Suzy Says

You never know what you’ll find on the Hooterville back roads…

One of the conditions of the new job was getting tested for TB, a new experience for me. They inject something under your skin, and two days later, you go in, they look at the spot for .000001 of a second, and tell you that you don’t have it. More than an hour of driving for a millisecond of looking!

On my way to the mini appointment, I came around a sunny curve in the road and found a flock of wild turkeys. The tom was in the middle of the road with his tail feathers spread wide and gleaming in the sun, while his less splendid wives and girlfriends milled around, partly crossing the road and then retreating. Honking at these silly geese turkeys is not effective, and I had the rare and delightful feeling of being slightly superior in intelligence.

By the time the chickens turkeys had crossed the road, there was quite an audience of paused cars with drivers watching the floor show. I have to admit to being totally delighted by the whole thing, and I smiled all the way to town.

One of the good things about breaking up with my work family (and, so far, the only good thing), is that we are now real life friends instead, so I can do things like meet a former co-worker and current friend for a glass of wine overlooking the ocean:

While waiting for him to turn up, I took the opportunity to snap a picture of the iconic Hooverville bridge from a different angle:

The august New York Times just wrote an article about the preservation of this bridge, which is the last wooden bridge on historic Highway One. I couldn’t help wondering where the writer stayed and what he thought of my little town. You can take the girl out of the jobette, but you can’t take the jobette out of the girl.

When my friend arrived, we had a wonderful time catching up with each other. He always has the funniest stories, and his family has so much drama in it that they should have their own reality show.

He noticed the label on a bottle of wine that a couple had brought with them and asked the bartender to open for them. It was Silver Oak, and my friend asked whether it was Napa or Sonoma. Napa, 2004, they replied, adding that it was their 22nd anniversary and a friend had given it to them. My friend replied that the bottle probably cost upward of $150, which surprised them, and gently suggested that they decant it before dinner. They were even more surprised when he looked it up on his phone and discovered that if you can find a bottle, it will run you about $225.

They decanted it.

Jarrett and his sister Denise

It was a family reunion at the property last weekend. Jarrett met his half sister and some of his cousins for the very first time! Above, you see Jarrett with his sister Denise, who also has a twin sister Danielle, who couldn’t make it on this trip. These relatives live in southern Illinois, about six hours drive from Chicago, so it was a long, strange trip for them, especially the seemingly endless curvy roads that lead to Hooterville.

Dinner was a family affair as well. Erica helped me to plan everything. We delegated Jarrett to be in charge of taco toppings and beer, Erica made beef filling, and I made chicken filling, using the slow cooker I recently bought. At the last minute, Jonathan reminded me that it was, in fact, Pi Day, and yet we had no pie. So Megan and I went to the Gro and picked up some apples. When we got back to Jonathan’s place, he had made the crust, and I peeled the apples (one of my few special skills is the ability to peel an apple in one long piece) and cut them up Nana style (cutting pieces off until you get to the core). Jonathan made them into a filling and took over from there, with this delicious result:

Dave and Jennifer joined us, even though I later learned that it was their anniversary and they had other plans originally, which I thought was really nice. Before dinner, some of us tried out our archery skills:

while some of us watched:

That’s Jarrett’s beautiful girlfriend Kalli keeping an eye on him.

Erica, of course, took one shot and hit the bull’s eye. The only thing more impressive than Erica’s archery ability was Jessica’s poise and politeness. As soon as they arrived, Jessica walked right up to the strangers, put out her (now Suzy-sized) hand and said, “Hi, I’m Jessica. What’s your name?” I was delighted by her courtesy and how unintimidated she was by a group of strangers.

Hi, I’m Jessica

We all gathered around the picnic table Jonathan built and had a great, happy dinner together, getting to know each other and trading stories about our pasts and hopes for the future. It was a great time, and I hope we all see each other again soon.

A YEAR AGO: What do you know? Having dinner with friends over at the family property.

A couple of days after we buried Megan and Rob’s beloved cat Ramona under the chinquapin tree on the family property, I came home to find a Fed Ex package waiting for me. I rarely, if ever, get Fed Ex packages. Even the Grand Jury summons came by humble mail. So I was both mystified and curious.

Inside, there was a selection of photos – you know, the actual printed ones – in a plastic bag with no note. The photos were of Ramona and her sister Harriet as kittens, along with some of me as a kitten and some of Dad at what now appears to me to be quite a kitten-ish age, though he was likely a bit older than I am now in most of them. John had found them and sent them to me.

Here you can see Ramona on the down-filled couch and her sister Harriet on the carpet at my now million dollar former apartment in San Francisco in December, 2001, freshly arrived from their rescue from southern California.

I thought it was an amazingly kind gesture and thanked him accordingly. Even by email, it was clear that he was both self-deprecating and embarrassed, which is what I would expect after knowing him for more than 25 years. As I observed to a friend, he is the best ex-husband ever.

A few days after that happy surprise, I got a less happy one. John texted me saying that he was in his local ER with high blood pressure and a racing heart. Fortunately, it was an anxiety attack rather than a heart attack, and all tests came back clean – his heart is fine. He has since seen his doctor and hopefully all is now under control. He said it made a big difference knowing that I was prepared to go down there and look after his cats, including the irrepressible Jack, the last of our cats together. We’ve been in touch every day ever since* and he is doing fine. I’m thankful that he is healthy and well, and that we are still friends and have each other’s backs, no matter what.

*He texted me yesterday to say “Thanks for checking in with me every day. It means a lot.”

A YEAR AGO: A young man with a bow tie is rather naughty. Also: a culinary challenge.

Well, Monday did not go as planned.

I was about a mile and a half from my house when I was stopped by a line of other stopped cars. A member of the local volunteer fire department (not my brother) informed me that the road was closed due to a huge propane* leak, and it might not be open for “several hours, or maybe overnight.”

This was unwelcome news to someone who had left the house 11 hours earlier. There was nothing to do but turn the car around and drive back the way I’d just come. I parked off the road and called Megan, to let her know that she had the opposite problem: she couldn’t get to work.

Megan said she’d get the cats in, feed them, and close the doors which I always leave open for them when their doorman is absent. At least that was one less thing to worry about. Ever the worrier, I was wondering if I’d have to sleep in my car and go to work in the same clothes without benefit of make-up, toothbrush, or shower, an almost unthinkable proposition (even though I thought it).

I called my friend Erin, who lives nearby, and asked if she was up for an unexpected guest for an unspecified period of time.

Fortunately, she was, so I headed to her place, where I was warmly welcomed . I hung out with her son while Erin made dinner and her husband helped to deal with the propane situation (he is also on the fire department). We had a happy dinner together in her lovely, redwood-paneled dining room. We were just considering sorbet when Megan texted me to let me know that the coast was clear.

I thanked my gracious hosts and headed home in the dark. I was so happy that I could actually go home that I didn’t even worry about the horror of night driving. I got home about 14 hours after I left it, and got into my PJs and went straight to bed without passing Go or collecting $200.

When I left the house in the early morning darkness a few hours later, I had this strange feeling of déjà vu…

A YEAR AGO: I was having a lot more fun, having both my ‘do and my ‘tude refreshed with a visit to the wonderful Angelica.

*Surely the bane of the country dweller’s existence. So expensive! Those hideous tanks! The icky smell! And now this. To paraphrase Eric Clapton, “She don’t like, she don’t like, she don’t like…propane.”

I have a new job!

Sort of.

Remember the county job I interviewed for, way back before Christmas? Apparently I did not blow the interview after all. They called me to (a) tell me I’m still in the running for the permanent job in the Big Town; and (2) ask me if I’d be willing to work in a sort of temp job in the same department.

The temp job will go on indefinitely, maybe forever, and I’d be working with the same people as in the permanent job. These people will also compose the interview panel, so hopefully I can impress them with my fabulous work ethic before the interview takes place. Also, I now know what to expect, and will have some time to think up kickass answers to “tell me about yourself”. All suggestions, advice, and opinions gratefully accepted.

So I took the temp job, contingent on my passing fingerprinting on Monday in the county seat. Let’s hope my prints don’t somehow match those of a career criminal. So far, my run-ins with the law have been limited to Grand Jury testifying, getting divorced, and trying to help out my neighbors, so I should be OK here.

Given the fact that my old job’s paychecks give out at the end of February, and the possibility of shopping for a cardboard box big enough to live in and/or pitching a tent over at my brother’s place were a little too real for comfort, you’d think I’d be elated. And I was excited when I was talking to the county. But when I hung up and realized I had to quit the jobette, I felt really sad.

Quitting was so hard. My last day is three days after the fourth anniversary of my first day there. I am going to miss seeing my friends there almost every day. They have all been so kind and supportive of me, and I know we will still be friends and stay in each other’s lives. As one of them emailed me, “There is a lot of joy to be had in that job. But I hope your coming work is incredibly fulfilling, and full of its own little joys that make it an integral part of your life. I know you’ll do amazingly at it!”

Update: I have an interview set up on Thursday, February 5 at 9:30 am. Wish me luck!

A YEAR AGO: A welcome visit from an old friend.

In the spirit of keeping my new year’s resolutions (if I can’t be part of the 1%, I can at least be part of the 8% who actually keep their resolutions), we had a family dinner on Saturday night.

Like the best things in life, it was something of a communal effort. Megan bought the ingredients after her daily dog walk on Friday, bringing them (the ingredients, not the dogs) to my house along with her bigger than mine pot. Megan tends to have kitchen equipment which is on the epic side due to the endless preservation of garden produce after the endless work of producing it. She also appears to have a wider latitude in chili production as well, since she asked me if I wanted to put in broccoli and/or zucchini, the mere suggestion of which I found surprising.

So I made chili ordinaire on Friday afternoon: ground turkey; crushed tomatoes; black, pinto, and kidney beans; garlic; onions; red bell pepper; chili powder and cumin. Oh, and a dash of sugar – it brings out the tomato flavor. I also took some butter out of the freezer to thaw for garlic bread.

On Saturday, I was driving home from the jobette in the misty rain when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I waited until I had pulled into the driveway and gotten out of the way of any incoming neighbors to check it, and I had a text from Megan asking if I wanted her to come over and start on the garlic bread.

Arriving at my humble abode, I found Megan in the kitchen peeling garlic and the chili (original typo here was “child”. Hee!) slowly warming up on the stove. I try not to think about how many days/weeks/years of my life I have spent peeling garlic, and it was nice to be spared the peeling and chopping. Megan was displeased by the job she did cutting the loaf of bread for garlic bread, reminding me of how my paternal grandfather always declared that women could not cut bread. It was good enough for me, though, and apparently for everyone else, too.

Dave and Jennifer, my sibs’ land partners, arrived shortly before Jonathan did, and even Rob made a special guest appearance. We all enjoyed the chili and garlic bread while catching up on each other’s lives and discussing the news. Audrey deigned to be petted while Clyde made his displeasure clear when his dinner failed to appear. Roscoe failed to appear until all the guests had left and the cats’ dinner was served, which is what he usually does. He’s not much for parties.

Jonathan’s new year’s resolution is to get us better prepared for an earthquake. He feels we are overdue for one, and if we all invest a little money, he can store enough food and water to keep us going for a couple of weeks. He has a “Seal a Meal” thing which can be used to seal food like rice and pasta while it’s still in boxes and/or plastic bags, and then put them in 50 gallon drums for safe keeping. There’s a well and water storage tank over at the property, and the electricity there is all off the grid, so we should be able to get by.

Not to be a crazy survivalist or anything, but it’s good to be ready just in case. I’ll be glad to help him keep his resolution. And so far, everyone is glad to help me keep mine.

A YEAR AGO: Stella makes a (temporary) break for it.

It was cloudy at the coast, but sunny in the valley as Megan and I wended our way to Erica’s house. I always forget how terrifying Erica’s driveway is until I’m actually on it. It makes our driveway look like the 101 freeway. It’s one muddy, rutted lane, with ancient tree roots acting as speed bumps and a frightening drop on one side. The drop is tree studded, so I’m not sure how far down it goes, but I’m pretty sure if you found out in your car you’d never be seen again. At least in one piece. The thought of Jessica driving it fills me with horror, though Megan pointed out that Erica has been doing it her whole life without incident.

I am, after all, a worrier.

We arrived at their house without incident (guess who was driving?), and were greeted by the fabulous girls. Jessica was thrilled with the belated Christmas stocking gift of conductive thread (I’m still not sure what it is), and Erica set about curing the headache I had woken up with. She gave me some evening primrose and a mysterious herbal concoction, which I sniffed suspiciously. Erica’s Momness kicked in, and she told me to drink it down and then I could have a cookie*. I honestly think if she’d lived a couple of centuries ago, she’d be considered a witch. That strange lady living out in the woods, foraging and making strange things and dosing people with concoctions…

The cookies were delicious. They were Russian tea cookies, made by Jessica herself. They were accompanied by “gingerbread of doom”, made by Erica with fresh and ground ginger, and cheese and crackers. Of course, one of the cheeses was caramelized, and Erica made the crackers by making rye bread dough and putting it through a pasta machine so it came out in lasagna-sized and -shaped pieces, then baking it. Only Erica would think of doing that.

Tea was served in delicate floral china cups and saucers, peppermint for Jessica and me and full on caffeine for Erica and Megan (who, as we know, is composed of at least 75% caffeine at all times). Erica collects vintage Jell-O molds, and told us that she is planning to make an entire Jell-O dinner using the molds. She just might do it, too.

After tea, Jessica showed me her fashion designs, which were as beautiful and intricate as you’d imagine, and we watched a couple of episodes of Daria together. We both adore its cynical humor. Sometimes it’s hard to believe she’s only 11.

When it was time to go, we talked a little about our next meeting – maybe in Point Arena on the beautiful south coast. Maybe the key to keeping your new year’s resolutions is to make them fun. Oh, and my headache was completely gone.

A YEAR AGO: Recovering from the flu with kitten aid.

*Jessica often says, “My mama says ‘Suck it up and deal'”. Words to live by!

Plans for World Domination

Doesn’t every 11 year old have a plan for world domination? Here’s Jessica’s:

1. Become the head of a major corporation
2. Become president of the US
3. Get a large army
4. Work on charisma skills
5. Amass several hundred quintillion dollars
6. Conquer, persuade, or buy every country on earth

Sounds like a sound plan to me. Maybe if I’d had the forethought to make a plan when I was 11, I would have taken over the world by now. And it would be a sparklier and prettier place.

In the interests of keeping my new year’s resolution to spend more time with family and friends, Megan and I are heading out to visit the Dynamic Duo in their native habitat this afternoon. While we’re doing that, I’ll leave you with some conversations Erica has posted recently on Facebook. Enjoy!

Erica: I shouldn’t be doing this.
Jessica: So when has that ever stopped you?

Jessica: Mom, you’re too cool to be from here.
Erica: Well, I have travelled a lot.
Jessica: No, I mean from Earth.

Jessica: So what exactly are aristocratic features?
Erica: Inbred white people.

Jessica: Why is it the sacred duty of all parents to be so annoying?
Erica: Why are all children so annoying?
Jessica: We can’t help it!
Erica: (bursting into laughter)

I think my favorite was when Erica posted that she “totally busted Jessica using her iPad as a flashlight to read a book.” A girl after my own heart – and I’m a girl who used to read under the covers, too.

A YEAR AGO: Recovering from the flu with kitten aid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A YEAR AGO: Recapping 2013.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was as delicious as it looked.

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

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

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

It turns out that Lichen’s new house not only looks like a wine cask, it is – or at least it was – a wine cask. A plaque on the wall says “Storage tank no. 82, capacity 26,424”:

As you would expect, it is a deep wine color on the inside. The former cask now houses Lichen’s living room and a sleeping loft accessed by a spiral staircase. I didn’t take any interior pictures, since he had just moved in and there were boxes everywhere, but here’s the exterior:

The rectangular part on the left houses the bathroom and hallway to the wine cask, as well as where the kitchen will be. Yes, there is no kitchen, though Lichen is designing an Ikea kitchen which his landlord will then pay for and have installed. How’s that for a division of labor? For now, he has a refrigerator and a propane burner on the back deck, where it took forever to boil a kettle to make tea for Erica, Jessica, Megan and me:

As you can see, there is no roof over the deck, which is inconvenient, especially in the rainiest December in ten years. Despite this fact, Lichen wants to refinish the kitchen floor and beams before having the kitchen installed. The women were universally appalled by the idea of continuing to use the rainy propane burner and wash dishes in the bathroom sink for the duration, which Lichen found a totally reasonable proposition. As Erica observed, there’s the parting of the ways between estrogen and testosterone.

We took a little tour of the outside of the house, where there is a lovely view of the ocean:

There used to be access to a private beach, but over the years, the path has become overgrown and the suspension bridge leading to it has decayed in an alarming fashion. Erica opined that it could be fixed, and we jokingly tried to convince Jessica to explore it, but like me, she was uninterested in risking life and limb. Even if the bridge was repaired, the Calamity Suzy potential was too high for me.

I poked around in the woods, finding a purple mushroom – it really was that color – which wouldn’t look out of place in “Alice in Wonderland”:

and a mystery stone beside a tree:

Across the road from Lichen’s house is a steep hill, dotted with cows:

One drawback to the new locality is that the house is right on legendary Highway One, so traffic and its sounds are a problem. Lichen’s beautiful black cat is now an indoor cat, and they both are occasionally awakened by thunderous logging trucks and the squealing tires of unwary drivers who underestimate the curves. It makes me realize (and appreciate) how quiet my place, Megan and Rob’s, and Erica’s are.

Jessica and I caught up while everyone else worked on kitchen designs. She was wearing a vintage 1970s dress which a friend brought from London:

I was slightly alarmed to discover that we now wear the same shoe size (!), and our hands are the same size, though Jessica’s fingers are much more willowy. We have started following each other on Pinterest, so we had a great time talking about the various gowns and shoes we had pinned. Jessica remarked that she was more into circlets than tiaras these days, since they are more practical. I told Erica that it was really nice of her to have my daughter for me. 🙂

It was so fun to see Lichen’s new setting and spend some time together. I think my new year’s resolution is to spend more time with my friends.

A YEAR AGO: Meeting Wednesday.

The Morning After

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A YEAR AGO:
Thanskgiving prep.

Sunset at Wild Fish

While waiting for my life to get off the back burner and on to the front one, I went to meet some friends for dinner.

We decided to meet on the early side, and as I drove oceanwards on the Ridge, the sun was beginning to set in a spectacular way. Pink and golden clouds billowed through the darkening blue sky, and the ocean was a steely lavender. A single fishing boat was making its way to the harbor in the Big Town, shining in the last rays of the sun.

The contented cows in the field across from the post office glowed in the fading daylight, and pale pink roses tumbled down a rustic wooden fence. After a short but curvaceous drive, I passed the peaceful old seaside cemetery and arrived at the restaurant, seconds after my friends, who were just getting out of their truck.

Though I have driven past the restaurant many times, and worked with the owners in my jobette capacity, I had never eaten there before. The restaurant is very small, but beautifully decorated. There are windows on two sides to take advantage of the stunning ocean view, and seating for about twenty people. The room glowed with candlelight.

We shared a bottle of local wine as we perused the menu. It was hard to decide what to have, since everything looked so good. We shared a mixed seafood platter, which included fresh oysters with champagne mignonette, roasted mussels and clams with rose harissa, and smoked sablefish, along with Fuji apple and artfully shaved black radish. It was delicious! I decided on bouillabaisse, which arrived garnished with a perfect rouille and two enormous prawns. My friends know the chef, who came out of the kitchen to check in with us.

We had a wonderful evening, enjoying the food and each other’s company as well as the view. When we left, there were people waiting for tables at 8:00 on a Sunday night – surely a sign of an improved economy. My friends picked up the tab, to my surprise and delight. We hugged goodbye in the parking lot and went our separate ways into the sunny night, glowing with good food and friendship.

A YEAR AGO:

The Kitty Report.

Showered with Confetti and Love

The Giants celebrated their epic World Series win with a parade down Market Street – San Francisco’s Main Street – to City Hall, where Marilyn Monroe married native son and baseball legend Joe DiMaggio 60 years ago. They were showered with showers, but also a hail of confetti and love. No stranger to triumphal processions through the City streets after two earlier World Series wins, manager Bruce Bochy said that he had never heard anything like the thunderous applause and screams that met the returning heroes, especially Madison Bumgarner, who was deafened with howls of “MVP” everywhere he went, perched on the back of a flatbed truck:

An observer described the pandemonium as “something between pagan idolatry and Beatlemania”.

I hope we get to do it all over again next year.

Meanwhile, back in Hoooterville, I woke up to a welcome inch and a half of rain in the gauge and a slightly less welcome forecast of heavy rain accessorized with possible thunderstorms and hail – definitely not ideal trick or treating weather. However, the forecasters were wrong, as so often happens, and there was really no need for me to haul along my winter coat and two umbrellas as well as wearing my rain boots.

This year, instead of going the Village as usual, we met Erica and Jessica at Jessica’s friend’s house. It was more of an estate to my mind than a house, since it included sweeping vineyards and several outbuildings. There was a cauldron of tea and a buffet of Halloween food:

Here’s a close-up:

Both Erica and Jessica had made their own costumes, though Erica did add the zipper to Jessica’s dress. They were Undead Alice in Wonderland and the Red Queen:

Here’s a close-up of Jessica’s apron. It’s hard to tell from the picture, but she embroidered “We’re all mad here” and made the teeth all texture-y:

Erica made her entire costume other than the boots, including the horns, yarn wig, corset, velvet cape, etc. You can see these girls share genes and attitude!

Erica also brought kitty ears for me to wear:

We had the following text exchange:

Erica: Cat ears are black with pink inside and some sparkle. 🙂

Me: How Suzy is that?!

Erica: That’s what Jessica said!

Me: Sparkly minds think alike.

A YEAR AGO:

Happy Halloween!

Five years ago today, I moved into my little hippie hovel in Hooterville. My house used to be James’ (who built it) and Rose’s, and it seems only appropriate that I moved into the house on Rose’s birthday. As Mark said, she is everywhere here.

On Sunday, Rose’s daughter Citlali, who is a member of the same fire department my brother belongs to, invited me to stop by the firehouse for some tacos. This is a fundraising effort held once a month or so, and takes place at the old firehouse beside the Gro:

Inside, the firefighters had set up a couple of tables with slow-cooked pork, corn and flour tortillas, a sort of coleslaw with jicama and corn, salsa verde, limes, chopped cilantro, rice, black beans…it was a feast! For $7, you got a plate with two tacos, rice, beans, and salad with all the accompaniments you could wish for:

All served by your friendly local volunteer firefighters. You know, the people who run into burning buildings and rescue people from crashed cars for no pay. That’s Citlali on the far right. She looks so much like her mother, Rose:

The firehouse was bustling with people, some eating their tacos on the spot and others, like me, taking theirs to go (dinner’s ready!). I stopped in at the Gro to pick up a couple of things, and was amused by this sign on the bulletin board outside:

I especially liked the “Any luck yet?” written on the top.

A YEAR AGO:

Magical History Tour of downtown LA.

Seasonal decorations at Luna Trattoria

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

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

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

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

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

A YEAR AGO:

LA at last!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s certainly been a good year for plays. Friday marked the third play I attended this year, and the second one based on a beloved film. Last time, it was The Breakfast Club, produced and acted in by teenagers, and this time, it was The Graduate, produced and acted in by grown-ups. They were both wonderful.

Before the play, Megan and I met up with Lu at Frankie’s in the Village, where we sat outside to enjoy our chicken pesto piadines (basically a big salad inside a flap of flatbread, and impossible to eat daintily, at least by me) and a bottle of local, organic wine:

It was from Yorkville Cellars, where I stopped in to drop off some jobette-related materials but didn’t drink the wine, even though I wanted to, and which, it turns out is delicious.

We had a lovely time messily eating our salad sandwiches and catching up on each other’s lives, though it was strange to be there without any dogs. Frankie’s owner has her own rescued pit bull, and welcomes dogs of all kinds on the patio of the restaurant. One of the things I love about this county is how dog-friendly it is.

After dinner, we made our way to the theater, which was lit up festively:

We picked up our tickets at the box office, and settled into our seats. The play was directed by one of the dancers from the burlesque show I enjoyed last year, and speaking of dancers, Lu’s niece played the stripper in “The Graduate”, doing a wonderful job with wit and style. She is part of the same burlesque troupe as the play’s director, and is also a fire dancer and belly dancer, so you can imagine that the girl has moves!

The cast was all great, especially Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson, who followed the tradition started by Kathleen Turner of courageous full nudity on stage. The drama and comedy of the film were beautifully captured, and of course the soundtrack is fabulous. It was a wonderful evening with two of my favorite girls.

Birthday Girl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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