Suzy Says

At the vet’s

Megan and I took the 15 year old Miss Schatzi for a check-up last week. It’s been over a year since Dr. Carl alerted us to the Swiss Cheesiness of Schatzi’s bones, and five months since she last saw Dr. Karen, so it was time for a check-up.

When a dog gets to this age, a girl has to wonder how much time her dog has left. Dr. Karen did some blood tests, which revealed that Schatzi is perfect, other than her fragile bones, arthritis, and a little heart murmur which was noted on the last visit and which has not gotten worse. Basically the only thing that’s really wrong with her is what the ER staff around here call TMB (too many birthdays).

She prescribed some new meds for Schatzi’s dementia – apparently loss of calcium in the bones affects the brain as well, at least in dogs – and renewed the many other drugs which allow Schatzi to go prancing by my house every day. Megan is very dedicated and careful about Schatzi’s diet and pain management, and it has paid off.

Schatzi is still enjoying life, playing in the woods, sometimes with her boyfriend, Yellow Dog, napping in her hay bed, or basking in the sun and sniffing the smells. Dr. Karen is pretty sure that Schatzi will make it through the summer and we can revisit her situation then.

Dr. Karen said, “She’s a surprising animal.”

She doesn’t know how surprising, though. Last week, I was getting ready to leave for work when Megan called, saying that Schatzi had taken off on her. She’d been seeking her for half an hour with no luck. I hurried off and we met up over at our brother’s property, where Megan walks the dogs after getting home from work and before going to bed.

We split up and started looking for the missing dog. It’s hard to find a deaf dog in a densely wooded area. My hands were aching with clapping for her. We had been looking for about half an hour when I saw her trotting merrily down the driveway as if nothing had happened. I managed to get her in the car and then found Megan.

I was afraid that Schatzi would be sore from racing around so long, but she was fine. Surprising, indeed.

The other day, I got up early, and reheated some leftover coffee instead of making new coffee. I know this unsavory practice horrifies many of you, and I will blame it on early indoctrination never to waste anything. When your father has been through World War II as a child and teenager, his experiences are passed on to you (sleeping in utter darkness; a horror of wasting food). Especially since he’s not here to say it’s just his daughter being a cheapskate. After all, he didn’t turn the heat off at night.

The leftover coffee proved to be insufficient to jumpstart my cold, dark heart, so I went to make more.

However, the coffee grinder did not agree with me. It had worked fine the day before – hence, the leftover coffee – but refused to budge this particular morning. I tried it in a couple of other outlets, to no avail.

I knew there was coffee at Megan’s house (and I learned later that there was actually pre-ground coffee* there – a rarity), but there was no way I was going to set off the Star alarm and wake up my seriously sleep-deprived sister. What to do?

It was Thursday morning, and I recently re-reinstated the Thursday night dinner tradition. My brother has fire training on Thursday nights, so it’s nice for him to come home to dinner already made, and Thursday marks the end of my sister’s long night shifts.

I packed up the chili I had made, some coffee beans, the errant grinder (in case my mechanically-minded brother could figure out what was wrong with it), and set off for my brother’s place. The gate was locked, and when I got to his place, I could see his car was gone. I went inside, put the chili in the refrigerator, wrote him a note, and went to grind the coffee.

Guess what? I couldn’t make his grinder work, either. I spent a few minutes struggling with the recalcitrant appliance, again trying different outlets, and finally gave up. I poured the remnants of his coffee into some Tupperware and went home.

When I got there, I discovered that the Tupperware had leaked into the shopping bag it was in and through it into the upholstery, which I had just had cleaned at the awesome car wash in San Francisco.

Thoughts were unprintable at that moment, but at least there was enough coffee still in the container to heat up again. Later, I got a coffee grinder at the hardware store, though on actually using it, I discovered that it is smaller than the old one, necessitating one and a half grinders’ worth for a pot of coffee, but I’m glad I have one that works. At least for now.

What is it with me and coffee appliances?!

*She bought a mocha at Starbucks and there was an incredibly good deal on a pound of pre-ground coffee to go with it. You never know when you – or your appliance-challenged sister – might need it.

In case you didn’t know, my brother totally rocks.

He has been a volunteer firefighter for many years (yes, he runs into burning buildings and fought the terrifying wildfires of 2008 for no money) and is a Captain in the fire department. He is a teacher and works with the mentally handicapped. He is a great (formerly professional) cook, a certified scuba diver, can make a circuit board or a robot from scratch, and is a Number One Groover on Life.

On Saturday, he also jumped in the ocean. The cold Pacific Ocean. On a windy February day. Of course Megan and I were there to cheer him on. I actually took Saturday off to do it – the first Saturday in six months! And it was so worth it.

The event was called Polar Plunge, and it was a benefit for Special Olympics. My brother and his team raised around $1,000 or maybe even more!

All the teams wore costumes. My brother’s team were the Soggy Bottom Boys. He’s the one on the far right:

I love it that the only girl on the team – wearing adorable Tigger-embroidered overalls – had the letters “GY” (or “guy”). 🙂

Before jumping – well, running into – the water, they regaled the crowd with “Down to the River to Pray” (above), and it reminded me of how our atheist father used to merrily carol out hymns every time we happened to be in a cathedral or other situation which called for it. In his tone deaf way. Without a hymn book. Because when he was a boy, school days started with prayers and hymns. Dad sure would have had a blast on Saturday.

After the song, my brother ran into the cold water (far left):

and went in up to his shoulders or higher – the rules state that you have to go in up to your waist, but of course that’s not enough for my brother, who perused the list of other places in Northern California holding Polar Plunges on the same day, and thought the one in the Sierras where you would probably have to cut a hole in the ice to jump into would be “fun”. Maybe next year!

Here he is running out again:

He said he felt “great” and “invigorated” as he toweled off:

Only my brother. I am so proud of him!

Little Miss Scout

It was a Valentine’s Day spay for my brother’s mini-cat, Scout!

As our local Humane Society’s slogan has it, “If you ♥ your cat, have it ♠!”

Since we do ♥ Scout, it was time to do the deed, before some amorous boy cat showed up. It’s unlikely in the depths of winter, but you never know. And you may remember that the precocious Miss Audrey went into heat before she was six months old (and that was delightful*).

Over the past four months since she made her surprising début, Scout has become accustomed to the fabulous lifestyle of sleeping inside and having food and pets on demand. And demand she does. If she wants to be petted, she lets you know. Despite her diminutive size, she has the loudest purr of any cat I have ever known.

At the vet’s, we learned that Scout is at least a year old, so our calculations about her age were pretty close. She weighs 6 pounds, so at this point, I think it’s safe to say that she will remain a cat-ette. I’m guessing that lack of nutrition as a baby (and maybe before that) has stunted her growth. Other than her smallness, though, she is in good shape.

She hid for a day after the surgery, but got over it surprisingly quickly. The other day, my brother saw her playing for the first time, batting a pinecone around in the sunshine. Now that she’s not in constant fear for her life and struggling to find food and water, she has time for things like that.

I’m so glad they found each other.

*A drawback of this look is that it doesn’t show hyperlinks, like on “delightful” and “Scout” in the first paragraph. Maybe I should bold these so you’ll know they’re there…

Growing Up!

I know you’ve all been wondering about how Jarrett and Archimedes, the World’s Cutest Puppy, are doing.

The answer is: great! Archi had doubled his weight by the end of December:

I think this dog is the best thing that has happened to Jarrett in a long time.

They have a great routine. In the morning, Jarrett takes Archi for a walk, plays with him and feeds him. Archi then retires to his enormous crate, which fits Archi’s bed (but doesn’t fit in Jarrett’s giant, 1970s vintage car) and naps while Jarrett heads to work.

At lunch, Jarrett comes home and walks Archi again, before taking him to doggy daycare, where Archi is a staff favorite and welcomed with joy. Archi likes playing with the big dogs – yes, the ones that are four times his size – and they like playing with him, too.

At the end of the day, Jarrett picks up Archi. The daycare is about five minutes from their home – about as far as Archi can walk after playing most of the day. As Jarrett says, “Picking up a tuckered out puppy after a long day of work – priceless!”

I’m so glad that they found each other and are so happy together.

It’s been a cold winter by California standards: at or below freezing many nights, though as I said before, the clear days are sunny and the nights are starry. The Ridge is often icy in the morning, and there is hard frost on the grass at the side of the road, looking all winter wonderland.

I know that doesn’t seem all that cold to all of you back East, where they keep the real weather in all its extremes, but your house probably has insulation, and you probably have heat in your bathroom. You probably also have closets and walls that don’t curve and more than three feet of counter space, too.

But Chez Suzy, the flash heater is located outside, instead of inside, the way it’s supposed to be, even out here in the boonies. For those of you wondering what this contraption is, it heats water on its way to your shower or kitchen sink (not the washer, though – that’s only hooked up for cold water). This winter, the shower has been just about warm enough, not quite, which is kind of unpleasant with the window in the shower blowing a draft on me in the cold mornings.

I figure this is because the water is being pre-cooled outside. But last week, it started getting colder. And then it was just plain cold.

Rob came and took a look at it, but it’s not really his forte. I emailed Mark about it, and he replied with some suggestions that didn’t help. A couple of days without hot water and it got pretty old, not at all like “Little House on the Prairie”, as you would think.

We called in the cavalry in the form of my brother, who took the flash heater apart – well, the plumbing part. Even a fireman didn’t want to start in on the gas part, and if it came to that, I’d have to take the whole thing to Willits to the one guy in the entire county who can repair one of these expensive German contraptions.

Apparently it is top of the line and costs something in the luxury neighborhood of $700 or $800. Jonathan complimented the German engineering and reminded me of one of our father’s old jokes:

“Heaven is where the police are British, the cooks are French, the mechanics German, the lovers Italian and it’s all organized by the Swiss. Hell is where the chefs are British, the mechanics French, the lovers Swiss, the police German and it’s all organized by the Italians.”

Dad was never afraid of the politically incorrect.

Jonathan discovered a mini pebble in the works, so small that it’s hard to believe it was the big problem, and a valve that was sticking. He removed the pebble and lubricated the sticky valve and voilà! The flash heater was restored to mediocrity instead of freezulation. Mediocrity never looked so good.

Jonathan mentioned that he has some insulation we can put on the outside pipes to help make it warmer, but in the meantime, I’m enjoying the (relative) warmth.

Update: I picked up and installed the insulation. I guess the water is a little warmer, though I still don’t need at add cold water to my shower, which I was kind of hoping for.

The other day I gave Rob a ride home from the Big Town. As usual, we had fun chatting in the car, and it was really hard not to look at the spectacular pink and gold sunset over the ocean. One of the many drawbacks of driving is that you can’t really admire the scenery, even though you’re driving right through it.

At Rob and Megan’s house, I carried in the Chico bags of groceries while Rob brought the dogs in. When I got home and started changing out of my work clothes, I discovered that my mother’s silver bracelets, which I wear every day, were missing.

My heart sank, and I looked through my pockets and handbag. Nothing. By now, it was too dark to look in the car or the driveway, but I thought that perhaps I had taken them off at the jobette and left them on my desk. I do that often when I have a lot of typing to do.

The next day, I looked in the car and the driveway and asked Megan to search her house and driveway. Arriving at the jobette, I rushed to my desk and there they weren’t. I asked my coworkers to keep an eye out for them, and called Starbuck’s, where I had met Megan and Rob the evening before. I talked to the girl who had closed that night and she said she hadn’t seen them. She checked the lost and found, and nothing.

Megan texted me later to say she hadn’t found them, either. I was surprisingly upset by the loss, and tried to tell myself that we shouldn’t get too attached to things and objects, but inside I just wanted to cry. We don’t have much left from our parents, so what we do have is especially precious.

Later in the day, I was putting things away in the storage room when I spotted my bracelets by the side of the sink. I had taken them off the day before when washing the dishes! I grabbed them and ran to show Erin, who hugged me and said, “Yay!” That pretty much summed it up for me.

Well, hello there!

Things have been really busy (and somewhat stressful) at the job and jobette ever since I got back from San Francisco. And as you know, work = no fun = nothing to blog about. I have the last three quarterly due diligence conference calls at 6 am on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday this week. Then I have to write up all ten of them, arguably the hardest and most time-consuming part of the process.

We had a little spot of rain the other day, but other than that, it’s been what my sister calls “Junuary”, sunny and in the 50s during the day, though cold and starry at night and frosty in the morning, the Ridge glittering with ice. I was surprised to see in the paper that we have received 27 inches of rain this season, versus 19 inches at this time last year – must have been those early season storms. Last night I noticed the first full moon of the new year beaming through the skylight of the sleeping loft.

I made a little time to head over to the property a couple of days ago. I realized that I hadn’t seen my brother for exactly a month, ever since Christmas Eve. Megan and the dogs came with me, and together we inspected the orchard in progress, which will be right next to the garden they created about this time last year.

There will be apple trees, peaches, and cherry trees. Olives and almonds are under consideration, as are raspberry bushes. Jonathan thinks they will have to electrify the fence, like the one around the bee hives. Otherwise, the bears will move right in and eat everything.

I picked up a hitchhiker this past week. I know what you’re thinking, but I only pick up people I know or the occasional woman. This was an older lady, who turned out to be a delightful German named Heidi, who has been visiting here since the 1970s. There seems to be a mystical connection between Germans and the County. My fabulous stylist is from Germany, as was Rose, my house’s previous owner and occupant. Even Rob was born in Germany. I asked Heidi what brought her here in the first place, and what kept drawing her back.

She said, “We Germans find all the best places. And there is nowhere on earth like Mendocino.”

Weirdsday was followed by Funday.

I went to get my hair cut by the delightful Angelika, the same miracle-working stylist who beautified it in honor of my grand birthday last July. Here’s her little salon:

One of the good things about the iPhone is that I can add a note to her phone number with the directions to her house (go to the 3 mile marker; turn left at the power pole with the orange wrapping, etc.) so I won’t have to ask her every time. Since the looming photo shoot for the work website is the reason for the emergency haircut (not that I didn’t need it), I wonder if I can get my boss to pay for it?

We had a great time chatting and she did a wonderful job. I had just enough time to hop back in the car and go meet Erica and Jessica at our usual spot in the redwoods:

Jessica settled into the backseat with her little bag – she definitely travels light, though she brought four books* with her – and we set off for Hooterville with the winter sun filtering through the canopy of trees. I asked Jessica if she minded if I stopped off at the post office, and she said she didn’t mind, but she’d prefer to stay in the car. Post offices, she said, are boring, much like grocery shopping.

I asked her if it wasn’t fun to help pick out things to cook, and she said “Well, I’m a kid, so I don’t have a say,” which was a good point. It made me wonder all over again why on earth Dad piled us all into the car on Saturday mornings to go to the Victory Market (New York State) or Don’s Shop & Save (Maine) instead of just going by himself. And we didn’t get to pick things out, either. Though we did get to go to the library afterwards.

Back home, we dropped off the car and headed over to Megan’s. She was laying a fire in the stove and chopping things up for pizza. Megan made the pizza while Jessica and I played Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders. Guess who won nearly all of the games?

We happily watched the first Harry Potter movie with the pizza, and later, some candy canes left over from Christmas. They weren’t classic flavored, but they did turn our tongues blue and green, which was even better. After that, Jessica and I headed back to my house, where I had a bed made up for her on the sofa. I left the heater on for her – I didn’t think it was fair to make a kidlet wake up in a 42 degree house, and I must say that it was pretty nice waking up to a warm house in the morning.

It was pretty nice to wake up to Jessica, too.

*A nice selection, too: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland; Matilda by Roald Dahl; The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and a Nancy Drew, The Bungalow Mystery. I’m glad that Nancy Drew still holds her eternal appeal, more than 80 years since they were first published.

Farewell, 2012

It’s really fun going back and seeing what happened during the year, even if it wasn’t that great a year, like this one. Pay cuts and grand jury summons do not make for a good year. Hopefully the new one will also be improved.

Power outages: 6, including one in October due to someone driving into a power pole at 8:30 am – go figure – and two from a big storm in late November.

Rainfall: 24.20 inches for the season so far, vs. 11 inches this time last year.

Books read: 103 (vs. last year’s 118). Working more means reading less.

Favorites this year were Damien Echols’ astonishing, moving memoir, Life After Death; Gillian Flynn’s clever Gone Girl; William Landay’s surprising Defending Jacob; James M. Cain’s just-discovered final novel The Cocktail Waitress; Jess Walter’s Beautiful Ruins; and the beautifully written and moving Stoner (it’s not what you think).

Trips to San Francisco: 3. I went 4 times in 2011, but one of those was to keep Megan company while Rob endured more spinal surgery, so that doesn’t really count. I’m starting the new year off right by heading to San Francisco tomorrow morning for a few days to meet up with my boss/partner and make some plans for the future. And maybe do some shopping…

As for this year:

January: Hockey, Suzy-style. Little did I realize there wouldn’t be any when October arrived. Or December, for that matter. The case of the ransomed Christmas cards. Ordeal by utility company. Technological difficulties. Why I’m here. Outs & ins. One man’s trash…an unexpected visitor.

February: Cops and a movie! Third power outage of the season. Musing about one grandfather…and another. Coffee break. Finally, a break for Rob! In which our heroine learns that she is just as annoying as everyone else. Maybe more. A surprise wedding.

March: Small town moments. Home repairs. A visit with Jim (and other things). Dad’s 81st birthday. A date with my family. Getting a jump on spring. Suzy the screwup. Surprise present!

April: Megan’s new (to her, anyway) car! Mom’s 80th birthday. Spring planting. A rainy trip to the City. Impersonating a responsible adult. San Francisco storm. A lovely last day in the City. Jessica’s ninth birthday. The arrival of Digit, the Office Cat. Kitty update. A girls’ day out. With my favorite girl.

May: A new (well, to me) couch! My 12th blogaversary, among other things. Festive. A dilemma. License to drive. Scarred for (or by) life. An eclipse, and other things. Rob’s epic trip to see his Mother one last time. My considerably less epic trip to San Francisco. Farewell to Rob’s Mother.

June: A magical evening with the Beach Boys. Fabulous fifty! An unexpected trip. Birthday party. Dilemma solved. Birth of a garden. A wonderful tour of artists’ studios. The arrival of my first (and I hope only) subpoena.

July: A belated and fabulous birthday present. Erica and Jessica are back! My first crown. Sadly, not the Queen kind, though almost as expensive. The looming trip to Detroit makes my humble home look like paradise. The unlovely itinerary. The trip does not go according to plan. Finally in Detroit. Court of horrors. Home at last. Changes at home and at work. Time for an engine check. The neighbors stop by. A snake in the grass. I mean, house.

August: A quick trip to San Francisco. The splendid pool reopens. My 2,000th blog post. And Roscoe’s mystery injury. A lousy day with a better ending. The 11th anniversary of Dad’s death (post won’t link; it’s August 18). A new home for the adorable Digit (who is very happy there). First day at the new office – and more car problems.

September: The money fairy stops by. First foray into retail, and an update on Digit. Two very sad losses for two very dear friends. A fabulous County Fair. A check up for the Schatz. Could, woulda, shoulda – or not. Appreciating the simple things.

October: A small town moment. A very special event. A great evening with family and friends. Swimming lessons resume. Now with Jessica! The 15% pay cut rears its ugly head. So does winter. An eventful day. The Giants win the World Series again! Oh, and we go to the circus.

November: A happy Halloween. The President is, thankfully, re-elected. This campaign was brutal – I can’t believe we have to go through it again in four years. But I won’t think about that now. A beautiful way to remember. An evening at the theatah. A look around the garden. Some new beginnings. Getting ready for Thanksgiving. A wonderful Thanksgiving. Jarrett adopts the World’s Cutest Puppy.

December: Christmas decorations. Church concert. Getting ready for Christmas. A happy holiday. Lighting up the night.

Thanks for joining me for another year of adventures. I wish you all a very happy and healthy new year!

Well, the weather did come in, with days of storms, battering us with thunder, lightning, pouring rain, and hail. But I woke to a sunny day on Christmas Eve, the garden glittering with last night’s rain.

Somehow, it took me all day to get the cooking and cleaning done. By the time the house was ready, Rob was in the garden working on the barbecue, filling it with mesquite and apple wood cut from a long-abandoned tree, and Megan was walking through the secret path between our houses with an apple pie she’d made after planting onions and garlic over on the family property.

Megan started the glaze for the ham (maple syrup, bourbon, apple cider, Worcestershire sauce, etc.) and we discovered that we were short of Jack Daniel’s after that festive Thanksgiving, so we made a quick trip to the Gro and bought beer and bourbon, like total Christmas Eve degenerates.

Back at the house, I attempted to impose some civilization on the proceedings with Christmas crackers all the way from England and bright fruit in Grammie’s star dish:

The table was set with Grammie’s 90 year old, ivory-handled silverware and Nana’s wine glasses, along with the nearly 200 year old Wedgwood biscuit barrel (full of miniature cheese biscuits) and salad bowl and servers, ready for the salad with roasted pears and fresh pomegranate seeds. The mincemeat tarts are on Nana’s glass platter, embossed with the word “Remembrance”:

And I do. I miss my grandparents most at the holidays. I’m glad to use their things and feel like they are are part of the celebrations.

My friend Patrisha’s Christmas card was so wonderful that I had to hang it on the tree:

Things were pretty much under control by the time Erica and Jessica appeared, Jessica wearing soft footed PJs and her mother in a panne velvet skirt with a side slit which she had made herself, accessorized with knee-high motorcycle boots. She’s all about the style.

Before dinner, we watched the traditional “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”. Here you can see Jessica completely wrapped up in the story:

She observed that she looked a lot like Cindy Lou Who “but when I was little”, which is true. It’s hard to believe that in just a few short years she will be a teenager, and probably uninterested in hanging out with her aged aunties. She was delighted with the new bathing suit Megan bought her. We had noticed that her (pink floral) suit was too short for her, and Megan asked her what color she’d like in a new one. She said she wanted a “gothic black one”, and she got one, looking like a blonde Wednesday Addams when she tried it on.

Lichen stopped by for dinner, bringing his own special joy and peacfulness with him. Jarrett (whose puppy now weighs 25 pounds!) and Paul couldn’t make it, and Rose’s daughters were together in New Jersey, so it was much quieter than Thanksgiving, but still wonderful. I love having my family and friends gathered in my little house. I am so lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life.

Weather’s comin’

It was a winter wonderland this morning, Northern California style: hard frost on the grass by the road; the Ridge glittering with frost and puddles frozen. The ocean was shades of pewter and lavender, and the wild, white-crested waves told of storms to come. It looks like we will get another series of storms for about a week, which should be finished in time for Christmas Eve. I hope.

Christmas Eve will be Christmas day for us. Megan got the day off from work, but Jonathan is working. He is going to bring his client to dinner and then head back to work. They are both working on Christmas day, and then I am working until the 30th, so it was Christmas Eve or forget it.

It shouldn’t be quite as busy as Thanksgiving. Paul is staying in Florida after his epic trip home in the wake of Superstorm Sandy. Catrin is visiting her sister and family in New Jersey. I’m not sure if Jarrett (and puppy!) or Lichen will be there, but Erica and Jessica will be. Yay!

I’m pretty much ready. We just have stockings instead of presents – mostly – and last weekend, I went through everything to see if we had enough for everyone, and it looks like we do. It might have been the weekend before that when Megan and I met up with Monica and her crew of cheerful volunteers at the historic Little River Inn to make Christmas tree ornaments.

We brought Schatzi with us, so we could make an ornament with her pawprint in it. She was the very first customer on this beautiful day. Here you can see her with her adoring Megan, after her pawprint was immortalized, Grauman’s style:

Being nearly 15 years old, Schatzi tired pretty quickly of all the ornament festivities, so I took her back to the car, admiring the view on the way:

I have to say, Megan’s careful regimen of food, supplements, and medications have kept Schatzi in remarkably good shape, especially considering that it was nearly two years ago that Dr. Carl told us about her secretly Swiss cheese bones. Nearly every day, she comes prancing by my house in her bright sweater, looking like a five year old dog having an excellent day.

We made an ornament for Jarrett’s puppy, and later I found out that Monica also made them for Roscoe and Clyde:

and Audrey:

On our way out the door, Megan asked me how Monica came up with all these wonderful fundraising ideas, and I said, “Because she’s Monica.”

The power came back on before I got home on Wednesday night. Apparently the valiant PG&E crews repairing the downed power lines also came across some faulty equipment, which they repaired, though this took some time, and the power was out for about 9 hours.

It then went out again from about 10 pm until 5:00 am. Later that day, my brother came by with his soaking wet clothes from fire calls and put them in the dryer. Apparently someone had called in a burning vehicle right near Megan’s and my address, adding that a “late 30’s male” was at the wheel. Worried that it was Rob, Jonathan raced to the scene, only to find a downed power line and no car or driver or anything burning. The theory is that someone thought they’d get a faster response if they said it was a burning car, and they did, so their naughtiness was rewarded.

This is often the case with grown-ups, kiddies. You didn’t hear it from me.

As I mentioned, the jobette gave me Saturday off due to the ominous weather reports. We also canceled swimming, and it was weird, yet delightful, to sleep in on a Saturday and not have to work or drive to the Big Town or anything. I took advantage of the break to put up Christmas decorations, which I have been dying to do since before Thanksgiving, thanks to North Star Nursery’s incredible Christmas tree display. Megan and I went there to get things like garlic to plant and ended up spending an hour in a holiday wonderland.

Putting up the tree before Thanksgiving is just wrong, as well as taking up valuable floor space when you are expecting a dozen people in your housette, so I waited like the faux adult I am. But I wasted no time in decking the halls before the rain started again.

As usual, I forgot how annoying, sheddy, and hard to put together my vintage tree is until I was actually dealing with it and it was snowing all over the rug. I love having an artificial tree in a house surrounded by trees, but I am seriously considering getting a real live one in a pot next year which I can put outside with its homies when it’s not Christmas.

Eventually I wrestled the tree up:

Like last year, the cats have ignored it so far, but I don’t expect that to last.

I also put up the traditional banister lights:

And this year, I put up lights on the back deck instead of the front balcony, mostly for the selfish reason of being able to enjoy the show from the comfort of my couch:

Last night, the weather folks warned that this third storm would be worse than the earlier two which took the power out both times, and it was pretty scary. The rain was pouring down hard, and the wind was howling ferociously for hours on end. I was up most of the night because it was too loud and unnerving to sleep. Having an unnerved Clyde sleeping on my head and neck didn’t help. Roscoe also did his best to take up as much bed real estate as possible, while biting my hand when I least expected it. I tried putting a pillow over my head when Clyde wasn’t on it, but there was no shutting out the storm’s roar.

This morning, I got up aching and exhausted, feeling about 103 years old, but happy that the power was still on. I was less than pleased to note a three foot wide puddle in the kitchen and an even bigger one in the pantry/laundry room.

Jarrett and Archimedes

The day after Thanksgiving, Jarrett met his new puppy, Archimedes*. Monica met us in the Village, with the puppy, his crate, blankets, a leash, and a package of information.

Everyone who adopts a dog from Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue gets a package of information about the breed – misconceptions, history, facts – and a dog who has been fostered with a loving family and is well socialized and happy:

In addition to all this, there was a letter from the foster family, who just happened to include two of the child artists from the wonderful Farm to Table Dinner in October (if you follow the link, these girls’ painting is the second one, blue and orange). The letter told everything they had learned about Archimedes during his stay with them, and I thought it was a really sweet gesture.

Like so many modern couples, Jarrett and Archi met on line.

One Saturday, Monica stopped in to see me at the jobette, carrying a just-rescued Archi. I fell for him on the spot and took some pictures, which I posted on Facebook in the hopes of helping to find him a good home. Jarrett saw the pictures and fell for the little guy, too.

After spending some time in serious thought, talking to Megan, and checking into daycare and training options, he filled out the application and was approved. I never saw it and still don’t know what his responses were to Monica’s detailed questionnaire, but she is very thorough and careful with every application, so I’m proud of Jarrett for passing the screening all on his own.

It happened that Megan had an appointment set up with Star to see her trainer that day – they meet once or twice a week, weather permitting – and Archi came along. He is a very smart dog, quick to learn, and Star made real progress in tolerating the puppy.

Jarrett and Archi stayed at my house:

and it was fascinating to see how the kitties reacted to the invasion.

Audrey: “You are disgusting. Get out of my house.” ~death glare~

Clyde: “Mommy! Save me! Eeeeek!” ~slept on my head all night~

Roscoe: “Whatever, man.” ~yawn~

*Named for the great scientist, mathematician, and inventor of antiquity. I find it rather delightful that the original Archimedes was from Syracuse in Greece, and Jonathan and I were born in the New York Syracuse. Also our friend Clayton. It kind of seemed like a good sign.

The day after Thanksgiving, inside…

…and outside!

So much has happened since I last wrote that I hardly know where to start.

It was a really wonderful Thanksgiving. My little house was overflowing with friends, family, and food. Good thing we had the outdoor seating area as well as the indoors.

The turkey cooked a little faster than I had anticipated:

Erica thinks that the temperature indicated on my tiny old Wedgwood stove might not be all that accurate. Erica and Jonathan came to my rescue when I forgot to turn on the potatoes while simultaneously forgetting that the stuffing was in the oven. It’s a real pleasure to watch two professionals swing into action. And this was after they had already supplied the pies:

Erica’s pies, garnished with rose geranium, were some kind of squash rather than pumpkin and were made with caramelized sugar. They were like eating pumpkin truffles – really rich and really delicious. In contrast, Jonathan’s lemon tart – his first ever – was light with a perfect citrusy bite. It was garnished with lemon peel he candied himself.

Jessica and I explored my jewelry box, and she unearthed a pair of diamond earrings I had forgotten about but am wearing now. Here you see her excavating Queen Suzy’s Mines:

Remarkably, she returned the ruby necklace I had loaned her indefinitely last year. I have to say, I didn’t really expect her to return it, at least, not so soon. Now that I think about it, she may have gone home wearing a little diamond necklace instead…

I got some fizzy cranberry and apple juice for Jessica, and found a small cordial glass and a small Champagne goblet. I asked her if she preferred the flute or the Marie Antoinette style, and she immediately exclaimed, “Marie Antoinette!”

Then she said, “I just got an idea for a Halloween costume – restored Marie Antoinette!” She added that she could still have fake blood on her neck even though her head would be reattached. She then started speculating on her wig and gown. Is it any wonder I forgot about the potatoes?

It was a wonderful evening, with the fire and candles outside, and love and laughter inside and out. My family was there, as well as Jarrett and Lichen, who brought cocktails for the grownups and fizzy juice for Jessica, Rose’s daughter Catrin and her husband Zac, and a couple of other people who stopped by to say hello. I just love having my house full of family and friends. We have a lot to be thankful for.

The secret to surviving Thanksgiving – as with most things – is to plan ahead and prepare as much as possible.

The jobette very sweetly gave me yesterday off, so I started off by roasting chestnuts (for stuffing) and pears (for the salad). While they were roasting, I dug up potatoes from the buckets of sand where my brother and sister had stored the ones they grew this summer:

Including the mutant voodoo doll potato:

Then I made cranberry-bourbon relish, once again marveling over how incredibly disgusting booze smells in the morning, as opposed to in the evening. It’s worth it, though, and look how pretty it is in my paternal grandmother’s star dish:

After two loads of dishes and kitchen clean-up, it was time to clean my humble abode. I spent hours de-spider webbing, mopping, vacuuming, etc., and the house looks pretty good:

This Thanksgiving morning, I woke up to sunny skies after a week and several inches of rain. Megan stopped by on her way home from work, bearing more wine and a free-range, organic turkey. Oh, and a hug and a kiss.

I spent this morning chopping up Café Beaujolais sunflower bread and sourdough for stuffing, along with apples, onions, celery, sage, and those damn chestnuts. It took longer than I thought, and I had to use two bowls to hold it. Then I made the salad, putting half of it in my paternal grandmother’s Wedgwood salad bowl and the other in a less picturesque bowl. Then I made the salad dressing and sliced up the pears.

Rob just appeared and removed the old outdoor couch, and we set up a seating area around the outside fireplace (or, you know, the big old rusty thing I burn paper in during the winter):

There will be abut 12 of us, including Erica, Jessica, Jarrett, Lichen, Rose’s daughter Catrin and her new husband Zac, so we’ll need all the room we can get.

The turkey is now roasting merrily away, Jonathan is bringing a lemon tart he made, and Erica is bringing a couple of other pies, so I think we’re all set! Ready, set…

It’s a blustery day here in Hooterville – the kind where the wind chimes sing merrily of power outages, and you wake up to find that your purple honeysuckle has been swept off its feet. I will need to borrow a cup of Rob, like I did a few days ago when the sliding glass door in the studio came off its moorings. Fortunately, the glass didn’t break, and Rob was able to reinstall it by the light of the silvery flashlight, but I’ll use one of the other four doors for a while…

Thanksgiving is approaching rapidly, and we have a couple of new reasons to be thankful.

One Saturday when I was at the jobette, Monica stopped by so I could meet someone:

It was the world’s cutest puppy! I fell pretty hard for Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue’s latest member, and I posted pictures of him on Facebook to try and help find him a good home. Imagine my joy when our nephew* Jarrett adopted him! Jarrett will be here for Thanksgiving and will pick up the puppy then. I can’t wait! And I’m so glad that I will get to watch Archimedes grow up.

A couple of weeks ago, a small, starved, mangy-looking kitty turned up at our brother’s place:

We estimate that she is somewhere between 6 and 8 months old. We have no idea how she got there – Jonathan lives alone on 68 acres, and across the street is a further 100 uninhabited acres – but somehow, she found him. He’s been catless and dogless for a long time, so it’s a win-win.

I hesitated to post about it before, because it took a long time to get close enough to pet her and get her to come inside for the night, and we were all afraid that she would take off and take our hearts with her. But fortunately, she is enjoying the food and the pets, so we’re hoping that she will be a permanent member of the family.

She has the loudest meow and purr, sometimes both at the same time. She’s quite the character.

*We have known Jarrett since he was four years old. He and his Mom lived on a boat at Pier 39, as did Megan, Rob, and Jonathan. They took the fatherless kid under their wings, and he lived with Megan and Jonathan during his last two years of high school, like Megan did with me.

As you all know, decision-making is not my strong point. I’m especially ungifted at making good decisions. But I think my decision to move to Hooterville three years ago today is one of the best ones I’ve made recently. Yes, job prospects are scary and dwindling, but at least I have my family to support and help me through the bad times.

On Thursday night, Megan stopped by with an instant cocktail party in a bag and we commiserated on our dwindling job prospects. Hospital management and her union are negotiating, and it’s not pretty. The offer includes things like a 7% pay cut, losing their retirement plan, and no more healthcare coverage for spouses unless the employee carries the entire cost instead of part of it. Needless to say, the union rejected it, so negotiations continue. Megan is terrified that she will be forced to go out on strike, which means not being paid at all.

She went to a union meeting on the weekend. Her idea is to take the employees’ case to the public by putting articles in the local papers and making the community aware of what is happening. I hope that once people realize what’s going on, they will support the hospital employees and try to keep the hospital open. After all, this is the same community that saved the library and the quite splendid pool.

As for our heroine, she got a 15% pay cut which is also indefinite. I am now making less money than I did when I was a secretary more than 20 years ago, which is not the sign of a good career path. Not for the first time, I reflected on my lack of decision-making skills. I should have studied a more lucrative career path, like a dominatrix or a plumber.

Fortunately, I still have the jobette, but as anyone who has ever worked for a non-profit knows, it means non-profit for you, too. I’m sure they would pay me more if they could, but they can’t. I’m still looking around for a “real” job, but they are few and far between up here and seem to go to friends or relatives.

At least I have family and friends. And a sister who comes by prepared with tangerine vodka, pretzel crisps, and white bean hummus to share while we sit in the garden and share our troubles.

On Saturday morning, Megan and I had our first swimming lesson since the end of August. But on our way to the quite splendid pool, instead of turning right at the highway, the way to the Big Town, we turned left, the way that leads to San Francisco and Civilization.

Why, you may ask. You know I’m good at getting lost, but after nearly three years in Hooterville, you’d think I’d at least know where the pool is.

There was a method to our madness: we were going to pick up Jessica to take her for a swimming lesson!

We met up with Erica and Jessica at a spot on Highway 128 where the redwoods tower overhead, hiding the skies like buildings in New York. The air smelled absolutely intoxicating, and it looked so primeval that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a dinosaur emerge from the ancient trees and enormous ferns.

As Jessica settled into the backseat of Megan’s car, she sighed, “It’s sooo good to have my auntourage back!” And she will have her auntourage with her on Halloween – Megan took the night off, and I will meet them in the Village after work. Jessica is going to be a princess-vampire-assassin. She has already made her own circlet and dagger.

Megan reminded Jessica that her swimming lessons would be after ours, which is an hour long (well, a therapist’s hour long). So she would have to amuse herself during that time.

Megan: “Did you bring a book or something?”

Jessica: “Megan, have you ever known me to be without a book?”

Megan admitted that this was true. It turned out that the book was The Lightning Thief, which sounded so interesting that I ordered it from the library. A discussion ensued on Greek and Roman mythology and what would be the best super power to have. Jessica liked staying dry and breathing under water (possibly influenced both by the book and the impending pool time), whereas Megan thought flying was the way to go. I maintain that invisibility would be best. What do you think?

Once we arrived at the pool, it turned out that the bottle of water in my swimming bag had leaked its contents, pre-moistening both my swimming attire and the towel, rendering it useless.

Oh, well. Class was great, and Jessica absolutely adores Sallie (and vice-versa). After class, I rinsed off in the poolside shower and sort of dried my hair, threw my clothes on, and slapped on some concealer and lip gloss. Then I dropped off Megan’s car to get all new tires* and hustled the many blocks to work with my wet hair and library bag full of books**. The tire place closes at noon on Saturday, so that gave them about 40 minutes to install the new tires. Before I even left the premises, they had the car jacked up and ready to go.

Later, Megan and Jessica turned up with sandwiches, which we enjoyed at the conference room table with its brand-new carpet supplied by Monica’s store of fabulousness, The Floor Store:

It’s just a bonus that the name of the carpet is “Crime Scene.” Once again I wished my job was naming things like nail polish. Or carpet.

It’s so great to know that we have a date with Jessica every Saturday for the next few weeks, except next week. For some reason, the pool is closed because school is closed in the Big Town. You’d think that would make it easier to get to swimming lessons, but what does a career non-parent know about things like that?

Anyway, the week after next, Jessica is staying with us all weekend,because Erica is entering some costume competitions in Santa Rosa, and we’re going to the Zoppé Circus, an Italian family circus which has been delighting people since 1842. How’s that for a great weekend?

*Living in the country has made me really appreciate things like tires, fences, and driveways. And their surprising cost.

**I had the new Linwood Barclayand Ruth Rendell waiting for me. Yay!

Note: The post below was interrupted by a power outage, literally out of the clear blue sky. I guess I was overly optimistic about the rest of the day being better than the morning.

I’m doing laundry before I go to the jobette. It’s a sunny day and I want to hang out laundry while the sun shines.

It’s already been quite the morning, and it’s not even 8:30. First the Clyde-defying shelf under my painting liberated itself, bonking me on the head and hand. I had those little cartoon birds and stars flying around my head while I wondered what happened.

While I was wondering, Clyde came running in with a dead bird in his mouth. I shooed him out and closed the door behind him.

The rest of the day should be better, right?

Yesterday, I sold more than $80 worth of stuff to unsuspecting tourists, a personal best so far. I also answered some unusual questions, such as where to buy underwear. You never know what will happen at the jobette.

When I was finished answering questions and selling things yesterday, I went to my brother’s place for a BBQ with our visiting friend, Paul. We have known him for 20 years, ever since he, Jonathan, and Megan and Rob were living on boats at Pier 39. He’s more like family, and has made several appearances in my blog over the years. I wish I weren’t working so much during this visit. At least we had a great time last night.

Megan marinated a pork roast from the farmers’ market overnight, and then set it slow cook in foil over the BBQ. Meanwhile, she made salsa using the tomatoes, cilantro, and onions from the garden while Paul toasted fresh corn in a skillet with shallots and red peppers, adding lime and cilantro at the last minute. I told him he should sell it as “Roasted corn ceviche” in the Hamptons next summer (he is caterer to the stars). He also grilled onions and red peppers over the BBQ. Here he is, supervising the BBQ with Star supervising him:

We also had a guest appearance by Schatzi. Due to her brittle bones, she doesn’t often leave home where she might be bounced à la Tigger and injured. But yesterday, she decided that she wanted to come along, and happily spent the afternoon trotting around or napping on the hay:

The garden is dying back, though the tomatoes continue to rampage. The sweetpeas we planted for Dad still look beautiful:

In case you’re wondering, the blue tape marks Dad’s favorites, so we can make sure we plant them again next year.

These flowers, whatever they are, continue to flourish:

And these by the gate, which might be African daisies:

Paul is on his way back to San Francisco tomorrow, where he will visit his uncle and then head to Pasadena, where his daughter and grandchildren live. He said he will come back and see us before he flies back to New York to pick up his car and drive to his home in Florida for the winter. I’m hoping he will come back for Christmas.