Suzy Says

Waking up is hard to do.

Some of us don’t even try.

What should I do today?

Morning light

The past couple of nights I’ve dared to sleep in my bed, although for some reason it makes my aches achier. But I couldn’t handle the Elephant Man thing of sleeping partly sitting up on the couch anymore. Why is life full of unpleasant choices instead of, say, one fun’n’easy option? Hmmm?

In the morning, I hobble carefully down the stairs, clinging to the driftwood banister to prevent any further fragility and the girls follow me – or precede me – in their headlong rush to the “front” door. If you’re wondering what the deal is with my irritating quotes (at least they aren’t air quotes!), it’s because the door is at the side of the house. But it’s the one we all use to come and go, including the cats. Except when they use the sliding glass doors in the living room.

I let June and Audrey out before going to make coffee and turning up the spectacularly ineffective propane heater. No matter how cold or wet it is outside, they bound out happily, looking for trouble and fun wherever they can find it. Henry, on the other hand, prefers to huddle by the heater or cuddle up with me as I read my fan mail. He is superbly unperturbed by the girls calling him a mama’s boy.

I have come to know who is coming down the stairs by the sound. June busy and bustling; Audrey light and graceful; Henry has a characteristic drag in his back leg, whether he’s walking or running, probably from a past injury.

Lately, Henry has taken to drinking from my ever-present water glass. June used to be the only one who did it; now they all do. It’s as if Audrey is copying her big sister and Henry figures that’s what inside cats do.

The girls come back in for breakfast, which is the usual mêlée, and then I let them out again. And in again. Lather, rinse, repeat. My sister says, “Cats are New Yorkers at heart – they all want doormen.”

…but it’s not – it’s Fiona!

The Impostor

The Real Thing

Meet Fiona, my neighbor.

She belongs to Rose’s daughter Catrin, who also lives on the property. Fiona stops by whenever she feels like it. Although (or perhaps because) she and June look so much alike, they tend to growl and snap at each other. It’s weird to see mirror images fighting with each other.

I guess I really am the crazy cat lady, with three full-time cats and two part-time ones.

Lucky pays a visit

Meet Lucky, my neighbor.

She was rescued as a tiny baby by Mark and Citlali from the scene of the accident which cost the lives of her mother and brother. They bottle fed the little fawn, and she grew into the lovely scenery-eating lady you see here. Mark and Citlali’s dog, Luna, took good care of baby Lucky, and I’m pretty sure Lucky thinks Luna is her mother and vice versa. Luna is very protective of Lucky, despite the fact that Lucky is about five times bigger, and you rarely see one without the other.

When I first met Lucky, Luna kept trying to get between us until she was sure I wasn’t going to make any trouble. Now I often look up and see the deer and dog, just passing through my garden.

Gertie

Henry and Gertie have switched places. And I feel guilty.

Gertie, an unlovely name for a lovely cat, lived in what is now my house for all of her 13+ years. Even after her owners were gone, she stayed. But once I moved in with my herd of cats, she abandoned the premises, though not completely.

She hangs around, meowing sadly, and I put food, water, and a blanket in the shed. After I feed my cats, I go outside to feed her.

Sound familiar?

She’s supposed to be living with her former owner’s daughter, but she can’t understand that they are gone and she has a new home.

She lets me pick her up, and she purrs happily, but she won’t come in the house. I thought she’d venture in when all the doors were open, but no. I’ve picked her up and brought her inside, but she just runs out again as soon as she can. It’s getting colder lately, especially at night, and we’re supposed to get rain this week, so I’m worried about her.

It seems ironic that bringing an outdoor cat inside basically made an indoor cat an outdoor cat. Though I’m glad to have Henry safe and warm (as I write, he’s curled up next to me on the couch), I’m sad that Gertie is homeless because of me.

Any thoughts or ideas welcome! Leave them in the comments or email me at sjpeakall AT gmail DOT com.

I could have borrowed the title of this post from the title of Haven Kimmel’s delightful memoir She Got Up Off the Couch: And Other Heroic Acts. Yesterday, I performed my own heroic act by getting up off my own couch and accompanying Megan (and, more importantly, Princess Schatzi) to the Mendocino Headlands.

The quaint town of Mendocino is perched on rocky bluffs which jut out into the ocean. The trees there are windswept and bent into fanciful shapes from years of wind and weather. The headlands are bordered by blackberry bushes and rose brambles, and there are trails all along the rugged coastline.

It was a beautiful day, and there was a high surf advisory, so the ocean was even more spectacular than usual. Schatzi bounced happily along, wearing her cozy sweater (pit bulls have very thin fur and really feel the cold. Schatzi literally dances on her hind legs for joy when Megan gets a sweater out for her) and sniffing the exciting smells. I walked along more slowly, careful to look for unexpected rocks and gopher holes. It was good to move again, even if it was somewhat painful. I loved the sea air and the spray on my face and the sun on my aching bones. And the company.

Before

After

You can see that Rob’s been a busy bee. He found two pieces of driftwood and some redwood (the house, including the staircase, is made of redwood) and Suzy proofed the loft over the past couple of days. If I can ever sleep upstairs again, it will be good to know that it’s unlikely I’ll roll off. Once was more than enough, no matter what Jacqueline Susann says.

I’m slowly improving, but still can’t sleep in my bed. For some reason, lying down riles up the bruises on the left and the rib-related injuries on the right. I tried again last night, but ended up dragging my pillows and blankets back downstairs. I propped them up on the couch, where I slept like the Elephant Man for the fifth night in a row. I now fantasize about sleeping on my side in my bed instead of having dinner with George Clooney in Venice.

How the mighty have fallen. Both literally and figuratively.

Speaking of busy bees (and Italy), the bees have arrived. There are 40,000-60,000 of them, and they are Italian Blondes. Megan and I stopped by our brother’s place for a quick inspection. We could smell the honey and feel the heat through the netting on the top of the bee hive:

Now that Rob has Suzy proofed my house, he’s going to help Jonathan bear proof the bees, building an electrified fence around them. While they’re doing that, I’ll start reading “Beekeeping for Dummies”. Will Calamity Suzy and bees be a bad combination? Stay tuned!

Yesterday, Megan and Rob came by, bringing Princess Schatzi for the first time.

Henry declined to appear – he has a dim view of society in general and visitors in particular – and June retreated to the top of the stairs so she could look down on the intruder.

Adventurous Audrey, on the other hand, sat on the leather bench in front of the couch, where Schatzi was sitting between Meg and me. The cat and the dog sniffed each other, but there was no growling or clawing. Possibly all we need to do to settle that little problem in the Middle East is to have the Palestinians and Israelis come to my house. No fighting ever seems to go on here. It’s like a Mystery Spot of peace.

Later, Audrey sat on my lap, napping and purring, with Schatzi right beside me, just inches away.

Post office cows

If you mail me a present – and I hope you do – I’ll pick it up at the local post office, about five miles from my house. It’s in the same building as the hardware store, and beside the grocery store and deli, where you can also get propane* for the house and gas for the car. It’s one of those old school gas pumps where you have to flip down the handle before the gas comes out. I wish it was still accessorized by a team of attendants rushing out to fill ‘er up, clean the windshield, and flirt – those were the days.

Though lacking in gas pump jockeys, it’s not lacking in bucolic charm. Across the road is a field full of cows (see above), and across the highway is the Pacific Ocean. Slightly more attractive than the BART station of death.

Over the post office door is a swallow’s nest, with a thoughtfully provided cardboard shelf underneath. Every spring, there are peeping babies and proud parents greeting everyone who enters the post office.

Post office apples

This time of year, when there’s an abundance of apples, people drop them off at the post office, so those who are apple-deprived can pick them up. Not everyone is as lucky as we are, having a tree to pick apples from and make into pie for Sunday dinner. Last Sunday, we had a barbecue, roasted potatoes sprinkled with herbs (both from Megan’s garden), salad, and apple pie. It was so fun! We have decided that we’ll all have dinner together every Sunday from now on.

*I already got a bill for the tankful of propane. Guess how much it cost? $435! To paraphrase Eric Clapton, she don’t like, she don’t like, she don’t like…propane.

It took a while, but Henry finally decided to venture outside. The weather’s been gorgeous lately, sunny and in the 70s, and I’ve had every door in the house open. I guess Henry finally couldn’t resist. He’s been slinking in and out all day and enjoying the sun. I saw him playing with June, too.

I was surprised that it took him so long to go out, but maybe he felt that he had both been there and done that. Or he thought that if he went out, he wouldn’t be allowed back in. All I know is that we’ve made great strides in our relationship.

When I woke up in pain the other night, I went to sit on the couch, unable to risk the risky stairs (I haven’t been up them since, though Rob is working away at Suzy proofing them). Henry took the opportunity to ask to be petted, which I was happy to do, despite the fact that he kept bumping his head into my book. Eventually, he crawled into my lap and sat there for at least half an hour. Can you believe it?

Well, the adventures in gravity finally caught up with me.

Last night, I woke up in horrible pain on my right (non-bruised) side, around my back lower ribs. I managed to crawl carefully down the stairs, practically howling, and called Megan, who was at work. She asked me a series of questions, and I guess I answered them correctly, though she called our brother (also at work) to double-check with him. They think I might have bruised or even broken a rib or two in my fall, or maybe done something bad to a muscle or two.

It was a long night. Meg called to check in with me several times, and came to see me as soon as she got home, setting me up more comfortably on the couch and giving me still more of her stash of pain meds. She looked at it and couldn’t see any breakage or “lack of symmetry”, so it’s not as bad as it could be, but it sure ain’t fun.

I’m marooned on the couch until she wakes up this afternoon to check on me. Notice that I’m still blogging despite the pain, so maybe I really do have a problem. Is there blogging rehab?

The cats kept me company all night. Henry even sat on my lap for an extended period of time, sleeping and purring. Maybe they were worried about me, or knew something was up. Animals can surprise you. And comfort you.

I have to wonder if there’s some lesson here for me, something I’m supposed to learn from the constant pain and accidents ever since I moved. Any ideas?

Megan and I brought blankets, pillows, etc. with us to Lu’s party, in case we wanted to stay overnight. We didn’t, in the end, and my pillow was my undoing.

I brought it upstairs on my way to bed, but dropped it on the landing at the top of the stairs. Bending over to pick it up, I tripped over a wayward cord and fell to the floor beneath, with a resounding crash.

It was about seven feet, and I managed to break the house, though, amazingly, I didn’t break Self.

When I got up, I saw the hole in the floorboards, plus two long cracks. Rob came over the next day and repaired the hole, so it’s even better than it was (he also hid the cord catalyst), and Mark is going to put up a railing to stop any further gravity-related experiments. I honestly don’t know who was more horrified, Mark or me. I felt like the Worst Tenant Ever, smashing a big hole in the floor after living here about a week, and Mark felt terrible for not putting up the railing sooner. We all knew it was dangerous, but we reckoned without the powers of Calamity Suzy.

So other than being incredibly embarrassed and spectacularly bruised, I’m OK. Megan says her bruises were worse when she fell down the stairs at our brother’s old house a few years ago, right in front of his appalled eyes. But now the bruises and pulled muscles are keeping the housemaid’s knees company, I still can’t do much of anything. I couldn’t go Trick or Treating with Jessica, for example. But there’s always next year!

Schatzi in her “Happy Halloween” sweater, which glows in the dark!

Megan and I ventured to Lu’s new house for a party on Friday night.

The new house is near a small town called Gualala (variously pronounced Gwa-la-la and Wah-la-la). It’s about an hour’s drive away, on twisty and turny roads (there seems to be no other kind around here). It was so foggy most of the way that I was spared the horror of looking down the precipitous cliffs to the ocean below, and it had an appropriately horror movie feel, with the fog drifting out from wind-bent trees. Megan, having often driven the ambulance down this road in storms and icy roads and other adverse and perverse conditions, was unperturbed as usual.

On the way, she pointed out the sign for the Beacon Bar. Apparently, it’s a guy who turns his barn into a bar when he feels like it, and when he feels like it, he lights a beacon to alert the drinking and driving public. The fog had cleared enough by the time we came back to see the light.

En route to the party, we stopped off in the charming little town of Point Arena for coffee. It has a nice old movie theater showing new movies, some cafes and little shops, including, surprisingly, a record store.

The sun came out as we approached Lu’s house, which is set on four acres in the woods. We were greeted enthusiastically by the humans and canines, including little Harlow (aka my puppy), who Lu and Rick adopted a couple of weeks ago. Harlow helped to carve a Jack-o-lantern:

while wearing a ballerina costume. Later, she managed to get out of the outfit and had a nap in her fancy bed:

I think she’s done pretty well for herself.

The party was fun. Lots of people, kids and dogs running around. Rick had made his famous jambalaya and beer bread, and we ate at a bonfire near the house. After dinner, we went through the haunted house Lu and Rick had made in the woods. I thought it was great, though they have made much more elaborate ones in the past. The perfect touch was added by one of the kids jumping out and yelling “Boo!” at me, making me jump and scream in a satisfying manner.

Up next: experiments in gravity. Turns out ol’ Isaac Newton knew what he was talking about.

Downtown

Yesterday, I ventured to the big town (aka Fort Bragg, not to be confused with the military installation of the same name on the opposite coast). Fort Bragg is where they keep the non-scenic things which must not be permitted to mar the quaintness of Mendocino, but which are necessities of life, such as the Safeway and the DMV.

I was surprised to discover that the Safeway is bigger than the one in Oakland, though of course it’s lacking in Ray. Once I got Suzy chow, I headed to the Feed and Pet to get feed for the pets.

It’s been kind of a conundrum for me. The girls used to get fancy expensive food, and Henry got cheapo Safeway food. But now they’re all being fed together, and presumably eating out of each other’s bowls (you know how cats always suspect the other cat has something better and must inspect to make sure), I had to find some middle ground. Like wine for a party. You can’t afford to provide the best for all those people, but you have to drink it yourself, and of course you have your wine connoisseur reputation to consider. The middle ground can be a challenge.

I ended up getting a 16 pound bag of Max Cat for the same price as a 5 pound bag of the fancy food. It was well-received by all. I have to say that feeding time is much harder now, with three cats milling around underfoot and complaining about how hungry they are and how slow I am. I keep stepping on Henry, who is both the skinniest and the most insistent. He was much more blasé about the whole thing when he was outside, for some reason.

After that, it was time for a successful foray to the library, which was closed* when I went to renew my car registration and when I pointlessly interviewed. I got a shiny new library card:

The coast; the wine country; the redwoods

and used it both immediately and later – when I got home, I requested 28 books from my waiting list. Something – well, a lot of things – to look forward to!
*These cutbacks are saving about half of what was originally projected. So librarians and other government workers took a pay cut for nearly no reason.

Feeding time at the zoo

The kitty detente continues. Honestly, a week ago, I would never have thought this was possible.

Exciting news of the day, part one: Rob is getting a continuous glucometer! This should prevent the scary ups and downs as experienced on Moving Day and keep his sugars on a more or less even keel. Better for him, and better for my sister, who won’t have to worry as much on her long overnight shifts. Yay!

Exciting news of the day, part two: My brother is getting a muzzle of bees! A swarm of bees, plus all bee-keeping equipment. By Fed Ex. Who knew that Fed Ex delivers bees? The bees are coming from someone in San Francisco whose neighbors complained about the bees and were going to call the police unless the beekeeper relinquished the bees. What kind of charge you can get for urban beekeeping is beyond my limited knowledge, but there you have it: free bees! Free Fed Exed bees.

Exciting news of the day, part three: The Amerigas guy showed up while I was on the phone with the internet support guys in far off India. Newsflash: You may call yourself Jack or Sam, but the accent gives you away, my friend. Does it make me a Limbaugh that I would totally pay extra to talk to an American in America? I spent half the call asking the guy to repeat himself. Later I realized that I still posted yesterday despite technical difficulties and now I wonder if I have a problem.

Anyway, I now have a full propane tank to make my heater and dryer run. Did you know that they never fill propane tanks all the way full, so the gas has room to breathe and move? Or something? Also I’m supposed to make sure there’s still 20% left in the tank before I call them for a refill, and if possible, I should try and combine it with Mark and Citlali having their tank filled, too. I can’t say I blame the guy. Driving a propane truck down the narrow, rutted driveway with its potholes and other hazards must be quite a hazardous undertaking. Especially while transporting hazardous materials.

Early morning in my garden

Today was one of those frustrating days.

The internet was crawling at a pace which would have made a snail laugh as it zipped by (and still is, even as I write), and it was impossible for me to access my work database and get anything done, even though I had a deadline. The phone mostly works, depending on where I’m standing or sitting, so I could call our IT person back in civilization and my boss in Detroit and alert them of the problem.

I tried to do some of my laundry while I was waiting for the internet to be restored (a girl can dream). Among the lovely items needing to be cleaned are the poo carrier and the cloths I used to acquire the housemaid’s knee (which is bothering me today). I washed the regular laundry first, and put it in the dryer. Though the dryer went, it didn’t dry anything, so I spent an hour’s worth of propane for nothing.

I found the clothesline and fastened it to a couple of handy trees, then hung the laundry on hangers on the line, since I couldn’t find the clothespins. Hopefully that will work. I’ll have to alert the landlord about the non-dryingness of the dryer before I attack the rest of that chore.

Add in some wrangling with the credit card people and you have a really excellent day.

On the bright side, Henry purred for the first time today. He was sitting next to me on the couch and I was petting him when I heard a strange sound. It was a rusty and rumbling purr. I petted him until he got overwhelmed and bit me gently. He really just catches my hand in his mouth to tell me to knock it off. Much better than The Claw.

The girls ventured outside today and explored the garden. It was fun to see them looking around. They are definitely cautious – my sister says they know they are both predator and prey – but I think they had a good time. They came to the “front” door and waited until I let them in this afternoon, and they’re safely in now, so this may work out just fine. I’ll be thrilled to get rid of the litter box, let me tell you!

It’s one of life’s enduring mysteries: why do cats always do something cute when the house is a mess? Forgive the untidiness, and note that Henry and June are both on the bed at the same time. Amazing for cats who have only been roommates for a few days, especially considering that June has been dying to get her claws on Henry for months now. Maybe he’s lost his mystique now that she’s seen him up close. I think most girls have experienced that at one time or another.

• Housemaid’s knee is receding, but still making its presence known. It has been joined by an unpleasant tingling sensation in my right leg, running pretty much the length of it. I have not yet regained my usual graceful gait, but I promise to be thankful for being able to actually walk once I can. For at least five minutes. And if this is a preview of being an old lady, I’m really not looking forward to that now.
• Besides wishing I could walk, I wish I could unpack. Actually, I’m wishing for Samantha Stephens or Jeannie to twitch or blink the house in order, no manual labor required. Besides being dreary and manicure-destroying, manual labor is what led to the limp in the first place.
• The cats have been getting along surprisingly well. There’s been the odd hiss or two, but no fights that I’ve seen or heard. Yesterday, I found them all asleep on the bed. Henry’s still skittish, but the girls are clearly happy and notably less naughty. They haven’t been racing through the house or breaking things at all. I think they’re enjoying going up and down the stairs and exploring their new house.
• I have no fewer than five doors in my house, but no locks. Today, one of the doors wasn’t latched properly and drifted open while I was out. June and Audrey were outside, but came in pretty easily when I called them. Henry was still inside – I suspect that years of being a stray have made the great outdoors a lot less appealing to him. My original plan was to keep them all in for a week, so they know it’s their house, and then let them out on the balcony from the bedroom, so they get used to the whole outside thing. After a few days, I’ll let them out the door downstairs. I’ll be curious to see what they do, how far they go, and whether I can get them in at night.
  

Not only am I a semi-invalid with housemaid’s knee* (or housework’s revenge), I’m semi-invalid as a person, too.

I didn’t get that job. They called me early on Friday morning, when my sibs and brother-in-law had gone to return the truck. it took a convoy again because my heroic brother was going to work, so he drove the truck, Megan drove his car (so he could get home from work later) and Rob drove Megan’s car (so they could get home).

So I was alone when the call came. I was so taken aback that I didn’t ask why, which is what everyone else asked me first when I told them about it. I asked them to keep me in mind if anything else came up, and that was it. I just sat there stunned.

It doesn’t really matter why they didn’t hire me. The fact is they didn’t. I could (and have) imagined countless reasons: thought I was over qualified; didn’t like me; concerned about my current job; hired their cousin, etc. Even if they had told me why, it might not have been the real reason anyway.

It does annoy me that I risked life and limb to interview with them and then they rejected me. I thought I had done well, and clearly I hadn’t. It all comes of interviewing once every twenty years. I can’t say that this experience has really improved my self-confidence, and it definitely won’t help if/when I get another interview.

It’s also humiliating because I told all of you about it, and they called all of my references and spoke with them exhaustively and exhaustingly. Two of the references are current colleagues, which makes it even worse.

I have to wonder how how open and honest I should be when I blog, especially when you hear about people being fired for what they say on their blogs, or prospective employers demanding access to Facebook profiles, etc. I think one’s blog should be a personal place to write thoughts and feelings, and blogs and Facebook are none of your employer’s, or prospective employer’s, business.

But it’s hard for me to know that you all know I’m a failure. I guess that’s the flip side of the love and support you always give me. Although I’m a Gemini, sometimes I wish things were one sided: the good side.

*I wonder how real housemaids managed when afflicted with the Knee. I can’t imagine Victorian employers allowing their maids to stay in bed for days. Maybe they just fired them and got new ones back then.

The road home

Operation Escape Oakland hit a few snags, as many elaborate maneuvers are wont to do.

Rob is an insulin-dependent diabetic, and had some issues with his sugar count early on Wednesday morning. We applied soda and waited for him to feel better. At times like this, it’s great to have your EMS trained brother at hand.

While Rob was recovering, Audrey decided she’d get a head start and escaped from her carrier. The girls’ carriers are cloth and close with zippers that meet in the middle. Audrey must have poked her nose or paw through the place where the zippers met until she made a big enough hole to slip out.

Unfortunately, I had left the car window open to give the girls some air while we completed the packing process.

Fortunately, Audrey ran into B’s garden, which is enclosed, so trapping her was (relatively) easy.

Unfortunately, I had learned nothing from this experience since Audrey repeated the escape, though this time remaining inside the car (with its windows closed).

Fortunately, my brother had a bit of string in his pocket, as boys often do, and tied the zippers together tightly.

It seems that Audrey does not enjoy driving any more than I do, since she did an encore of the carrier poo. When I finally decanted her, she was literally covered in it. Megan immediately put her in the sink and washed her, which Audrey took remarkably well, after meowing for pretty much the entire four hour drive. June had thrown up in her carrier, undoubtedly due to the proximity of the carrier poo. Henry didn’t utter a peep and all his bodily fluids stayed in his body.

I expected a series of boos, hisses, and claw to claw combat when all three cats met, but so far, so good. They have walked past each other without remark, though fights may still ensue. They do seem happy to be here, and are enjoying the view from the glass doors and exploring a new place. This is definitely a much more interesting house from a cat’s point of view.

As for me, I now have proof positive that housework is very, very bad for you.

After we finished most of the packing on Wednesday, we cleaned the house, which entailed grovelling around on hands and knees. Not for the first time, I reflected that cleaning is a job best left to the professionals. I’m pretty sure that this unnatural activity resulted in my knees going on strike. By the time I caught Audrey the second time, I noticed that the inside side of my knees (if you follow me) hurt. By the time we stopped for gas, I could hardly bend them. By the time we got home, Megan took one look at me and put me on her couch with ice packs and painkillers.

So while my family was unpacking all my things and stuff, I was lying on Megan’s couch watching “Gilmore Girls” and whimpering. The guilt was definitely worse than the pain. I feel better today, but have been ordered to take it easy so that hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to get a few things done around my new house.

It was an adventure, all right. Would you expect anything less from Calamity Suzy?