Suzy Says

Yesterday, Megan and Rob made the long trek to Civilization (and back) to see the surgeon who worked on Rob’s neck last summer.

The news was not good. The repair is basically collapsing, partly because they used cadaver bone instead of Rob’s own bone, and partly, the surgeon says, because Rob is such a heavy smoker and apparently this thins the bone along with all the other bad side effects.

The doctor says he can’t operate on Rob until he quits smoking, which will be a difficult endeavor for someone who smokes two packs a day and can’t do much to distract himself from the horrors of quitting. It’s not like he can play video games or go bike riding or something like that to keep his mind occupied.

Also it looks like another vertebra will need to be fixed soon.

On the other hand, I can’t believe that anyone can think that Rob can work at this point. He’s had three surgeries in four years and is facing more. He can’t sit, stand, walk, or even lie down for long periods of time. His left hand doesn’t work too well. He can’t really move his head from side to side or drive more than 5 miles. He walks like Frankenstein’s monster. So hopefully this bad news will help at the disability hearing next week. Maybe something good will come out of something really bad.

I was glad that I reinstated Thursday night dinners last month, since they came home to dinner being ready after a long, stressful day. And Megan was happy to discover that I left her a much-needed cocktail in the refrigerator. Sometimes it really is the little things that count.

You can thank Roscoe for the title. He just walked across the keyboard. Pretty good for someone who isn’t two years old yet, though his spelling does leave something to be desired.

It’s also what I was thinking last night when the power went out. I was afraid that it was going to happen after hearing the reports of 25-30 mile an hour winds as well as rain. The windchimes, always a cheery harbinger of the outage, were ringing merrily when I got home last night.

I was concerned enough to set the alarm for 5:30 am on the battered old travel alarm clock that usually lives in my bedside table’s drawer, but too optimistic to make coffee.

When darkness fell both inside as well as out, I regretted this foolish hopefulness. Who needs a glass that’s half full when you really need a coffee pot that’s half empty?

As I pondered these dark thoughts in the darkness, Rob appeared, with his headlamp on, and helped me to haul the generator so kindly donated by the Generator Fairy last fall outside. I paused partway through the process to capture the curious cats and strand them in the bathroom. The thought of them vanishing into the darkness scared me more than the darkness itself.

Rob got it going, showed me the on/off switch, and plugged a giant extension cord in. After we got the thing going, I immediately realized that it was a predator repellent. Even with the door closed and inside, it was LOUD. I later learned that sleeping with a generator on, even with earplugs firmly installed and a feather pillow over my head, is a near-impossibility.

Why do these things always happen when I have to get up early and work, pretending to be a responsible adult?

At least I could make coffee.

The cats cuddled up with me, probably thinking “Things are weird. We’d better stick together.” When I called PG&E, I was the first one to report the outage, news which saddened me, since I knew that it would be ages until a crew could get there and start working on whatever downed tree/power line was the problem.

Sometimes being first isn’t good.

Sorry to scare you all with the tale of things that go bump in the night. If we’re not worried, you shouldn’t be! There are still no locks on any of our doors, and so far, we haven’t had any more late night visitors. I still feel about a zillion times safer here than when I lived in Oakhampton. I have yet to come home to police cars in front of the house, or neighbors holding them off with a rifle, as I did there.

Not that it’s a cop-free zone. When I arrived at the jobette on Wednesday, one of my coworkers had just had a close encounter. As he pulled up in front of the office, two cop cars were upon him, blazing with lights and sirens, to inform him that one of his brake lights was out. Oh, the humanity!

It also turned out that his registration had lapsed the day before, so that lengthened the ordeal. As he sat, marooned in his car by a third of the local police force, our co-worker slunk by, pretending not to know him. After all, why get involved? Especially when there was no-one else to answer the phones.

He tried to pay the ticket and registration at lunch, only to be told they weren’t in the system yet. After he went through the metal detector and waited in line. Even small towns are not immune from bureaucracy.

My sister and I encountered the highway patrol and the fire department on our way home from the movies* on Sunday evening. We were in the truck, bumpkins that we are, and we were a little worried about running out of gas, since we were so busy talking about the movie that we completely forgot to get gas when we were in town, and the local store was closed.

We were stopped by guys with signs and flares in the road about a mile from the turnoff to the Ridge. It turned out that some guy had driven off the road – the curve there is sharper than it appears, as are many around here – and when passing motorists tried to help him, he repaid their Good Samaritan-ness by punching them and yelling at them.

He told the officers who responded to the call that men in fiber optic suits had jumped on his car, causing him to drive off the road. Oh, and he hadn’t slept in 30 hours. The car itself was so stuffed with things and stuff that there was barely enough room for the guy to sit in there and drive.

He was wearing a backpack with $20,000 in it.

He was released and sent on his way. The gas held out and we made it home. All’s well that ends well.

*It was “One for the Money”, based on the first Stephanie Plum novel by Janet Evanovich. Megan introduced me to them. They are fun fluff about a bounty hunter in New Jersey. I was concerned about Katherine Heigl playing Stephanie, but she was great and the movie was really fun.

The other night, Megan and Rob were fast asleep. It was, after all, 1 am, a perfectly reasonable hour to be doing so. In fact, most of us expect most of us to be doing just that.

They were yanked out of sleep by Star barking her head off. Now, neither of their dogs are barkers. Megan has put a lot of effort into making sure of this. I used to laugh at how she’d sneak out of sight when she left them in the car and then come back to admonish them if they barked, but now that I’m in town a lot more, I really appreciate this. Not a day goes by without senselessly barking dogs.

It turns out that Star had every reason to bark. Rob opened the little purple door to reveal a strange man standing on the porch. And I do mean strange. He told Rob some tale about his father and a gun and a few other things, then asked for a cigarette.

Rob cheerfully lied that there were no smokes on the premises, and then suggested that the guy call the cops. He mumbled something and shuffled off into the darkness, with both Rob and Megan wondering a) What the hell just happened here? and 2) Hope he doesn’t head to Suzy’s place.

He didn’t; or at least he chose not to come in any of the five unlocked doors at his disposal. Of course, cats don’t bark, so I can’t be sure, but I don’t think we had any midnight visitors.

The whole thing is really odd, though. We live more than five miles down a narrow, rough, barely paved road from a town where the latest thing open is the store, which closes at 6 in the winter. There are no bars or nightclubs within dozens of miles (or more). There are no streetlights. He would have had to go all that way down the road, and then choose our driveway, which is nothing but a dirt/mud track with giant rocks filling the potholes (Mark’s latest repair effort).

He had to pass the front house, which is usually unoccupied, though huge, and nearly always has a light on, and then pick the little offshoot that leads to Megan and Rob’s place. Theirs is the only house which isn’t on the main driveway, which makes the whole thing even odder. Mine is the most obvious after the front house, and I always have a light on at night. Megan and Rob don’t.

Go figure.

They say this has never happened to them in the many years they have lived here, and our brother says the same. I don’t think it will happen again, and in any case, nothing really did happen. I’m not going to fit locks to my doors (or, more likely, have Rob do it). But it’s certainly a mystery, country-style.

Last week’s storm brought us 7.25 inches of rain in three days, along with the second power outage of the season. It’s hard to believe now, with the sun shining brightly and not a cloud in the sky. It looks like I may have to start watering the garden again soon.

Watering will be easier now, since Rob the genie granted my wish. I happened to mention that I wished I had a hose reel. I hate the way the hose looks, lying all over the garden when not in use, but hose reels turn out to be surprisingly expensive, like fencing of any kind.

About three days later, Rob turned up with a hose reel:

which he had found at “the mall”, aka the dump. He hooked it up and it works just fine. How’s that for granting a wish?

A few days ago, he appeared with a lovely metal candleholder in hand, which he had also found at the mall:

It seems to be in perfect shape. I can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out. It will be a nice addition to the tall yellow candelabras and the table-top one, though now I’m thinking I should spray paint the table top one to match the new one. I’m looking forward to sitting outside by candlelight this spring and summer.

There are already signs of spring as we slide into February. The tulips – the same bulbs from last year’s Christmas stocking – are poking hopefully through the soil:

And the orchids both have flower spikes (on the right):

Hope springs eternal in a garden.

Sorry, poodles, I was swept away in a tsunami of work, rain, and power outages. But I’m back!

I missed you, too.

Since we last saw our heroine, she has both recovered her beloved MacBook and acquired a brand-new Pee Cee. This seems very appropriate for a Gemini, and in fact it is completely in keeping with the way things have always been with me computer-wise: PC for work, Mac at home (or Real Life).

Why the Pee Cee, you ask? Are you mad?! It’s like having a small Egyptian curse in the house! This is true, but here’s the problem. The Powers That Be at the firm who maintain our database on line from the traffic wilds of Atlanta saw fit to “upgrade” the system so it only runs on Explorer, which does not run on Mac.

Has upgrading ever made things better?

So my hands were tied with respect to work until I got the Pee Cee. The delivery was complicated by the fact that the FedEx truck broke down on the Ridge about three miles from my house. Since I had already observed the only tow truck going the other way with a trashed white car on my way home, I knew the delivery would be late.

Fortunately, I had already put a note on the door of the shed where FedEx and UPS deliver to our property, so even though I was supposed to sign for it, I didn’t have to, which was good, since it was about 9:00 pm by the time it got here.

Now all I have to do is transfer the files from the Mac and catch up on all the work I have not been able to do over the past week due to technical difficulties.

As for the Mac, I picked it up from the nice local computer fixers embarrassingly cleaned up and working just fine. We bonded over our shared affection for Buffalo, with its splendid Victorians, Frederick Law Olmstead-designed parks, and actual record stores.

The next day, the rain started in earnest, and I do mean earnest. We have received four inches (or more than 10 centimeters) in the past two days, and are slated to get more over the weekend. Don’t get me wrong: we need it, but does it have to be so hard and heavy? It’s so loud in my wood and tarpaper shack that I can barely hear the cats complaining about being stuck inside. There’s something about the curved shape of the roof/walls that seems to enhance the sound. It’s kind of like being assaulted, with the wind howling and the rain smashing and battering against the house.

Needless to say, the power went out, and of course it went out when I was finally done with a long series of conference calls that had started at 6 am. I speed dialed PG&E, only to be greeted with a gloomy recording saying that there were widespread power outages and power could be out for extended periods of time.

Fortunately, it wasn’t out that long, though the house was instantly cold and dark. My brother called a few hours later to ask if the power was still out – his never goes out, since he has solar and wind power – so he could walk me through getting the generator he gave me going. I thought that was really nice of him. It also reminded me that I should get a big can of gas and gas stabilizer, just in case.

I’m pretty sure there are more outages in my future.

Heading to aquafit on a chilly, dark winter morning, I thought about how our brother inspired Megan and me to start swimming again last year. And I realized how strongly he has influenced our lives, without appearing to do so. In a way, we’ve been following his lead.

Our parents separated when Jonathan was 18. He decided to head out to California, where he stayed with a family friend while he got on his feet. He arrived in San Francisco with his cat and $100 in his pocket, and never looked back.

I visited him every year, or more often if I could, and it got harder and harder to leave. Eventually Dad retired back to his native England, leaving Megan and me on our own, so we decided to follow Jonathan and move to San Francisco.

Megan moved into a boat near his on Pier 39 and married Rob. I found an apartment on land near by, and fixed it up while John drove our stuff, and our beloved cat Buddy, to our new home, arriving in time for our wedding anniversary in December.

One day, Jonathan witnessed a man being stabbed to death at Pier 39. He decided that the time had come to leave the city. A good friend of his was from the Hooterville area, and Jonathan had spent a lot of time visiting, as Bay Area people tend to do. It seemed like a good place to start a new life.

So he did, and it was. After a few years, Megan and Rob decided to follow him there. It was hard at first, but of course having our brother there made it easier and better.

Having most of my family living in a place only accessible by car inspired me to finally learn how to drive so I could visit. In my 30s. I do not recommend this. Parents: don’t let this happen to your kids! They’ll think driving means freedom, when what it really means is driving to work, running errands, and traffic jams.

As usual, I’m an Awful Warning.

As you all know, after several years and several changes of venue, I, too ended up in Hooterville, living a few yards from my sister and about a quarter mile from my brother. In fact, the house he used to live in is on the same property, and it’s still kind of weird for me that he no longer lives there. I still think of it as his house, and so does everyone else. Mark calls it “Jonathan’s house”.

Jonathan started swimming over a year ago, working up to his present ability to swim for 45 minutes without stopping four times a week. He loved it so much that he kept trying to convince his sisters to go, and eventually, he persuaded us. As our mother used to say, he could sell refrigerators to Eskimos (are you allowed to say “Eskimos” now? I always thought the spelling “Esquimaux” was more elegant, anyway). And we love it, too.

The next time I see him, I’m going to thank him for being such a great leader. And the best brother a girl could ask for. Or follow around.

My brother’s gate

The other day on my way to work, I decided to drop off some curried chickpeas with spinach and Season 6 of “Dexter” (what a cliffhanger!) at my brother’s place.

I always look to see that his gate is closed when I drive by. It’s a habit left over from the bad old days when he first bought the property but didn’t live on it, and a local villain preyed on the redwoods. He and his good time buddies used to knock down the fences and/or gates we put up in order to steal the trees, mill them, and sell them.

It was hard to catch him, but everyone knew who it was. Jonathan called the sheriff several times, but they couldn’t catch him. Rob confronted the miscreant at the store, and eventually the thievery stopped, though he left us with a lovely parting gift of epoxy gluing the $100 lock we used to keep him out. The gate you see above was villain-proof, once we got the locksmith out here to hack off the glued lock and put on a new one.

So whenever I see the gate open, especially if I’m going to the pool early in the morning, I stop and close and lock it, just in case. Once I locked Rob in there, but he got out anyway. I’ll have try harder next time.

As I pulled up to the gate, I wondered why there was a pine cone on it. Closer inspection revealed that it was one of Rob’s finishing touches: a ceramic sculpture he made which looks like a pine cone, cemented to the gate post to make it look nicer. Rob is a man who appreciates the finer things in life.

I made my way slowly down the magnificent driveway, which has excellent drainage and no potholes or mud, making it approximately 1,000% nicer to look at and drive on than mine. Arriving at my brother’s little enclave, I noticed the frost on the hay bales:

and the huckleberry bushes:

My brother works overnight shifts three days in a row, so he was really, really happy to come home to dinner and a movie. Almost as happy as I was to give it to him.

This year was about change: getting the jobette; swimming lessons; having to make peace with driving a lot more. Change is good, right?

One deleterious effect of working more is reading less. I read 118 books in 2011, vs. 140 in 2010. The favorites of the year were Sue Grafton’s “V Is for Vengeance” and Candice Millard’s tour de force, “Destiny of the Republic”.

We are also getting a lot less rain this season. Last year, we totalled about 60 inches (or 153 centimeters), and already had half of that by December 31, 2010. This year, we’ve gotten about 11 inches (28 centimeters) so far. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here by saying there’s probably a drought in my future. Number of power outages: 3. So far this season: 1, and an early one at that.

It was a great summer, though: lots of sun, little fog, no heat waves.

As far as last year’s resolutions went: not bad. I did a lot of work on the garden, though there are more things I’d like to do, given time and money, always in short supply. I still worry about the cats, and probably always will, to some extent. The loss of the beautiful and beloved June was traumatic, and, as Jessica pointed out to me, I’m a worrier. Maybe I should just embrace my inner (outer?) worrier.

This year’s resolutions are to reinstate Thursday dinners for my overworked sister – they fell by the wayside with the increased busy-ness of my schedule – and to spend more time with my brother when there’s no project to be done or special occasion to be celebrated. I always have a great time with him, but I don’t see him often enough.

And, you know, keep working on the garden and trying to minimize Calamity Suzy episodes.

Let me know what your resolutions are. And thanks for reading yet another year!

January:

How to plant tulips. Logging road walk. A check-up for the kittens. A walk with Schatzi. The beginning of A’s life-threatening illness. Another vet visit. A walk through the Village. A surprise visit from Jessica! Falling off a log really is easy. Dealing with two broken fingers: not so much. They still look freaky and witch-like. A brief trip to San Francisco. A is improving.

February:

Back in touch with the outside world. A finally gets out of Intensive Care. And I get the jobette! The boys make a windmill. Week One at the jobette. A’s slow recovery continues. Beautiful new garden chairs. A rare and magical snow day!

March:

A quick tour of the jobette. A graduates from Intensive Care to the HIghly Dependent Unit. Tragedy strikes our sister city in Japan. Doin’ it Rob style. Signs of spring. My beloved father’s 80th birthday. It’s not snow this time, it’s hail! The painting saga. Flooding. The week in pictures. Spring arrives in the garden.

April:

The painting problem is solved – at least, for now. Power outages. Little salon in the big woods. A is finally in a regular hospital ward, while Clyde is a little limpy. A nice little burn to go with my broken fingers. Jessica’s birthday! My blog’s 10th birthday! First BBQ of the year. A sad and loving farewell.

May:

The fabulous circus. New contact lenses. A walk through town. Star’s birthday. My tulips in bloom. Countrified. Fabulous garage sale finds. Girls’ night out. A short visit to San Francisco. The magnificent Balenciaga exhibit. Back home. Megan’s birthday. Car troubles – and a birthday celebration.

June:

Car trouble and bad weather. Truly rural. Bi-coastal. Rainy birthday to me. Happy first birthday to the boys! Rob is scheduled for more surgery. An evening with Erica and Jessica. Rose’s chicken curry. Unveiling the clock of ages. Rob’s surgery is rescheduled. The operation. Back home. Houdini lives!

July:

Audrey turns four. Found poetry. Both Rob and A are on the road to recovery. Kitty updates. Home improvements. Jessica visits the jobette. Musical contrasts. Erica and Jessica move to Portland (~sob~). The last Harry Potter movie ever.

August:

Propane prettifying. Encore de car. A change of address. Garden updates. The tenth anniversary of my father’s untimely and completely unnecessary death. I love you and miss you, Old Bear. More car fixing (or not). The bliss of Brian. Star meets quail.

September:

Mark’s seizure. He has epilepsy and is taking meds for it. So far, so good. Thank goodness. Free palms. The Houdini dog expands her repertoire. Planting the palms. The joys of aquafit. The delights of the County Fair. Clyde takes it on the chin. A visit from the generator fairy. A total meltdown.

October:

The car is finally fixed. I hope. Swimming clinic doesn’t go quite as swimmingly as I’d hoped. Car-share begins (and is still going on). The plague descends. My second anniversary of moving to Hooterville. The arrival of Turbo, Mark’s horse.

November:

Pool problems. Feeding the family. Meetings in San Francisco. Too tired to shop. A delightful day. Back home. The lowdown on high beams. Star and Megan are both stars. Thanksgiving Eve. A happy Thanksgiving. An early season blackout.

December:

Sunny days and sparkling nights. A look around the garden. An amazing experience. Girls’ Night In. A sudden loss. Up with the tree! An adventurous evening. And a tree adventure. Christmas cheer. A magical evening. The wit and wisdom of Jessica.

That’s it for 2011. Wishing you all a happy and healthy new year!

Of course, what you really want to hear about is Jessica.

As soon as she got out of the car, she ran to me and I picked her up and whirled her around, to both of our delights. As I mentioned earlier, she is so much taller now – about chin height, instead of heart height. When I asked her how she got prettier every day*, she said, “I have no idea!”

Erica and Jessica gave me my presents before Jessica dived into hers in the way that only kids can. Can I just say? These girls know me so well. Jessica gave me a scarf she had woven herself on her fingers (!), and to go with it, there was a compact with eyeshadow, blush, and lip gloss which looks like a little Sephora bag. So I’ll always have some Sephora, wherever I am. Also – the sold out everywhere Miss Piggy inspired OPI nail polish, Divine Swine!

It turns out that Jessica is a Candy Land shark. Now, Megan said that Jessica is too old for Candy Land, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t. Jarrett and I played three games with her before dinner, and Jessica won them all. She also got Princess Frostine in every single game, which surely defies the odds, especially since Jarrett shuffled the cards.

Here you see her wearing my red suede shoes (and also my huge wedding earrings, which are clip ons). The shoes are Italian, but I bought them in Russia 20 years ago. Hooray for glasnost! Jessica was also delighted by my Manolo Blahniks and exhibited a surprising ability to walk around in high heels and platforms. Who knew?

Of course, there was time for a tour of my jewelry box. I was wearing Jessica’s favorite diamond necklace, along with a diamond bracelet and diamond ring, but she wanted to explore the rest of the Suzy Collection. She was very interested in where things came from, and once again I realized how many things my father had brought me from exotic lands like China and India.

Jessica was taken with a necklace Dad brought me from India. She told me about Indian kings and myths as she tried on the necklace, which I wear often. It’s made of ruby beads of different shades, along with ornate silver beads. Jessica said, “Everyone who touched this necklace left some of their soul in it.” When she and Erica left, I gave it to her on indefinite loan. I like knowing that my Dad’s gift to his girl is now being worn by another beloved girl.

While we were looking at the jewelry, Jessica said, “All you need to be beautiful is be yourself – and add a little bling.” She paused and looked at me and added, “But you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Later she confided, “Your parents make great kids. I’m so glad you’re my adopted family.”

I have to say, having a rental kid makes your entire Christmas.

*Yesterday Jonathan and I talked about how we should stop telling her how beautiful and smart she is, in case she gets spoiled and/or full of herself, but it’s really hard. As Megan said, “If you could guarantee I’d get a kid like Jess, I’d seriously consider it.” Me, too.

The day after Christmas, I was surprised to be the first one up. I had expected the eight year old to be hopping and popping in the way that eight year olds do. Sometimes I think we’re born with all the energy we’re going to have and just use it up as we go along, dying when we finally run out of the supply. Certainly I was less bouncy at 48 than I was at 8. At least at 8 am.

Coming quietly down the stairs from the sleeping loft, I could see Paul asleep on the air mattress and Erica and Jessica looking like angels on the bed of nails, also known as the sofabed. When I apologized for the bed of nails-ness, Jessica said, “It’s like sleeping on air! And air is so comfortable!”

I was just pouring a second cup of coffee when I saw Jarrett walking by the sliding glass doors with a mountain of laundry. I went to meet him in the laundry room/pantry/cat dining room and we chatted for a while as he started the first of five loads of laundry. Somewhere between the third and fourth loads, I wondered how and when I had become Mom. At least I did it without stretchmarks and exorbitant college tuition.

By the time I returned to the living room, a second pot of coffee was being made and Erica was dispensing toast. Jessica was definitely the most lively at that point, the grown-ups, the house, and the garden looking a lot like that Katy Perry song “Last Friday Night”.

Caffeinated and toasted, Erica and Jessica started to pack up and get ready for the 12 hour road trip ahead of them. I tried to hide their gorgeous dog Lucy to no avail:

They adopted her from the pound many years ago, but she turns out to be some fancy breed called Munsterhound. She may well be the most beautiful and softest dog I have ever seen. All I can say is if there were a whole breed of Lucys, they would all be made into fur coats. Erica had the same thought.

It was hard not to cry as the car packed with fabulous girls made its way down the driveway, but Megan and I are hoping to drive up to Portland this summer.

Jarrett headed home in the early afternoon with a car full of clean clothes, but Paul stayed for a day or two, definitely helping that after Christmas let-down. He might also come back next week, so there’s still something to look forward to.

Aftermath

Maybe I always say this, but it was the best Christmas ever!

I spent the morning making cheese biscuits:

And salad dressing, in the majolica jug to the right of Grammie’s silver:

Later, the cheese biscuits were in the Wedgwood biscuit barrel and the salad in the Wedgwood bowl with matching serving tongs. It was so nice to use them! Also on the table are my American grandmother’s, Nana’s, wine glasses. So both sides of the family were represented.

And setting out the Christmas crackers:

The morning clouds gave way to sun, so Megan and I brought the yellow Adirondack chairs and the wooden outside table out of winter storage. It occurred to me that we could use the metal stove I burn paper in as a warmation device, so we hauled that over to the chairs and collected some wood. This worked out great, and really helped with the seating issues, since some people sat outside by the fire and some hung out inside.

Paul was the first to arrive, followed by Erica and Jessica. Jessica has gotten so tall! She is now up to my chin. She gave us presents she had made herself. Megan’s came with a really sweet note:

[Dear Megan, I miss you a lot! My mom and I are basically living in Beezus and Ramona land! I love you lots and lots! See you at Christmas! Love, Jessica K.]

By the time Jarrett arrived, it was time for presents and stockings. Jessica’s present from Santa was discovered on my front porch. Here you see her opening it:

It was a digital microscope. Apparently you can hook it up to your computer.

Jonathan made the glaze for the ham from maple syrup, bourbon, apple cider, and a secret blend of spices. The ham was glazed and smoked over apple wood we cut that morning. It was magically delicious. With it, we had garlic mashed potatoes, cheese biscuits, and a salad. The salad had endive, frisee, and other bitter greens, along with roasted Bosc pears and fresh pomegranate seeds, along with a dressing of olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and honey. It was a real hit, and the perfect balance for the richness of the other dishes.

Lichen appeared in time for dinner, bearing little bottles of tonic and a flask of Bombay Sapphire gin to mix it with. Jonathan’s friend Michaela brought cookies and a bottle of wine, which vanished almost immediately.

After dinner and before the pies (one cherry and one lemon), Jonathan read out loud to us, as is tradition. Jessica said she wanted to do the reading this year, so Jonathan proposed he read one page and Jessica read the next. But once he started reading and doing all the voices like Dad used to, she forgot all about it and listened raptly:

Surrounded by my family and friends, I realized that Dad is still with us as I listened to his son read aloud the way he used to. And I felt so lucky and so happy.

It really was the best Christmas ever.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

It’s the first cloudy day in a month, or longer. All the better to have Christmas lights on, my pretty.

Once I finish caffeinating, I’ll tidy up the house and start on the final dinner prep. Jonathan is dealing with the ham; Megan’s making the cherry pie, so all I have to do is make salad, my world famous cheese biscuits, and mashed potatoes. I think I can handle it.

At some point today, Paul and Jarrett will arrive from the south and the north respectively. Erica and Jessica will be here sometime this afternoon, and Lichen will come for dinner. Still not sure if my brother will be bringing a guest. But I kind of love it that all these people are drawn to my home and feel comfortable enough to be flexible in their plans. And I love having my house full of people I love.

Last night, I brought the pot of parsnip vichyssoise over to my sister’s house with some whole wheat dinner rolls. Jonathan joined us, and we enjoyed dinner together and then watched “A Christmas Story” and reminisced about our own past Christmases. It was so nice to be all together in that little house in the big woods where we’ve spent so many Christmases over the years, knowing that there are more to come.

I wish you all a joyful holiday. May you be surrounded with loved ones and happiness!

Guarding the tree

You are all familiar with the limitations of my kitchenette. So you probably won’t be surprised that last night I went to bed thinking, “OK. If I start the pie crust while the parsnips are roasting, then I can prep the pears and…”

You probably won’t be surprised that I woke up around 4:00 and lay there thinking about it in the cold and dark, sneezing away (having allergies to things like dust and pollen and trees makes living in the country a little trying at times). I decided to get up and deal with it instead of fretting about it.

The cats watched with benign curiosity from their post beside the heater. I put the oven on, then peeled and cut up all the veggies to be roasted (parsnips, potatoes, leeks, onions, garlic) for tonight’s soup, our traditional parsnip vichyssoise. By the time they were ready to go, the oven was warm. Then I peeled and cut up pears and tossed them in olive oil, ready to be roasted for tomorrow night’s salad.

It was time to start on the lemon pie. It soon became obvious that I had overestimated my lemon requirements, so I’ll have to start thinking of ways to use them up. Hopefully I won’t be up before dawn making lemon curd or something like that.

After five or so hours of cooking, I was more or less done when the phone rang. It was Paul, saying that he was unexpectedly in San Francisco and wondered if he could come up for Christmas. So it will be full houses for Megan and me: Paul and Jarrett, Erica and Jessica. But it will be festive!

The dynamic duo

Once again it’s 44/6 degrees in my little tar-paper shack. The boys and I are huddling by the heater while Audrey prances around outside in her fur coat and my thimble of coffee gets cold almost as soon as I pour it.

The coffee maker is in the bathroom this morning. Why, you ask? Well, last night was a little more of an adventure than I would have liked.

When I put up the blue icicle lights on the back deck, I installed a doohickey that screwed in where the lightbulb used to be, and plugged the lights into it. It worked, but it meant there was no light at night in the backyard, other than the icicle lights. So I put a lamp out there and plugged it in the outlet beside the sliding glass doors.

Now, this outlet had been repaired by Mark this summer when it alarmingly sparked, though there’s still a burned looking area peeking out. Last night, it sparked again and stopped working. Something must have shorted out, because the outlet in the kitchen for the coffee maker also stopped working, which is why I relocated it to the bathroom.

Of course, the back yard was plunged into darkness, which plunged me into horror, since all three cats were outside. In fact, I was already somewhat horrified, because for the first time in his life, Clyde hadn’t come home for dinner. I hadn’t seen him for three or four hours, and I am a Worrier.

Granted, it had been a beautiful sunny day and it wasn’t cold then, but after the June Bug Trauma I am not rational when it comes to my cats.

I got an extension cord, plugged it into a working outlet, then moved one of the lamps by the couch outside, where it remains. I went out and called Clyde, walking down the driveway and part of the haul road, but it soon became obvious even to the most paranoid that finding a black cat in the country darkness is the real Mission Impossible.

Clyde ignored me, but Audrey and Roscoe appeared. Unfortunately, they also brought a mouse to guest star, and started chasing the poor thing all over the house. I shooed them outside and went back to calling for Clyde.

Still nothing. I checked on John’s flight and saw that he had arrived early to SFO, though the flight itself was a late one. It seems he missed the Customs cutoff at the Ottawa airport by minutes, along with several other passengers, and had to take a later flight. He was most upset by the fact that he would be too late to get his three cats from the boarding place. He also said that he had a lot of late nights with the family and was exhausted.

I went back out again and there was Clyde. My heart leaped to see his little white bow tie in the darkness. Everyone else came running, mouseless, when they heard the distinctive crackle of the treat bag. Everyone was in, everyone was safe, including John. Whew.

I called Mark to tell him about the outlet. He’s heading to Santa Rosa today, but will come by and fix it on Wednesday, hopefully for good this time. After we talked about the outlet, he asked me if I had found Clyde – he had heard me yelling from his house! Maybe I should just embrace my inner (or outer) Worrier and just accept that’s who I am.

The belated tree

So I finally decided to put up the vintage 1950s Christmas tree. I was helped in this decision by Rob coming up with a stand for the tree. I should have taken a picture of it for you before I installed the tree and covered the stand up with a towel, but you’ll just have to take my word for its ingenuity.

As usual, it was made out of found parts. It has a wide base to keep the tree steady and withstand kitty attacks, while having an opening narrow enough to hold the svelte tree.

As you can see, the tree is kind of minimally decorated. There are lights on the banister and outside the sliding doors where the tree is, so it seemed a little too Vegas to light up the tree. Then someone told me that if cats eat tinsel or icicles, it can kill them, so that was out. Rob said he might make me an origami star for the top, and Megan and I might string popcorn and/or cranberries for it. Or not. We’ll see. In the meantime, the halls are about as decked as they’re going to get.

Tonight my brother is coming over for dinner with a friend who is visiting from Syracuse. Syracuse, the city of my birth but otherwise undistinguished, has been rearing its sooty head lately. It turns out that our friend Clayton, who kindly put us up during Rob’s surgery this summer, also hails from that eastern town, and at our Christmas lunch on Friday, I learned that our CEO went to college there. Small world, no?

Rob’s truck was still waiting by the side of the road yesterday. I couldn’t help thinking that if this had happened in Oakhampton, there’d be nothing left but a graffitied, possibly burning hulk after 24 hours. Megan told me that while she was waiting for Rob to rescue her on Wednesday, about a dozen people stopped to ask if she needed help, including an off-duty firefighter and a bicyclist. Again, not the Oaktown experience. Anyway, the truck is back home where it belongs, ready for the next adventure.

As for John, I’m not sure where he is, though I hope it’s his brother’s place in Ottawa. I followed his flights online, as he asked me to (the idea being that if anything happens to him, I will go and collect his cats), and was dismayed to see that his flight to Philadelphia was nearly an hour and a half late, leaving him 15 minutes to catch the connecting flight to Ottawa. He only had carry on, but I’m not sure I’d take that bet.

I’ll let you know when I hear from him. John’s father Ed’s memorial service is tomorrow at 1:00 in the afternoon. Oddly, tomorrow is also the day John and I met, way back in the 1980s, and also the day his brother Mike married his wife Charmaine, even more years ago than that. Mike and Charmaine have been at Marj’s side ever since Ed died. I know I will be thinking of all of them tomorrow, and I hope you will, too.

As for me, I’m making a special guest appearance at the jobette today. We are having a holiday lunch, followed by a holiday party in the early evening for our Boards and other well-wishers, so I wanted to help set up, host, and clean up. It’s going to be a long day.

The house was a chilly 44 degrees this morning (that’s about 6 measly degrees for the non-Fahenheit among us, if my math is right. And that’s a big if) and barely 32/0 degrees outside.

I put on the heater before I even fed the cats or put on the coffee. I was just sipping my first little thimble of much-needed caffeine when the phone rang. It was 6:45 in the am, and it was my sister.

She was calling from the side of the road on a lonely stretch of Highway One in the chilly, pre-dawn darkness. It was lucky that she was in one of the few areas that actually gets cell phone service.

The truck’s tire had basically exploded, leaving her stranded. As you know, her car has been non-operational since September, so Rob needed to borrow my car to go and get the spare truck tire from Jonathan’s place (I don’t know why it was there) and then go and get Megan, who had 4 hours of sleep before her 12 hour shift and had 8 ambulance patients over that time period, one of whom didn’t make it. It had been a long night for her.

He dropped Megan off at home and picked me up, leaving me at the jobette while he went to have a rim applied to the spare tire. Apparently he had a hell of a time trying to make this happen, and ended up having to order something which should arrive tomorrow. In the meantime, he’s locked up the truck, put a note on the windshield, and is hoping that it won’t get towed away before he can get the tire fixed. There’s always something!

Some people believe that things like eclipses are omens. Maybe they are.

When I was being awed by the lunar eclipse and the shooting star on Saturday, my friend and former father-in-law, Ed, died suddenly. He was walking with his beloved wife to the car to do some shopping, laughing and talking, when he suddenly dropped dead. John says he doesn’t think his father knew what hit him.

I am profoundly saddened by his loss, more than I would have expected, considering I haven’t seen him for several years. Ed and Marj, his wife, were never anything but loving to me. To this day, I could call Marj and tell her I needed a place to stay or bail money and she’d pick me up with a hug and a smile.

A few years after John and I separated, Ed wrote this to me:

“Susan, you don’t ever have to worry about Marj and I not caring for you, you will always have a place in our hearts. Things happen to people and that is just a fact of life, you pick up the pieces and carry on and sooner or later you will find yourself looking forward to getting up in the morning with a smile on your face and peace in your heart. It takes time to have all these things heal, but it will happen, believe me.

Keep in touch and take care of yourself and write anytime you need a friend. Marj sends her love and so do I.”

It takes a pretty generous guy to love his youngest son’s ex-wife. But he was always a remarkably kind, loving, and humorous man. They don’t make ’em like Ed any more. He was a gentle man and a gentleman. I am thankful for his friendship and love, and I will always miss him and keep him in my heart.

Our friend Lichen doesn’t do Christmas. This is hardly surprising considering that he was brought up on a Mormon commune by parents who tried to “beat the gay out of him.” Also not surprisingly, they didn’t succeed.

But what is surprising is that Lichen had never seen “Sex & the City”, and Megan and I decided it was high time we remedied this shocking oversight.

Megan was the hostess with the mostes’, picking up two packets of blueberry pomegranate martini mix and making Dad’s famous honey-mustard chicken, rice and roasted asparagus with lemon caper sauce for dinner. My contribution was vodka for the martinis and pitchers to freeze them in. And my sparkling presence, of course.

Somewhat embarrassingly, I ran into Mark on my way back home, carrying a giant family-size (and bright blue) bottle of vodka at 2:00 in the afternoon. We mixed up the martinis the day before and let them freeze overnight into grown-up slushies.

The mix came with blueberry flavored sugar to go on the rims of the glasses. It kind of made the martinis more SweeTart-like, but we have a boatload of it left over. I’ll have to ask Erica for bright ideas on how to use it up. Sweetening huckleberry pie? Weird sugar cookies? Who knows?

Lichen cut our hair before we started imbibing the martinis, so we looked fabulous for Carrie and friends. Lichen liked the show and found it funny, but was also repelled by the late 90’s conspicuous consumption and shallowness. It reminded him of why he stopped being hairdresser to the stars in Beverly Hills.

It was a great evening, and I set off for home around 11:00, flashlight in hand. Before I had gone halfway down Megan’s driveway, I realized that I didn’t need it. The moon was flooding the path with silvery, magical light. I was charmed by walking home on moonbeams, though I had no idea of the amazing experience in store for me in just a few hours. It was enough to just be in the moment, after spending a wonderful evening with people I love.