Sweet By & By

Tried and sentenced: Delinquent blogger

I am in the middle of a work project, whereby I search for parenting blogs and approach the writers to see if they want to be included on our GoCityKids site. If they concur, I do a little write-up and publish it to the site. So, today, I am reminded again and again that I have had a blog and I let it go to seed, dried up, withering away, horribly outdated and boring. 

So, I am making a promise to get my lame self back in gear and once again begin posting about the various activities at our lovely little casa - which, by the way, is in for one more round of major restoration work starting next week -- it's fifth such project in 10 months. It's all in preparation for - shudder - it's star turn on our neighborhood's Home Tour in April. Stay tuned for before pics, bitching about the mess, and the proud-homeowner/gloating after pics.

So quiet in here

There's nary a peep in my household this morning as the kids are up the hill and back in school (hallelujah!) and I am relishing in quiet and calm and tackling a bunch of work projects. I just got snowed under with freelance work, most of which I am pretty psyched about. 

In the last weeks of summer we hung out with my mom, who visited from Denver, cheered on the Dems in Denver, lost Sparkle the cat to FIV (long story), did lots of swimming, and spent many hours in the front yard monitoring the mantids, which are mating like crazy right now  -- R. keeps me updated ("Mom! Skinny Guy has his abdomen stuck in Skirt Guy! "... the mantids have all acquired odd names) and proudly shows all the neighbors as they stroll by, much to their puzzlement.

And really, I don't have much else to report except that -- wow, I like quiet.

Reaching for the sun

All summer, we've carefully tended to the "marathon" sunflower seeds we planted in early June. This one is our champion, currently standing at over 4 feet tall, towering over R., and delighting all of us with its measurable growth each day.  The seed pkg says they can get 8 feet high, but I think this one may cap out at 6 feet or so. We've got two others doing quite well, but none as stellar as this guy. Photo at left about 10 days ago; photo below, today.

Central California love

We spent several days in San Francisco this past week, visiting family and old college friends, and then we headed down the coast, first to Paso Robles for an afternoon of antiquing and winery visits, and then out to Cambria, which sits right on the coast and is a super place to visit for its natural beauty, great beaches (complete with wonderfully built boardwalks high up on the cliffs), charming little town, and surrounding forests. We stayed at a lodge above the town and had great fun taking nature hikes, watching resident birds, and keeping an eye out for mountain lions (which recently had been spotted in the vicinity), as well as otters, deer, tidepool creatures, and the lodge's resident kitty.

 

I love the colors of this area -- that rich, velvety gold on the hillsides, the deep greens of the coastal oaks, the gray hues of the fog, the blue sky. You understand why the locale has inspired so many plein air artists - the light plays off the hillsides incredibly.

 

I am so often tempted to pack up everything and move us all out to a countryside like this. It would be a crash course for me in living more simply and leaving behind the city life I love, but  Central California is so appealing for its agriculture and ruralness, grape fields, its forests, and its sea. Sigh.

 

Sunnyside Up

I have in hand the fall issue of American Bungalow magazine, which includes a feature article that I wrote about a super-cute bungalow in Florida's Historic Kenwood District.

This article was really fun to write, and fast, too: The editor called me in mid-May about a "rush job," and I turned it around in about a day and a half. Unlike my last article for the magazine, I was a little ho-hum about this assignment until I saw the photos - the house is indeed "sunny," and the owner was a blast to chat with on the telephone. She's got a quirky design sense, which I really appreciated - she and her husband use lots of family heirloom antiques and flea-market finds as home decor. I commend the AB editor for choosing the house too, because it's not your typical dark wood, pristine, authentically decorated craftsman bungalow.

This is the freelance project that really got my juices flowing about trying to find more time - and, um, someone to pay me - to write magazine articles on a regular basis. Writing about something I love so much --  in this case, old houses and architecture -- is just so dang fulfilling.

This has been my summer to get my butt in gear again and start working out on a regular, serious basis. I haven't exactly slacked entirely since starting this process two years ago, but this past winter was total slackerdom, and I lounged around baking, crafting, and reading in the evenings and ignoring my alarm every morning at 6am.

My saving grace now has been a strength and cardio class twice a week in the park, taught by a fitness guru who I love. She has trained pro athletes, was a star college athlete herself, has a masters degree in kinesiology, and is mom to a one year old son. My buddy Christina and I go regularly, and it always kicks our butt, but in a great way. Peer pressure -- people counting on you to show up --  does wonders, I tell ya. I supplement the classes with early-morning runs twice a week, plus an additional weights and stretching workout in the backyard once a week. It's a great feeling to be facing 40 but feel super strong and healthy (and to have legs that, as B says, look curvy and toned, ha!). Our group is hoping to do a 5K run/event this fall, so my eye is on that prize and I am feeling pretty good about making it happen. 

My morning runs give me a chance to keep tabs on my neighborhood, resident kitties, and bird life. I love knowing exactly which houses have recently undergone restoration, which trees feature the best birds, what neighbors head off to work early, which gardens are sprouting cool new flowers or veggies. I am a busy-body through and through, obviously, even when sprinting down the street. 

Fledgling

Milo the cat decided that a baby mockingbird would be a lovely late evening snack on Friday night. We heard a shrieking/squealing out in the front, ran out, and discovered a fat little fledgling hopping/half flying around the yard with Milo in lazy pursuit, adopting an attitude like "you can run, but you can't hide (yawn)."  We scooped up the bird and set it inside a cat carrier for the night so it could recover from shock. The photo shows it sitting inside our hot pink carrier. Isn't that the grumpiest face you've ever seen?

We released it back into our hedge Saturday morning, hoping it would find its nest and/or attract the attention of one of its adults to come feed it. (I learned through a Google search that fledglings still depend on adults for feeding for up to two weeks after learning to fly). We listened most of the day to its hopeful/sad calls and chirps and waited to see if an adult took interest. Nope.

Birdie ended up back in the front yard around 4pm, flailing around, Fat Sparkle sitting within paw's reach, fascinated. I called animal control and learned we could bring it into our local shelter and they'd take it in. Whew!  The woman at the desk reported that several had come in this week, the latest just an hour before ours. She said they get cocky at this age and "take on too much."

20-second disaster

We had a little 5.4 rattle and hum in these parts yesterday. As I braced myself in our back hallway doorframe and prayed that the sky would not start falling, I distinctly heard - as the shaking intensified - items from all over the house knocking together, tinkling, clinking ... and in those scant 20 seconds I knew exactly which household items were making all the noises: B's antique hatpins on the mantel, the fireplace tools, the lid of my crockpot, these new wooden "pixie pencils" sitting on the kitchen counter. Odd what you focus on in the face of a possible disaster, no?

I was also simultaneously freaking out about how I would pluck the kids off the mountain where they attend daycamp when all the streets would be ripped open, with gaslines spouting flames and mayhem ruling the streets. Minds already prone to worrying on a good day (like mine) just turn wild during events like this -- it took me a good hour to stop wigging out and my hands to stop shaking. I went through Seattle's 7.0 quake in 2001, and this one wasn't too far off in intensity or shaking.

Anyhow, I am mostly posting this photo because I am in love with these adorable mini wooden pencils I purchased at Zinnia last weekend (they stand just three inches high) and because I love how they look in my little vintage pinecone mug. I had just arranged them in there yesterday morning and that's why they played a role in my earthquake soundtrack. They'll probably also always remind me of the day that LA got its serious earth-groove back.

Just say no

You do drugs, you pay the consequences.

Yesterday afternoon, I found Milo practically unconscious on the porch, catnip and packaging torn asunder and a key bit of evidence tucked under his head. The kids left the goods out accidentally, and this kitty had a hey-day. He didn't budge or crack an eye while I walked around taking photos of him.

1234, I love Sesame even more

There's really nothing better than Sesame Street monsters and a catchy tune. Honestly, I'm decades old and watching SS still melts my heart. Since I have no clue how to embed a You Tube video on here, I'll send some traffic over to the ChordStrike blog (written by the staff of Amazon Music, of which my brother is the managing editor) and let you view Feist singing "1234" with monsters, penguins, and chickens. I'll be toe-tapping to this song all day, I tell ya.