selling expensive artwork on Saturdays (this summer, I sold a $500 painting from the window before I even had a chance to take my coat off).

While I was selling art and telling people where Glass Beach is, Megan was walking the beautiful and shiny Miss Star by Big River, one of our favorite places. It’s one of Star’s favorite places, too. She started squeaking with excitement when Megan put on her signal to turn off on the road to the beach.

They walked for five miles, and Star was “100% good”, not responding to barking dogs or passing bikes or horses. Megan texted me pictures during the walk, so I felt like I was there with them.

“I thought I would bring the walk to you.”

“Just had some water. I love it here!”

“Maybe I’ll find a four leaf clover! I feel pretty lucky already, though.”

“Where did the ocean go? It was there this morning.”

It really brightened my day, and Megan’s too. She needed it after a particularly tragic week at work in the ER. That night, I came by for dinner and of course, some Star petting. It’s great to see how happy and trusting she is now. It’s funny how love will do that.

*It was a beautiful hand made skirt which looked like delicate, multi-colored feathers. The guy who bought it was from New York and thought it was incredibly reasonable. He bought it for his sister Megan, who was baby sitting his dog while he was here on vacation at a friend’s house in Hooterville.

I am always amazed by how many wonderful places and things there are in our County. A beach made of glass. Another that looks like bowling balls. Lighthouses. The City of 10,000 Buddhas, a working monastery which is open to the public (and has peacocks wandering around its gardens). And the B Bryan Preserve, which is dedicated to preserving and breeding endangered African hooved animals.

Megan and I made our way to the beautiful south coast, which you may remember I really enjoyed visiting earlier this year. We soon found ourselves at the Preserve, and met Frank, one of the owners, in the lovely barn:

Here Frank gave us an overview of what they do and why they do it. The animals they are trying to save have been hunted to near extinction in their native Africa, and Frank and his wife are working hard to breed and preserve these rare creatures.

We hopped in Frank’s truck and were off to meet them. Here’s Bonnie, the shy Mountain Zebra, peeking around the corner of the barn:

There are now only three types of zebra left in the world: the common, the mountain, and Grevy’s. Grevys are notable for what Frank describes as their “teddy bear ears”. As you can see, they are more graceful and less stocky than the common zebra:

That’s 7 month old Lester in front, staying close to his mama. Zebra develop the black color of their stripes as they mature.

Up next were the antelope. These are Roan Antelope, considered the most beautiful antelope in the world. There is a five year waiting list to get one of these! The alpha male and female of the herd are the largest and darkest due to their hormones. Mabel, the alpha female, had recently given birth to a new baby (left):

Apparently the baby already thinks she’s special since her mother is the queen of the herd, and she just butts in for food among all the adults. All the other babies, whether they were zebra or antelope, held back until the adults had started to eat. And the babies stayed close to their mothers.

Across from the antelope are the Kudu, called the “Gray Ghost of Africa”. You can see they blend into their surroundings. Frank has tried to replicate their native habitat:

Last but tallest, we visited the Rothschild giraffes. I can’t tell you what it’s like to have these enormously tall creatures swoop their long necks down to look you in the eye:

Incredibly, these boys are not finished growing. They are expected to grow another five feet!

Megan held up an acacia branch, which was soon devoured by Jagger (right) and Sonny:

They have long, black tongues that curl around the leaves, then they snap the leaves off, leaving the branch behind. We also fed them carrots. It’s amazing to look them in their huge eyes and have them kiss you as they eat the carrots. It was the experience of a lifetime!

Megan decided that the time had come to give away Schatzi’s remaining meds. They were very expensive, and some of them were liquid and wouldn’t keep. Dr. Karen gives these donated meds to clients who can’t afford them. We did the same thing when our mother died. At least something good can come out of something really sad.

I offered to take the drugs in for Megan, but she wanted to do it. Perhaps she felt it was the last thing she could do for her beloved old friend. Needless to say, I could not let her go alone, so we packed up Star and headed to the Village.

Despite our sad errand, I couldn’t help smiling at the sign in the vet’s parking lot:

In the office, the lovely receptionist accepted Megan’s gift and gave her a huge, affectionate hug. She remarked that Schatzi was very much beloved among the entire staff and that she was missed. I am proud to say that my sister maintained her dignity and poise – at least, on the outside. We are lucky to have such genuinely caring people taking care of the animals in our lives.

I think that it was actually a relief to my sister to get this final thing done.

With this over, we turned our attention to the remaining dog, little Miss Star, who was more than ready for a walk on the headlands. On our way there, she was very good about meeting new dogs, though a little less good on the “heel” side of things.

In keeping with the mood of the day, it was overcast, but I still think the Village is beautiful no matter what the weather:

I never get tired of watching the waves crash against the rocks:

We came across the remains of a pier clinging to the rocky cliffs:

It is still a somewhat isolated place, requiring a long drive to get here and with limited cell phone service and no big box stores when you do, but visitors in the 1800s had to be especially intrepid, coming ashore in a perilous manner (scroll down the page to see). Not for the first time, I reflected on the courage and fortitude of pioneers, especially women. And of my sister’s brave act that day, and the difficult steps she has taken to move forward, despite her heavy heart. I wish there was something I could do to ease her burden, but I know that only time can do that – and not fast enough.

Happy birthday to my amazing brother, he who runs into burning buildings to save strangers, fights wildfires, rescues people who fall off cliffs, and plunges into the frigid winter Pacific for charity. He who works on his sisters’ cars because he doesn’t trust anyone else to make sure they’re safe. He who lives entirely off the grid and can make a robot, dig a well, and is a Number One Groover on Life.

Since we’ll either be working (my sibs) or traveling (me), we decided to celebrate my brother’s birthday with a BBQ on Saturday. Erica and Jessica joined us for the occasion, Jessica modeling her ski boot cast and walking around with no crutches:

Megan and I are planning to sleep over at their place the night before the sheep dog trials at the county fair later this month. It’s good to know we have plans to get together soon. I think my new year’s resolution should be to see Erica at least once a month.

Jarrett also came to visit, with his lovely girlfriend Cally and Archi, who is almost a year old now, so he’s no longer the world’s cutest puppy. He’s 60 pounds and has long legs and gorgeous eyes. It was hard to get him to pose for me, so this is the best I could do:

He is such a beautiful, happy dog.

Erica also made a fabulous cake, chocolate with butterscotch filling. Here’s the birthday boy with the cake, moments before it was cut into and enjoyed:

Jessica asked for milk with her cake, and Cally told her that Cally’s father liked to have cake in a bowl with milk right in it. Jessica said, “Why is it always men who are disgusting?” which brought down the house. She also estimates my mental age to be somewhere around three – maybe 6 on a good day. Interestingly, she considers Jonathan to be sillier than me. I would have lost that bet.

We all had a great time together. I feel so lucky to have such wonderful family and friends.

Little River Sunset

Everything is more fun with my sister. Even babysitting. Or “brat bashing,” as my father used to say. He also referred to school as “government sponsored daycare.” Come to think of it, he had a pretty cynical attitude for someone with several kids. Maybe that’s no coincidence…

Not only are we kidless, it’s been a while since I babysat. I never really think of spending time with Jessica as babysitting (especially since she’s a lot more mature than I am in many ways), more like hanging out with a really fun friend. So I can’t actually remember the last time I actually brat bashed.

So it was probably good that Megan was there as the token grown up (and emergency services personnel, if needed).

We headed to my friend’s house earlier than usual, due to the construction on the iconic Hooterville bridge and the thrilling repaving of the Ridge – at least part of it. I can’t tell you how excited I was to discover that they were paving the rough, potholed road from near the store almost to the firehouse. I could practically hear my tires sighing with relief, and I was positively happy to sit and wait in the one lane traffic.

We arrived in good time and met our charges for the evening, two boys aged about 6 and a girl about 4. They are really sweet kids and were no trouble at all. We shared a pizza while we watched the movie “Cars”. Despite the stellar cast (Paul Newman; Billy Crystal; George Carlin), it was pretty boring for the female contingent of the audience. When it was over, we asked the little girl what she wanted to watch, and she chose “Winnie the Pooh.”

The boys loudly decried her choice, but Megan and I thought that she deserved a turn after sitting through the boys’ choice. About five minutes into “Winnie the Pooh”, the boys grumbled, “I guess we should just watch this stupid movie,” and within another few minutes, they were laughing and totally absorbed in the humor and charm. Megan and I were both amused by this.

I took a few minutes to snap the sunset over the foggy ocean – the house has a lovely view of the Pacific from its setting among the redwoods and sipped the rest of the wine thoughtfully left by the parents. It was a really nice evening. Everything’s more fun with my sister.

Here’s a quick recap of what happened around here lately besides the Great Schatzi Search. I have to admit that I still drive our part of the Ridge really slowly, scanning the roadside, even though I know perfectly well that Schatzi is gone. My heart is even more underachieving than my head (and that’s saying something).

Clyde:

Even though my heart-broken sister was spending almost every hour of every day looking for Schatzi, she managed to find time to tend to Clyde and check on his progress. After a week of house arrest while the horrifying Slobber Monster wound drained and finally healed (he still has a bald spot the size of a quarter on his neck), I let him out before taking Star to the beach, with stern warnings to pace himself. There’s no need to use up all nine lives at once. Don’t fill up on bread before the entrée arrives! He really put me through the mill with the Mystery Illness and the Attack of the Slobber Monster occurring within a three week period.

He seems to be staying closer to the house lately, and I’m hoping that he is avoiding the Slobber Monster’s lair. I thought that the constant spraying and medicining would damage our relationship, but he is as cuddly as ever with both Megan and me. Last night he fell asleep on me while I was watching the final couple of grueling* (yet gripping) episodes of The Killing and I could hear him snoring.

Megan:

Besides getting a pay cut, the hospital no longer allows its employees to cash out their accrued vacation time, which Megan used to do every year. To make it more fun, they are so understaffed that it’s really difficult to take the time off that you can no longer cash out.

However, Megan managed to take two weeks off, during which Schatzi disappeared and her car was out of commission until a couple of days before she had to go back to work. She spent most of her hard-won time off looking for her lost dog and borrowing rides. As she said, “Worst staycation ever!”

Friends:

Our friends (and my sibs’ land partners) Jennifer and Dave came for a visit. They are planning to start building a house on their part of the property and are slowly working toward that goal. They brought their horses:

and two miniature ponies with them. That’s a lot of weight to haul on our narrow, curvy roads!

Megan was able to spend some time riding Bella, the spotted horse on the right.

We had a really nice dinner down at their place, admiring the view:

They are such wonderful people.

After dinner, we played Bananagrams, a sort of free-form Scrabble without a board. I discovered a hidden talent for this game. Like most of the things I’m good at (accurately guessing the price of antique estate jewelry in The New Yorker, for example), it has no practical application, but fun all the same. I never said I was practical.

Megan and I ventured to lovely Anderson Valley on a lovely summer day:

We meandered past vineyards and farms, stopped in at the farm stand looking for Megan’s favorite Pink Lady apples (not ready yet), and poked around the cute little shops. We met up with Erica and Jessica at Libby’s for dinner:

I finally gave Jessica her Secret Society of Paper Cuts book as well as a copy of the cult classic Pee Wee’s Playhouse, just what a girl needs when recovering from limb breakage. As it happened, Jessica had just gotten a walking cast, which looks something like a giant ski boot, that very day. She prided herself in her ability to get around with crutches and accomplish things like getting in and out of the car by herself – no easy feat.

It was great to see them. Erica was a great comfort to Megan in her time of loss, and Jessica was as delightful as ever:

We are planning to go to the County Fair in mid September. I’m hoping to switch my work schedule so I can go to the Sheep Dog trials on the Sunday – it’s the most exciting part of the fair!

Mark and his family are back home after a year in New Jersey for Mark’s job, dismantling a factory and shipping it to Mexico. He said if he ever gets offered a job like that again, he won’t move his whole family to do it.

While in New Jersey, they survived Hurricane Sandy and an epic winter. They took Route 66 home, and had lots of adventures along the way. They went to Toronto so the girls could see Justin Bieber, and fell in love with the city, its diversity, culture, friendliness, and energy.

They stopped in Flint, Michigan and a Good Samaritan, eying Mark’s out of state plates and family of women, advised him to stop elsewhere for the night. Later they learned that Flint is the most dangerous city in America. They settled for the less hazardous Detroit that night.

The highlight of the trip was the Grand (or as Mark called it, the “Great”) Canyon. When they described it, you could see the look of awe on their faces.

We sat in my garden and had some wine and caught up. I’m glad they’re home.

I love our friends. What would we do without them?

*Episode ten was the most harrowing thing I’ve ever seen on TV.

Or how to make the world’s most expensive peach pie!

First, you plant the peach tree:

Keep in mind that this simple statement includes:

• Getting your friend and neighbor to come over with his heavy machinery
• Scrobbling up all the brush and bushes
• Removing hundreds of rootballs by hand (the very definition of back-breaking labor)
• Buying truckloads of dirt
• Spreading out truckloads of dirt by hand
• Spreading hay all over the dirt and planting vetch so it won’t blow away

  Easy, right? And this list does not include minor details like installing a drip system to keep the trees watered; installing and cementing heavy fence posts; deer fencing the entire operation; and rabbit fencing, another grovelly step done on hands and knees.

  Once all that’s done, you just have to wait for the tree to bloom:

  

  Fortuately, the strawberry plants at the tree’s feet bloom and fruit before the peach tree. This year, there was even a second crop of strawberries, so we had peaches and strawberries at the same time.

  Finally, the tree begins to fruit:

  

  And then the peaches are ready to be picked:

  

  Megan and Jonathan made eight pounds of peaches into jam, with roasted almonds and lemon thyme. It is amazing!

  I settled for making a pie with the remaining peaches:

  

  It’s wonderful to pick fruit and make it into pie within an hour. It doesn’t get fresher than that!

We love you and miss you, Dad. You are always in our hearts.

Megan and Schatzi at Little River Inn, December 2012

Schatzi disappeared two days before the eighth anniversary of our mother’s death. Is there significance to her leaving on the 8th day of the 8th month near the 8th anniversary of Mom’s death? Or that the 8th plus the 10th equals the 18th, when we lost our father?

Or is it all meaningless?

That day dawned like any other. I was on a conference call when I heard Megan clapping for Schatzi, the best method of summoning a nearly deaf dog from the quiet woods. When she was still clapping after the call, I went over to Megan’s house. Schatzi was conspicuous by her absence, and Megan had a bad feeling.

We spent the rest of that day and all of the next literally and figuratively beating the bushes, clapping and calling until our hands were sore and our voices rough. Schatzi was never gone for more than an hour, and she normally made a loop from Meg’s house to mine and through the haul road behind my house and back. We soon discovered that the other people on our property rarely saw her.

The next day, a clerk at the store told us that she had seen Schatzi about 9 am on Thursday morning, trotting down the Ridge heading toward our brother’s place. Another person said a friend of his had seen a dog matching her description that morning. We went back and searched the area again, and I made a flyer which we posted at the store and post office.

Megan and our friends Jennifer and Dave searched all day on Saturday. All we found was that our neighbors are super nice and helpful. Everyone took a flyer, and everyone called their local friends, relations, and neighbors to put out the word. The kindness of our little community was a ray of sunshine on these dark days.

The search goes on today, but after so many days with no food and no meds since Wednesday night, it’s only because our hearts can’t catch up with our heads. That’s going to take a long time, if it ever happens.

We hope that she chose to leave us rather than thinking that she got lost. She rarely left the property, and she has lived here for 12 of her 15+ years. She knew it like the back of her paw. And she was always a very stubborn dog, as well as one who was always more of a wild animal after her difficult start in life, abandoned in the desert, so it makes sense that she would follow her instincts to die alone, however hard it is for us to accept. The lack of crows and other such birds leads me to believe that she is resting peacefully in a little nest under brush so dense that no-one can find her. She knew those woods so well.

The first night she was missing, Megan dreamed of her all night, and Schatzi was happy in every dream. I think it was her way of telling Megan she is happy where she is. It reminded me of how I dreamed of my grandfather laughing after he died, glad to be reunited with his adored wife of more than half a century. John always said that dreams were visits.

It’s been all Clyde, all the time this week.

If I’m not fussing over him in person, I’m worried about him while I’m at work.

I’m lucky that Megan is off this week, so she has time to pay house calls to her fuzzy patient several times a day. By the time I came home on Tuesday night, Clyde had been washed off and compressed as well as dosed with antibiotics. Megan also fed him probiotics in wet food, which is supposed to help with the intestinal side effects of the antibiotics.

I had difficulty getting him to eat the wet food this morning, but in this case, the antis are more important than the pros, much like it is in Congress these days. He was notably improved this morning, brighter eyed and more alert, and grooming his fur, which was notably less caky and gross.

Clyde was also more interested in outside, sitting by the sliding glass doors instead of hiding under the bed.

The whole episode has been a strange mix of good luck and bad luck.

Bad luck: Clyde was attacked by a mysterious slobber monster in broad daylight.

Good luck: He got away. Looking at the wound and its location, the monster was clearly trying to kill Clyde. I’m thankful for whatever or whoever distracted the monster or scared it off.

Good luck: Megan is not working this week, so she’s available to take care of Clyde while I’m not there. Not to mention calling the vet and dealing with medication and all that.

Bad luck: Part of the reason she is on cat call is that her brakes are being uncooperative so she has no car until the boys can operate and check it. So she’s been grounded for her “vacation.”

Bad luck: It’s been foggy all week and doesn’t look like we’re going to see the sun any time soon. Audrey and Roscoe are stuck outside in the fog while I’m at work and they have no doorman.

Good luck: It’s cool, so I don’t have to worry about the house being stuffy and hot when I get home.

I have decided that the mysterious slobber monster is a one off and will not bother us again. After all, my sister’s cats are 12, my brother’s cat Mars lived into his 20s, and Rose’s cat Gertrude lived to be almost as old on this property. I’m sure it will be a little worrying when Clyde ventures out again, though I’m pretty sure he will avoid wherever he ran into the monster.

I’m just glad the little guy is recovering. I feel like I can breathe again.

Who needs Bonnie when you’re Clyde? He can get into enough trouble on his own, thank you very much!

I had the day off on Saturday, time to hang out with the kitties and catch up on my reading and watching mindless TV. About noon that day, I noticed that I hadn’t seen Clyde in a while. Normally, the cats come in and out during the day, even when it’s sunny. They have a snack, get some pets, and have a nap. Audrey in particular is a notorious daytime sleeper. The other day she meowed in her sleep and woke herself up, then looked around all confused before going back to sleep, thinking it must have been a dream.

About an hour later, I noticed a lot of noise from crows and turkey vultures. The only reason for crows and vultures to be partying is because they are excited about eating. And the only thing they eat is dead animals. You can see where I was going with this.

I put on shoes and ventured to the haul road, where I saw the sad remains of a fawn – nothing but skeleton, head and legs, bless his little heart. The birds took off in horror at my arrival. Roscoe appeared, making his plaintive sounds, but no Clyde. I called Clyde a few more times during the afternoon, but no response. Roscoe followed me inside and napped on the armoire while Audrey dozed on the bed.

Megan came by around 3:00, and I said, “There’s still no sign of Clyde.” She said, “He isn’t that black cat?” pointing into the garden. It was. I picked him up, so happy to see him, and thought, “Wait a minute.”

The fur on one side of his neck was wet and slimy and spiky and smelled weird. Megan investigated and found a big bite on his neck. She went home for Vetericyn, and when she came back, she put him in the sink and washed him down like she did with Audrey when I first moved up here and Audrey pooped and peed in the carrier and then rolled in it.

She toweled him off and sprayed the wound with Vetericyn. He was immediately grounded, so I went and closed the many doors. Clyde hid under the bed, but emerged for treats when Audrey and Roscoe came in for the evening. He sat on me and purred, and slept on the bed that night. He seemed fine in himself, and unconcerned about whatever had happened, but Megan thinks he used up one of his nine lives.

Cats really need to work on their communication skills. I still have no idea what his mystery illness was only three weeks and $200 ago, and then there was the chin abscess. None of us can figure out what would have caused all that foul-smelling goo and slime, which is weirder than the bite itself.

Clyde was still grounded on Sunday. I felt bad that he was trapped inside and also that Audrey and Roscoe were stuck outside, with no access to food or the comfy bed. Megan came by before I left for work on Sunday and washed him off again. The wound was draining into the fur and making it all sticky and gross. It’s good that it’s draining and getting the bad stuff out, though. Megan made a couple of more house calls during the day to hot compress the wound and respray with with Vetericyn. She has done the same thing yesterday and today, and also called the vet, who is prescribing antibiotics for my bitten boy. He still looked pretty sad when I left for work this morning. Think good thoughts for the baby boy to get well soon!

A day off is a rare thing. And yesterday, it was also a beautiful one.

Megan and I both had the day off yesterday, and the weather was beautiful. Warm enough that we didn’t need the sweaters we brought, but not too warm, since we could walk around without sweating. There was a lovely breeze off the ocean, and the Village looked like a postcard:

We stopped in at The Attic, a little shop filled with wonderful things. I know the owner and he happened to be there that day, so I introduced Megan and caught up on his news. He is moving after Labor Day to a house on Main Street which was the village dentist’s home and office until the 1920s, right next to the wine shop. I think that will be a great location for them.

Next we meandered around the bookstore. I had forgotten my birthday gift certificate and made a mental note to carry it in my wallet from now on. Not only does the bookstore have a resident cat, Catsby, it also has a lovely view of the ocean:

I just adore a bookstore view!

We took Star for a walk along the Headlands. I am proud to say that our CGC accredited girl was perfectly good when meeting yapping, barking, out of control dogs and didn’t react at all. Are tourist dogs as annoying to local dogs as their humans are to us?

Here is Star posing like the good girl she is in a field of ice plants:

Megan’s sharp eyes spotted a bird having a very enjoyable bath in a tidepool:

He or she was having a wonderful time, splashing around, ducking under the water, and preening.

The rocky, wild coast looked beautiful:

Looking toward Big River Beach, where my amazing brother took the Polar Plunge earlier this year:

Driving across that bridge always lifts my spirits. There’s something serene and special about that place. Maybe it’s the meeting of the ocean and the river?

After our walk, we went to the grocery store and picked up a few things. We stopped at the deli in Little River for lunch. It’s one of the best-kept local secrets. They make the best BLTs, and you can eat them overlooking the ocean:

Usually, there are horses in the paddock, but yesterday, they had the day off, too.

It was a perfect day.