North Country

A couple weekends ago we explored Sonoma County, scoping it out as a possible place to relocate. Unfortunately, it’s further from Chico than where I am now, and that upsets little Em. It’s also pretty damned expensive. But we’ll see.

And last week Molly, Ember and I headed north again for two nights, and visited the ocean during a break in the rain.

Lots of pretty country around. I know there are some fabulous people living in the area, but the dude parked by the Russian River with this on his SUV door is not among them:

(I grabbed the image from the web cuz I didn’t want the bloated bastard to see me snapping a photo.)

Meanwhile, in the East Bay, this is what locals sport on their vehicles:

There is one thing I won’t miss about living here:

I’d arrived home with a laden car to unpack, but couldn’t park so I called the cops to get them to issue a ticket. They suggested I have the vehicle towed but I said no: too cruel. Several hours later, shortly before my Chico family arrived with their truck to load up heavy stuff, the car was still there, so what else could I do?

We (all the Chicoans and Lulu) had a good visit, doing Christmasy stuff we’d had to cancel in December. Then Ember headed home with her family for five nights.

In my seventh pottery class, I began ambitiously wedging a four-plus pound of clay  before lovingly but firmly shaping it on the whirling wheel. Ten minutes later, it suddenly collapsed. I wired it off the bat and started over with a new blob. Same thing. After my third failed attempt, I focused instead on trimming the previous week’s tall cylinder. It was destined, I thought, to become a standing pencil holder, but it turns out its fate was to fly off the wheel and splat onto the ground to join my other disasters. My classmates, mostly beginners like me, went on to create elegant and complex shapes, while I switched off my machine for the day and cleaned up. No point battling life when life isn’t playing nice. 

The following week, it was a new beginning. I whomped that clay onto the wheel with a newfound hope, one that turned out to be misplaced. I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t just signed up for a new 8-week session, but maybe things will get better one of these days.

My cerebral cortex is increasingly unable to access certain information, such as memories and basic words. Like, you know those big, dark rooms where sciency people project constellations onto the domed ceiling? I know them too. Yet over the course of 24 hours I simply couldn’t retrieve it. I tried. I came up with: 

• nocturnosphere
• celestarium
• astrodome

Come on, brain. It’s not like “planetarium” is an illogical word, man. Yet the only reason I know it now is because I finally looked it up.

House stuff is chugging along, and I’m knee-deep in spreadsheets, to-do lists, estimates, endless other paperwork, and grief. Over the past month I’ve made hundreds of trips into the basement, toting things that I’ll try to part with in my upcoming garage sale. However, some ten percent of treasures find their way back up to me. It’s painful to let go of things that tell stories, capture memories, connect me to my ancestors, and just amuse me.

There are those who think I’m a little (?) over-the-top, packing up and deaccessioning already when I won’t be moving for three months. But my friend Susie, an expert in this kind of thing, tells me every time she stops by, “You have a lot to do.”

I do believe that letting go of material things is healthy, and may even be a step on the path toward enlightenment. But come on, universe. You don’t expect me to get rid of Peter’s Folly, do you?

Peter was my father. His folly was going antiquing after a multi-martini party, discovering and bringing home this giant. I’ve always loved it. I’m not leaving it behind. Even after some draconian axing, I STILL have way too much for a place half this size. 

Life is hard now, with too many heartaches. Ember and I are both facing a future of change and uncertainty. Eleni is trying to get Em into her old school, which would spare her having to start over elsewhere. Fingers crossed on that!

Me: I’m not liking the looks of what my life holds in store, but I’m not ready for flatlining or Jesus either.