I'm not a Christmas practitioner, although I do appreciate the seasonal celebration of gift-giving and twinkly lights and Solstice and Yule and goodwill and global hopes of world peace. Close enough, eh?
One of the aspects of this season I've always appreciated was the cessation of commerce. Commercials continued on the air and on TV, but stores closed and nothing but emergency services were available. Heck, there was a time when I was wee that even TV and radio stations went off the air. It was a TOTAL closure - quite literally nothing or very nearly nothing was open. Peace and quiet reigned supreme!
More and more, I'm seeing "We will be open on Christmas Day from xx:xx AM to xx:xx PM!" I can guess what advantage that is for the business, but I would rather go without. One whole day where sanity reigns rather than commercialism. I remember the quiet on Christmas Day. Very few cars would be about, except ones on the way to parties or to go visiting. Shopping parking lots would be empty, store lights turned off, drive-throughs closed, and even the movie theaters would shut down.
I remember one year that was particularly rough on our family. It was the Christmas after my dad died and we were trying to make the best of it. We three girls had made sure the house was decorated and the tree was beautiful, and everyone had plenty of things to open. We were putting together the final touches on Christmas Eve and began hanging the stockings when we realized we hadn't taken into account stocking stuffers!! That was always a big part of our family tradition, but under the circumstances it wasn't surprising that we'd missed it. The three of us hopped into the car and went out hunting for ANYthing that might be open.
We searched downtown, the nearby strip malls and on the main streets near the freeway. It was a toss-up between a dive of a liquor store and 7-11. Inside the 7-11, it was dead quiet. The clerk was the only one there and had apparently been undisturbed for hours. If we NEEDED a store to be open (as suggested by the helpful tone of the store notices today) you would expect a crowd in the only open store on our side of town. But, no. Apparently, everyone in our town of about 40,000 was quite able to cope for a day and half without going shopping. I think we amused that clerk as we desperately attempted to assemble items vaguely resembling fun that would do for stocking stuffers. I remember our delight when we found the toy isle and could grab such items as playing cards and jacks.
Here's the key point, however: if NOTHING had been open, we were resourceful enough to have made do. Knowing that everything would be closed for a while after close-of-business on the 23rd or 24th encourages foresight and planning ahead. Woe to the procrastinator! Which is, I think, as it should be. Would that we could return to those quiet, quiet winter days of the holiday season.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Fraidy Cats
Ever had the crap scared out of you? I was reminded of this event in my life by a recent email from a friend.
When I lived in Boulder Creek, my boss would occasionally employ me to cat-sit at her home while she and her husband would go on business trips. It was especially important because one of the kitties required daily medication. Besides, my presence there might discourage thieves, and I watered her extensive garden. It was a pleasure of a job for me: the home was beautiful, with a fabulous view of the San Lorenzo Valley. She had cable and a large TV, and a comfy guest bed.
On this particular assignment, I was warned that the three cats were adjusting to a new kitty addition and tended to have occasional spats. It was my duty to pay attention to where the four of them were in the evening, when all were inside, so as to proactively intervene in the event of an impending brouhaha. No one wants to wrestle an indignant, hissing, clawing, pointy ended, injured cat to the vet in the middle of the night, so I was a willing referee.
One evening, after a long day, I was in the den dozing off in front of the TV. At first, the noise didn't raise any alarms, as it sounded as if it could be part of the action in the show I was watching. Suddenly, I realized I was hearing a four-pronged kitty threat display. You know, that low moaning growl that comes from deep in the cat's chest. You know things are about to erupt when the pitch escalates. The last thing one hears before the cats launch themselves at each other is a high-pitched feline battle cry.
I had failed to notice the noise long enough that the cries were becoming frequent and quite high in pitch. I was desparate not to have my friend come home to a battle zone full of injured feline friends, so I ran for the laundry room to try and halt the impending war.
When I said that my friend's house was beautiful, I should have also mentioned that it was LARGE. In order to get from the den to the laundry room, I had to sprint through the living room, past the kitchen, and down the hallway (a long one), break hard to the right into the hallway leading to the laundry room, then a hard left into the laundry room itself. I was afraid that the length of time it was going to take me to get there was too long and that I would arrive too late to prevent bloodletting.
So, I hollered my own battle cry for my entire sprint. I must have sounded like a cross between a banshee and a primitive warrior, headed intently for the front lines. I didn't notice the kitty threat displays had ended during my headlong dash. As I skidded into the laundry room, I found all four cats huddled about the room in various tiny spaces, eyes HUGE, looking right at me, with all their hair on end. On the floor, in the locations previously held by the angry kitties, were four gently steaming piles of kitty poo. Yes, I had literally scared the crap out of them.
Postscript: I felt so terrible that I had terrified them that I spent the rest of the evening treating them all like royalty. I guess they forgave me, because I was always greeted with affection on all my return visits.
When I lived in Boulder Creek, my boss would occasionally employ me to cat-sit at her home while she and her husband would go on business trips. It was especially important because one of the kitties required daily medication. Besides, my presence there might discourage thieves, and I watered her extensive garden. It was a pleasure of a job for me: the home was beautiful, with a fabulous view of the San Lorenzo Valley. She had cable and a large TV, and a comfy guest bed.
On this particular assignment, I was warned that the three cats were adjusting to a new kitty addition and tended to have occasional spats. It was my duty to pay attention to where the four of them were in the evening, when all were inside, so as to proactively intervene in the event of an impending brouhaha. No one wants to wrestle an indignant, hissing, clawing, pointy ended, injured cat to the vet in the middle of the night, so I was a willing referee.
One evening, after a long day, I was in the den dozing off in front of the TV. At first, the noise didn't raise any alarms, as it sounded as if it could be part of the action in the show I was watching. Suddenly, I realized I was hearing a four-pronged kitty threat display. You know, that low moaning growl that comes from deep in the cat's chest. You know things are about to erupt when the pitch escalates. The last thing one hears before the cats launch themselves at each other is a high-pitched feline battle cry.
I had failed to notice the noise long enough that the cries were becoming frequent and quite high in pitch. I was desparate not to have my friend come home to a battle zone full of injured feline friends, so I ran for the laundry room to try and halt the impending war.
When I said that my friend's house was beautiful, I should have also mentioned that it was LARGE. In order to get from the den to the laundry room, I had to sprint through the living room, past the kitchen, and down the hallway (a long one), break hard to the right into the hallway leading to the laundry room, then a hard left into the laundry room itself. I was afraid that the length of time it was going to take me to get there was too long and that I would arrive too late to prevent bloodletting.
So, I hollered my own battle cry for my entire sprint. I must have sounded like a cross between a banshee and a primitive warrior, headed intently for the front lines. I didn't notice the kitty threat displays had ended during my headlong dash. As I skidded into the laundry room, I found all four cats huddled about the room in various tiny spaces, eyes HUGE, looking right at me, with all their hair on end. On the floor, in the locations previously held by the angry kitties, were four gently steaming piles of kitty poo. Yes, I had literally scared the crap out of them.
Postscript: I felt so terrible that I had terrified them that I spent the rest of the evening treating them all like royalty. I guess they forgave me, because I was always greeted with affection on all my return visits.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Evil Ivy, Revisited
I promised to provide pictures of the ivy that's threatening to take over our yard (such as it is). I don't have any "before" pictures of the fence area in the BACK yard, but you can kind of see how it might have looked from this picture of the side yard. I have yet to bring the assault to the side yard.
You might notice that the ivy appears to simply be crawling over from the other side and draping down this side of the fence. NOT SO! The ivy is coming over, through and under the fence. It's embedded in the wood and the soil. The stuff on top is growing into little trees with seed pods sproinking out of them. Like aliens. Like evil aliens.
When I whacked the overgrowth in the back yard, I discovered just how embedded the horrid stuff actually is. It's literally ripping the fence apart. It's difficult to see in this photo, but the main middle section of the fence is leaning significantly over into our yard from the sheer weight above it and on the other side:
Now, look just above the BBQ. This is the brain of the invading species. What else could it be? It's HUGE. Incredibly dense. Multitudinous convolutions. Really, really heavy. I tried to hack at it with pruning snips, both the big and small ones. It's nearly impossible to snip more than one strand at a time. So you snip one - it's not like you can take the snipped end and yank it out. Here's a closeup so you can see what I mean:
No wait - that's not close enough. There's a closeup below that should pretty much sum it up. That thing has been there so long, there is not a single gap between the vines. And it's all living - there's nothing brittle to dig out of there. It has to be nibbled at, bit by bit. I'm too chicken to take a chain saw to it. When the fence goes over, as it will soon by the looks of things, they're going to have to get a backhoe in there just to pick it up off the ground. Here's that super closeup:
Now, take that picture above, multiply it in your head to a size about 25 times the size of the picture - probably more - and you might get some idea of what is living on our fence in our backyard.
Who does this?? Who lets ivy grow so long unchecked that it can evolve like this? Clearly, this has been going on for some time. I appreciate the suggestions I've received about how to slay the monster. Honestly, I'm afraid to do so. I have no faith in either my landlord or my neighbors to deal with the carcass and the aftermath. I'm pretty certain that the only thing holding the fence up at this point is the ivy itself. Dead, it becomes just weight that will bring what's left of the fence down even faster. No thanks. Let the next chump who rents this dump negotiate with my absentee landlord about taking care of the evil ivy alien monster brain.
You might notice that the ivy appears to simply be crawling over from the other side and draping down this side of the fence. NOT SO! The ivy is coming over, through and under the fence. It's embedded in the wood and the soil. The stuff on top is growing into little trees with seed pods sproinking out of them. Like aliens. Like evil aliens.When I whacked the overgrowth in the back yard, I discovered just how embedded the horrid stuff actually is. It's literally ripping the fence apart. It's difficult to see in this photo, but the main middle section of the fence is leaning significantly over into our yard from the sheer weight above it and on the other side:
Now, look just above the BBQ. This is the brain of the invading species. What else could it be? It's HUGE. Incredibly dense. Multitudinous convolutions. Really, really heavy. I tried to hack at it with pruning snips, both the big and small ones. It's nearly impossible to snip more than one strand at a time. So you snip one - it's not like you can take the snipped end and yank it out. Here's a closeup so you can see what I mean:
No wait - that's not close enough. There's a closeup below that should pretty much sum it up. That thing has been there so long, there is not a single gap between the vines. And it's all living - there's nothing brittle to dig out of there. It has to be nibbled at, bit by bit. I'm too chicken to take a chain saw to it. When the fence goes over, as it will soon by the looks of things, they're going to have to get a backhoe in there just to pick it up off the ground. Here's that super closeup:
Now, take that picture above, multiply it in your head to a size about 25 times the size of the picture - probably more - and you might get some idea of what is living on our fence in our backyard.
Who does this?? Who lets ivy grow so long unchecked that it can evolve like this? Clearly, this has been going on for some time. I appreciate the suggestions I've received about how to slay the monster. Honestly, I'm afraid to do so. I have no faith in either my landlord or my neighbors to deal with the carcass and the aftermath. I'm pretty certain that the only thing holding the fence up at this point is the ivy itself. Dead, it becomes just weight that will bring what's left of the fence down even faster. No thanks. Let the next chump who rents this dump negotiate with my absentee landlord about taking care of the evil ivy alien monster brain.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Jesse's leaving
My good friend, Jesse, has decided that the Bay Area is a difficult place in which to start over and is going home to Texas. He's right, you know. Home prices are through the roof, traffic is horrific, jobs and careers end without notice, and new ones are difficult to find. It's not impossible (obviously, or this area would be deserted); it just takes a certain amount and type of effort to keep afloat here.
So, I'm terribly sad that he's leaving. He's been a sort of grandfather to my son, who loves him very much. He's been a stout friend to me. Life around here just won't be the same.
So, I'm terribly sad that he's leaving. He's been a sort of grandfather to my son, who loves him very much. He's been a stout friend to me. Life around here just won't be the same.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Evil, Evil English Ivy
Who in their right mind uses English Ivy for a landscaping tool? Well, OK, OK, there are large areas that often need erosion control or cheap landscaping. With regular maintenance, you can sort of keep it under control.
What I'm talking about is small yards, as in residential, and frackin' ENORMOUS English Ivy growth. This is the second time I've had to deal with some previous owner/tenant's bad idea of planting this vile weed - both times it was a neighbor who planted the stuff.
This time, the infestation has gone unchecked for apparently a very long time. The first time I attempted to whack back the vines coming over the fence, I was certain the only thing holding the fence up was the vine itself. The awful ivy has very nearly destroyed the fence entirely. It's leaning quite dramatically into our yard and has obviously rotted planks where the vine was thickest. At one point I pulled out a nearly perfectly preserved garter snake carcass. From the noise in there at night, I'm sure possums and rats feel right at home there.
I got tired, that first time, and gave up without approaching the forest growing atop the fence. So, recently, when I resumed battle against the enemy, I had better tools and....a ladder. I'm whacking away up there when I get to the section of the fence that's leaning sharply due to the great weight on top of it. Under the leaves I find the ivy creature's brain. It's the only explanation I can give for the heavily - and I mean heavily - intertwined ivy. It's vaguely roundish and roughly the size of couple of king size pillows. It must be heavy - there's nothing in there but stem. No leaves or air pockets.
I have taken a stab at it, but I've only made a minor dent. I think I need to post a picture of this thing, so stay tuned for pictures. I gave up! It got dark and I just can't imagine the tools I'd need to go at it. I'm afraid a chain saw would skip and jump and generally be dangerous. Right now, the only option I see is a sharp axe. Then, I'm concerned that the impact up there would crumple the fence below - right on top of me and my ladder.
It finally occurred to me that the whole thing, while technically my problem to deal with, was NOT my problem to cure. The lazy landlord will eventually have to get off her tushy and rip the fence down, destroy the vine and rebuild the fence. So, until we move out, all I need do is whack the growth back regularly and put up with how ugly it is.
One other thing I discovered in my most recent assault was that my neighbor from whom all things viney issue, originally covered the entire side of his fence with chicken wire. Presumably to encourage the stuff to grow. It boggles the mind.
What I'm talking about is small yards, as in residential, and frackin' ENORMOUS English Ivy growth. This is the second time I've had to deal with some previous owner/tenant's bad idea of planting this vile weed - both times it was a neighbor who planted the stuff.
This time, the infestation has gone unchecked for apparently a very long time. The first time I attempted to whack back the vines coming over the fence, I was certain the only thing holding the fence up was the vine itself. The awful ivy has very nearly destroyed the fence entirely. It's leaning quite dramatically into our yard and has obviously rotted planks where the vine was thickest. At one point I pulled out a nearly perfectly preserved garter snake carcass. From the noise in there at night, I'm sure possums and rats feel right at home there.
I got tired, that first time, and gave up without approaching the forest growing atop the fence. So, recently, when I resumed battle against the enemy, I had better tools and....a ladder. I'm whacking away up there when I get to the section of the fence that's leaning sharply due to the great weight on top of it. Under the leaves I find the ivy creature's brain. It's the only explanation I can give for the heavily - and I mean heavily - intertwined ivy. It's vaguely roundish and roughly the size of couple of king size pillows. It must be heavy - there's nothing in there but stem. No leaves or air pockets.
I have taken a stab at it, but I've only made a minor dent. I think I need to post a picture of this thing, so stay tuned for pictures. I gave up! It got dark and I just can't imagine the tools I'd need to go at it. I'm afraid a chain saw would skip and jump and generally be dangerous. Right now, the only option I see is a sharp axe. Then, I'm concerned that the impact up there would crumple the fence below - right on top of me and my ladder.
It finally occurred to me that the whole thing, while technically my problem to deal with, was NOT my problem to cure. The lazy landlord will eventually have to get off her tushy and rip the fence down, destroy the vine and rebuild the fence. So, until we move out, all I need do is whack the growth back regularly and put up with how ugly it is.
One other thing I discovered in my most recent assault was that my neighbor from whom all things viney issue, originally covered the entire side of his fence with chicken wire. Presumably to encourage the stuff to grow. It boggles the mind.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Trick or Treat!
For the last several years, Halloween has been a disappointment to me. It's one of my favorite holidays and I enjoy all the hoopla surrounding it. In the time that I've lived here in Silicon Valley, the only Halloween spirits I saw were at the parties I attended. On those Halloween nights I was actually at home, the trick or treaters were far and few between. It is very disappointing to dress up your home to entertain/frighten/amuse potential trick or treaters, only to have a half dozen, or two, or less arrive to partake of your carefully selected goodies. It's even worse when, in the totally bizarre situation we had last year, you have NONE.
(What is it about that anyway? Do I choose neighborhoods to live in that are Halloween-free zones, and no one thought to share that with me? Is it the cultural or socio-economical zone I inhabit? I know it's not endemic, because in the days following Halloween, my co-workers share trick or treating stories and candy with me. Do I smell funny? [don't answer that...] Is my boyfriend too scary? Who knows?! Maybe it's the pumpkins.... This picture is of this year's set at our house.)
I was bound and determined to be a part of the trick or treating this year. Knowing that nothing was going to happen at our house, Don, Gabe and I went to Los Gatos to join the trick or treating throngs that swarm the residential streets. (I learned about it online.) We got there around 7:00 pm and headed out. Gabe was quite uncertain, initially, and refused to say his sweet little "trickortreat!" to the first several people whose homes we approached. In fact, some homes he refused to approach because they were too scary. When would come up to a door that wasn't too scary, he would hide his face against my shoulder and say, "no!" quite loudly. Thank goodness, he almost always said, "thank you" despite all that.
After about the fourth house, he about had a fit. I guess I didn't prepare him well enough for what he was going to experience and he was upset at all the activity and strangeness. He started demanding to open one of the candies he had just received - he didn't know that putting these packages into his jack-o-lantern basket meant that he could have some later. All he saw was that he was given a shiny, sparkly, crinkly neat-o thing and had to immediate put it out of sight! So, I called a break and sat him down on the curb. He got to open one of the candies and eat it. Quel surprise, he became quite enthusiastic about going up to the homes of total strangers and demanding, "Trick or Treat!" It took a few tries to get the whole ritual trained into him, but by about halfway through the night, he was marching down the sidewalk, firmly holding mommy's or daddy's hand, announcing, "Next house!"
Needless to say, we had a good Halloween. What did you all do for Halloween this year?
(What is it about that anyway? Do I choose neighborhoods to live in that are Halloween-free zones, and no one thought to share that with me? Is it the cultural or socio-economical zone I inhabit? I know it's not endemic, because in the days following Halloween, my co-workers share trick or treating stories and candy with me. Do I smell funny? [don't answer that...] Is my boyfriend too scary? Who knows?! Maybe it's the pumpkins.... This picture is of this year's set at our house.)
I was bound and determined to be a part of the trick or treating this year. Knowing that nothing was going to happen at our house, Don, Gabe and I went to Los Gatos to join the trick or treating throngs that swarm the residential streets. (I learned about it online.) We got there around 7:00 pm and headed out. Gabe was quite uncertain, initially, and refused to say his sweet little "trickortreat!" to the first several people whose homes we approached. In fact, some homes he refused to approach because they were too scary. When would come up to a door that wasn't too scary, he would hide his face against my shoulder and say, "no!" quite loudly. Thank goodness, he almost always said, "thank you" despite all that.
After about the fourth house, he about had a fit. I guess I didn't prepare him well enough for what he was going to experience and he was upset at all the activity and strangeness. He started demanding to open one of the candies he had just received - he didn't know that putting these packages into his jack-o-lantern basket meant that he could have some later. All he saw was that he was given a shiny, sparkly, crinkly neat-o thing and had to immediate put it out of sight! So, I called a break and sat him down on the curb. He got to open one of the candies and eat it. Quel surprise, he became quite enthusiastic about going up to the homes of total strangers and demanding, "Trick or Treat!" It took a few tries to get the whole ritual trained into him, but by about halfway through the night, he was marching down the sidewalk, firmly holding mommy's or daddy's hand, announcing, "Next house!"
Needless to say, we had a good Halloween. What did you all do for Halloween this year?
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Welcome.
I expect that my main topics will begin to define themselves as I write. My interests are many and diverse, so....we shall see.
Let me introduce myself! I live in California, but don't plan to stay here. I'm an Air Force brat, so I'm not really from anywhere. If I had my druthers, I live in the mountains, but I'm paying my dues for now down in the lowlands. I have a young son, whom I adore. My boyfriend stays home with him, which is a great comfort to me. I work at Stanford University and am pretty much happy there. I read voraciously, like well-made films, enjoy doing outdoorsy things, love my kitty cat, am trying to lose weight, derive pure joy from riding my motorcycle and have recently started my first blog. :-D
That is all for now.
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