Suzy Says

Audrey woke me up from a vivid dream in which I was driving in the snow – which I have never done in real life – and came across my childhood home. In my dream, I asked to look around the old place. Needless to say, it was weird and not at all the way it really was, but I still wanted to see the upstairs. Audrey had other plans, and so did I, seeing as it was 3:30 am.

Audrey, Audreyer, Audreyest…

I gave everyone a snack and went back to bed, but I couldn’t rejoin my dream. Doesn’t it seem like you can only pick up the threads of interrupted nightmares?

Later that day, I saw a little girl holding her father’s hand and skipping as they went into the Gro, and it reminded me of the long-ago Saturdays when Dad would pile us into the old Chevy and take us grocery shopping and then to the library. In retrospect, it seems odd that he didn’t leave us at home, but a lot of things about my childhood seem strange looking back, even to the allegedly grown-up me.

First we’d go to the Victory Market, with its big red V, and then to the old stone library, where Miss Opal, the librarian, would let me take out extra books. In Maine during the summer, we’d go to the Shop & Save and then to the old brick library, with its glamorous wooden gallery and echoing marble foyer. At the end of the summer, there was a book sale, which was almost as exciting as the Fourth of July boat race or the lab picnic.

Our house was set in fields overlooked by gentle hills:

We had five acres of land, which included a grove of pine trees from which we’d choose a Christmas tree each year. I still remember the clear sound of the axe ringing against the fragrant wood in the cold, clean air, and the triumphant feeling of dragging it home across the snow and into the house.

Legend had it that the five acre parcel of land was payment to a Revolutionary War soldier for his service, and certainly the stone foundation of the house, which was built in the early to mid 1850s, was much older than the house. I’d like to think the tale was true, though that valiant young man might not have been best pleased to find an Englishman living on his hard-won property.

In my mind, I can still step up on the flagstone step, to the door into the closed-in porch, and through the red front door into our house. The living room, with its fireplace and the bookshelves Dad built, is to the left and the kitchen straight ahead, with a pass through to the dining room. Dad’s study and the powder room/laundry room are on this floor.

There’s a landing on the stairs where our dog Ginger used to sleep when Dad was home (he slept in front of the door when Dad was away). Upstairs is a bathroom, with a laundry chute which we always found thrilling, and all our bedrooms. My bed was set under the eaves, and Dad had built a window seat for me overlooking the view you see above – the perfect place to read. Once I came home from a visit to my grandparents’ house to find that Dad had painted my room “Fantasy Orchid”, a color I had been pleading for and he had been vetoing for weeks.

I haven’t set foot in that house in decades, but it’s still there in my memories, just like Mom and Dad and my grandparents and all the golden days of the past. Time seems to burnish more than it tarnishes when it comes to memories.

A YEAR AGO: Shopping with the lovely Miss Stella.

Megan and I went on a little adventure to the south coast on Sunday. We could not have had a nicer day for it. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue, and it must have been at least 70 degrees. No jacket required.

It was an all girl road trip, with Star and Stella in the back seat and Megan and me in the front. Megan drove, so I could enjoy the scenery, which was spectacular. The ocean was showing off, as were the whales and dolphins frolicking in it. Calla lilies unfurled their white flags by the side of the road, and drifts of yellow daffodils nodded in fields. The road meanders through hills, some steep and some rolling, dotted with cows and sheep on one side, and a precipitous cliff overlooking the ocean on the other, fringed with dark trees twisted by years of wind.

Our first stop – first things first, you know! – was the fabulous Thai restaurant in the tiny town of Anchor Bay:

We ordered take-out for dinner, and while it was being prepared, wandered with the dogs through a small, secluded ocean view cemetery:

The ground was starred with wild irises:

and gravestones ranging from the ancient:

to the modern:

I loved how this couple had their wedding date and rings engraved between their names, and that his side reads “Gone fishing” while hers reads “Gone dancing”. Somehow I feel that their love lives on.

We stowed the dogs and the Thai food in the car and set off for the quirky little city of Point Arena. We went to the pier and found a rough wooden table on the deck of the chowder house. As we waited for lunch to arrive, we admired the view:

and the intrepid surfers. As Megan said, they must be experts to risk the rocks as well as the waves. While surfer watching, we moved away from the table, and a giant seagull made his move on our unprotected lunches. He only managed to knock over my nearly empty lemonade glass, which must have been a huge disappointment to him.

After lunch, we took the dogs to the Stornetta Public Lands, which recently became the newest part of the California Coastal National Monument, thanks in part to efforts at the jobette, along with many others. You may recall that my boss actually met the President when the lands were signed into protected status, something that still totally thrills me.

The dogs, however, were more thrilled by the sights, sounds, and smells of this new playground, especially cow fan Star. It soon became apparent that the lands are still in use by the Stornetta family for grazing their justly famous dairy cows*, so we divided our time between admiring the scenery:

and keeping an eye out for cow calling cards, as well as keeping Star from rolling in them. I also began to worry about getting a sunburn. In January.

Somehow, the day was almost over, and as we headed back to the car, I stopped to watch the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs in the last, golden light of day, thinking of how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful place with such a wonderful family, including Star and Stella.

*The brand name is Clover Stornetta, and I have to admit that their billboards always make me laugh.

A YEAR AGO: Driving, and lots of it – also to the beautiful south coast.

I spent a couple of days making bread last week.

Yes, a couple of days.

It’s all my fault for failing to read the recipe through properly (or reading it and failing to retain it). I was making sourdough and didn’t realize that the starter took 8-12 hours to not only start, but finish. So I made that and got on with my life while it got on with its own.

My brother had called me to congratulate me on the new job (30 seconds) and advise me on correct bread making procedures (5 minutes). He believes it’s preferable to do it all by hand, rather than using the Kitchen Aid mixer with its dough hook (which, ironically enough, he gave me many years ago for Christmas when I still lived in San Francisco), so I mixed the starter with the flour and salt and put it in my unlit oven (which has a pilot light), hoping for the best.

When I checked on it a couple of loads of laundry later, it had risen about as much as Roscoe on a rainy day, and with approximately the same level of enthusiasm, so I resorted to a trick from my grandmother. I boiled water, put in a metal pan on the bottom of the oven and closed the oven door. That worked, and when I took it out to knead the dough, I lit the oven, set it at low for a few minutes, then turned it off, so it would be a more hospitable rising environment.

My loaf looked like this after it rose:

And like this after I baked it:

I borrowed Megan’s pizza stone and baked it on that. It turned out crusty on the outside and with a nice, fine grain on the inside. It could have used a little more salt and been more sour, but on the whole, I’d give my first attempt at sourdough a solid B. Maybe even a B plus.

Now I’m left with a bowl of starter in the refrigerator, and confusing instructions about how to feed and preserve it from various places on the interwebs. I should call Erica, the Seer of the Kitchen*, and ask her. After all, we should be planning our February get together.

*I think it’s safe to assume that she has never had to resort to Nana tricks to make her dough rise.

A YEAR AGO: Driving Miss Stella

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.

Nothing like ending a week off with a shot of clinic followed by a work chaser.

My annual check up was on Monday morning, and when I reported to the clinic with my extremely expensive health insurance card in hand, the receptionist ran the card, and told me there was a problem with my coverage.

I called Anthem, and spent the next 20 minutes on hold. I was still on hold when they took my blood pressure, which probably didn’t make it lower. I finally talked to someone when I was in the exam room waiting for Dr. Sue. The Anthem representative told me that my account was a) inactive; and 2) in a “grace period” since the January bill hadn’t been paid. I pointed out that grace periods were usually more than 5 days long, and I was just getting a check up, for which I had already paid $45 (it was $50 when I didn’t have insurance). She said to have the receptionist call them and they would give the clinic the approval, but that I needed to call Covered California to renew my insurance for 2015.

Dr. Sue gave me the thumbs up on my own health, and I was on my way to the jobette.

I called Covered CA when I got home from work last night, and the rep who looked up my account said that I had been dramatically overcharged for the past 9 months, to the tune of more than $200 a month. She told me to call Anthem, the insurance provider, and alert them to this before making any changes to the account.

I did, and Anthem told me that they can only bill what Covered CA tells them to – CC is a sort of marketplace giving users the option of various healthcare providers (in theory; in practice, it’s Anthem Blue Cross or nothing), so, yes, they told me to call Covered CA. Again.

So it was another call to my friends at Covered CA, who told me that my account was never inactive, and yes, it did appear that I had been overcharged, but I should get the money back in tax credits (which I find hard to believe, but we’ll see). They enrolled me in a plan which is now about $125 a month, versus the $350 a month I had been paying. Guess what? My check up co pay would have been $3 instead of $45 if I was being billed correctly all along. At least it’s fixed now – assuming that the last person I spoke to there gave me correct information, and that seems like a big “if” after all these calls and the overcharges.

One good thing about all the stress and pressure of impending joblessness and penury is that things like this just don’t seem like that big of a deal anymore. I actually laughed when I hung up the phone. Maybe it was like Lincoln’s “I laugh that I may not weep”, but it was a laugh all the same.

A YEAR AGO: In which malls and flu do not mix.

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.

Frosty Fern

Happy new year, y’all! It started out a frosty one here, -2C outside and +4 inside, which is not that much of a plus. Ever notice that everything is worse in metric? Temperatures are colder and distances are further (though bra sizes are stupendous).

My brother was working a 72 hour shift, so I went over to his place to make sure the pipes had not burst in the sub-freezing temperatures. Though it’s only about a quarter of a mile away, it’s also about 5 Fahrenheit degrees colder over there in the winter, so the entire garden was heavily frosted, sparkling in the sun.

No pipes were harmed during the cold night, but I left his tap dripping, just in case. And fed Scout, the mini cat whose tiny body contains the loudest meows known to catdom. Since we were inside, I could pet her silky fur – not even Jonathan can pet her outside. Her youth spent as a stray cat is too deeply imprinted, and she must be very clever to have escaped the many predators for as long as she did – she was at least a year old when she turned up on my brother’s doorstep one day.

Back at home, I continued my tidying up activities. I had the week off between Christmas and New Year’s Day, and I decided to use the gift of time to try and create a little order from chaos, especially in the studio/storage room. There’s still a long way to go, but I’ve made significant inroads. And there were a couple of unexpected rewards (in addition to unusual virtue). I found the lovely Rita’s ID tag:

I have put it carefully away in my jewelry box, remembering the happy times I spent with that beautiful, wonderful girl, the star of the neighborhood.

I also came across an “At Home” card my maternal grandparents sent out after their wedding in 1924:

The only wedding picture I have of them shows them in a field with a grumpy preacher and one attendant each, so I get the impression that this was not a conventional wedding, and might even have been an elopement, given that my grandmother left home in order to go to high school*. I always think my grandfather looks like he won the lottery:

The card still smelled faintly of my grandmother’s lily of the valley perfume, even though she’s been gone for almost 40 years. I am lucky to have so many wonderful memories.

My delightful co-worker Erin gifted me with a lovely red clock for Christmas. It was out of the box for less than two minutes before it found itself on the wall, looking perfect:

I also organized the books by color:

Pretty, no? A good start to the new year so far, I’d say!

A YEAR AGO: Back home from the last trip of the year to San Francisco.

*She moved in with her scandalous Aunt Luella, who got married in a pink dress and wore the dress to parties afterwards, bobbed her hair, and went to teacher’s college. She taught at the same high school where my grandfather was the principal – and my mother was a student.

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.

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?

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.

So yesterday was Interview Day.

The cats woke me up earlier than I would have liked, especially since I needed all the beauty sleep I could get, but I somehow still ended up rushing to get out the door on time. It was gloomy but not (yet) raining, and I was amazed by how deep and rushy the river was. A finger of fog lay dramatically over the dark woods as I turned onto the twisty, mountainous road to the county seat. How anyone ever thought of building a road there is beyond me, though it’s been in use at least since the 1890s, when it was the location of a stagecoach robbery.

I had no trouble finding the county offices, and I was early, which I figured was better than late. I didn’t have long to wait before being ushered into a room where a panel of three people were seated.

This threw me for a loop, I can tell you. I was expecting to interview one on one with the woman who had set it up and sent me the paperwork. We had a nice chat on the phone, and I felt pretty confident about meeting with her. My confidence vanished as quickly as my horror grew.

They told me that they asked everyone the same standardized questions and that we had half an hour for the interview. They took turns asking me questions like “What is your definition of professionalism?” Though they at least avoided asking me where I saw myself in five years, or what my strengths and weaknesses were, they led with the dreaded “Tell me about yourself” and ended with “Tell us anything else you think we should know about you”, which stymied me completely. I could not come up with a damn thing, my brainlet being completely occupied with competing thoughts of “Well, you just blew it” and “Haven’t you read my resume and all the forms I filled out?”

I was able to engage them with my own questions, however, which led to an animated discussion as well as compliments on my choice of questions. To wrap it up, they explained that the process would take another four to six weeks, as they checked references and filled out paperwork, etc. I thanked them, wished them happy holidays, and made my way back to Wednesday, where I tried to gather what little remained of my wits before heading home. En route, I discovered that Libby’s is closed for a month, so there went that plan of getting delicious take out for dinner.

Arriving home, I emailed my friend and co-worker Erin, who was my jobette reference, to ask her if we could meet up today. She responded that her schedule was crazy with her kid out of school, so could we chat on the phone? I said yes, and when she called, I explained that I had applied for this county job and she might be hearing from them in the next four to six weeks. They had already called her. We both started laughing because it was so ridiculous. I apologized for blindsiding her – I know how much I enjoyed being blindsided earlier that day – and she said no problem. She knows that my paychecks end in February, I don’t qualify for unemployment, and that the jobette can’t pay me enough to support my fabulous lifestyle. I know she just wants what’s best for me, but I still feel bad about it.

I’m guessing that if they called my references the minute I left their office, I didn’t do as badly as I thought. We’ll see what happens…

A YEAR AGO: Jarrett’s birthday surprise.

Looks like we have weathered the storm! Power stayed on at my house – undoubtedly because Mark lent me his generator before taking his family to Mexico for a month – no trees crushed anything or anyone and nothing leaked. Apparently the rest of the country is mocking us for freaking out about the storm, since they have real weather. Sometimes I think the best thing about winter is watching it on TV from California, so maybe we deserve the teasing. Much was made about our rushing to make sure our various electronic devices were charged (true in my case) and debating over what to call the storm (less so). Rainpocalypse? Stormageddon? Hellastorm?

Tweets included:

“Is that the sound of a light sprinkle or is it just the east coast laughing at us?”

“Portland is laughing at you.”

“#BayAreaStorm warning: you may see small droplets of water falling from the sky. They are dangerous. Do NOT approach.”

You can see more here.

Meanwhile, back in Hooterville, it was a wild and windy night. I was awake during the worst of it, from 2 to 5 am (the worst part of any night, really), listening to the torrential rain and howling winds. I kept expecting the power to go out, but it didn’t, even as lightning flashed across the skylight. Clyde was sleeping happily against my legs, Audrey on my bedside table (her latest and most inconvenient spot yet, tending to scatter library books and alarm clock with abandon), and Roscoe was curled against me, trying to keep me calm. Storms make me nervous.

In the morning, the rain gauge was filled to capacity, which is 5 inches, so there may have been even more rain than that. The purple honeysuckle on the side of the house had blown over as usual, but nothing else in the garden seemed to be damaged.

The river flooded and closed the highway to the city, as you can see in the picture above. Even after the waters had receded, it remained closed as crews removed river slime and downed trees. There were a few mud or rock slides and power did go out in some places in the area, but on the whole, it wasn’t as bad as predicted, and I’m fine with that.

A YEAR AGO: ‘Tis the season.

Gloomy morning to you! It’s the calm before the storm.

The weather seers are calling for the worst storm in a decade, with high winds and torrential amounts of rain (6 to 8 inches in a 24 hour period). It even has its own hashtag on Facebook. The National Weather Service is predicting that the highway will flood this afternoon and cause the powers that be to close it. Speaking of power, we may not have any a few hours from now, which is why I have the Christmas tree on and sparkling while I can:

Also it’s cheery in the gloom.

I wasn’t intending to put the tree up this year. It’s 65 years old or more (time to retire?), very sheddy, and a little on the Charlie Brown side, as you can see. I was going to get some branches of greenery, put the ornaments on them, and put it on the table, but I realized that table space is at a premium, and I need somewhere to put the stockings.

So I hauled the tree down from the storage loft and put it up, then wound lights along the banister:

I went with non twinkling white lights this year, and I really like the look and the glow. The colored lights went out on the balcony:

Christmas lights look better with a palm tree:

And finally, the wreath that matches the tree went on the door:

So the house is as ready for the holidays and the storm as I can get.

When I was driving to and from the jobette yesterday, it was hard not to be both mesmerized and terrified by the ocean, which was spectacular with crashing waves and high surf, but that terrible beauty usually heralds a storm and a half. Stay tuned!

A YEAR AGO: It was a lot colder, with frozen pipes and water buckets.

Of the many delights of finally getting some real rain (not having to water the garden; not feeling guilty about either watering or not watering the garden; frogs singing; making a dent in the drought), driving and walking dogs are not among them.

As you all know, I’m not one of Nature’s drivers, even in the best of circumstances, and I think we can all agree that pouring rain on rough and curvy roads are not the best of circumstances. Visibility was poor enough and the rain was pouring enough the other day that my back was aching from tension by the time I got home from the jobette. On the bright side, though: no power outages yet.

At Megan’s house, the dogs were bored out of their minds, while yet not wanting to go outside into the suboptimal weather. Megan had to drag them outside for necessary business, and they tried to get back inside as soon as possible. Once inside, they immediately expressed their boredom by sighing, getting in the way as much as caninely possible, and generally making a nuisance of themselves until Megan gave them bones to chew, which is the dog equivalent of sitting your kid in front of the TV.

We took advantage of a break between storms to get the dogs out of the house and hopefully get some of the naughtiness out of the dogs. We headed for the Headlands, overlooked by the village:

Ravens wheeled lazily over the ocean:

I love to watch them waft lightly in the air currents, like they’re surfing on the air.

Stella watched them with me. One of the surprising things about Stella, who does everything 150%, 150% of the time, is that she likes to watch birds, butterflies, and the ocean:

We enjoyed watching the waves together, and I enjoyed watching Stella gaze at the scenery with her golden eyes. We caught up with Megan and Star, and watched a little girl fly a kite with her father before heading back to the car.

At Megan’s house, we attacked the carcass of Turkzilla together, removing the remaining meat and breaking it up to make broth. While the broth was brothing, we made a turkey pot pie, Megan making the roux and sauce while I cut things it up. It was nice to be cooking together in her little kitchen with the fire roaring, the rain falling outside, and the dogs napping on the couch. It was a great day, full of simple pleasures.

A YEAR AGO:

A long day heading home from San Francisco.

Weather’s coming

On my way to the jobette yesterday morning, I passed Michael on the Ridge. Michael is the older gentleman who used to live on the same property as Lichen until the place was sold and everyone was kicked out summarily. Michael is a Hooterville institution, riding his bike or hitch-hiking everywhere, and was a big help to us in the Schatzi search last year, since he could cover a lot of ground while not being in a car. Today, he was walking Groward on the other side of the road, which was the way I was driving, so I turned around and asked him if he needed a ride. He said no, he was almost home, since he had found a new place. He thanked me for turning around and waved at me and blew a kiss as I headed off again. I’m so glad that he and Lichen have both found good places to live.

While at the jobette, I got a call from the County asking me to come in for an interview on December 17. They suggested 8:30 am, but remembering that epic early morning drive with Megan, I asked for something later, and we settled on 11:15 am. Things definitely move slowly here in fairyland. I applied for this potential job more than two months ago, and they’re holding interviews a week before Christmas. I hope it’s not pouring that day, the way it is today. Though thankful for rain, I will never enjoy driving in a downpour.

On my way home, I was driving down the straightaway leading to Van Damme State Beach*, just as a young deer thought it was the perfect time to stroll nervously across the highway. I slowed down and watched the deer’s progress. Mindful of the “never just one” rule, I waited, and sure enough, the deer’s friend decided to join her on the other side of the road. Like her friend, she was both skittish and not in a hurry, qualities that may not help them in later life. It gave me time to admire my favorite view on the coast, though, and the deer were unharmed, so everyone was happy.

You never know what you’ll find or who you’ll meet around here!

*I love it that there are state beaches. And national seashores.

A YEAR AGO:

Suzylocks and the Three Cars.