Suzy Says

Of course, the September Issue is the most-anticipated of the year – and the heaviest. This year’s tome couldn’t fit into my size zero mailbox, a phenomenon unfortunately familiar to most women, “Vogue” readers or not.

I loved a lot of this year’s clothes. Jessica, Erica and I oohed and aahed over them on Saturday. I’ve been reading “Vogue” since I was in high school, yet the prices for the clothes never cease to shock me.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Love the color of this sweater, a completely affordable $70 from J. Crew (one of our stylish First Lady’s faves), and the contrast with the lace skirt, a less affordable $1,490 by the eternally elegant Carolina Herrera.

I would kill for this Louis Vuitton skirt. Well, fold, spindle or mutilate. A mere $2,865 for acres of silk taffeta gorgeosity. And just the thing to wear to the library! Or the Safeway.

I like the coat, but I love the Chanel bracelets with the camellia motif La Coco loved so much. Enamelled metal and resin, and $2,350 and $1,490.

Carolina Herrera strikes again with this fabulous confection of highlands meets flamenco. It would look great with a black leather motorcycle jacket. $7,590 to find out.

I am in love with this Chanel coat – the Empire waist, the witty shape and texture. And the sleeves are the perfect length to display the camellia bangles. Since you’d wear it all the time, it’s really a steal at $8,380.

What’s not to love about strapless tweed? Louis Vuitton corset top and skirt, $2,440.

So what if you never go to the opera? You still need Barbara Tfank’s poison green bow-back satin opera coat. Your exit will be as memorable as your entrance.

Despite having no maternal instincts whatsover, I seem to have been baby-sitting a lot lately.

On Friday, I looked after Star for about half the day, giving me time to get work out of the way before settling in to watch “Love Story”. Star and I agreed on how romantic the snow looked, not to mention how cute Ali MacGraw’s hat was, and wondered why they never put the top up on their convertible, even when it snowed. When I had one, I have to admit that I had the top down unless it was actually raining, but I would have drawn the line at snow.

When Rob came home, we all sat in the garden for a while and chatted in the sun before I headed home. If you’re wondering where Megan was, she was called in to work during the day on Friday. When I expressed dismay at her working so soon after finishing her 36 hours of night shifts on Thursday morning, she said it was “only for eight hours”.

Only?

On Saturday, Erica was working at a wedding, so Jessica came for a visit.

She was charmed by the balcony, and kept asking to go up there, despite the fact that there’s nothing on it. Jessica recommends that I get some lounge chairs and an umbrella for next summer, and if I can get Mark to move the wire that’s about a foot off the floor of the balcony, I just might follow her advice. We’ll have a stunning view of James’ junk collection from that vantage point.

We went to see if Mark’s daughters were home, but it turned out the entire family had decamped to the beach, so we played for a while on their playground, swinging on the swing, jumping on the trampoline, and giving Jessica rides on the tire swing zipline.

Back at my house, Jessica looked through my nail polish collection and selected my new favorite, Calypso (“it looks so good with my skin tone!”) and confided her ambition of being a spa scientist when she grows up.

Megan dropped by to say hello, and we all picked huckleberries, which reminded us of how much we all loved “Blueberries for Sal” and how at one point, it was the only book Jessica would have us read to her. I told Jessica that I learned how to read so I could read stories when Dad wasn’t around, but I always hid the books so he couldn’t catch me reading. In case he wouldn’t read to me anymore if he knew I could read by myself. As it happened, he read to me for the rest of his life.

We made muffins from the huckleberries, and in my responsible fashion, I let Jessica eat so many that she was pretty uninterested in dinner. I was concerned about this, and Jessica observed that “You’re the worrier in the family.” Even seven year olds can tell. Later, she asked me for a glass of milk, and I asked her about six times if she really meant it, the idea of voluntarily drinking milk being such a foreign (and disgusting) one.

We watched both Stuart Little movies, and found them charming. I’m sorry to report that Jessica was wide awake when her mother came to collect her sometime after 11:00. Jessica told her mother that it seemed like she was only at my house for seconds, words to gladden any baby-sitter’s heart.

Before

After

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Maybe the crazy gene has finally caught up with me, since I kept trying to make my old camera work, and voilà!

I was actually surprised by how much better the house looks – I guess I’d forgotten last year’s “construction site” look. In the second picture, you can (just barely) see Audrey to the right, and Roscoe running down the stairs.

Next month, it will be a year since I moved here. On the day I moved in, Rose’s daughters and their families scattered her ashes in the ocean. Somehow it seemed like a good omen, an ending and a beginning.

We’re not kidding

Well, Megan completed her first full week back at work on this cold, sunny morning.

While she was off, everyone she worked with called to check in on her, including the janitors. Working the night shift brings you close to your colleagues. They know all about each other’s families, ups and downs, and take care of each other on the job. You can imagine her heroine’s welcome back to work last week.

The board showing who was working each night had her name decorated with stars, hearts, and firecrackers all this week.

While my sister was getting back in the swing of things at work, my brother was ignoring his tooth pain to climb down a cliff and rescue an unwitting tourist who got a little too close to the edge of a bluff. Jonathan said that the guy was “broken”, and when I asked what he meant, he listed both shoulders, ankles, legs, etc. The poor guy must have looked like a marionette. Jonathan got a lift by helicopter to the top of the cliff before they took the rescued man to Santa Rosa. I hope he’ll recover from all those injuries.

I’m so proud of my sibs for making a difference in our little community. There’s something truly inspiring about neighbors helping neighbors.

There’s gotta be more trouble I can get into!

Yesterday, I heard someone outside and went to investigate. It turned out to be Mark, who was here to operate on the new-ish window. He applied flashing to weatherproof it, and topped it off with some weathered boards using a magic compressor nail gun, and it looks great. While he was here, we decided to clean up the lingering construction debris which has been hanging around the house.

He drove over with a little wooden cart attached to his car, and we loaded it up twice with boards, wood, etc.I guess it’s one of life’s little ironies that I finally get the house camera-ready when I have no camera.

That situation will be rectified soon. I ordered a Canon Powershot on line for half price, and hope it arrives soon. I’m already missing valuable days of documenting the kittens, who seem to be growing more every day. Roscoe the Rascal lived up to his nickname last night by climbing up the handles of the drawers in the kitchen.

I finally organized the shelf space in the kitchen. It was a repulsive process, since I mislaid my rubber gloves and had to, you know, actually touch the dirt with my bare hands. In typical James fashion, the shelves are difficult to reach into (I am too short for a house built for and by a man more than a foot taller than I am), so I had to sweep out the grossness before crawling into the space to wash it. Not even Mrs. Meyer’s Lemon Verbena could make that more fun. It does look a lot better, though, and hopefully I’ll be able to supply proof before too long. Now that I can’t take pictures*, everything seems like a photo opportunity!

*I have to admit – I keep trying my camera, just in case. Even though it never works.

Rooftop Roscoe

The boys don’t turn three months old until tomorrow, but they’re celebrating a little early.

I came downstairs this morning to find that they had overturned an entire glass of water onto my terminally ill camera, performing a liquid coup de grace.

Later in the morning, after I let the cats out, I noticed that Roscoe had caught a mouse. After the obligatory scream, I closed all the doors so that kitten and rodent couldn’t come back in. He must have played with it for almost an hour. Finally, he left it on the back deck, and I got a rake to remove it. It turned out to be a mole, which for some reason I found much less horrifying.

I was slicing a bagel when Clyde jumped up on the counter to help me. It can’t be much longer until they jump onto the washer to help themselves to Audrey’s food. They really are growing up fast.

Well, we’re 0 for 3 in the birthday department.

Megan’s birthday barbecue got rained out for the first time in living memory, and was almost immediately followed by a serious knee injury and simultaneous root canal. My birthday continued the rained out barbecue theme, and was capped off by the tragic disappearance of the Beautiful June Bug. When I called my brother on Sunday to ask him about his birthday barbecue, which had definitely not been rained out, he told me that his tooth had blown up in an agonizing manner and all plans were off.

He called the dentist, who agreed to meet my brother at his office after church. Jonathan was in too much pain to drive, so Megan took him in, and acted as the dentist’s assistant, much as she acted as the vet’s assistant when I took the kittens in for their shots. The tooth was drained, and there’s a root canal in my brother’s future. Megan settled him in at home with pudding cups and movies, and later in the evening he called to say he was feeling better, which in turn made us feel better.

Maybe we can have a celebratory barbecue when the root canal is finally over.

The Queen surveys her domain

Audrey may not particularly enjoy her new roommates’ company – the growling and cuffing whenever they cross her path seems to suggest that she does not – but they gave her a boost in dragging me out of bed this morning.

Audrey was, as usual, asking to be let out in the pre-dawn darkness. The boys decided to help her by climbing under the covers and play/fighting against my back, allowing them to squirm around, claw, and bite me in the process. Who says boys can’t multi-task? When one of them shot out of the blankets and clawed my lip as he vaulted over my face, I bowed to the inevitable and headed downstairs.

After I let Audrey out, the boys milled around under my feet as I made coffee. This is their new morning ritual. Roscoe tried to climb up my pajamas as I poured the much-needed caffeine. As soon as I sat down, they raced over to me and climbed onto my chest and shoulders, purring and jockeying for position. They stay like that as long as I let them, making it nearly impossible to actually drink the coffee or type or even read my emails.

Yesterday, Mark came over to work on the endlessly problematic hot water situation. Since he was in and out of the house, I decided to bite the bullet and just let the boys out for a while. I saw them running past the sliding glass doors, chasing butterflies, and wondering what an ant is. If they could talk, I’m pretty sure they would have yelled “Yippee!”

I left the doors open so they could wander in and out at will. Audrey for one was delighted to be able to come and go as she pleased again, and eventually the boys came in and cuddled up in their bed and went to sleep. I’ll try it again today and see how it goes.

When Megan was a baby, one of our father’s grad students moved in with us. His name was Gilbert, and he was from Tanzania. Due to political unrest and other unpleasant things of that nature, his wealthy family was unable to get money out of Africa and into upstate New York.

I’m guessing that his stay with us outlasted his temporary financial embarrassment, since he lived with us for a couple of years. He may even have stayed with us until he graduated and went home.

We stayed in touch over the years, Gilbert-style. No writing, no emailing, just the occasional phone call saying “I’m at the airport – can you pick me up?” or, memorably, “Can you buy a truck for me and ship it? Here’s the money.” Gilbert took Dad with him on safari, negotiating prices for lodging and then explaining to the surprised hoteliers that Dad was his brother. He introduced Dad to the Maasai, who called him “The Old White Man Who Walks Far”. And that was before his knee replacement.

Gilbert sometimes cooked for us – in retrospect, I imagine Dad was quite relieved not to have to cook for seven people every night – and one of our favorite recipes was his Chicken Pilau. I made it this week for our Thursday dinner, perhaps inspired by the very thoughtful gift Megan made for our brother’s birthday. She copied the cookbooks (and accompanying drawings) Dad made for us girls, and made Jonathan one of his own.

Here’s the recipe. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed that little stroll down memory lane.

Chicken Pilau

1 cup white rice
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
2 stalks celery
3 cups chicken stick
Cooked chicken, equivalent to 1/4 bird, cut into pieces
2 sticks cinnamon
15-20 whole cloves
2 tablespoons oi

Chop the onion, garlic, and celery finely. Sauté in large frying pan until tender, increase heat, add uncooked rice, and continue sautéeing until the rice is golden. Stir well to avoid burning. Turn down heat, add chicken stock, and simmer for ten minutes, then add cinnamon and cloves and chicken – this is the recipe of an African friend and there the amount of meat per portion is small. [Note: I just put everything in at once, and it was fine.] Simmer for another ten minutes – when the rice should be tender – or transfer to the oven (medium heat) in closed dish, where it can remain for some time.

Porchscaping

Megan had a good first shift back at work, though it was very busy. Among other things, a healthy, happy baby girl was born. By the time the twelve hours were up, both Megan and her knees were glad to go home. She was also glad that I was on hand to make dinner that night.

Star was a good girl. Even when Erica dropped by for a quick chat, Star didn’t bark at her! Erica stayed long enough for me to admire (OK, covet) her fabulous shoes, and then went to pick up Jessica from school.

Today I had conference calls starting at 6 am. Audrey kindly woke me around 5:00, making the alarm clock unnecessary and me cranky. When most of the day’s work was out of the way, Rob and I put up the hanging baskets you can sort of see in the picture above. It’s hard to see the purple one off to the right, but I promise you it’s there. I also potted the geraniums and marigolds for the pots on the steps. I think it’s a big improvement on the way it used to look:

Today is sunny and beautiful, as it should be for my brother’s birthday. He and Rob will be the same age for two weeks, until Rob’s birthday rolls around on the 18th. Jonathan is working late today, but we’ll have a barbecue for him this weekend. I already have champagne.

I’m so happy that I can celebrate my sibs’ birthdays with them. When I lived in the city and in Oakland, I didn’t want to brave the traffic, since Megan’s birthday is near Memorial Day and Jonathan’s near Labor Day. I still remember getting stalled in traffic on the Waldo Grade after visiting Megan for her birthday. I was there for 45 minutes, my sunburn (I had my 1966 Mustang convertible in those halcyon days) getting redder and my patience shorter by the minute. Now all I have to do is walk across the driveway, or drive less than a quarter of a mile. That’s a much better commute.

Essential baby-sitting equipment

So I’m baby-sitting Star. As previously noted, this consists of avoiding the heat in Megan’s shady house, painting my toenails (Calypso!), catching up on work and correspondence, and also Season 3 of “Gossip Girl”. There may be the occasional Otter Pop, but Star won’t tell.

Between Star and the kittens, I may well become an egomaniac. Or more of one. The kittens greet my ungroomed, uncaffeinated appearance in the morning with joy, barely able to wait for me to pour coffee before jumping on me and cuddling up and purring. I wonder what they’ll do when they’re too big to sit on my shoulder?

Star spent about ten minutes jumping on me, kissing me, and bouncing around after I first arrived. She was so thrilled to see me I could hardly believe it. I honestly think she loves me more than anyone on the planet, and for no particular reason. As I write, she is leaning against my leg. I guess that’s the dog version of the shoulder purr.

It’s been in the 80s the past few days. September and October are often the warmest months of the year. Last night, I slept with the balcony door open for the first time since trapping Audrey inside at night. Rob found a suitable piece of Plexiglas which he fitted above the baby gate he found at the dump, and also found a heavy pottery mold, which he placed against the baby gate to keep Audrey from pulling it out of the doorway. It worked, since she was ready to go out on schedule at 6 am. You can see why I was delighted help him out by baby-sitting Star, though it’s probably literally the least I could do. It’s the Suzy way.

First day at school!*

When Audrey woke me up this morning, I discovered that both kittens were sleeping on me. One of them was lying across my neck with his head on my ear. I’m beginning to understand that old wives’ tale about cats stealing one’s breath – they really like to be close to your face. Audrey still likes to sit on my chest with my nose muffled in her fur.

I let her out at 5:15, even though it was still dark out. I put all the outside lights on and hoped that the predators had clocked out early. Mark mentioned that he saw (and heard) a fox in his yard a few days ago. He lets his kittens in and out, day and night, and they are fine, which I’m trying to think of as an encouraging sign about the safety of the great outdoors. His kittens are about the same age as mine. I bet mine are jealous of his. I’m still going to try to follow Dr. Karen’s instructions and keep mine in for another three months. By then, it will probably be raining and they might be slightly less enthusiastic about the whole idea.

Maybe.

As I write, Clyde is napping on my left shoulder. He was very determined to live up to his nickname today. I put him in Henry’s old bed with Roscoe, and bent over to get my coffee cup from the side table for a refill. Before I could pick it up, Clyde ran up my back and clung to my neck, purring. I carried him with me to the kitchen and poured the coffee. When I sat down to drink it, he settled in and went to sleep.

I hope Audrey gets used to the boys soon. She still sleeps with me, and I make a big fuss over her every time I see her. She’s been out a lot lately, but that may well be because we’re hitting the best weather of the year as well as kitten avoidance. Hopefully they’ll all settle down amicably.

In non-kitten news, yesterday was Jessica’s first day at the local school. When Erica picked her up, Jessica exclaimed, “Mom, that school is a blast!”

*Photo by Erica!

Back view of the vet office

On our way to the vet’s office, I observed to Megan that it seemed early for the Naked Ladies by the side of the road to be in bloom. “They don’t usually bloom until fall,” I said.

“Uh, Suz…it’s September in two days.”

Oh.

I was a little concerned that the kittens would react to the car trip to the vet in the same way they did to the car trip home, and about halfway there, it became obvious that my fears were well-founded. Inspecting the carrier after we arrived, it appeared that there was no damage to the kittens, and only minor damage to the towel inside, which was quickly disposed of by the cheerful technician, Cathy, and inspected by the kittens:

Dr. Karen was amazed by how identical they are. I have to admit I often have a hard time telling them apart. The main difference is Clyde’s bow tie (vs. Roscoe’s dash of white). It turns out that the roof of Roscoe’s mouth is adorably polka dotted and Clyde’s isn’t, but that’s not a lot of help at a distance. They even weigh the same: 3.3 pounds.

Here’s Roscoe examining the examination table:

I was really proud of how good they were. Dr. Karen said they were exceptionally happy and well-adjusted kittens. And yes, their purrs are in fact very, very loud.

It was great having Megan there to hold the kittens and help with the shots, temperature taking, etc. It’s always good to bring along your own EMT to any medical appointment.

The boys took a nap while we wrapped things up with Dr. Karen (she had finally found time to use the massage gift certificate we gave her when she opened the office and loved it):

We’ll be back in a couple of weeks for the next set of the shots. Apparently the entire vaccination process goes on for quite a while, so I’m supposed to keep them inside for the next three months. Can she do it?

Name: Clyde
Nickname: The Cuddlebug
Likes: Food; fighting with my brother; cuddling with the girl; taking it one day at a time.
Dislikes: Being picked up just when things get interesting; having to stay inside.
Personal Ambition: To be friends with the big cat. And world peace, of course.
Quote: “Least I ain’t a liar.”
Fun Facts: Clyde sports a bow tie, and Clyde Barrow was very particular about his appearance, even when on the run. The only cars I have ever owned have been Fords, and Barrow was such a fan that he supposedly wrote Mr. Ford a letter about how great his cars were. To steal, but still.

Name: Roscoe
Nickname: The Rascal
Likes: Food; getting in the girl’s way; chewing on people’s eyeglasses (and hands); finding new ways to get in trouble.
Dislikes: Being stopped from getting in trouble; having to stay inside.
Personal Ambition: To go outside and play. Be all that I can be.
Quote: “A good laugh…is the most worthwhile thing in life.”
Fun Facts: I asked my brother what I should name him, and almost without thinking, he said “Roscoe”. Which I had already told my sister was the name I was thinking of. We couldn’t stop laughing. Also, “roscoe” is apparently old-time gangster slang for a gun. Who knew?

Sharing

It’s 8:30 am, and I’m ready for a nap.

Audrey started demanding to go out at about 4:30. Despite the earplugs, it was almost impossible to ignore her clawing at the door, especially since it was accompanied by howling. Now with extra noise! There was no way I was letting her out in the darkness, especially since my brother’s cat, Twilley, has twice been chased home by a bobcat. My brother’s gun was loaded, but he didn’t get a clear shot, so the bobcat(s) are still out there somewhere.

As if the howling and clawing weren’t enough, the rowdies decided to play/fight all over me, with breaks for chewing on my hands. No matter how many times I pushed them off me, they boomeranged back. Those boys walk all over me – literally. When one of them clawed my lip, I gave up and got up.

After I stopped it from bleeding and retreated to the couch to drink coffee and read my email, they both curled up on my chest, purring and trying to chew my glasses. It made it pretty much impossible to do anything, including writing my near-daily postcards from the depths of obscurity.

I am continuing with my policy of not feeding them when I first get dragged out of bed – especially when it’s due to their naughtiness – so when Audrey slinked home around 8:00, I was almost psychologically prepared for the feeding time fiasco. Almost.

Unfortunately, the boys have figured out that the food is in the pantry. So every time I go there, they immediately stampede underfoot to try and beat me to it. You can imagine how enjoyable this is when making dinner, calling for several pantry trips, or laundry.

Audrey was also there, so they fought and growled and got underfoot. I put Audrey’s food in her dish, and put them both on top of the washer. Audrey hates being picked up* in front of the kittens. She must think it’s undignified.

Then I got the kittens’ food and put it in their dishes, which are currently adding to my living room’s décor, along with the litter box. They came running, and immediately started eating out of the same dish (see above), which is what they always do. They jam their faces into it, then realize they don’t fit, and start taking turns, completely ignoring the other dish until I pick one of them up and put him in front of it.

Then they rush back to the pantry to try and scam some of Audrey’s food. Audrey is far too ladylike to bolt her food, so she always leaves some and comes back to nibble on it later.

Can you imagine what feeding time will be like when they’re big enough to jump up on the washer?

*Actually, she never likes being picked up, even at the best of times. Maybe it’s always beneath her dignity.

Bookends

The boys managed to escape when I let Audrey in for the night. You try and find two black cats in the darkness. And country darkness at that. That’s the darkest kind, you know. It’s the French Roast of night.

I went and got one of the emergency lights I keep on hand for the inevitable winter power outages, along with some kitten food and treats. One of them had raced off into the bushes, and the other was under the house, despite the fact that everyone told me they wouldn’t venture far at this age and would stay close to me.

Yeah.

Eventually, I caught them one by one and trapped them in the bathroom while luring Audrey in. I let her eat her treats in peace for once, and then released the rowdies, who were unperturbed by their evening adventure. Whereas I needed an immediate cocktail.

In non-kitten news, Jessica is now enrolled at the excellent school just down the road. She and her mother completed enrollment yesterday and then came by for a little visit. Apparently Jessica’s reading level is now at eighth grade, though she is just entering second grade. While Erica and the teacher were discussing this, Jessica piped up, saying “Spelling isn’t my strong suit.” You have to manage people’s expectations.

Erica is going to have a mighty long list of people who can pick Jessica up from school. I’m looking forward to spending more time with her.

Playing in the ficus tree is always held in high regard

As I write, one of the kittens is curled up on my left shoulder. They may be the cuddliest kittens ever. They are always climbing up on me and purring. They are also equipped with deluxe power purr.

They are growing up fast. Or my expectations were totally wrong. Or both.

When I first got them, I thought they were too small to get up the stairs. Wrong. They did it the first day. They love playing in the ficus tree on the landing (see above), even when I’ve just watered it. Then they can spray mud and leaves everywhere instead of dirt and leaves. Extra fun! They also walk along the railings as if they were walking across the living room floor.

Last night, I went upstairs to close the balcony door, and arrived just in time to see one of the kittens scale the baby gate and leap onto the balcony. Eeek! I chased him, and caught him as he hovered on the edge, looking down into the garden. So that means no more opening the balcony door until we can come up with some means of keeping the boys in. Fortunately, the fog is back, so it won’t be suffocatingly hot, at least in the immediate future.

This morning, I went to feed Audrey and closed the studio door behind me, foolishly thinking that this would keep the kittens out of her food (needless to say, they are more interested in Audrey’s food than theirs, and vice-versa). One of them shot through the cat flap and raced to her dish. Surprisingly, Audrey just let him eat it until I scooped him up and took him back to his dish. Feeding time just got a lot more challenging.

Yesterday, Megan came up with a bright idea. She had a physio appointment in town, so she suggested that I accompany her to our friend Lu’s house and work there.

Lu’s house has the advantage of being significantly cooler, since it’s closer to the ocean, and also boasts high speed internet (sigh*) which (gasp) actually works. Lu and Rik were at work, so I’d have the place to myself. What’s not to love?

I packed up my laptop and overdue work, and Megan packed up the dogs. They love going to Lu’s, where there are two fenced acres to play on, and (usually) two dogs to play with. It was nice for them to get away from the heat and be able to play, even though their buddies Harlow and Marco weren’t home that day.

Megan made sure I was all set up before she left. It was delightful to sit in Lu’s sunny, spacious kitchen (a delicious 68 degrees, and proof that yes, it can be sunny and not be hot – I’m talking to you, Ma Nature!) and enjoy the speed of the interwebs. I’m used to waiting for things to load in our on-line database, but it was practically instant. I was amazed by how much I got done, and how quickly.

Occasionally, Star wandered in for pets and then wandered out again. I checked on the dogs occasionally, but they were busy doing their own thing, Schatzi hunting gophers and Star foraging for leftover pancakes in the compost. By the time Megan came back, I was finished and much more relaxed. As my father used to say, quoting the immortal Gilbert & Sullivan: “Oh! philosophers may sing/ Of the troubles of a king/ But of pleasures there are many and of troubles there are none/ And the culminating pleasure/ Which we treasure beyond measure Is the satisfying feeling that our duty has been done.”

When we got home, it was getting noticeably cooler. We had a couple of Mike’s raspberry Margaritas while making chicken Caesar salad wraps for dinner. No cooking required!

*Megan says that when I’m stressed or upset, I sigh a lot. I had no idea. I didn’t even know I was doing it. Apparently my sighing on Tuesday was so bad that it inspired her to come up with the Lu’s house scheme. So if you hear me sigh, look out.

Yesterday was a really frustrating day.

I had a ton of work to do – which is supposed to be finished by the end of today – but I was frustrated at every turn by the perfect storm of my internet service provider’s failure to do same, and the “upgrade” of our on-line database, which meant, as upgrades usually do, that nothing worked. I lost track of how many times I called tech support for each provider.

I got nothing done by early afternoon, despite expending a lot of effort.

In addition to these frustrations, and despite Rob’s best efforts, it was 94 degrees in my house. Mother Nature certainly has a wicked sense of humor, what with natural disasters, bugs, and that whole gravity thing. All that complaining about the coldest summer since 1975 inspired her to say, “You want summer? I’ll give you summer!” The temperatures skyrocketed 40 degrees overnight, and smashed records all over the Bay Area.

The boys wilted on the floor, and Audrey was nowhere to be seen, presumably hiding under the house or in the woods.

Megan called to say that she was back from seeing the surgeon in Willits, and was cleared for takeoff on September 1, when she will resume her duties three months to the day after injuring her knee. She suggested that I take a break from my suffocating house and futile work efforts and go with her to walk the dogs on the beach. I opined that it would be just as hot there, and she laughed and said to trust her.

She was right, of course, and the sea breeze was refreshing. Star especially enjoyed frolicking in the water. I’m pleased to report that Schatzi’s leg is completely recovered, though she needs more exercise to restore her splendid musculature. You really would not believe that she is 10 years old.

I checked on the boys before camping out in Megan’s significantly cooler house. Her house is surrounded by trees, so it’s somewhat dark inside and never gets hot. On the other hand, she has to worry about trees hitting her house during winter storms. She and Rob lost six trees this past winter, and one just grazed the edge of the house.

Later, we went to sit in the garden and drink wine. Our brother came by, and we finally had the first barbecue of the waning year where we did not have to wear sweaters. Also, it’s the first time we’ve had dinner together in months. All’s well that ends well.

A simple solution

Yikes. Audrey woke me up around 6:00 this morning, making a really scary howling noise (not to be mistaken for her “get lost, boys” growl, which I am hearing right now as I type this). I came downstairs and found her in front of the sliding glass doors in the living room, her fur and tail all puffed out.

I turned on the outside light, but couldn’t see anything out there, so I went out to see for myself. I expected at least a raccoon, but nothing. In the back of my mind, I hoped it would be June Bug and Audrey was trying to alert me to her return in a cinematic fashion, but once again, real life turned out to be disappointingly unlike the movies.

The boys were concerned (or curious), and kept approaching her, despite the constant rebuffs. Audrey was determined to go out, and I was determined to keep her in, even though her fur had deflated by this time.

I know it’s slightly irrational, and mountain lions and other predators don’t punch their time cards and clock out at 6:30, but I have to wait until it’s fairly light outside before I allow Audrey out.

Imagine how much fun it’s going to be keeping three of them in the house all night.

It’s already bad enough keeping the boys in during the day. About two days after their adoption and baptisms, the weather abruptly changed from silvery and cool to sunny and hot. Most people have been referring to this summer as “the summer that never was”, whereas to me it’s been close to an ideal summer, not least because it has kept the wildfires down and my brother out of danger.

One of the many eccentricities of James’s eccentric architectural style is the almost complete lack of windows that actually open. In my house, the only one that opens is in the shower, where, you know, you don’t really need it, especially in winter. The windows in Megan’s house and Jonathan’s former abode don’t open at all. To get any ventilation in our houses, we have to leave the doors open, which is not conducive to keeping cats in. So while I have six doors in the house, I couldn’t open them. Water, water everywhere, but nary a drop to drink!

Needless to say, it was Rob to the rescue.

He came over bearing a wooden baby gate, which he placed in the balcony door, facing west. A couple of minutes later, he appeared at the sliding glass doors of the living room (facing east), and put a metal grid in it (see above). The metal grid used to be outside the pantry door, to scrape boots on in the winter, but it makes a great screen. He then got a ladder and turned the switch on the ceiling fan so it supposedly cools the air*. He found the baby gate at the dump, so everything was free! Also, I hadn’t said a word to him about it, but I guess it all comes of his knowing me for most of his life.

*I can’t tell the difference, but I also couldn’t tell that it drew the warm air up in the winter, so maybe it’s Me. Where there’s no sense, there’s no feeling, as my grandmother used to say.