Suzy Says

The Beautiful Harriet, May 7, 2020

We lost The Beautiful Harriet just two days after Megan’s birthday.

Megan was working, and Rob saw Harriet make a strange movement and then seem to be partly paralyzed. Her pupils were fixed and dilated. He knew there was no hope of recovery, so he held her lovingly until she breathed her last, knowing that she was safe and loved.

Rob wisely waited until Megan got home from her long night shift, meeting her at the car and telling her the news as they walked back to their place together. Although Harriet was 19, her death was unexpected. I was shocked and saddened to hear the news. She hadn’t been sick or in decline, she was just old, about 92 in human years.

I went to the family estate after work that day. We all met at the chinquapin tree where Harriet’s sister Ramona and little Henry Etta are, along with Jed the Wonder Dog. Harriet is in good company in this pretty place:

She was still beautiful and her magic pelt was still magic, even in death. We petted her amazingly soft fur and told her we loved her. Rob had already prepared her resting place, quite deep but narrow enough that she would be safe and snug. Megan and I carefully rewrapped Harriet in a soft lavender towel, and then Megan lovingly settled Harriet in, tucking the towel in around our beloved girl.

We all took turns gently sifting the rich red earth over her, saying farewell and again telling her we loved her. Here is Rob finishing filling in the resting spot:

We covered it with leaves and it looks tranquil and serene:

Harriet had a long and happy life. She and Ramona lived with Megan and Rob from the time they were kittens, and were always loved and cared for. I am glad she had a peaceful end, at home, being held by someone who had loved her all her life, and that we were able to lay her to rest with our own hands with love.
Sleep easy, beautiful Harriet. You are loved and missed and will always be in our hearts.

A YEAR AGO: The great move to my current beautiful abode.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A fantastic birthday party for Megan, including the best practical joke ever.

TEN YEARS AGO: There’s nothing more fun than some quality girl time.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Some quality time with the wonderful, beautiful Rita.

There haven’t been a lot of dull moments for Megan at work lately. She has worked in the emergency room of our local hospital for many years now, and just when you think you’ve seen it all, it turns out you haven’t.

A woman showed up carrying a blanket, which later turned out to contain a two week old fawn. She wanted Megan to help her with the fawn, and Megan told her to take it back where she found it. Mother deer will go in search of food and then come back. If you see a baby deer, leave it alone.

Well, she had picked it up 30 miles away.

Megan’s Plan B was that the woman keep the fawn overnight and contact Woodlands Wildlife and Parks & Recreation in the morning to get help. The woman left, and left Megan wondering why she thought the ER could do anything for, you know, a wild animal. Do they need a “Humans Only” sign on the door, like the “Please park off highway” sign at Gowman’s?

Later that evening, Megan met Monica in the hospital parking lot and noticed a blanket by the bus stop. Guess who?

So this person took the fawn, drove it 30 miles, and then abandoned it.

Megan convinced Monica to take it home, where she cared for it until Woodlands Wildlife came to get it. They said the fawn was weak, but would probably make it, thanks to Megan and Monica. And you thought they only rescued dogs!

On another occasion, someone came in and said her friend’s neck looked a little strange. Megan took a look, and it certainly did. Friend had had the same spinal surgery Rob has twice endured, though with less successful results and presumably at a less reputable establishment, since her sutures had failed spectacularly, allowing for an unobstructed view of the spine and all the inner workings associated with it.

Megan was fascinated, yet horrified as she alerted the doctors to the situation, agreeing that it did indeed look a little strange and trying to keep everyone calm. Let’s hope the repair job is more successful than the original patch job.

The Powers That Be who run our hospital – all men – decided a couple of months ago that they would no longer deliver babies. So pregnant women living on the coast have to drive an hour and a half over winding and sometimes snowy and icy or even closed roads to get there. Great idea, right? They said that the 100 or so births a year did not justify keeping the department open. That works out to a couple of births a week in any given year, right? As I said to Megan, if there was an average of two heart attacks a week, would they get rid of defibrillators?

It didn’t take long for a baby to be born in the emergency room.

There was no equipment, no staff specializing in this service, the baby was early and mother had no prenatal care, claiming she didn’t know she was pregnant. Maybe she was too busy taking care of the nine month old baby she already had to notice. This birth was fast and unexpected, and Megan caught the baby, who was given the same name as our brother. Mom and baby were transferred out, but it was complicated by rainy weather. Not ideal for anyone, though the PTB considered that it “went off without a hitch”. Of course, they weren’t there and they never will be.

When Megan was getting ready to go to work for her next shift after that one, I said that I hoped she would have an easier night. She said, “If I don’t end up with a face full of amniotic fluid, it’s all good.”

A YEAR AGO: Dealing with the past so I could start my future.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Small town fun.

TEN YEARS AGO: A bad day for our heroine.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: I still think I’d enjoy Eloise’s lifestyle.

The grandfather clock in my house is probably older than this country, depending on whether it was made by John Jullion Senior (born 1701) or Junior (born 1734). Mr. Jullion was a famous clockmaker from Brentford, England, who also made the oldest clock still on public display in Australia. That one was made in 1770. Even if it’s Junior, the clock is around 250 years old. And very well-travelled.

I first met this grand old timepiece at my grandparents’ home in Surrey. They moved into the house when they were married in the 1920s and lived there for the rest of their long lives. The clock had been in Grammie’s family since it was first built, coming down through Grammie’s mother’s family, the Smiths.

At my grandparents’ house, the clock lived in the dining room, which was used for every meal, but was also sacred to the game of cricket. When there was a match – especially a Surrey match – on the wireless (radio), no one could make a sound in the house while Daddy’s Daddy listened to the game in the solitary splendor of the dining room.

The Clock

When my grandparents died, the clock was shipped to us, and when Dad retired back to his native England, the heirloom timepiece made its majestic journey with him. Unlike Dad’s 9 year old mutt Jesse, it did not have to be quarantined, and ended up living, like Jesse, in my stepmother Margaret’s lovely house in Wimbledon. About a dozen miles from where Dad grew up. Indeed, Dad used to walk Jesse on the same downs where he walked with own father as a boy.

Dad wound the clock twice a week, and it kept good time in Margaret’s pretty sitting room overlooking the big garden.

When we lost Dad, I gained a clock, and it once again made its way across the ocean, this time to San Francisco, which was a mere wilderness when it was first built. Very long-time readers may recall the battle with Customs and the hassle of getting it set up and running again in my San Francisco apartment, where it lived in the hallway.

At that point in the clock’s long life, I learned that my great grandfather, the splendidly named Sydney Joseph Beaumont Smith (all of his children had only one first name), had cut the clock down from its original height in order to fit it into the flat where he and his family lived, above his butcher shop in Chiswick.

It was something of an Antiques Roadshow moment, where a person learns that if they only hadn’t cleaned that painting, it would be worth a million dollars, and now it’s only worth $20. But the value for me is not the financial one. It is knowing that generations of my family have cared for this timepiece, lovingly made by hand by a craftsman centuries ago, and now I am the guardian of the family legacy. It’s knowing that my grandparents used to listen to its measured tick, as did my great grandparents and earlier generations of my family, and that we are all bound together by the shared experience of caring for and marking our lives and our time together by this ancient timepiece.

A YEAR AGO: I was crowned. And not in a good way.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A lovely evening at the theater with the girls.

TEN YEARS AGO: The story of Henry, the stray cat who found her way into my heart. Our time together wasn’t long enough, but it was sweet.

Dad heading to school, circa 1936

My father was born on this day in 1931.

He left us too soon, on August 18, 2001, at the age of 70. As I approach 60 – I am turning 58 this June – it is a little alarming to think that at my age, he only had 12 years left to live. I am consoled that he lived them with Margaret, who I believe was the love of his life. They were so well-suited to each other. They were from similar backgrounds, about the same age, and loved art, traveling, wine, good food, and books. They had many wonderful adventures together, and I am glad to know that the last years of his life were some of the happiest.

Some years, I am happy that I had Dad in my life and had that kind of love and support which I now realize many people – even most – never have. I was lucky to have experienced being loved by someone who knew all the worst things about me and loved me anyway. But the grief is the price of the love, and this year, I am sad and angry that I lost him so long ago and so young.

If you’re joining this telenovela in progress, here’s a brief recap. Dad was taken off blood thinners for a routine gall bladder surgery, and the hospital staff forgot to put him back on them, so he died of a blood clot in his sleep the night before he was supposed to be released from the hospital.

Life has never been the same.

I know Dad wouldn’t want me to be sad when I thought of him. So I will try to think about this little boy, so excited about his first day of school, just the beginning of a fine academic career that would culminate in a PhD in organic chemistry and a Doctor of Science degree awarded to him by the Queen Mother herself. He loved his work, and made important contributions both to the world of science, and the world.

Little did that boy imagine how far he would go in life or how many adventures were ahead of him. It may have been short, but it was a wonderful life.

A YEAR AGO: A festive birthday celebration.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Remembering Dad and the happy, golden summers we spent in Maine.

TEN YEARS AGO: A chilly birthday.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A visit to one of the most beautiful beaches in America. Again, I’m sorry to say that the photos didn’t come through, but you can have a peek here.

Well, this was the Mondayest Monday ever – the day after the dreaded time change. You know, the one where they steal an hour of our weekend and then expect us to get up extra early the next day, merrily adding insult to injury. You know a week that starts with a full (super) moon right after the hour theft and ends with Friday the 13th is going to be a weird one. There was also an earthquake on Sunday night, a long, slow one that was a little alarming, but didn’t damage anything.

Oddly enough, I felt just fine the morning after, despite being a robbery victim. I actually got up 15 minutes before the alarm went off, just as I usually do. Go figure. I was trying not to think about the purloined time, much like I used to do when I went to London all the time. I just adapted to the time zone I was in and didn’t think about how it was midnight or yesterday or whatever back in San Francisco.

Whatever it was, it didn’t really bother me this year.

Back in the olden times, on Saturday, I went over to the property for a Girl Night™ with Megan and Lu. I had a peek in the greenhouse and the garden. Here’s how it looked:

The peach trees were in bloom. So were the plum trees:

The plum trees are very popular with the bees. The trees just hum with them.

Inside the greenhouse, things are rocking and rolling. There’s lettuce, bok choy, and green onions*. Also Megan’s Meyer lemon tree:

Outside, the strawberry plants are beginning to leaf out and there are still some hardy herbs, like rosemary and thyme. Most of the garden is still asleep, but spring has definitely arrived.

When Rob drove me home, the moon was so bright that I didn’t need my flashlight. It was amazing to see it beaming over the ocean.

*These always make me think of my mother’s father, who grew them and loved them. Sometimes he’d walk back to the house humming and eating a green onion, somehow looking like a little farm boy instead of a grown man.

A YEAR AGO: If there’s anything more fun than pizza in the present and gowns from the past, I don’t know what it is!

FIVE YEARS AGO: We all got plunged into darkness again. But my brother also plunged into the icy river. For a good cause.

TEN YEARS AGO: Winter was making a comeback.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: It may have been winter everywhere else, but it was spring training in Florida.

It had been far too long since I had seen my brother Jonathan and his girlfriend Rio. In fact. The last time may have been our slightly late and slightly power outaged Thanksgiving. It’s a bit shocking, when you think that we live in the same minuscule hamlet and are two of the three siblings.

But our schedules are different, I live further away now – it’s about a 20 minute drive instead of a two minute drive – and Rio was busy with business and family things in her native LA. But one day, Jonathan texted me and asked if I was free for dinner the next day. As it happened, I was, though Megan wasn’t – her schedule has been odder than ever lately – so I wended my way over the river (and creek) and through the woods to Rio’s house.

I immediately noticed that the big brick hearth was missing from the living room. It had a wood stove perched on it at one time, and the hearth itself took up a lot of the limited floor space (Rio reckons that her house is about 700 square feet). Without it, there’s room for two chairs next to the couch and it really opens the room up. They kept the brick on the wall, which looks nice.

They also converted part of the cider house into a guest room. Our friend Clayton came up to professionally tape and mud the drywall Jonathan put up, and it looks great. There’s even a little deck off the room, overlooking the woods.

We had chicken curry for dinner, accompanied by this year’s cider, and they were both delicious. Jonathan has made a still, which is now being tweaked and is hopefully in the final stages before the cider he set aside for this purpose can be transformed into apple brandy. He said that making his own still has made him realize how very unrealistic the one was on MASH, adding that they do not pump out unlimited amounts of perfectly clear booze on demand. Once again, reality disappoints. But I am looking forward to this science experiment.

We had home-made chocolate ice cream for dinner, a change from home-grown fruit sorbet. The garden is just beginning, with lettuce and green onions in the greenhouse along with some starts.

It was a wonderful evening. Rio is heading to LA for the birth of her fourth grandson this month, and I think my brother and I should cook dinner together while she’s gone. And get together more often when she’s home.

I was long overdue for a visit to Angelika, both inside and out. I left work early one day and made my way to her little studio in the big woods. It was yet another eerily beautiful day, where you wouldn’t know it was February except for the daffodils and calla lilies everywhere. I don’t think we have had any rain since February 3. I hope there isn’t another drought and/or fierce fire season heading our way.

Angelika greeted me with a big hug and we went into the salon together. Her records revealed that I had not had my lovely locks attended to since August 23! I think it’s a credit to her artistry that they still looked pretty good. She cut two inches off and highlighted what was left, and we enjoyed chatting and catching up in the four hours it took to restore me to a better and blonder self.

Angelika is always so inspiring. She is an amazing artiste with scissors and dye, which needs some practicality, but she is also very philosophical and spiritual. Being with her really does refresh my inner being as well as my outer husk. I am hoping that she, Megan, and I can meet up outside of the salon soon.

Speaking of meeting up, Megan and I had a plan to meet Monica at our favorite seaside bar. The parking lot was oddly empty for a Saturday night, and there was a small sign on the door saying that they were closed until March 11. Megan texted Monica that we were relocating our evening out to the other bar in Hooterville (really, it’s somewhat surprising that there are two).

Also surprising was the fact that Bar Two does not have a cocktail menu. Megan and I couldn’t decide what to have, so we threw ourselves on the mercy of the bartender, who came up with a libation of gin, pineapple, triple sec, and a dash of lemon-lime shaken with ice:

It was quite delicious and not at all sweet. When Monica joined us, she opted for a classic gin and tonic with Bombay Sapphire, so we were all drinking gin. I read an article recently about how hand crafted gin is having a moment. It certainly was in that bar that night!

It was good to spend time with my sister and our friend, relaxing among neighbors and visitors as the sun slipped into the ocean.

A YEAR AGO: Feeling better led to a housework extravaganza.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Home repairs brought to me by Rob, as most of them are. And the best fan letter ever!

TEN YEARS AGO: Country mysteries.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Weathering the storms in the Sunshine State.

I had a busy weekend planned, but Fate had other plans…

We were going to have family dinner on Saturday at Rio’s place. It would be the first time we had gotten together since our belated Thanksgiving, and the first time this new-ish year. But Megan picked up a virus at work – the hazards of working in an emergency room, with all those sick people* – and didn’t want to share her cooties with us. The weather chimed in, smacking us with a storm which made the prospect of driving over the rivers and through the woods to Rio’s** house both unappealing and inadvisable. So we called off family dinner, or at least rescheduled it, probably until the first weekend in February.

Coincidentally, the cancelled night would have been Burns’ Night, and I had a poem all ready to take with me and have my brother read out loud. It was especially perfect since it was January. Given the drive, we wouldn’t be sipping whiskey with our poetry, but we would have had handmade cider, which is a British tradition and could be an acceptable substitute. If we do have family dinner on the first Saturday in February, we can celebrate Laura Ingalls Wilder’s birthday instead of Robbie Burns’, and homegrown, home-made food and cider will be just as appropriate for that.

It’s harder for me to tell how rainy it is outside when I’m inside the house now. My old place had no insulation, and its Quonset hut shape made the roof and the walls the same thing, so the rain was everywhere and it was really loud. It was also, like a horror movie villain, inside the house. When I look back, I’m a little surprised by how I just took it in stride that there was a merry little brook in the laundry room/pantry in the winter, the puddle by the Christmas tree, the one in the foyer, etc. Here I have stepped outside and been shocked by the fact that it’s hot outside or pouring with rain.

So when Megan texted me on Sunday to say that it was raining so hard that the roads would probably flood and close that day, we decided it would be wiser not to go to Point Arena to see the ballet. We were both disappointed, since we were looking forward to it so much. It was Raymonda, a grand ballet from the 19th century which we had never seen before (and still haven’t). The next one is in March and is Giselle. I think we made the right decision, but we were both sorry to have missed it.

It also meant that I had no Sunday dinner, since I was naturally planning to get Thai food in Anchor Bay. I always have pizza dough in the freezer, so I thawed that and looked around in the refrigerator, where I found salami, an onion, and capers to substitute for the olives I didn’t have. I also always have a tube of Italian tomato paste in the refrigerator, so I put that on the dough first, then everything else. Finished it with Asiago and parmesan, and it was very good indeed. Not as glamorous as ballet and Thai food, but still good.

*Years of this have given her a kick ass immune system. It takes a particularly nasty bug to make her sick. I appreciate her not sharing with us. Sometimes not sharing is caring.
**She is, and always will be, the only grandmother among us. Grandson Number 4 is scheduled to arrive on March 10!

A YEAR AGO: We actually made it to the ballet. And it was wonderful.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Making bread.

TEN YEARS AGO: Glitz and glamor at the Legion of Honor museum.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Getting ready for a road trip to Florida. Or at least thinking about getting ready.

We are in the throes of the annual fundraiser, and as you know, nothing annual is ever good. This is no exception. There’s a week left to go, and I just have to get through it. I’m the Little Suzy That Could!

When things like this are going on, I feel less like doing things like meeting my friends after work, but this is exactly when I need to do it. So I’ve given myself the gift of time with my friends despite all the fundraising madness. One evening, I met my friend Richard at a lovely bar in Hooterville, overlooking the wintry ocean:

You can see the rain out at sea, and it stayed there as Richard and I caught up with each other’s news. We used to work together at the jobette, and now neither of us does, and we are both better off for that change in Fate, even if we couldn’t see it at the time.

As is his wont, Richard has been traveling, but it’s been more domestic than international. His wife recently retired and spent a couple of months with her very aged father, who used to play major league baseball for the Chicago White Sox. He lives on a plantation in Louisiana:

with his dog named Snack Bar:

This is the twelfth dog with the same name. They are all the same breed, too.

Richard retrieved his wife and they drove back to California together, taking the southern route since it’s winter, stopping along the way to spend New Year’s Eve with yet another former jobette alumnus in Tucson, of whom I am quite fond, too. We had a great time together. He is so positive and caring and has such interesting perspectives on everything.

Last night, I stopped off to meet my friend Erin in the Village. Like Richard, she too used to work at the jobette, and like us, she has now gone on to (much) better things. I’m lucky I met such great people there and that we are still good friends.

Our original plan was to have a drink in the bar of the historic hotel, but we discovered that the bar was closed until much later due to the winter season. One thing about living in a resort area is that it tends to quieten down quite a lot in the off season. So we repaired to a restaurant down the street, where we had a stunning view of the still stormy ocean.

Time flew by until it was time for Erin to pick up her son from basketball practice. We promised each other that we would get together next month, at Erin’s house. She has been making changes to her kitchen and I am dying to see it. Maybe spending more time with my friends this year is a resolution I will keep!

On my way home, I was delighted to notice a rainbow arching into the pink clouds over the Ridge:

It was the perfect end to the day.

A YEAR AGO: The power was off! And on! And off again!

FIVE YEARS AGO: Leaving the jobette. It was hard. But I’m glad I still have my friends from working there.

TEN YEARS AGO: Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A little quiz about me. Fifteen years later, most of it’s still true. Is that good or bad?

It was a busy week. All those library meetings! And then I had an 8 am call on Saturday morning with my former boss/partner and long-time friend Adrian to discuss his latest venture, a tax preparation service. We’ll see if anything comes of it. If there’s one thing I could use, it’s a jobette. Or a wealthy benefactor. I didn’t have much time to get dressed and out the door to meet Megan.

It may seem odd that I left the house at 10 am to go to a play that started at 1 pm, but a) it’s a long drive to the theater; and 2) we had important errands to run. The first of these was stopping in at Franny’s, conveniently located across from the theater. For once, there was no line until we created one. Megan got the last bacon slipper for lunch, and I got a croque monsieur. We both got canelés, too. It was a successful mission.

Next up was Anchor Bay Thai, where we discovered that the beautiful peacock mural which had been started at an earlier visit was now complete, and just gorgeous:

Peacocks and peonies – what’s not to love? It reminded me of a long-ago visit to Isola Bella in the Italian Lakes, and seeing the beautiful white peacocks there. I almost want to dig out my diaries from that visit and read about it again.

We stowed our dinners in the car and headed back to the theater, where we bagged the last space in the parking lot and our traditional balcony seats. The play was Noel Coward’s “Present Laughter”, and despite being written in the 1930s, it was still as fresh and funny today as the day it was written. The sets were lovely and Art Deco looking, and the cast was wonderful. We thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was still light out when we left the theater and headed to our favorite seaside bar. It was too cloudy for a sunset, but no matter what the weather is, it’s the best view on the coast. The new bartender Miriam (our beloved long-serving bartender Aiyana is still there on Wednesdays) made us fabulous appletinis:

as we waited for Monica to join us. The bar was full, and as the sun slipped into the ocean behind the clouds, it just felt cozier. One of the things I love about that place is you can come there for a special occasion, or from a day of gardening, and feel special and taken care of. Whether you’re a local or a tourist, you’ll feel right at home.

It was nice to catch up with Monica. She has been busy rescuing a dog and taking kick boxing classes. She is stronger and happier, and that’s what you want to see in your friends. If it’s not too late to make a resolution, mine is to spend more moments like this.

A YEAR AGO: A lengthy and unenjoyable power outage. Welcome to winter!

FIVE YEARS AGO: A very enjoyable family dinner.

TEN YEARS AGO: Lots of rain. But not lots of enthusiasm for the rain.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Deciding on a road trip to Florida. It was quite the adventure.

I am pleased to report that 2019 was a vast improvement over the extremely unpleasant 2018. Less crappy! It’s our goal!

The main improvement in my life is that I moved to an incredibly beautiful house, still in Hooterville, but a world away from the drama, weirdness, and strife of the old place.

Books read: A paltry 83, embarrassing compared to last year’s 102, and even more embarrassing considering that I became our local library’s Board President this year. Not exactly setting a shining literary example there.

Rainfall has been on the paltry side too, at a mere 12.5 inches so far this underachieving season. The hills are barely green and it’s nearly January. I hope we aren’t facing another drought.

I lost track of the power outages this year. Given that Their Satanic Majesties (also known as PG&E) feel they can cut us off for days at a time with utter impunity, I think we can expect the beatings to continue.

Here’s what happened to our heroine this year:

January: The delights of the ballet followed by take out Thai food and a Hitchcock movie with the family. The girls were being good and the boys were being bad. The beginning of a three day power outage. Way to start the year! It’s on! It’s off! It’s winter on the coast! Ending the month as it began, with a wonderful evening at the ballet.

February: Thinking about the past. There was snow! Beautiful snow! I love snow! I did not love having the Bug from Hell, however. The dangers of housework.

March: A little vacation in town, in the midst of an atmospheric river. A delightful trip to the past. The combined horrors of dental bills (which I did have to pay, of course), the time change, and yet more dental work. Hoping that the madness of the time change will eventually go away, though the horrors of bills and dental work are eternal. We celebrated Dad’s birthday in style, with home-made cider, good food, a great Hitchcock movie, and lots of love. Brightening my hair and my outlook. Dinner with Erica and Jessica. There are no words for how much I miss them.

April: An unexpected (and unnerving) funeral. Boys will be boys. Especially Dodge and Clyde. So nice to see how much they love each other. Getting crowned. And not in a good way. An unpleasant surprise. My blog turned 18 and Jessica turned 16. Guess which one is more mature? A fantastic trip to the South Coast with Megan and Lu, including a fascinating lecture on female lighthouse keepers.

May: I found a new house to rent! It is beautiful and I still can hardly believe I actually live there. A wonderful barbecue at Rio’s place, with lots of friends and family. The best kind! Wildlife, inside and out. Water, water everywhere. I picked a good time to move. Taking a trip down Memory Lane while going through the seemingly endless supply of boxes. Neither here nor there. Moving Day! And Megan’s birthday!

June: I got internet for my birthday. Just what I wanted! Unpacking. With a vengeance. And without caffeine. My brothers valiantly unpacked the ancient grandfather clock. It’s official! I’m home! Getting to know the new and fancy appliances in my new house. And I have a house key for the first time in 10 years! The cats adjusted to their new home. And speaking of cats: Dodge dislodged the window screen in the bedroom. Fortunately there was no permanent harm done to cat or screen.

July: Natural wonders, from earthquakes to foxes. A delightful evening with the Flynn Creek Circus. Is there any other kind? Jarrett and Kalli are engaged! Wedding will be in the spring of 2021 on the family estate. Hooray! A look around my beautiful new home. It’s like a dream that I actually live here. My commute isn’t bad, either.

August: A fun Sunday without ever leaving Hooterville. Alert the media! I actually went to the movies! It was really fun, too. Hello darkness, my old enemy. And farewell to another lovely library board member, at the ripe old age of 94. Her ashes joined her husband’s at Wage’s Creek and they are together at last. A fairly successful attempt at making Montreal style bagels. A completely perfect day to kick off an extra long weekend.

September: Helping to set up a very successful book sale for the library. A delicious trip to the South Coast. Yet another new appliance in my new house!

October: Bears, bears, everywhere! I somehow became the library Board President. There are far too many speeches and events involved. More bears. And gas. It turns out you can have too much. Only I could turn buying a couch cushion into an epic adventure. The tenth anniversary of my move to Hooterville. A lot has happened over the decade. Moving here was one of the few good decisions I have made as an adult.

November: The horror of a five day power out(r)age brought to us by the corruption, greed, and neglect of PG&E. They should be ashamed of themselves, but they aren’t. You think a long, unnecessary power outage is bad, until you wake up to discover a sink full of raw sewage. The fun and companionship of hula class. And the joy and beauty of the local symphony. There’s nothing more fun than girl night!

December: A stormy, but happy, Thanksgiving. The only thing more fun than the Festival of Lights is seeing it with your friends and their family. The happy tradition of Candlelight Shopping in the Village. And a happy holiday season.

Thanks for coming along with me for the ride. Here’s to the New Year!

Christmas week was always going to be a weird one. Work one day, off two days, back at work two days. I kicked off the festivities with another Girl Night™ at Chez Megan on Monday night after work. I brought the snacks, and Megan made scalloped potatoes for dinner and the signature drink of Girl Night™, the Elle Woods:

It is a dangerously delicious libation of frozen estate grown strawberries, lemonade, and strawberry-infused vodka whirled in the blender and then enjoyed with movies.

The evening’s program was a little more Rob friendly than last time, and he actually watched them with us: One for the Money, which Megan and I actually saw (7 years ago! How is this possible?) at the movie theater when it first came out, My Cousin Vinny, and School of Rock. Megan and Rob hadn’t seen School of Rock before, though it’s one of my favorites, and I think it’s now one of theirs, too.

When Rob and I walked to the car together – he drives me home after all those Elle Woods – we were amazed by how the sky was a huge bowl of glittering stars on that cold winter night.

On Christmas Eve, I made a nice dinner of pork roast, Yorkshire pudding, and salad with some wine. My Christmas decorations had been on the minimal side, with a pretty wreath on the door:

and a little tree on the table:

But one of my coworkers had other ideas. She bought me a tree and lights and gave them to me along with her gifts. All the way home that night, I smiled, feeling so loved and cared for. I have to say, having it set up and sparkling does make a big difference and made me really feel the holiday spirit:

On Christmas Day itself, I spent some time making Montreal style bagels, watched the Queen’s speech, which is always inspiring, and later, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and the Grinch before opening my gifts, which were delightful.

The next day, I was back at work, and Megan stopped by my office to bring me gifts from Erica and Jessica, which included what is almost certainly the world’s cutest pen and eraser:

All in all, it was a happy Christmas.

A YEAR AGO: A not very festive Christmas.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A lovely Christmas.

TEN YEARS AGO: A merry Christmas.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A rather adventurous Christmas.

The week leading up to Thanksgiving was a stormy one. The Ridge was covered with redwood needles, fallen twigs, branches, and general debris. One night driving home from work, it was so foggy and stormy that I could barely see the road. In fact, I couldn’t see the turn off from the highway to the Ridge, so I guessed. I was close: I ended up in the pullout at the foot of the Ridge. I drove down the middle of the road at 20 miles an hour, hoping for the best. I wanted to drive faster and get the hell off the road, but the visibility made even 20 about as fast as I could safely go. I was so glad to get home!

We were hoping that Clayton could join us from the City, but the weather was too bad for that four hour drive, especially on a motorcycle.

We celebrated Thanksgiving on Saturday, so I had some extra time to get things ready. Over the years, I have learned that the key to surviving the holidays is to do as much in advance as possible. So I made the cranberry sauce, dressing and roasted pears for the salad, cut up the bread to get stale for dressing/stuffing, and roasted and peeled the chestnuts:

Like every year, I forgot how horrible it is to peel chestnuts until I was actually doing it, even though I let them steam in a tea towel for fifteen minutes after roasting, which is supposed to make it easier.

It doesn’t.

Oddly, I never seem to have trouble peeling chestnuts I buy from street vendors in Paris, served in a paper cone. Maybe it’s being in Paris.

The house was pretty clean, so I didn’t worry about that, either. I did trap the boys in the bachelor pad (Megan’s old dog crate, fitted out with a comfy quilt) and close the bedroom doors to keep Audrey in. Audrey disdains company, but I didn’t want to take any chances on an escape attempt happening while people were going in and out.

On the day itself, I was putting the turkey breasts into the oven and thinking how lucky I was that my guests were almost entirely very capable cooks, ready to spring into action if something went wrong in the kitchen. Jonathan made the gravy while Rob mashed the potatoes. Everything was ready:

when the power went out. Sighing, I headed to the closet to get the power outage box with its lanterns and headlights. Bu the time I had it all set up, the power was back on again. We kept the lanterns out just in case, but I’m pleased to say we didn’t need them.

Dinner was fabulous. I was too busy eating and talking to take many photos. We had last year’s cider:

This year’s model wasn’t ready yet. Jonathan is planning to make vinegar and applejack from cider this winter, so stay tuned.

We finished off dinner with wild huckleberry tarts and a pie made from butternut squash we grew:

It was a wonderful evening. I’m very thankful for my family. No matter what life throws at me, they are always there for me.

Ready to go!

It was definitely time for girl night!

Unfortunately for Megan, she had to teach a CPR class that day, so I ventured to the Village to pick up a pizza from Café Beaujolais, where they create amazing pizzas in their wood-fired brick oven. Keeping in mind the line that defeated me a few weeks ago, I got there right as they opened, ordering a pizza with salami, capers, and red onions. I sat in the sun in the beautiful garden as I waited, and noted that there was an alarming line by about noon. So the secret seems to be out and the pizza place is apparently going to be the new Swan Oyster Depot, a place of legendary lines.

When Megan’s class was over, she came by and picked me up. We stopped in at the Gro to get caramel ice cream and ginger cookies, and then headed to Megan’s place, where I was enthusiastically greeted by Star, who I am convinced remembers that I was there the day she was rescued, and Stella, who I am convinced is just copying Star’s enthusiasm because it is clearly the thing to do.

As you can see in the photo, Megan had equipped us with a bottle of strawberry infused vodka for Girl Night™. Fortunately for us, there was also a freezer full of strawberries from the garden. Megan blitzed frozen strawberries with some lemonade, then poured it into a pitcher with the vodka and more lemonade:

It was magically delicious, and I think we now have the official cocktail of Girl Night™. It needs a good name, though. The Elle Woods? It is her signature color, after all.

We thoroughly enjoyed our girl-o-rama double feature of Sweet Home Alabama and 13 Going on 30, probably more than Rob did, though he is remarkably tolerant of the silly movies, giggling, and driving his sister-in-law home after a few Elle Woods, especially now this is 12 miles one way instead of a few hundred feet or a quarter of a mile, the way it was in the old days.

I’m already planning the next double feature: a somewhat more Rob friendly combo of One for the Money and My Cousin Vinny.

A YEAR AGO: What do you know? A fun evening with my sister!

FIVE YEARS AGO: A wonderful Thanksgiving.

TEN YEARS AGO: Baby Jessica! Even then, we shared a deep love of glamor.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Thanksgiving with Mom. In the hospital. It would be her last Thanksgiving. Miss you, Mom.

Today marks a decade since I moved to Hooterville! Can you believe it? So much has happened since the day my brothers drove the truck full of my things and stuff up the highway and the curving roads while I followed with a howling and indignant Audrey. It was a long drive.

It was a big adjustment, going from city life to country life, and it was hard at first. But now I wouldn’t move back to San Francisco, even if I were the zillionaire such a move would require. I love living in the woods, with the loudest sound the wind in the trees and bird songs. And the San Francisco I knew and loved is gone.

A lot has changed in the past ten years. I lost no fewer than three beloved cats: the exquisite June (Audrey’s sister); ancient, scrappy little Henry Etta, who I brought with me from Oakhampton; and the irreplaceable Roscoe (Clyde’s brother). It’s no coincidence that my current feline line up of Audrey, Clyde, and Dodge are not allowed outside. That’s where the monsters are, and I am avoiding them like the plague they are.

During the time I have been here, my sister lost her beloved Schatzi, our last link to our mother, and her sweet cat Ramona. She still has Ramona’s sister, the beautiful Harriet, going strong at 18 years old. Along the way, we trekked to Colusa to rescue her dog Star, whom Megan ending up adopting, who was later joined by the inimitable Stella. Star is always so happy to see me that I am secretly convinced that she remembers I was there with Megan on the day she was saved and her perfect life began.

My sister moved away from the property we both lived on to the one where our brother lives. Things were never quite the same. My former landlord moved away without letting me know, and I moved a few months later. I love my new, beautiful, and let’s face it, improved house, but I will always have a soft spot in my heart for my quirky old place, despite all its eccentricities, even though I am much happier at the new place. It still seems like a dream after five months of living there.

My brother adopted his adorable and fierce mini cat, Scout, and fell in love with his lovely girlfriend Rio. He is happier with her than I have ever seen him. And she makes up for our lack of reproducing by having four adult kids and three small grandchildren.

Wells were dug at the family estate, and an epic garden and orchard, now an acre in size, were built and fenced (and then electrified to bear proof it) on the inhospitable pygmy soil. It is now a thing of beauty and a wonder to behold.

Erica and Jessica moved away following a family tragedy, and I miss them every day. The good news is that they are in the process of moving a little closer, to Portland, so I’m hoping to see them at least once a year. I miss them.

I finally got divorced after a long separation. I believe that now John and I have been apart longer than we were married. But he still means a great deal to me and I will always love him. We are in touch nearly every day. I am trying to support him as best I can through cancer treatments for one of his beloved cats. And if he called me at 2 am and needed bail, help burying a body, or a ride somewhere I’d grab my keys and be out the door. I don’t consider our relationship to be a failure.

I got a new (to me) car, which carries me to the Big Town nearly every day. I estimate I drive 250 miles a week, just to work and back. I also have a less new job, of nearly five years’ standing, which I acquired when the business my partner and I built and poured all our time, dedication, and money into disappeared, taking my livelihood and career with it. It was hard to recover from that devastation, and in some ways I am still working on it, but I am grateful I found this job when I needed it. Before the job, I had the jobette, which is sadly long gone now, but the friendships I made there remain.

I wonder what the next ten years will bring? Whatever it is, it will be unexpected. Some of it will be great, some of it will be horrible, and through it all, I will have my family and my friends.

A YEAR AGO: A sleepover with Jessica.

FIVE YEARS AGO: My fifth anniversary in beautiful Hooterville.

TEN YEARS AGO: I think you know.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Getting a call from the dry cleaner. Now I live where there is no dry cleaner.

After a week like that, it was time for an adult beverage or two. Or maybe more!

Our friend Monica joined Megan and me at our favorite seaside bar, where we were greeted by the amazing bartender. She had some fresh apricots on hand, so she invented a sort of apricot kamikaze, muddling fresh apricots with lime juice, vodka, and peach schnapps, and shaking it with ice. It tasted as good as it looked:

Having the drinks in hand softened the blow when she told us that she is moving inland. She will still be bartending here on the coast, but only on Wednesday nights, so we will have to adjust our schedules accordingly. I am really going to miss her. I think she makes that bar and is an integral part of how fun it is to go there.

As usual, it was very busy with a diverse crowd of people. Some clearly visitors, some dressed up for a special occasion dinner, some clearly locals. Everyone from the oldest to the youngest was having a good time.

After the apricot libations, we moved on to the classic cerise noire, where brandy soaked cherries meet black cherry vodka and sparkling wine:

What’s not to love?

The sun slipped toward the ocean as we chatted and caught up. Monica recently won an award for her store window designs, and also has adopted a new dog called Sugar, so there was happy news to toast along with our annual toast to Dad on the eve of the day we lost him, eighteen years ago. Sometimes it seems like it was just yesterday, and sometimes it seems like a million years ago. One thing that never changes is how much I love him and miss him.

ONE YEAR AGO: Much to celebrate on the Evil Eighteenth. And Dad would have enjoyed all of it.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Fate might truly be inescapable.

TEN YEARS AGO: Considering moving to the country. One of the best decisions I ever made. I still love my old house, flaws and all. Isn’t that what love is all about?

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Brought to you by the letter O.

Here’s to me!

Well, hello there!

I have not, as you may have suspected, fallen off the edge of the earth, which is perilously nearby. But I was swept away by a work tsunami, which we all know is the worst kind. We had two events in one week, so in addition to those days, there were two days of preparations. People never think about how things get set up for these shindigs, or how they get cleaned up afterwards, either. Suffice it to say that I do not have Jeannie-like powers and have to do it all the Darren-approved Samantha way. Also that I worked 13 hours of overtime in one week.

I was scheduled to attend a fundraiser in the distant county seat on Saturday after this long and crazy week. Though for a very worthy cause, I found myself unequal to the three hour round trip drive and donated money instead of my beleaguered presence. I felt guilty but also relieved as I mixed up a batch of Cosmos and watched A Crooked Somebody surrounded by sleepy cats.

I had recovered enough by Sunday morning to head over to Rio’s house:

for breakfast with the visiting Jarrett and Kalli. Jonathan made huckleberry pancakes, served with huckleberry sauce and real maple syrup:

They were as delicious as they looked.

Kalli and Jarrett had big news to share: they are planning to get married on the family estate in the spring of 2021! We are very excited about that and looking forward to the big day. I am so happy for them!

A YEAR AGO: Farewell to my wonderful former mother-in-law. I was so lucky to have had her and Ed in my life. I will always miss them.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Kalli’s birthday party at the family property/wedding venue to be!

TEN YEARS AGO: A lovely stroll around Little River Cemetery.

It wasn’t just moving day, it was Megan’s birthday. So I left the cats and The Mess behind to go and celebrate at the family estate. After a long day of moving all my worldly goods, my brother was making burgers and Rio was making salad. Jonathan had already made a lemon tart the day before, so everything was ready to celebrate. When we all had a glass of our homemade cider in hand, I made a toast:

“Forty-eight years ago today, I was called down to the office at school. When I got to the office, the principal told me I had a little sister. I skipped back to my classroom and announced, “I have a little sister!” All the girls went, “Yay!” and all the boys went “Boo!!”

Our brother laughed, saying that he wasn’t happy at the time to have yet another sister, but he certainly doesn’t feel that way now. I am nine years and nine days older than my sister, who was supposed to be born on my birthday. Instead, she came home from the hospital on my birthday. She’s still the best present I ever had. Here’s a picture of us the year I turned 21 and she turned 12:

After dinner, we took a look around the garden. The late rains did not seem to harm the orchard, where pies are in progress:

There are tons of cherries on the tree in the carefully netted cathedral, more than we’ve ever had before:

It should be a good pie year.

There’s a new Meyer lemon tree in the greenhouse (far right):

We’ll see how that does. It would be great if we can make it happy there. I love Meyer lemons.

It was a long day, but a good one. And I am thankful for my family and friends, even more than I usually am.

Moving day – which also happened to be Megan’s birthday – dawned bright and clear. As I took a last carload of things and stuff over to the new place, I noticed what an idyllic morning it was. The ocean was turquoise, the meadows drifted with wildflowers and dotted with glossy horses and cows. I drove past farms and through groves of redwoods, across a narrow one lane bridge that I always worry about meeting someone else on, and arrived at the new house.

After everything was decanted, I went back to the old house. I imprisoned Audrey in the bathroom with her fuzzy bed and the boys in their bachelor pad, which is also known more prosaically as a metal dog crate filled with a comfy quilt.

Jonathan, Rio, and Rob soon appeared, and together we took a trailer load of junk to the dump before starting to load up the furniture. Back at the house, Rob started to construct the box for the grandfather clock to travel in. Then the boys carefully loaded it and wedged it firmly in place with Styrofoam (sorry, planet!) before placing a final sheet of Styrofoam over the glass front of the face.

The first load was the box springs and mattress, with the clock coffin riding on top. We got some strange looks as we drove at a majestic pace down the curvy country roads and briefly on the highway.

The next load included Rob’s beautiful bookshelves and the deconstructed bed. When my brother went to reconstruct the bed, we discovered that some crucial hardware had been lost in the process. I tried at the small Hooterville hardware store, but as expected, they didn’t have it. Of course all the other hardware stores were closed for the Memorial Day holiday, so I have just been sleeping on the box springs and mattress on the floor.

I was saddened to learn that I could not take my fan palms, Japanese maple, or camellias with me. I admit that I cried over them in the privacy of my car on my way to the new house after getting that news.

The last but most important load was the kitties. The boys shared a carrier, since they are always happier together, while Audrey had her own, since she is always happier alone. Happy is relative, however. She howled the entire 11 miles, while the boys didn’t make a sound.

I had been expecting that Audrey would poop in her carrier, since that is her usual MO when going to the vet. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that while she had peed, that was it. I was less delighted to discover that the boys had reacted the same way, so they were all running around with pee paws on the beautiful fir floors.

Clyde did not want to leave the carrier. I expected him to bolt out of it. I upended the carrier, and he was ejected by gravity, but immediately tried to climb back in, even though I was still holding the case upside down. He went and hid behind boxes. Audrey also vanished, while Dodge was Adventure Boy, leaping from box to box.

Here’s a peek at The Mess on Day One:

Impressive, isn’t it? You might be able to guess what my weekend plans were!

I was so busy packing and throwing things out on Saturday that I completely forgot about the Kentucky Derby. Can you believe it? Proof, if any were needed, that the stress and manual labor of moving prep has completely taken over both of my brain cells. It’s the first time I have missed it in years. Not only did I miss seeing what Dannielynn was wearing in her tenth year on the red carpet, I also missed the first time the first horse to cross the finish line was disqualified, apparently due to “interference” on the home stretch. This historic decision cleared the way for the winner Country House, whose odds of winning were 65 to 1. Some nice payoffs there*.

By the time I emerged from my dusty and depressing moving frenzy, it was time to head over to Rio’s place for the first BBQ of the season. It seemed a bit overdue, considering it was already May.

Arriving at Rio’s place, I found our dear friend Clayton, painter at large and fellow cider presser, along with our dear Lu, my siblings and Jonathan’s buddy Rich with his wife and daughter. Clayton was lending an expert hand converting part of the cider making shed into a guest room. Rio has four children and three grandchildren so far, so company is definitely a consideration.

Jonathan manned the grill expertly, while grousing humorously about those of us who preferred turkey burgers to “real” burgers. His view is that it should be real burgers or nothing. Fortunately he decided to overlook our unreasonableness this time.

The burgers were accompanied by a lovely salad:

And followed by angel food cake with sliced strawberries, accompanied by pacheco berry and strawberry sorbets:

Both sorbets were made by my brother from fruit we picked and froze last summer. Pacheco berries are also called ground cherries and are a member of the tomatillo family. They taste something like cantaloupe, but with a vegetal undertone. We all loved it.

Lu said that she has a big truck and a big cart like the one my brother has, which is five feet by 7 feet. She also has a hand truck to help haul things. Having two carts and an extra set of hands will be a real help. I am so lucky to have such wonderful family and friends!

The longest odds winner was Donerail, ridden by the delightfully named jockey Roscoe Goose in 1913 at 91 to 1 odds. Of course I have a soft spot for all Roscoes.

A YEAR AGO: Dinner with the girls. One of us is a grandmother now! (Hint: It’s not Me.)

FIVE YEARS AGO: Shopping for the garden, accompanied by the very popular Stella.

TEN YEARS AGO: Adventures in making dinner.