Suzy Says

You’d think I was still in Hooterville, getting up at 6 am for an 11 am photo shoot. But I had my reasons.

I am slow to get going at the best of times, and on this particular morning, I had to make Self look more presentable than usual, since the main purpose of the trip to San Francisco was to get professional photos taken of Boss and Self for our in-progress website. After putting on make-up and once again being thankful for learning how to do this quickly and well from makeup artists back in A’s modeling days, I called a cab and went out to meet it around 7:30.

The cab appeared sooner than I expected, and I was off to Drybar to get a blowout. I’m not that great at doing my hair, so I followed Megan’s advice and let the professionals do it. I figured, if I have to live with this picture for posterity – or at least the next few years – I should look as good as possible.

Drybar was delightful. I was immediately provided with cucumber water and taken care of by a fabulous gay guy, of which there is a total shortage in Hooterville. No-one can make a girl feel prettier – and in this case, look prettier, too – than a fabulous gay guy. I sat at a long white bar accessorized with dishes of candy and a flat screen TV playing “Dirty Dancing” (Jennifer Grey with her original nose! The ever-gnomish Patrick Swayze! Kelly Bishop before she was Emily Gilmore!) with captioning on, so you could follow the movie over the whir of hairdryers.

My stylist even hailed a cab and opened and closed the door for me, which I love. Talk about full service! My shiny hair and I made our way to BART. As I walked onto the platform, the train I needed was whooshing into the station, saving me a 15 minute wait. As I settled into my seat, I texted Boss to tell him my ETA. iPhones can be useful.

I knew I had an hour long train ride ahead of me, so I was equipped with a book, but when it went above ground, I looked out of the window from time to time. I have been away from Civilization for so long that burned out, graffitied buildings and swooping cloverleafs of highways and herds of cars and acres of cement are as foreign to me as the moon now.

Boss picked me up at the BART station and we drove to the photographer’s studio. She is Boss’s neighbor and a total sweetheart. She has been taking pictures since she was a child, and you could tell she really knew her stuff. Although I have known Boss for nearly 20 years, it was a total revelation to me when he told the photographer that his father was one of the very first medical photographers.

I don’t photograph well, in my opinion. I’m not saying that in the hopes of being contradicted. There have literally been two pictures ever taken of me that I liked: one when I was 3:

and one when I was 40:

This is not a good average. I hope these will turn out well, since as I mentioned earlier, they will be there for posterity, or at least the next few years, which may well be the same thing in internet terms.

As we left the studio, it occurred to me that this may well be the first time I have ever had a professional portrait taken. My parents may have done one when we were kids, but I don’t remember it, and I didn’t have professional photos of my wedding, graduation, or anything like that. Maybe having a professional is the secret to a good photo?

After our photo session, Boss and I went to lunch, and then stopped by to see his lovely wife at the hotel she manages. It was so great to catch up with them and spend some time together. We hugged goodbye at the BART station, and as I rode the train back to San Francisco, I thought how lucky I am to have a boss who is also my friend. I’m hoping this year will be kinder to us.

The Legion of Honor (or, to use its full title, The California Palace of the Legion of Honor) is one of my favorite museums in San Francisco. It may actually be my favorite. Its setting is beautiful, overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge:

and it is lovely and classical:

a little jewel box for a small but good collection. Despite the long trip, it refreshed me just to be there.

Speaking of long trips, the Lincoln Highway, which turns 100 this year, ends at the Legion. It starts in Times Square, and was the first road built across the country specifically for cars:

Going to the museum late on a Wednesday afternoon is the perfect time to go. It’s not crowded, and you can stop to admire the conservationists, hard at work restoring 18th century French gilded wooden doors:

The exhibit I went to see was called “Royal Treasures from the Louvre”, which focused on the lovely possessions accumulated by the Sun King, Louis XIV, who we can thank for the beauty that is Versailles, through to the ill-fated Louis XVI and his Queen, Marie-Antoinette.

As usual, the things I liked most were not available either in postcard form or in photos on the museum’s website, and the public is forbidden to take pictures. I loved the gold and diamond snuffboxes; a cabinet inlaid in a zigzag pattern that surprisingly opened up to a writing desk, glass fronted bookcase, and a plush footstool; a pair of deep turquoise Chinese porcelain vases set in bronze and swagged with delicate chains, belonging to Marie-Antoinette; and a silver tureen graced with silver pomegranates, twigs, and leaves. One of the pomegranates was split open to reveal its silvery seeds.

I love how these patrons of the arts were able to find artists who made every day, useful objects works of art, such as Madame de Pompadour’s gold and ivory coffee grinder:

Madame de Pompadour was Louis XIV’s favorite for many years. When she died at a still youthful 42, he watched her coffin being carried from Versailles in the rain with the wistful words, “The Marquise will not have good weather for her journey.”

Miniature of Louis XIV, the Sun King, with huge, original diamonds:

Amazing that the diamonds survived the anti-monarchy frenzy of the Revolution.

Louis XIV was a great collector what he called “gemmes”, semi-precious stones carved into bowls, pitchers, and cups, set with bronze and jewels and sometimes enamelled. Here is an agate ewer set with enamel and gems:

This is Marie Antoinette’s inlaid rolltop desk from the Tuileries:

Many people don’t know that Louis XVI was in the process of creating a public museum to display the beautiful objects his he, his grandfather, and father had amassed and commissioned, when the Revolution broke out. The Revolutionaries got all the credit, and the fact that it was Louis’ inspiration was forgotten.

Monday marks the 220th anniversary of Louis XVI’s execution, and it has just been discovered that some of his blood was preserved, proving the legend that someone dipped their handkerchief in his blood and preserved it in a gourd to be true.

Truth really is stranger than fiction.

This “day” madness will have to end at some point – how did this happen? – but in the meantime, I’ll just go with it.

The sunny days have continued in Hooterville, and in Northern California, sunny days mean cold, starry nights. Lately it’s been below freezing every night, from 28 to 26. The orchids basically live in the bathroom now, and the cats sleep with me every night. Roscoe is the only one who sleeps under the covers with me, and sometimes I hold him like a teddy bear, and sometimes I have the luxury of feeling him stretched out along the length of my back.

And sometimes he bites me.

Relationships are like that.

This morning I got up in the pre-dawn darkness, partly due to my inability to sleep well when I know I have to travel, and partly because of the Evil Genius demanding to go outside.

I packed up Miss Scarlett, and let the motor run for about 10 minutes to get the hard frost melted enough to scrape off the windows. I drove carefully on the icy Ridge, as warned by Megan, and there were several “ICY” signs on Highway 128, replacing the usual (for this time of year) “FLOODED” ones. I almost pulled over to take pictures of the frozen grass and frosty trees – and the frost burning off the trees, looking like smoke – but I had a date.

A date with a Genius.

It all started when I decided – probably foolishly; technology has been turning me into something of a Luddite, if a Luddite can have an old version iPhone – to upgrade my operating system. I still have House Cat, or whatever OS it was 7 years ago. When I was in the City two weeks ago, I asked about upgrading my OS and learned that I had to order discs. Yes, actual discs. The entire disc concept is so antiquated that the Apple stores themselves no longer carry them.

Getting the discs delivered was not all that easy, either. I had to have them sent to the property where I live, instead of the mailbox. Things that arrive by UPS or FedEx are delivered to a semi-decaying shack, so I stuck my “please leave it without signing” notice and hoped for the best. The package was there on Tuesday night.

I tried to install it after I got home, but I discovered that there was a disc stuck in the drive. I tried everything, but alas, nothing. I made an appointment with a Genius at the Apple Store in Santa Rosa for Wednesday at noon. I left the house at 9:15 and arrived at the Apple Store about fifteen minutes early. The Genius took my aged MacBook away to fix it, and appeared half an hour later with the disc and my MacBook in his hands.

Cost: nothing, including parking.

I have to say: I am so unused to malls at this point that I almost died when I stepped into Macy’s. The entire mall seemed to be suffused with perfume. Ugh. It was horrifying. On the other hand, the Apple store made me want to buy everything. I totally covet the MacBook Air, but I’m not too crazy about the black keys.

I grabbed some lunch – or breakfast, or both – traveling makes me nervous, and I hadn’t eaten, and then got back on the road. Somehow, it was after 3:00 by the time I got to the modest motel, but I knew I had to keep going and get to the Legion of Honor exhibit that I missed on my last visit two weeks ago. Sitting down would have been fatal at that point, so I got back in the car and drove there.

I will address the visit tomorrow. I ended up driving back to the modest motel in rush hour, past my not so modest former apartment. I forced myself to go and get a coffee from Notes from Underground, thinking that I would rather do it then than 6 am tomorrow.

My plan for tomorrow: get up at 6 am, caffeinate, take shower, put in contacts and put on make-up, take cab to Drybar to blow out my hair; another cab to BART; meet my boss; get photos done. Eventually take BART back.

Wish me kitty-free luck.

On Saturday, Jessica woke up later than Audrey: about 7:00, when the sky is thinking about daytime but hasn’t really woken up yet.

I let Audrey out and started coffee before I heard Jessica’s voice wishing me good morning. We took our time waking up, Jessica looking through my jewelry collection and asking the occasional question while I caffeinated and read my fan mail. I am not quick at getting it together in the mornings, and some days I never do*.

Some of Jessica’s observations:

On Audrey: “She’s something of an evil genius, isn’t she?”

I asked Jessica if she thought it was light enough for the boys to go outside, and she said, “They’re cats. They’ll find their way.”

On the Tooth Fairy (Jessica lost two teeth over the holidays): “I think she melts down the old teeth and gets rid of all the icky stuff, and then makes them into new teeth.” A discussion ensued about whether the Fairy had helpers – after all, Santa has elves and provides a similar door to door world-wide service – and why we assume the Fairy is a girl.

We headed to the pool, where swimming lessons had started again. Yay! Once there, we discovered that the Powers that Be had meddled with the schedule, so instead of Jessica’s class starting right after ours, she had an additional 45 minute wait. Sallie, our teacher, is trying to change it back, so I guess we’ll see this Saturday.

Jessica’s response: “My mama always says, ‘Suck it up and deal'”. So she did.

I certainly noticed the three week hiatus as I splashed around. I’d have to say that breathing is still my biggest challenge. I can do the breast stroke perfectly if I don’t have to worry about the breathing part. But I was pretty tired when the class ended. Swimming makes me tired and hungry.

After class, it was time to get dressed and go to work, and the fun was officially over.

Until this Saturday, anyway.

*Today, for example, I forgot to put the gas cap on after I filled the car. I heard it go clunk as I drove away. I put it back on and then noticed a whale spouting in the ocean across the street from the gas station. Later, a visitor told me that she had been tracking this particular pod for years, and that three of the whales in it are tagged.

Weirdsday was followed by Funday.

I went to get my hair cut by the delightful Angelika, the same miracle-working stylist who beautified it in honor of my grand birthday last July. Here’s her little salon:

One of the good things about the iPhone is that I can add a note to her phone number with the directions to her house (go to the 3 mile marker; turn left at the power pole with the orange wrapping, etc.) so I won’t have to ask her every time. Since the looming photo shoot for the work website is the reason for the emergency haircut (not that I didn’t need it), I wonder if I can get my boss to pay for it?

We had a great time chatting and she did a wonderful job. I had just enough time to hop back in the car and go meet Erica and Jessica at our usual spot in the redwoods:

Jessica settled into the backseat with her little bag – she definitely travels light, though she brought four books* with her – and we set off for Hooterville with the winter sun filtering through the canopy of trees. I asked Jessica if she minded if I stopped off at the post office, and she said she didn’t mind, but she’d prefer to stay in the car. Post offices, she said, are boring, much like grocery shopping.

I asked her if it wasn’t fun to help pick out things to cook, and she said “Well, I’m a kid, so I don’t have a say,” which was a good point. It made me wonder all over again why on earth Dad piled us all into the car on Saturday mornings to go to the Victory Market (New York State) or Don’s Shop & Save (Maine) instead of just going by himself. And we didn’t get to pick things out, either. Though we did get to go to the library afterwards.

Back home, we dropped off the car and headed over to Megan’s. She was laying a fire in the stove and chopping things up for pizza. Megan made the pizza while Jessica and I played Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders. Guess who won nearly all of the games?

We happily watched the first Harry Potter movie with the pizza, and later, some candy canes left over from Christmas. They weren’t classic flavored, but they did turn our tongues blue and green, which was even better. After that, Jessica and I headed back to my house, where I had a bed made up for her on the sofa. I left the heater on for her – I didn’t think it was fair to make a kidlet wake up in a 42 degree house, and I must say that it was pretty nice waking up to a warm house in the morning.

It was pretty nice to wake up to Jessica, too.

*A nice selection, too: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland; Matilda by Roald Dahl; The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and a Nancy Drew, The Bungalow Mystery. I’m glad that Nancy Drew still holds her eternal appeal, more than 80 years since they were first published.

When I arrived at work on Wednesday, my co-worker Erin told me that when she arrived at work that morning, she found both front doors unlocked. There’s a door that leads to the lobby, and another door that goes into the shop/office. Erin went in and called out, looking for intruders. Fortunately, no-one had decided to set up camp in our bathroom or steal our computers – or the many bottles of wine in the conference room – but we both found it unnerving.

We had left together with a couple of the guys still there the night before, and apparently they didn’t think to check the doors before they left by the back door that leads to the alley where we park our cars.

Speaking of the alley: when I went out at lunch, there was a police car in the alley, blocking my car with its lights on and windshield wipers going. A glance down the street revealed the police themselves trying to wrestle a screaming person to his or her feet outside of a bar. By the time I came back from bringing Monica glossy magazines and a bag of food for the rescue dogs, they were all gone. I was glad that Megan wasn’t at work, since I’m pretty sure they were headed to the ER.

Then I got the email from my boss telling me about the repeat performance in the city next week (though having said that, he still hasn’t made the appointment with the photographer and/or told me about it, so stay tuned).

All in all, a pretty weird day, all the way around.

When my father died, all I wanted was to have him back. But I knew that if that wish were granted, it would be in a horrifying Monkey’s Paw manner – he would be an autopsied zombie knocking at my door instead of the delightful companion who walked with me on the moors, enjoyed the artwork at the Hermitage, cooked the best food I ever ate, knew his wine, and still told Pooh stories.

I have always loved children’s books where magic becomes part of the every day life of otherwise ordinary-ish kids, such as the wonderful work by E. Nesbit and Edward Eager, but even as a child (and while enjoying these books), the whole three wishes set up struck me as silly. All you have to do is wish for as many wishes as you want, and use the second wish to ward off the possible Monkey’s Paw consequences. Then you still have the third one in reserve, not to mention all the unlimited ones.

I’m sure there is some secret condition that makes sure you get the Monkey’s Paw and not the unlimited wish-filled life of bliss, though.

So, as the old saw says, be careful what you wish for…

When I said that I was having a hard time getting back into my routine, someone heard me and decided to throw me a curve ball, in the form of my boss/partner telling me that I have to return to San Francisco next week.

Since we are trying to grow our business, we really need a good website, and part of this new and improved website will be our bios and accompanying professional photos. Boss suggested that I get the photo taken this week. He was astonished to learn that there are no such photographers in the Big Town, which also has no dry cleaner, for example. He said he’d set up something in the distant East Bay town where he lives, so I will have to take a day off from the jobette (with no pay) and drive back to the Bay Area next week.

We’ll go together to the photographer, and it will be good to see him. We were supposed to get together when I was there last week, but his 90 year father had health issues and Boss had to fly to his bedside back East. So it will be good to see him, and I might get to see the exhibit at the Legion of Honor which I did not get around to last week despite my plans. I’m not looking forward to doing that drive again so soon, though.

It’s been hard getting back into the swing (or routine) of things. I took New Year’s week off, and although I worked five days in a row starting on Boxing Day (which doesn’t exist here – as soon as Christmas is over, it’s back to work for you!), I only worked from 11 to 4.

While I was working 11 to 4, I couldn’t help thinking that I could get used to those hours. It was light out for driving, and I could do things like go to the post office and grocery shop before work. Normally the post office is closed both before and after work, and I try to squeeze grocery and drugstore shopping into my half hour lunch break. So it felt kind of luxurious.

Then I had the whole week off the week of New Year’s, and spent most of it in San Francisco. Clearly I also spent most of it sleeping in, because I was kind of shocked by how dark it is at 6:30 am these days. I have to wait until nearly 7:30 to let the boys out, the poor things.

On the other hand, the sun is setting later, so it’s not totally dark on the way home, which is a total bonus.

It’s a Hooterville morning

Well, I’m pretty sure the kitties missed me.

Clyde climbed on me and purred, Audrey sat on my lap, and Roscoe cuddled up to me on the couch on the evening I got home from the city. They all slept with me that night, and in the morning, Audrey, for the first time in her life, did not start campaigning to be let out in the early morning darkness. She actually stayed in bed until I started making coffee, when they all trailed downstairs for breakfast. I could get used to that.

Good thing I didn’t, though, because Audrey was back to her old ways this morning, pounding on the balcony door and scritching her claws against the glass. Not to mention swiping at me with her claw-y paw. On the other hand, they hung out with me most of the afternoon. Something about the way they napped seemed kind of relieved.

This morning, I took down the Christmas decorations, putting them carefully away in boxes for the next 11 months. I vacuumed all the fallen fake tree needles, and I have to admit that the house looks a lot bigger, though a lot sadder, without the holiday decorations. I decided to keep the blue and white porch lights up for now, partly because I need something festive, partly because they match the wind chimes, and partly because I can.

Evening on Market Street

What else would a girl with freshly manicured nails do but take her car to the salon?

I know that cars don’t get as excited about primping as certain girls do, but I thought it would be a good opportunity to take Miss Scarlett to the car wash which used to take care of my Mustang, Josephine. This is the only picture I could find of Josephine, and it’s teeny:

When I upgraded to WordPress I lost most of the picture links in old entries. You win some, you lose some.

The car wash was super busy as always, despite it being the middle of the day and the middle of the week:

I could have gone to the barber shop while I waited:

When they were finished, the car looked as new as a 16 year old car with 118,000 miles on it can look. All the gravel, pine needles, and puff dust were magically gone, and they had even shampooed the seats. They put what looked like plastic dry cleaning bags on the seats just in case they weren’t dry enough.

I know the dazzling shine and clean wheels won’t last long once I get home to Hooterville, but hopefully I can maintain the interior. At least until my next trip to Civilization.

I drove the shiny car to the East Bay, where I met up with our IT person to get…a brand new iPhone!

It was a free upgrade and is the version 4, not the latest 5, but free is free. Now I just have to learn how to use it. One thing that will be great is that texting will be a lot easier. I am terrible at texting on flip phones. It takes me so long that I can usually call the person 5 times in the time it takes me to enter one text.

It will be much better to just type in the texts, especially since you can send texts where there is no cell service, and there are a lot of places in the Hooterville environs where there is no cell service. For example, there is none for the 65 miles between Cloverdale and Hooterville, so if the car breaks down or something, I could at least text my sibs for help, since I can’t call for it.

On my way back to the modest motel, I stopped off to do some shopping, and ended up not buying anything, but I did take the time to admire a festive cable car:

I was really surprised by how long the line was for cable cars, even now the holidays are over, and remembered all over again why I so rarely took them when I lived here.

My plans for today are: breakfast at Polker’s; a trip to the Legion of Honor to admire the Treasures of the Louvre; and home again in the bright sunshine.

Good morning, Polk Street!

Well, I started the new year off right by heading to San Francisco on New Year’s Day.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, the sky the clear, arching blue you only get in California. The sun peeked through the canopy of the ancient redwoods as I drove the long and winding road to Civilization, past the fields blazing green with winter rains and dotted with snowy white lambs, and the vineyards dreaming of summer. My heart lifted as always at the sight of the majestic Golden Gate Bridge and the first glimpse of the beautiful city, its pastel buildings tumbling down hills toward the brilliant blue Bay.

I settled into my modest motel in my old neighborhood. It’s a few blocks from my first apartment here and just around the corner from my last apartment, which just sold a few months ago for half a million dollars more than John and I paid for it. Maybe we should have held onto it…

I ordered dinner from my old friends at Lemongrass and went to sleep virtuously early, to the familiar sound of fog horns and the hum of the city.

I woke up to sunshine and the wild parrots wishing me good morning. I made my way to Polk Street and did a little delightful shopping, including a card for a friend whose second son was born on Christmas Eve and a birthday card or two. After getting my nails done (appropriately enough, OPI’s “Sweet Memories”) at my cheap and cheerful nail salon, I sat at a little green table outside the French bakery and had a prosciutto and fig sandwich on a freshly-baked walnut baguette, enjoying the sunshine and the passing crowds. Also the “dog parking” sign:

Tomorrow I’m heading over to Berkeley to meet up with our IT person to get…an iPhone. Wish me luck figuring it out!

Farewell, 2012

It’s really fun going back and seeing what happened during the year, even if it wasn’t that great a year, like this one. Pay cuts and grand jury summons do not make for a good year. Hopefully the new one will also be improved.

Power outages: 6, including one in October due to someone driving into a power pole at 8:30 am – go figure – and two from a big storm in late November.

Rainfall: 24.20 inches for the season so far, vs. 11 inches this time last year.

Books read: 103 (vs. last year’s 118). Working more means reading less.

Favorites this year were Damien Echols’ astonishing, moving memoir, Life After Death; Gillian Flynn’s clever Gone Girl; William Landay’s surprising Defending Jacob; James M. Cain’s just-discovered final novel The Cocktail Waitress; Jess Walter’s Beautiful Ruins; and the beautifully written and moving Stoner (it’s not what you think).

Trips to San Francisco: 3. I went 4 times in 2011, but one of those was to keep Megan company while Rob endured more spinal surgery, so that doesn’t really count. I’m starting the new year off right by heading to San Francisco tomorrow morning for a few days to meet up with my boss/partner and make some plans for the future. And maybe do some shopping…

As for this year:

January: Hockey, Suzy-style. Little did I realize there wouldn’t be any when October arrived. Or December, for that matter. The case of the ransomed Christmas cards. Ordeal by utility company. Technological difficulties. Why I’m here. Outs & ins. One man’s trash…an unexpected visitor.

February: Cops and a movie! Third power outage of the season. Musing about one grandfather…and another. Coffee break. Finally, a break for Rob! In which our heroine learns that she is just as annoying as everyone else. Maybe more. A surprise wedding.

March: Small town moments. Home repairs. A visit with Jim (and other things). Dad’s 81st birthday. A date with my family. Getting a jump on spring. Suzy the screwup. Surprise present!

April: Megan’s new (to her, anyway) car! Mom’s 80th birthday. Spring planting. A rainy trip to the City. Impersonating a responsible adult. San Francisco storm. A lovely last day in the City. Jessica’s ninth birthday. The arrival of Digit, the Office Cat. Kitty update. A girls’ day out. With my favorite girl.

May: A new (well, to me) couch! My 12th blogaversary, among other things. Festive. A dilemma. License to drive. Scarred for (or by) life. An eclipse, and other things. Rob’s epic trip to see his Mother one last time. My considerably less epic trip to San Francisco. Farewell to Rob’s Mother.

June: A magical evening with the Beach Boys. Fabulous fifty! An unexpected trip. Birthday party. Dilemma solved. Birth of a garden. A wonderful tour of artists’ studios. The arrival of my first (and I hope only) subpoena.

July: A belated and fabulous birthday present. Erica and Jessica are back! My first crown. Sadly, not the Queen kind, though almost as expensive. The looming trip to Detroit makes my humble home look like paradise. The unlovely itinerary. The trip does not go according to plan. Finally in Detroit. Court of horrors. Home at last. Changes at home and at work. Time for an engine check. The neighbors stop by. A snake in the grass. I mean, house.

August: A quick trip to San Francisco. The splendid pool reopens. My 2,000th blog post. And Roscoe’s mystery injury. A lousy day with a better ending. The 11th anniversary of Dad’s death (post won’t link; it’s August 18). A new home for the adorable Digit (who is very happy there). First day at the new office – and more car problems.

September: The money fairy stops by. First foray into retail, and an update on Digit. Two very sad losses for two very dear friends. A fabulous County Fair. A check up for the Schatz. Could, woulda, shoulda – or not. Appreciating the simple things.

October: A small town moment. A very special event. A great evening with family and friends. Swimming lessons resume. Now with Jessica! The 15% pay cut rears its ugly head. So does winter. An eventful day. The Giants win the World Series again! Oh, and we go to the circus.

November: A happy Halloween. The President is, thankfully, re-elected. This campaign was brutal – I can’t believe we have to go through it again in four years. But I won’t think about that now. A beautiful way to remember. An evening at the theatah. A look around the garden. Some new beginnings. Getting ready for Thanksgiving. A wonderful Thanksgiving. Jarrett adopts the World’s Cutest Puppy.

December: Christmas decorations. Church concert. Getting ready for Christmas. A happy holiday. Lighting up the night.

Thanks for joining me for another year of adventures. I wish you all a very happy and healthy new year!

For a small coastal community, there are a lot of fun things to do around here. Sometimes it’s hard to choose which one to attend, like when I went to Sallie’s choir recital instead of the tree lighting ceremony and lighted truck parade in the Big Town.

Weather can also play a part. The Festival of Lights at the beautiful Botanical Gardens was cancelled several times in late November and early December due to the heavy storms which wouldn’t take the hint and leave. But finally, one clear, starry evening, the time was right for me to stop by and enjoy this winter wonderland.

Come on in through the lighted gate:

Follow yonder star:

The cacti looked so dramatic against the evening sky:

Don’t be afraid of the giant spider:

This weeping willow looked like fireworks to me – a shower of sparks and sparkle:

Looking up through the branches:

One thing I noticed as I wandered around the Gardens is that the lack of ambient light really makes light displays like this stand out. So darkness isn’t all bad, even though I don’t like driving in it. I should be more like Galileo, who said, “I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”

Well, the weather did come in, with days of storms, battering us with thunder, lightning, pouring rain, and hail. But I woke to a sunny day on Christmas Eve, the garden glittering with last night’s rain.

Somehow, it took me all day to get the cooking and cleaning done. By the time the house was ready, Rob was in the garden working on the barbecue, filling it with mesquite and apple wood cut from a long-abandoned tree, and Megan was walking through the secret path between our houses with an apple pie she’d made after planting onions and garlic over on the family property.

Megan started the glaze for the ham (maple syrup, bourbon, apple cider, Worcestershire sauce, etc.) and we discovered that we were short of Jack Daniel’s after that festive Thanksgiving, so we made a quick trip to the Gro and bought beer and bourbon, like total Christmas Eve degenerates.

Back at the house, I attempted to impose some civilization on the proceedings with Christmas crackers all the way from England and bright fruit in Grammie’s star dish:

The table was set with Grammie’s 90 year old, ivory-handled silverware and Nana’s wine glasses, along with the nearly 200 year old Wedgwood biscuit barrel (full of miniature cheese biscuits) and salad bowl and servers, ready for the salad with roasted pears and fresh pomegranate seeds. The mincemeat tarts are on Nana’s glass platter, embossed with the word “Remembrance”:

And I do. I miss my grandparents most at the holidays. I’m glad to use their things and feel like they are are part of the celebrations.

My friend Patrisha’s Christmas card was so wonderful that I had to hang it on the tree:

Things were pretty much under control by the time Erica and Jessica appeared, Jessica wearing soft footed PJs and her mother in a panne velvet skirt with a side slit which she had made herself, accessorized with knee-high motorcycle boots. She’s all about the style.

Before dinner, we watched the traditional “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”. Here you can see Jessica completely wrapped up in the story:

She observed that she looked a lot like Cindy Lou Who “but when I was little”, which is true. It’s hard to believe that in just a few short years she will be a teenager, and probably uninterested in hanging out with her aged aunties. She was delighted with the new bathing suit Megan bought her. We had noticed that her (pink floral) suit was too short for her, and Megan asked her what color she’d like in a new one. She said she wanted a “gothic black one”, and she got one, looking like a blonde Wednesday Addams when she tried it on.

Lichen stopped by for dinner, bringing his own special joy and peacfulness with him. Jarrett (whose puppy now weighs 25 pounds!) and Paul couldn’t make it, and Rose’s daughters were together in New Jersey, so it was much quieter than Thanksgiving, but still wonderful. I love having my family and friends gathered in my little house. I am so lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life.

Weather’s comin’

It was a winter wonderland this morning, Northern California style: hard frost on the grass by the road; the Ridge glittering with frost and puddles frozen. The ocean was shades of pewter and lavender, and the wild, white-crested waves told of storms to come. It looks like we will get another series of storms for about a week, which should be finished in time for Christmas Eve. I hope.

Christmas Eve will be Christmas day for us. Megan got the day off from work, but Jonathan is working. He is going to bring his client to dinner and then head back to work. They are both working on Christmas day, and then I am working until the 30th, so it was Christmas Eve or forget it.

It shouldn’t be quite as busy as Thanksgiving. Paul is staying in Florida after his epic trip home in the wake of Superstorm Sandy. Catrin is visiting her sister and family in New Jersey. I’m not sure if Jarrett (and puppy!) or Lichen will be there, but Erica and Jessica will be. Yay!

I’m pretty much ready. We just have stockings instead of presents – mostly – and last weekend, I went through everything to see if we had enough for everyone, and it looks like we do. It might have been the weekend before that when Megan and I met up with Monica and her crew of cheerful volunteers at the historic Little River Inn to make Christmas tree ornaments.

We brought Schatzi with us, so we could make an ornament with her pawprint in it. She was the very first customer on this beautiful day. Here you can see her with her adoring Megan, after her pawprint was immortalized, Grauman’s style:

Being nearly 15 years old, Schatzi tired pretty quickly of all the ornament festivities, so I took her back to the car, admiring the view on the way:

I have to say, Megan’s careful regimen of food, supplements, and medications have kept Schatzi in remarkably good shape, especially considering that it was nearly two years ago that Dr. Carl told us about her secretly Swiss cheese bones. Nearly every day, she comes prancing by my house in her bright sweater, looking like a five year old dog having an excellent day.

We made an ornament for Jarrett’s puppy, and later I found out that Monica also made them for Roscoe and Clyde:

and Audrey:

On our way out the door, Megan asked me how Monica came up with all these wonderful fundraising ideas, and I said, “Because she’s Monica.”

Decisions, decisions! Last Friday, there was the tree lighting ceremony in the Big Town, to be followed by the Lighted Truck Parade. It was also First Friday, the day that shops and galleries stay open late, and I should have stopped in to see my colleagues, but I had other plans.

Going to church.

It was very possibly the first time I had been to church since my father’s memorial service eleven years ago, and that was in a Quaker meeting house actually built and attended by William Penn. You know, the guy who put the Penn in Pennsylvania. It was nearly 400 years old and beautifully simple.

The church in this case is one of the best known and best loved landmarks in the Village (and is also both a national and a state historic landmark), built in 1867 of local redwood to replace a much smaller building put up a decade earlier. Here’s how it looked then:

And here’s how it looks now:

Fortunately, I had brought my trusty little flashlight, which has taken up its winter residence in whatever handbag from the Suzy Collection that I happen to be carrying. It was pretty dark in the Village, despite the occasional streetlight and the welcoming light from the church’s beautiful windows:

I scored a cushioned pew right next to the heating vent – bliss! – and about 5 rows from the altar. After taking off my coat, I looked around. This was my first visit inside this little jewel box, and it is just beautiful:

I could easily imagine the chandelier and wall sconces lit with flickering candles instead of eletcric light bulbs. It’s hard to tell from this picture, but the cross is beautifully hand carved:

Those are little white paper doves on the holiday decorations.

I was there to see my beloved swimming teacher, Sallie, sing in a choir. In addition to teaching swimming to grown-ups and kids, she is also an addiction counselor, and somehow still finds time to go to practices and perform in a choir. She is the petite girl on the left in the front row:

Sallie is radiant when she sings – she just glows. I told her that after the performance and she said that she loves to sing. It definitely shows!

It was an eclectic program, including spirituals and songs from all over the world, as well as a hymn or two and Christmas carols. For “Ave Maria”, the choir split up and some went into the choir loft:

which produced an ethereal stereo effect for the haunting song. In one of the spirituals, there was a line about how Mary had only one child, which made me wonder how that happened. Assuming Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were real, you’d think that birth control would have been an issue back then.

And although “Silent Night” was my beloved maternal grandmother’s favorite carol, the “Holy infant so tender and mild” part always make it sounds like you’re going to eat him. But I kept these thoughts to my silly, shallow Self (at least until now).

When the performance was over, I greeted some friends and chatted for a while before heading home under the blazing stars. It was a magical evening.

Before

After

Well, the storm kicked our collective butts for about 10 days, dumping 8 inches (20+ centimeters) of rain, taking the power out twice in Hooterville (and keeping it out in the Big Town for a selected few residents for a week), and closing the road to civilization twice as well. Then it blew away, leaving wreckage in its wake, but almost laughably blue skies* overhead:

Mother Nature has a wicked sense of humor.

As you can see, I am going to need a couple of cups of Rob to fix the passion flower vine. It will have to be unwound from the wreckage of the tree and relocated, I think. The purple honeysuckle is still lying beside the house. Its trellis will have to be mended somehow. It braved all the storms last year, but this year it’s been having a hard time. I looked at my blog from this time last year, and I was still watering the garden instead of the Almighty doing it, as my atheist father used to say.

Anyway, we look set for fair skies for the next few days, though that does mean that the nights are pretty cold. It’s been hovering around the 32F/0C mark outside, and the 45F/7C mark inside when I get up in the morning darkness. But it’s like someone has turned up the stars and planets – they blaze and glitter against the black winter sky.

*Sorry about the Batman angle, but I took it from the car when Megan was driving.

The power came back on before I got home on Wednesday night. Apparently the valiant PG&E crews repairing the downed power lines also came across some faulty equipment, which they repaired, though this took some time, and the power was out for about 9 hours.

It then went out again from about 10 pm until 5:00 am. Later that day, my brother came by with his soaking wet clothes from fire calls and put them in the dryer. Apparently someone had called in a burning vehicle right near Megan’s and my address, adding that a “late 30’s male” was at the wheel. Worried that it was Rob, Jonathan raced to the scene, only to find a downed power line and no car or driver or anything burning. The theory is that someone thought they’d get a faster response if they said it was a burning car, and they did, so their naughtiness was rewarded.

This is often the case with grown-ups, kiddies. You didn’t hear it from me.

As I mentioned, the jobette gave me Saturday off due to the ominous weather reports. We also canceled swimming, and it was weird, yet delightful, to sleep in on a Saturday and not have to work or drive to the Big Town or anything. I took advantage of the break to put up Christmas decorations, which I have been dying to do since before Thanksgiving, thanks to North Star Nursery’s incredible Christmas tree display. Megan and I went there to get things like garlic to plant and ended up spending an hour in a holiday wonderland.

Putting up the tree before Thanksgiving is just wrong, as well as taking up valuable floor space when you are expecting a dozen people in your housette, so I waited like the faux adult I am. But I wasted no time in decking the halls before the rain started again.

As usual, I forgot how annoying, sheddy, and hard to put together my vintage tree is until I was actually dealing with it and it was snowing all over the rug. I love having an artificial tree in a house surrounded by trees, but I am seriously considering getting a real live one in a pot next year which I can put outside with its homies when it’s not Christmas.

Eventually I wrestled the tree up:

Like last year, the cats have ignored it so far, but I don’t expect that to last.

I also put up the traditional banister lights:

And this year, I put up lights on the back deck instead of the front balcony, mostly for the selfish reason of being able to enjoy the show from the comfort of my couch:

Last night, the weather folks warned that this third storm would be worse than the earlier two which took the power out both times, and it was pretty scary. The rain was pouring down hard, and the wind was howling ferociously for hours on end. I was up most of the night because it was too loud and unnerving to sleep. Having an unnerved Clyde sleeping on my head and neck didn’t help. Roscoe also did his best to take up as much bed real estate as possible, while biting my hand when I least expected it. I tried putting a pillow over my head when Clyde wasn’t on it, but there was no shutting out the storm’s roar.

This morning, I got up aching and exhausted, feeling about 103 years old, but happy that the power was still on. I was less than pleased to note a three foot wide puddle in the kitchen and an even bigger one in the pantry/laundry room.

Jarrett and Archimedes

The day after Thanksgiving, Jarrett met his new puppy, Archimedes*. Monica met us in the Village, with the puppy, his crate, blankets, a leash, and a package of information.

Everyone who adopts a dog from Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue gets a package of information about the breed – misconceptions, history, facts – and a dog who has been fostered with a loving family and is well socialized and happy:

In addition to all this, there was a letter from the foster family, who just happened to include two of the child artists from the wonderful Farm to Table Dinner in October (if you follow the link, these girls’ painting is the second one, blue and orange). The letter told everything they had learned about Archimedes during his stay with them, and I thought it was a really sweet gesture.

Like so many modern couples, Jarrett and Archi met on line.

One Saturday, Monica stopped in to see me at the jobette, carrying a just-rescued Archi. I fell for him on the spot and took some pictures, which I posted on Facebook in the hopes of helping to find him a good home. Jarrett saw the pictures and fell for the little guy, too.

After spending some time in serious thought, talking to Megan, and checking into daycare and training options, he filled out the application and was approved. I never saw it and still don’t know what his responses were to Monica’s detailed questionnaire, but she is very thorough and careful with every application, so I’m proud of Jarrett for passing the screening all on his own.

It happened that Megan had an appointment set up with Star to see her trainer that day – they meet once or twice a week, weather permitting – and Archi came along. He is a very smart dog, quick to learn, and Star made real progress in tolerating the puppy.

Jarrett and Archi stayed at my house:

and it was fascinating to see how the kitties reacted to the invasion.

Audrey: “You are disgusting. Get out of my house.” ~death glare~

Clyde: “Mommy! Save me! Eeeeek!” ~slept on my head all night~

Roscoe: “Whatever, man.” ~yawn~

*Named for the great scientist, mathematician, and inventor of antiquity. I find it rather delightful that the original Archimedes was from Syracuse in Greece, and Jonathan and I were born in the New York Syracuse. Also our friend Clayton. It kind of seemed like a good sign.

Right before I left for the jobette this morning, the power went off and on a couple of times, and then off. I called PG&E on my cell phone, and was unfortunately the first person to report the outage on this dark and stormy day.

The Ridge’s ditches were full of water and the road all the way to the Big Town was scattered with fallen twigs and even branches. The storm is supposed to go on for next few days, so I may need to borrow my brother’s extra generator.

I called to check on the status of the outage and the recorded voice was discouraging due to “widespread power outages” and said to prepare for extended periods without electricity. At the jobette, they said not to come in on Saturday, since no-one will come in during a driving storm, and it looks like the road will be flooded and closed, so we won’t be able to pick up Jessica and go swimming, either.

At least I can enjoy the warmth and light at the jobette for now.

[Update: Power is back on! And I have a generator and two full cans of gas, thanks to my wonderful family. We are slated to get more storms over the next few days, so I may need them. Stay tuned!]