Suzy Says

Megan and I caught up with our good friend Lu before she and her boyfriend Rik took off for Central America for three weeks. Rik and Lu are both EMTs, and most years, they go on a mission of mercy to Honduras to provide medical care to villagers living in rural areas with no doctors or hospitals. This year, they decided to take a vacation instead, though they will also look in on their patients, make sure the ambulance is still running, and check on supplies. I am in awe of their courage and commitment.

We met up at the bookstore, which has a stunning view:

And its own resident cat, the Great Catsby, who was resting up from the exhaustion of dealing with his adoring public (not seen in the picture: a sparkly fuchsia mouse tucked next to his magnificent fur, like a teddy bear for cats):

Lu ordered some books, which will await her return, and I made a mental note of some small gifts for Jessica’s Christmas stocking. I know it seems early, but it’s already September, so the festive season starting with the County Fair (in a couple of weeks), then Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas, has already begun. The Naked Ladies flaunting their pink loveliness by the side of the road tell me that fall has arrived.

We peeked into the pub through its heavy velvet door draperies, and discovered that it was too crowded for us to have dinner, as we expected, so we went to our usual spot, where we scored a table by an open window and admired the artwork on display:

It looks like something Rob would make.

The play was “The Normal Heart”, a moving piece about the early days of HIV/AIDS, when no-one knew what it was, what caused it, how it was spread, and it basically seemed like a huge and sudden plague. Living in San Francisco, I remember this all too well and the many we lost. This lovely remembrance blackboard was in the lobby, and the audience was invited to add their own lost loved ones:

The lobby also boasts a tiny, yet surprisingly well-stocked bar, and a creative bartender who creates a signature drink for each production. This one was Pride Punch: vodka and triple sec shaken with ice, poured into a glass, and then cranberry juice poured slowly over a spoon until the drink blushes:

I said, “Come for the drinks, stay for the play,” and the bartender said that there are many people who do come there just for the drinks. I stored this valuable information away for future reference.

A YEAR AGO: Little Miss Lupe, my workout partner, came into my life. Also the MacBook I’m merrily typing away on. Sometimes it seems like September really is the new year, just like when you’re a kid.

Kalli’s birthday camping party has become an annual tradition, and a delightful one, too.

Kalli, Jarrett, and an entourage of their many friends convened at the family property on a recent Saturday. Megan and I were a little concerned about the head count of 30 or more, but we needn’t have worried. They arrived with a keg of beer and coolers full of food. Jonathan made 10 pounds of pulled pork, and I made a more modest quantity of chicken filling for the evening’s taco dinner.

We were lucky to have any chicken filling at all. I got up early on Saturday, did a few loads of laundry, and set the chicken to cook in the slow cooker. A couple of hours later, I went to check on it and discovered that it was ice cold. As in, the chicken was still frozen. I tried unplugging the slow cooker and plugging it back in again – pretty much the limits of my expertise with any form of technology – and it still didn’t work.

I took the whole thing, chicken and all, over my brother’s place. We put the chicken into our friend Lu’s crockpot, which she had lent to him a couple of weeks earlier, and I took it back to my place while Jonathan dismantled mine. Spoiler alert: the heating element had met an untimely demise, taking the rest of the slow cooker with it. So much for that. The good news is that I managed to get the chicken filling done on time.

Meanwhile, tents were merrily growing in the garden:

And the tents’ occupants were playing beer pong. They soon discovered that the drinking part of the game didn’t work so well in the pygmy puff dust, so it became more of a game of skill while drinking the beer in your hand.

We had some visiting dogs, including a darling little spotted brother and sister rescued from under a house a couple of months earlier. Lucky, the sister, was a little unsure about all the unknown people and found a safe spot:

I’m not usually one for small dogs, but they were so cute and really warmed up to the attention as the party went on. Another of Jarrett’s friends had recently traded in a problematic girlfriend for the adorable Atticus:

Definitely an upgrade.

Kalli thoughtfully provided Party Survival Kits:

These included provisions like Band-Aids, sunscreen, a toothbrush, condoms, gum, disinfectant wipes, and other things you might need when camping in the middle of nowhere with some of your best friends.

We had a great BBQ despite the near kitchen emergency, and in the morning Jarrett made bacon, eggs, and home fries on the outdoor gas stove (if you can call it that – it’s two rings hooked up to a small tank of propane, last seen in Erica’s al fresco samosa frying at Junapalooza). Then the visitors set off home, with more happy memories and plans for next year.

A YEAR AGO: The joys of faux pho. And the sadness of memory.

Last Friday, I left work early, went home, and lured all the kitties into the house with treats and dinner. Then I turned lights on inside and out* and headed for the beautiful South Coast.

Even though it was an overcast day and the Pacific was living up to its name with millpond flatness, the South Coast was as beautiful as always. There’s something magical about it to me, though I can’t explain why. It seems wilder somehow and the drive prettier than the northbound one I do nearly every day. Maybe it’s because I don’t drive it as often that it seems more special.

I headed to Anchor Bay for delicious Thai food. I was pleased to note that the restaurant was full at the Floridian hour of 5:30. I ordered sparkling fresh spring rolls, which arrived with a sweet, yet spicy dipping sauce, and an order of Panang curry, which is scented with kaffir lime leaves, Thai basil, and peanut sauce. There was enough left for me to take home with me for dinner another night.

Wednesday and I turned around and went back the way we came. After a couple of curvy miles, I heard a fire engine screaming, and I began to look for places to pull over, not an easy task on narrow and winding Highway One. Eventually, I located someone’s driveway and cowered by the mailbox as the fire truck raced by.

The fire truck may have raced by, but traffic soon ground to a halt, reminding me of the mysterious episode on the Ridge the afternoon before (I still don’t know what happened, and no-one else does, either). I began to worry that I would miss the movie in Point Arena as I turned the car off, though I tried to comfort myself that there would be endless, horrible ads** before the movie.

After several minutes, cars started to move again, and I came across the cause of the pause. A truck had blasted into a fence on the southbound side of the road (though facing north), and a car had smashed into the hill on the other side of the road, also facing north. It was completely crumpled. Things seem to have been a lot more eventful on the roads lately than usual in our little corner of the world.

I made it to the lovely theater in time for Love & Mercy, a new film about the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson. Brian has had a fascinating and sometimes tragic life, and the film chose to focus on two different facets of it: when the Beach Boys were tremendously successful but Brian wanted to try new things musically, and later, when he had a nervous breakdown and fell into the thrall of the evil Eugene Landy, who overmedicated him and cut him off from his family. Brian was played by Paul Dano in his young incarnation and John Cusack in the older one, and both actors did a fine job, though Cusack looks nothing like Wilson. It’s flawed, but worth looking for if you can find it – the film has not been widely released, despite buzz for Dano as a possible Oscar candidate.

I’m pleased to report that the drive home was uneventful. I went to sleep with Wilson’s divine harmonies dancing in my head and the cats cuddled up beside me.

*Sorry, ecology! But it was after 10 pm and totally dark by the time I got home, summer or no summer.

**How right I was. There was a lengthy and embarrassing ad for a new Meryl Streep movie, and another for some animated movie which was so bad that it ruined “More Than a Feeling” for me, the song blasting in the background during the visual torture of the trailer. And I love that song!

A YEAR AGO: Kalli’s birthday camping party was in full swing.

A red and white striped tent appeared in the park in the Village, and that could only mean one thing: Flynn Creek Circus was in town!

They are a small, local circus which has begun to tour internationally and garner the acclaim they deserve for their amazing aerial acts.

Megan and I snapped up tickets for the Fourth of July show. We perched on elaborate cast iron benches which wouldn’t have looked out of place at a Victorian garden party, and prepared to enjoy the show. The circus kicked off with a glamorous girl walking, dancing, and even jumping across the tightrope in heels, making her my personal hero:

Later, she switched to pointe shoes, but the heels amazed me the most. She was followed by “a unicycle built for two”, which was a couple doing acrobatics on a unicycle, including his sweeping her off her feet and onto his shoulders mid-ride, and, incredibly, jumping rope while on a unicycle. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it.

Even more unbelievable was the act that followed. This guy balanced a board on top of a cylinder, and then stood on that, and added another layer of cylinders and board, and then another. And then he stood on his hands on top of it all:

I was completely amazed and enraptured, along with the rest of the audience. The show concluded with two kids doing aerial silks. Megan works with one of the kids’ mother, and apparently this kid is still in high school and is only allowed to do circus work if he keeps his grades up at school. As far as I can see, he is doing great at both. It was impressive to see the skill, focus, and grace of all of the artistes. Once again, I feel so lucky to live in an area with so many talented people who share their art and vision with us all.

Back at Megan’s house, we made a stir fry for dinner. Everything in it, other than the noodles and shrimp, came from the garden over at the family property, and Megan also picked 15 pounds of peas for us to take to work and share with our co-workers. There are still peas left! And the orchard is teeming with ripening fruit: apples, pears, plums, and peaches. It’s summer!

A YEAR AGO: Come along on my drive to the Big Town! It’ll be fun!

Jessica in a shawl made by her mother

Erica and I are almost birthday twins, with mine being the day before hers, though come to think of it, several years ahead, too. So maybe we aren’t birthday twins, but we decided to celebrate our June birthdays together with a Junapalooza at the family property on Saturday.

I’m both pleased and embarrassed to report that I didn’t do a thing but show up. In my defense, though, I’m the only one who works at least five days a week (and complains eight days a week about it), and Erica actually enjoys cooking (it’s become a tyrannical chore for me. See the five days a week thing). Sometimes I picture her cackling over her cauldron like a fairytale character.

Erica’s fairytale basket was filled with scented dal and chutney made from her own figs and quinces. She also brought a deeply chocolatey three layer cake covered with Swiss buttercream and sprinkles, which, as Erica said, tasted exactly like ice cream, so it was like having cake and ice cream all at once.

As if that weren’t enough, she also bought a flask of high quality gin, a bottle of pink grapefruit juice, and a jar of handmade lavender syrup, which were all whirled into delightful pink cocktails with the addition of ice:

For those of you who want to try making your own lavender syrup at home, be careful to only put in the flowers, since the stems can make the syrup bitter. Other than that, it’s just water and sugar. We need to come up with a name for this delightful confection. It’s the perfect thing for a summer evening.

When Lichen appeared, he brought his own libation ingredients. He set to work zesting limes (he brought his own zester), and made frozen strawberry margaritas, the glasses rimmed with sea salt, which he also brought. We could drink pink as well as think pink*!

The pink theme continued with a raspberry pie made from raspberries grown on the property and picked that very day, which may be why it was mostly demolished before I got a photo opp:

The pie and cake were preceded by the dal and chutney, as well as butter chicken. Jonathan grilled the chicken on the BBQ before putting it in the sauce Megan made. We also had forbidden rice and Megan’s home-made naan with cilantro and shallots. The garlic and onions in the butter chicken sauce came from the property, as did the cilantro and shallots in the naan. It was all delicious, and it was nice to sit by the fire and talk after dinner, replete with deliciousness.

Jessica and I fantasized about an alternate reality, in which we lived in a mansion within walking distance of a charming village with bookstores, cafes, chocolatier, patisserie, cheese shop, charcuterie, and other essentials. The village would be far enough away that we couldn’t see it or hear it, but we wouldn’t have to drive there. Rain would be “plentiful”, as Jessica put it, and there would occasionally be snow, enough to make snowmen and play in. It would never be hotter than 85 degrees F (Erica and Jessica had just suffered through a day of 104 degree heat – and baked a cake in it). Erica would be the chatelaine and run everything. It would be heavenly! A girl can dream.

A YEAR AGO: Around the house.

*I was shocked to learn that Erica and Jessica hadn’t seen Funny Face, starring Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn, with Kay Thompson, the immortal author of the immortal Eloise books (how I love them!) as a Diana Vreeland character admonishing everyone to “Think pink!” It also has some of the first supermodels from the days when they were stunning: Suzy Parker, Dovima, Sunny Harnett. I think a communal viewing is in order, pink drinks non-optional.

I was not too impressed with my birthday week this year. It kicked off with a pricy vet visit (is there any other kind?) and ended with a pricy tire change (is there any other kind?). I also worked on my birthday for the first time in decades, thus violating one of my few principles: Never Work on Your Birthday.

On Thursday, I wasted a perfectly good birthday by working for 11 hours and getting the front two tires replaced on Wednesday (Jessica named my car for her favorite Addams Family character). Between the tires and the alignment, it was close to another $500, which begs the question of why I can come up with $1,000 for vet bills and tires, but not for, say, a trip to Hawaii.

There was a fire south of the scenic cemetery in Little River on my birthday afternoon, and even close to 7 pm, it was a one lane road with a line of cars inching along. When I finally got home, I found a check from the jobette and a bill for my car registration, which exactly canceled each other out.

I woke up on Saturday morning with spasming lower back pain that continues to torture me even as I write, while giving me a preview of the old age I am rapidly hurtling toward. Talk about adding injury to insult!

There’s always next year.

A YEAR AGO: The birthday disaster last year was an out of season power outage.

On Saturday, I made a special appearance at the jobette. It was Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial opening of the summer tourist season, and I decided to go in and help out, partly because I’m still on probation at the new job, so I didn’t get paid for Memorial Day, and partly to help out my former work family.

It was good to be back. I took down all the expired event postings in the lobby, refreshed the supply of visitor guides and other tourism materials, added up all the sales and visitor sheets, balanced the cash, updated the database, took out the trash, watered the inside and outside plants (which I suspect has not been done since I left), and washed the dishes. Oh, and turned off the heat, which was blasting when I arrived.

I had a great time chatting with the visitors, and sold $160 worth of art. I imagine my former employers were pleased when they arrived at the office on Tuesday.

I went home and collected the al pastor which I had put in the slow cooker on Friday night. It was my first attempt at making this, and I think from now on I will just leave it to Libby’s, even if they are almost never open. It turned out to be atomically spicy, despite the fact that I only added a teeny can of chipotles in adobo sauce to a 5 pound roast, along with an entire pineapple, a bottle of beer, some red onion, and a couple of tablespoons of chili powder.

To be fair, I have a low spiciness tolerance and believe that food should come in hot, medium, mild and Suzy. But still. I texted Erica in a panic, and she suggested that I drain off the sauce and put in a can of tomato sauce. I didn’t have any tomato sauce – all I had was an extremely unhelpful jar of spicy red pepper sauce – so I went over to Megan’s, even though it was early, since I had to deal with it before heading to the jobette.

Fortunately, she had a can, so I swapped the sauces, and I think it worked just fine. Rob helped me to load the giant slow cooker into the car and we headed over to the family property, where Megan’s birthday BBQ was in full swing:

Erica and Jessica were there, as well as Jarrett and Kalli and Dave and Jennifer. Jarrett had invited his dog Archi’s brother (and his owners), and I couldn’t get over how alike they look:

Lichen also came, bearing rose lemonade for Jessica, and all together, there were nearly 20 people. Erica fried up samosas she had made in a special pot outside by the Waltons-sized picnic table:

They were, of course, delicious.

Erica had also brought a giant, industrial sized jar of mayonnaise:

It turned out to be an elaborate practical joke. Megan hates mayonnaise (we are a family of picky eaters), but Erica bet her that she would be digging into this one. Megan was horrified until she discovered that the jar actually contained vanilla bean-bourbon vanilla pudding, chocolate espresso cookie crumbs, and sea salted caramel sauce, all made from scratch by Erica the Evil Genius. It was insanely delicious.

Erica said it was the hardest dessert she had ever made, since she had to hide the cookie crumbs and sauce inside the pudding, so it still looked convincingly like mayonnaise. Only Erica!

Meanwhile, I was discussing designers with Jessica, saying that I love it that she actually knows who Charles James, Schiaparelli, Claire McCardell, and Madame Grès are (she has all these and more on her Pinterest boards). She said that sometimes it seems like designers are playing a practical joke to see if people will actually wear their crazy clothes. “It’s like, ‘Go home, fashion, you’re drunk!’” Jessica said, referring to some of the more outrageous confections at Fashion Week.

When it was time to go home, Jessica once again offered her arm and asked if she could escort “Fair Suzy” to her car. I love this tradition!

A YEAR AGO: Celebrating Megan’s birthday, of course!

I had a lovely Saturday.

I started the day off with a return visit to Angelika’s little salon in the big woods, where she brightened my hair and my outlook, and trimmed off another couple of inches. As usual, I left feeling happy in my outer and inner selves. Who needs a therapist when you have an Angel(ika)?

My friend Erin was working at a rummage sale to benefit her son’s school, which I pass on my way to Angelika’s, so I stopped in to say hello. I valiantly resisted the urge to buy more stuff – I should be getting rid of things, not accumulating them – and stayed and chatted for a while. We are hoping to get together for a drink and a gossip soon.

Megan had also had her hair cut and highlighted, and for once we actually had somewhere to go to show off our unaccustomed ‘dos: dinner and a play! First, though, we had to stop by the family property, where Megan went to feed Dave and Jennifer’s horses while they were out of town, and I took a stroll around the garden, nibbling sun warmed strawberries:

As we headed toward the Village, I told Megan that I had stopped in to see Jim a few days ago. This week marked the first anniversary of his husband’s death, and I was both surprised and pleased that he is doing so well. I admire his strength and courage. I also mentioned that I often see Siri, the gentleman who married Jim and Joel, at work since he conducts breathing skills classes there, and how wonderful he is.

Approaching the restaurant, who did we see but Siri! I introduced Megan and we had a lovely chat before joining our friends Lu and Rik for dinner.

After dinner, we headed over to the theater:

to see the play “Mauritius”, in which the cast of four tries to out con each other over two very valuable stamps. Who knew stamp collecting could be so dark and devious? The set was minimal but effective:

We were surprised and delighted to find our friend Lichen there, looking dapper. We are plotting a strawberry margarita extravaganza in his new kitchen (which I still haven’t seen) in the near future. I can’t wait!

A YEAR AGO: Roscoe is a little alarming.

Derby Day dawned foggy, wrapping the world in a cool silver mist, which was just fine with me after a couple of unseasonably and unreasonably hot days, when I came home from the coolness of the Big Town to a scorching 83 degrees:

As you know, I find anything over 75 completely unnecessary, so I was glad when Karl the Fog made a return engagement, though I realize this is not a popular opinion. What can I say? I have a pro blanket policy, year round. It’s a blanket policy.

I was also delighted to learn that there’s a new Royal baby in London, a lovely and healthy little princess with a serious pedigree of style. It was a happy note to start the day on, and the day just got happier as I made my to Angelika’s little salon in the big woods:

It may have been chilly outside, but inside, candles glowed against the coral walls, lavender scented the air, and towels were warming on the heater. One of Angelika’s dogs came in and sat at my feet as Angelika cut my hair and we caught up on each other’s news. She cut two inches off – I hadn’t had it cut since October – and I am hoping to afford highlights soon – I haven’t had it highlighted since last February. It still looks pretty good, though:

I got home in time for the Kentucky Derby, which as you know is my favorite sporting event of the year. And why not? Name another sport which has a red carpet, glamorous celebrities, outrageous hats, practically mandatory daytime drinking, gorgeous horses, a century of tradition, and is over before even I have time to get bored. My favorite jockey, the inimitable Calvin Borel, was not in contention since his horse was scratched at the last moment, but it was nice to see Victor Espinoza win for the second year in a row, proclaiming, “I feel like the luckiest Mexican on earth!” Inspiring that he saved up from his bus driving job to learn to be jockey and made it all the way to win the greatest horse race on earth.

A YEAR AGO: Rob the handyman.

Birthday Girl

As you know, Jessica’s twelfth birthday was April 15, but we celebrated it a couple of days later, on a Saturday – about the only day of the week we can all get together now. And celebrate it we did! We started off by meeting at Franny’s Cup & Saucer in beautiful downtown Point Arena. Jonathan joined us, adding an uncle to the auntourage, and there wasn’t enough room in Franny’s teacup sized establishment to fit us all at once as we perused the pastries and chocolates in the glass case.

Eventually, we repaired with our choices to the bench outside and shared them while chatting. I observed to Jessica that she wouldn’t want to do this kind of thing much longer since she was growing up, and she replied “Hormones don’t make you stupid!” Thinking of some beaux in my distant past, I said, “Oh yes, they do, “ and she said, “Not that stupid! You will always be fabulous!” accompanied by a hug.

We had enough time to stop by the pier at Point Arena and watch the surfers skimming over the waves:

I was amazed by their skill in maneuvering through the rough waters and avoiding the many jagged rocks in the bay.

We made our way to the B. Bryan Preserve, where we were joined by two fair sized groups. It soon became clear that this was a much fancier deal than it was nearly two years ago, when Megan and I had our magical safari together: just us and Frank, the curmudgeonly guide. I’m glad for their success, but I’m also glad that Megan and I have that special enchanted memory together.

After the mini talk about the Preserve’s mission to save and breed these beautiful, endangered animals, we loaded into a 1967 Range Rover, equipped with a canvas roof and apparently not equipped with shocks, which were plenty as we jounced over the rough terrain.

Unlike our earlier trip, we stayed in the Range Rover for most of the tour, though we also drove right into the vast, fenced fields where the zebra and antelope played. Also unlike last time, when Frank admonished us that this wasn’t a petting zoo (it still isn’t), we could actually pet a few month old Grevy’s zebra, little Karen Sue:

Her mother died giving birth to her, and Karen Sue was saved by none other than our dear vet, Dr. Karen – hence her name. Since Karen Sue was hand raised, you can pet her, but those days will end when she joins the regular herd in the next few months. So this was a special treat. And those teddy bear ears are as soft as they look. I imagine I am one of the very few people who has stroked a live Grevy’s zebra.

We ended at the Rothschild giraffes, where Sonny, Buster and Jagger (my favorite from last time) have been joined by two more brothers. In fact, Frank was on his way to pick up the “new” boys after our last tour. Like Megan and me, Jessica was charmed by feeding the giraffes. There really is nothing like seeing one swooping down toward you, their huge, soulful eyes, fake looking lashes, and black tongues. You really haven’t lived until you’ve kissed a giraffe.

At the end of the tour, Jessica pronounced it “Totally awesome” while jumping up and down. We then headed to Anchor Bay, where some of the best Thai food ever is to be found and enjoyed. Just like the Preserve, Megan and I were the only ones in our party to have been there before, and we couldn’t wait to share its joys.

Just like the Preserve, everyone was delighted and impressed. We shared our dishes and still had enough to take home and enjoy another night. We kissed Erica and Jessica goodbye and headed home as the sun set over the glorious Pacific. The immortal Lou Reed put it best when he sang, “Oh, it’s such a perfect day/I’m glad I spent it with you.”

A YEAR AGO: Meetings and manicures.

I’ve been quite the cultural maven lately.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Megan and I enjoyed a breathtaking performance of A Streetcar Named Desire, beamed all the way from London to our little corner of the world. And just a couple of days ago, Megan and I met up with Lu and Jennifer for dinner and a play. So sophisticated!

We picked Jennifer up at the property, where she and Dave are hopefully going to start building their home this year, and headed to the Village, where we met up with Lu. We ordered a pizza, salad, and a bottle of local wine and headed upstairs to grab a table under the cozy eaves while dinner was being made.

It was nice to laugh and talk as we shared dinner. I had thought we’d given ourselves way too much time, but before we knew it, it was time to head to the theater. We took our seats in the second row and prepared to enjoy the classic Gaslight. As soon as the lights went down and the play started, we were caught up in the magic and the drama, and we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

There were some differences between the movie, starring Ingrid Bergman and the evilly suave Charles Boyer, and the play, but I was the only one in our group who had seen the movie, so I was alone in my dramatic mental comparing and contrasting. I think the theater did very well with a minimal set:

and a minimal cast, including the actor who played the father in Other Desert Cities and now played the Inspector who rescues the damsel in distress. This year’s season also includes performances of Mauritius and The Normal Heart, which we would all like to see, so there are other lovely evenings in my future.

A YEAR AGO: Playing with Stella on the beach.

Megan and I took a break from everyday life to journey down to the beautiful South Coast. Fog laid its silvery fingers over the dark, wind-swept trees, and sometimes even blotted out the ocean. Occasionally, the sun peeped through, highlighting lilacs and poppies by the side of the winding road.

The original plan was to go to Anchor Bay for fabulous take-out Thai food, and then attend a performance of A Streetcar Named Desire, shown at the historic 1920s movie theater in Point Arena:

but beamed from London. We had a little extra time, so we stopped off in Point Arena on our way, intending to get a mocha and maybe something delicious at Franny’s Cup & Saucer. After all, it was Saturday, and they were sure to be open.

Except they weren’t, being on vacation.

So we headed to Anchor Bay, where our bad luck held. Apparently, the Thai food owners had gone to the same place as Franny’s (the Riviera? Palm Springs? Tahiti?), since they too were on vacation, and coming back the same day, which to add insult to injury, was just a couple of days later.

We went back to Point Arena, where we found finding lunch to be an impossible task. When I went to buy tickets for the play, I learned that they did not take credit cards, but fortunately, I had brought a check to use at Franny’s (knowing their policy was the same), so I used it at the theater instead.

Inside, we admired the beautiful tile work:

and got popcorn for brunch. The feed from London was already going as we took our seats, so we could see and hear the audience in London taking their seats and chatting while we did the same thing. I couldn’t help noticing that Dad would be dismayed by the level of dressiness in London theater audiences.

The set for the play was minimal and placed in the round, perhaps three feet from the audience. It also rotated slowly throughout the performance, which was spectacular. Gillian Anderson, who captivated me this year in The Fall, was a raw and powerful Blanche, heart-breaking and vulnerable without being pathetic, giving the performance of a lifetime. When she took her bows at the end, she looked like she had been through a journey, and she had taken us with her. It was an experience I will never forget, and I am thrilled that we country mice have access to such cultural wealth, right here in the boonies.

As we made our stunned way back to the waiting Wednesday, Megan suggested that we call Libby’s to see if they, against all odds, might actually be open. We have been done out of Libby’s for months now, so we were delighted to find that they were open and ready to make us burritos.

We headed to the Valley, where we found the sun and Megan observed that only country dwellers like us would find it entirely reasonable to drive 45 minutes out of our way to get take out. But we had already done so much driving, what was a little more?

At Libby’s, we placed our orders and sat at the bar with an arrangement of flowers picked from the garden outside:

and had chips and house-made salsa with a glass of local wine while dinner was being made. It was an unexpected end to an unexpected, yet perfect day.

A YEAR AGO: A tragedy rocks our little corner of the world.

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.

Well, we’re hovering on the brink of yet another time change. I have finally realized that the entire point of the exercise every single time – whether it’s forward or back – is to plunge us back into the hateful darkness in the morning.

As soon as there is even a glimmer of early morning light, the Powers that Be change the clock, ensuring that getting up at 5 am is much worse than it already is. Clearly the Powers do not routinely get up in the cold and dark day after day.

So I can look forward to already being late when I get up tomorrow; getting up in abject darkness; driving to work in darkness; and my body knowing full well that it’s 4 am when I drag it out of bed.

Awesome.

Time to stop the madness, peeps! Who’s with me?

*****

Speaking of madness, my brother once again made his annual leap into the chilly river where it meets the cold Pacific. You might think that Jonathan does this just for the hell of it – and it does sound like the kind of thing he’d do – but it’s to benefit Special Olympics.

This year, he and his team were dressed as rubber duckies, including fuzzy duck hats and yellow rain slickers:

The boxes they are wearing represent bathtubs, and each one was personalized. Jonathan is on the far right, and his reads “USS SemiconDUCKtor”, a nod to his electrical experiments. Everyone had little containers of bubble mixture and wands to make bath bubbles. They sang a stirring rendition of the Rubber Ducky song from “Sesame Street”, and I wish WordPress would allow me to post the film of it, because it was hilarious. Not only does my brother make a great Christmas ham, he is a great big ham. 🙂

I was surprised and delighted that Erin (who would rescue me from the closed road adventure just two days later) and Rob turned up unexpectedly to join Megan and me in cheering them on. I was so happy and touched to see them both. We watched together as the team tossed off their costumes and ran into the frigid water.

Jonathan, of course, was jumping and diving and even swimming around before running back out:

He said the water was so cold that it made the air feel warm when he got out. He was glad to get into his commemorative sweatshirt, though:

and we were all glad to be there to support him. Jonathan and Megan raised about $300, and it’s great to know that the money will stay local and benefit local residents. Just being there was exhilarating!

A YEAR AGO: At the Polar Plunge, of course.

My desk on my last day at the jobette

Wednesday marked my last day at the jobette, just days after the fourth anniversary of my first day.

Fortunately, I was really busy tying up loose ends and making sure that my co-workers had everything they needed to endure my eternal absence, so time flew by and I was unable to dwell on and well up, which I had feared.

We got fantastic pizza for lunch, after which I was presented with a beautiful card and a piece of artwork. I had admired this artist’s work when she was our featured artist for the month, and I was touched that my co-workers remembered this (it’s the agave collage on the left hand side of the photo above). The things they wrote in the card were so beautiful! I now have written proof that I am in fact awesome. 🙂

The day brought a stream of well wishers, gifts, and flowers. I was amazed by how many people made the effort to tell me how much I meant to them, and how lucky I was to work with such a wonderful people. They really were my work family, and sometimes, I could hardly believe I was paid to hang out with them. They will now be my real life friends instead of my work family, but I will miss the days we spent together.

I should be looking toward the future and the new job, but for a few minutes, I’ll think about the past with love and gratitude.

A YEAR AGO: A shower of petals.

I put away all the Christmas decorations yesterday, and now the house looks sad. Bigger, but sad. Sundays are always melancholy, but the one when you put away the holiday glitz and start getting ready to go back to work after a week off is definitely the winner (or possibly the loser, depending on how you look at it).

I considered leaving the white lights glittering on the banister, but decided it really had to be all or nothing, so nothing it was. However, I did move the orchid with the flower spikes beside the sliding glass doors in the living room where the Christmas tree used to be. It can get sunshine to make it bloom, while not freezing its buds off.

As I cleaned up all signs of the dear, departed holiday, it occurred to me that not only does Jarrett get the dreaded combo gift for his birthday, he doesn’t even get a blog post from me about his birthday dinner. I will try and make up for this shocking oversight now.

After our sparkling visit to the Botanical Gardens to admire the lights display, we repaired to a little Italian restaurant to celebrate Jarrett’s birthday.

We had a plate of calamari to start, and it was incredibly light, crispy, and tender – my brother thought this was because it had never been frozen. It didn’t even need the dipping sauce! Megan and Jonathan both had light as air gnocchi with pesto, which they both pronounced delicious. I had a delightful penne alla vodka. Of course, we had a bottle of wine to share as well.

We needed it to toast the fact that Jarrett’s mother has a new job this new year. She is going to move to LA to practice her sushi-making art at some high end restaurant, who wooed her and convinced her to move there from San Francisco.

Even though she doesn’t drive.

I’m sure she will love it, though, and her new bosses have found her a house within walking distance of the restaurant. Something tells me she’ll be having visitors…

After dinner, the server asked if we would like coffee. My brother remarked that he’d love a brandy with his, but the restaurant only has a license for beer and wine. The server returned to our table with a tray of small glasses and said, “I can’t sell this to you, but I can give it to you,” and distributed Limoncello to all of us. We were both surprised and delighted and wasted no time in toasting Jarrett’s birthday.

The attentive server apparently took note of our toast, since she returned to the table with a big meatball with a lit candle stuck in it, along with the owner/chef and the entire staff, who gathered around to sing “Happy Birthday” to Jarrett with his family and the rest of the restaurant’s guests. It was a wonderful small town moment, and the perfect end to a perfect evening.

A YEAR AGO: An equally wonderful, but very different, birthday celebration.

Bright and beautiful

Jarrett’s birthday is located a couple of weeks before Christmas, inevitably leading to the dreaded combo gift suffered by so many December babies. Not everyone is clever enough to have their birthday and Christmas evenly spaced six months apart, like I did. But his desk looked like this when he arrived at work on his birthday:

It’s nice to be loved by your office family.

Jarrett’s birthday was also celebrated by the Festival of Lights at the Botanical Gardens in the Big Town, so he and the wonderful Kalli came by to check it out.

We were greeted by someone handing out miniature candy canes, and plunged into a magical world of glittering sea monsters, shooting stars, peacocks, and flying sea urchins. A volcano spewed lava and smoke:

while a ship sailed rough seas in a nod to our maritime history and the whale watching season:

We came across a fire pit, where we were equipped with long bamboo poles and a marshmallow to toast:

Outside the fire pit area, mysterious globes glowed in the bushes:

There’s something magical about lights sparkling in the wintry darkness when the days are so short. It gives me hope and reminds me of the Christmas lights I loved as a child and still do. Especially when I’m with people I love.

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’s a wild and stormy Christmas Eve. Reports are that the power is out at home, and a call to my friends at the PG&E Outage Line gave me the sad information that it may be “extended” due to many outages. So far this seems to be worse than the storm that wasn’t, though it’s supposed to pass through quickly. Maybe it was speeding.

Fortunately, my oven is gas, and my brother is smoking the ham over the BBQ all day tomorrow, so we can still have Christmas dinner. On my way to the jobette yesterday, I stopped at the grocery store in the Village and bought two pieces of Gruyere. Nothing more, nothing less. The clerk looked at me quizzically and asked “Having a craving?” I explained that I needed it for cheese biscuits and that there was no substitute, and there isn’t.

Last night, I put all the Christmas stockings together, an undertaking that required a glass or two of wine, a realization I came to after completing the first one. Stockings always have a quarter and a tangerine in the toe and a candy cane at the top, and contain a couple of little gifts – like the guitar pick made from a quarter and a gift card for the coffee shop in the Village for Rob* – and this year I had the bright idea of wrapping these, which made the process longer. The rest is candy and silly things like cap guns. We exchange Christmas stockings instead of gifts, and I love that tradition.

Tomorrow, even if the power is out, I will roast the pears for the salad and make the dressing for the salad, and make my world famous cheese biscuits. At some point before noon, I will bring the ham, a bottle of cider and one of Jack Daniel’s to my brother’s place, where he will make his fabulous glaze for the ham and smoke it all day over apple wood.

Erica and Jessica were planning to come over early in the day to watch Christmas movies and the Rockettes, but it may be board games and sparkling conversation instead. Stay tuned!

Update: Power is back on, the sun is shining, and all systems are go! Merry Christmas to all of you!

*I have no concerns about him reading this, since he has never had an email address or belonged to Facebook or done anything on line other than look for tools.

A YEAR AGO: Working hard? Or hardly working?