On the day of the big “Camp” fire in Paradise, we finished the deck in Canyon. It was a spur-of-the-moment impulse a couple days earlier to abandon the idea of a building that would ruin the view from the little deck. Realizing we now have sufficient, heatable indoor space, and the on-demand water heater, bathtub and shower situated outside, it no longer made sense. Suddenly we were seeking and gathering boards from around the property, sanding them down and fitting them together somewhat at random. The smell of smoke came in early on the morning of November 8, but a little research showed a brushfire near Joaquin Miller park. Around noon a thicker wave came through, but we worked through it and finished attaching all the boards by early afternoon- The smoke got thicker, and over a week later was so bad, funneled through the delta and trapped over the bay area, that N95 masks were required.
Last Friday I came home to a dark digital clock- the whole electric circuit of kitchen wall outlets had gone out. I unplugged the reachable appliances, excluding the post-rat digital/gas stove which is too heavy for me to move. Flipping the breaker and GFI did not restore the power. I am, as usual, loathe to call the landlord until I exhaust all possible, personal attempts to solve the puzzle.
Likely the problem is rat/raccoon damage in the wall, or a failure or short in the digital oven controls. (It could also be a function of the apparently shoddy installation- but I don’t think that is the case.) I looked up the owners manual for the Kenmore range- almost impossible to read the tiny number on the door, which luckily turns out to be the model number. Someone mentioned that there might be a reset button on the back of the unit, so we can look at that, too.
My neighbor, from whom i got the stove- another story- loaned/gave me an electric convection oven which I installed on the small enamel table with a heavy power cord strung around the corner from the bathroom GFI.
Today I got out my electric toolbox- turns out the continuity tester I had in there (it was Steve’s) is missing one leg, so into the electronic recycling bin it goes. I pulled the 2 USB port/power outlet I installed last year which looks fine. I am again shocked at how poorly the box is installed, jammed way back into the original wall, crooked, behind the layer of sheetrock. It took some jiggling and adjusting to get the outlet mounted straight, but now it is better than I had it before.
Meanwhile, a couple of culinary fiascos, including two enormous potatoes that would not bake, after which I bought an adorable small magnet/hook/stand oven thermometer and tested the convection oven, right to 350 in ten minutes, then hovering at 300 throughout the baking of a Trader-Joe’s-mix cornbread–too sweet, but a somewhat-successful baking experiment.
Sometime last month Ann Lippe told me she and David were working to get a family of raccoons out from under her house across the street. A few days later I saw one of them heading across our front yard; then, sounds in the false ceiling over the bathroom. Mandy messaged me that Pat was hearing loud scratching coming from our wall next to their driveway, and I did hear what sounded like scraping noises around the bathroom pipes and overhead.
This had gone on for a few days when one evening (8/21/18, Steve’s 70th birthday) I heard a thump, squealing, and furious scratching- a critter had fallen between the rafters and into a space between the walls. After a few minutes I realized I was not going to be able to sleep with such screeching and scratching going on, so I high-tailed it over to the pub to tell Gary there were screaming critters trapped in the wall, and I was going to Canyon for the night.
By the time I got home from the pub things had quieted down a little–some chittering and scratching, but not insufferable. Also, there was a note Gary had put on the door earlier announcing that the plumber was coming by and water would be turned off for a couple hours at 9:30 AM the following day.
Around 10 AM on Wednesday 8/22 Gary and the fix-it guy/plumber showed up- they were unable to turn the water off at the street. We assessed the situation- I could hear chittering right next to the light switch in the bathroom, so after the guy and I crawled under the house and saw how they were getting in, through a hole they had chewed in the outside wall, and up through the old chimney hole to the porch roof, the decision was made to cut into the wallboard and pull them out. We had to move my locker away from the wall, and open doors and back window so the emerging animal could make a run for it. When he opened the wall, there was just a void- dark, quiet, no sign of crittur (Thoreau’s spelling). We shined a flashlight in to take a photograph, but our cellphones wouldn’t focus. Their contention was that there was no one there, but I kept trying until I got an image of a little face–very hard to see deep in the 20″x4″x9-foot space between the studs. So a decision was made to cut another hole at the bottom of the wall. We all stood back, again, waiting for the frothing wild beasts to come shooting out–when he pulled the cut piece away, there was the furry back of one small raccoon kit, and the face of another–TWO! little guys, quietly huddling in the bottom of the void. After peeking out and seeing- perhaps for the first time- the light of day, they were having none of it. Fix-it guy sent me to get a cardboard box- Gary put on a leather glove and tried aggressively pulling one of the kits out by the leg, which made them huddle deeper into the corner. I suggested he pick them up by the scruff, like a mother cat, or perhaps raccoon, would do, and he pulled them out and dropped them in the box, where they crouched, quietly, until he dumped them out on the deck, then gathered them back into the box and put them out in the yard. I ran with my drill and deck screws, calling Pat to open the gate to their driveway, to get a bit of screen over the hole she had chewed in the wall before the mother raccoon could come around and get the kits back under the house- She came and took one, and about an hour later the other, and posited them under Pat and Mandy’s deck, to the relief and satisfaction of all involved.
I have been dipping back into watercolor, found a palette that will inspire me, a color-wheel palette of Winsor Newton and M.Graham tube colors on a glass deviled egg dish.
I painted a watercolor color chart from an online class, mixing 144 colors from three primaries–Winsor Lemon, Winsor Blue (Red Shade) and Permanent Rose. So fun, I’ll do it again on watercolor block.
Back in April Harold offered me (us/possums) a gig at the Art House. Muffy said a hard No– she hates performing, doesn’t want to be seen, has many stories of hiding behind puppets and hoods and curtains, all the material we work on and never play. She made it clear! She hates it! Invites people to sit in so she can pass . . . Woe is me.
We played there before! When Scruffy was still here. Will Scarlett sat in. I think I have that photo nearby . . . on the Possum Family Singers blog. We played there as a duo! It was great! We worked so hard on these tunes, we have such great harmonies and presence! They say. But, no.
We played in the garden at the wedding of J&J (the other J&J) with Maaaat and Kurt. It was so lovely. I wore black, at a wedding!–still in mourning, but geez.
Myself, on the Other Hand, I thrive on Performance, the Stage, I love the Audience energy wafting back to me. If people are playing, listening, dancing, smiling with me, what the evs, it feeds me. I let the song sing itself. It’s ready, it wants to sing. And I want to shine, not wait my turn. I don’t do the jam thing, I don’t get it. It feels like a bad audition.
Something really hinky is going on in my sky, I just don’t know about people rn. I had an astrologer birthday-read my chart, she kept making ripples, ripples in the air with her fingers. Juno sits at the top of my chart, craving a partner for travel, an eye that sees all. The Mars and the Sun conjunct at the bottom, hidden, watching, from below. Fierce, inward, like how I like to garden in the dark, with the moon. Amazing! Kick ass! But I let these people define me.
I’m really CRAZY about my life right now. I want to do things. It’s really hard without my buffers, Steve, Rick, bandleaders who held up their end and pulled me in. My Actual Friends who supported me and joined in on camping trips and gigs and festivals, got gigs and showed up. I’m reeling under the weight of the nothing of it.
I used some detangler on my hair, it smells really gross, like being sprayed on at Macy’s. Think I’ll go wash it out.
So confused, spinning my wheels. a crisis- then crack! it was over– i think. What was the gift? Where did the time go? I did get a lot done in between, had a lot of adventures in the process.
Art toting home a fig tree from Pat.
liquor store graffiti
Lunch in Petaluma, near the laundromat, while getting the accordion fixed
Just back! from a 2000- mile, ten-day trip–Berkeley to Needles–theBenson! Kartchner Caverns! Tombstone! El Dorado!! Tucson, my old neighborhood and thrashing grounds. I almost expected to see my 23-window 1957 VW van there . . . Tucson Mountain Park and the Phyrroloxias and Phainopeplas . . .
A yummy lunch somewhat reminiscent of meals I remember from back then. Glorious sunsets and sunrises, mystical moons and mountainscapes. Hotsprings and scruffy campsites. New bushings and a smoothly operating roller door. All is good.
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