Spontaneous Adventures at Pier 39!

This morning started out simple enough; waking up earlier than usual, feeling bored and restless, complaining of a want to see different scenery.
A little while later, The Dink was loaded, and I was perched in the passenger seat with a pair of comfortable walking shoes and thick socks on, itching for adventure! No agenda, no final location, just "drive till we figure out what we're going to do". After a few false starts, we wound up heading for the Bay, San Francisco. Once there, we could decide what to see and where to stop.
In the end, we detoured at what USED to be the Nut Tree to pick up a couple drinks, a snack for Dink, and a quick raid of the Sanrio (Hello Kitty) outlet. I picked up a Hello Kitty plush change purse and game pen for Dink and we were off again! Before I knew it, we were crossing the Bay Bridge while I tried desperately to think of anything but my impending DOOOOOM.
I was surprised I'd managed to avoid eating drive-thru crapfood while on the road, but by the time we landed at Pier 39, I was ravenous. I do not recommend Luigi's Pizzeria of San Francisco. Their chowder was great... and that was it. The FOURTEEN DOLLAR tiny lasagna was cheeseless, bland, tasted like it'd been made with canned tomato sauce, and had meat marbles in it. This is supposedly "Luigi's grandmother's recipe"? Riiiight. Our drinks weren't refilled until our check was brought around - and we had to point it out to have it done - along with no box being offered for my lasagna (and no questions being asked as to why it had two bites taken out of it before the plate was slid clear across the table). Meanwhile, the large group at the next table over (same server) had their beer pitchers refilled twice, which sent our server skirting our table both ways. He seemed bewildered over the lack of tip for his lack of care.
After lunch, we took Dink to see the private sailboats tied to the end of the pier, then made the trek back to the aquarium entrance. She'd been talking about fish ever since we'd mentioned to her that we'd take her to see "the fish" (we'd originally considered lunch at the Rainforest Cafe, where you eat beside aquariums) and she practically danced into the entrance.
She got to see all sorts of fish in all sorts of tanks, see shining white lacy jellyfish for the first time in real life, and walk down an "under the pier" simulation tank-tunnel. There were "What does a squid's tentacles feel like?" and "What does an octopus' beak feel like?" touch panels to explore - not that she'd go near them! - and a mock-up crab pot to play with; then another tank-tunnel, this one with large fish and a LARGE nurse shark. She marveled at every last fish, waving and talking to all of them... until she saw the nurse shark. THEN she started climbing Daddy, saying "Out out out!" Fortunately, the nurse shark didn't notice her until we'd hit the end of the shark tunnel, so we were almost out anyhow.
Back upstairs, we got to visit the touch tanks, where rays and small tiger sharks swim to the edges of the pools, eager to be touched. The most amazing part of that, to me, was the rays. They're HIGHLY inquisitive, and very friendly. They can easily recognize when someone new has entered the edge of their pond, but can't see past the edge. It's only when you lean over the top to cast a shadow that they know you're there, but once they see the shadow... they move fast! Fluttering wings and gliding shapes sliding through the water towards you, and then.. the most amazing thing.. they pop their heads clean out of the water, up past the gills! They look you square in the face with both eyes, with the most curious, searching expression, for that one moment that they manage to stay above water, and then sink back in and hold very still, pressed against the wall, eagerly waiting for you to pet their wings.
I'm hoping, the next time I go, I'll be able to get a good shot of video of them rising up to meet me. And oh, you should see their excitement when they rise up and see a baby! They strain to stay up, as if they're eager to take in this strange, different creature.
Anyhow, the aquarium had snakes, and of all things, a chinchilla. That was instantly Dink's favorite. The fact that it was as active and hyper as her.. well, it might have been what won her heart. That and the fact the creature looked like a cross between a bunny and a kitty.
When we left the aquarium and tired of listening to a street performer playing a dulcimer, we returned to the car. I was exhausted. Sore. So very desperate for the gallon of water I knew I'd left in the trunk. But the best show ended up being yet to come..
When she saw the car, Dinkle rushed at it, fast as a held hand would allow, and plastered herself to the back door that held her carseat, hugging it like a long-lost friend. "Awwww.." she said, over and over. "Awwwww.." while we convinced her she had to dislodge herself if we were going to get the door OPEN for her to get in. As soon as it was open.. SUCTION-CUP to the side of her carseat, saying "Awwww... Awwww.." Oye.. LOL
Once inside, she was only too happy to be headed home. We hadn't thought to take along even an umbrella/cane stroller, and the crowd got thick enough after lunch that it would have been more a hindrance than a help, but we ALL got a good, long workout and needed to crawl into the car with groans and sighs of contentment.
Oh, yes.. Dink also got a Kid Nipper, shaped like a penguin head. We've all had a time taking turns chasing her through the house (and getting chased through the house) with it, nipping away at her neck and ankles.. or picking up toys and dropping them again.. or play-feeding it.. or pretending ventriloquism. Best $7 ever spent.

Worth The Drive..

I took Dinkle on a short outing around Old Town Sac last night with friends - we had a BLAST.

We rode a horse-drawn carriage down a river rock cobbled road...

Bumpty bumpty bumpty

 Thanked our VERY gentle Bay engine, Angel...

Don't let the ears fool you - she loves her job! Driver was talking to her.

Ate Fanny Ann's World Famous wings...

That's right.. FULL WINGS. Each one counts as a SINGLE wing. 24 per bucket.

 ...and raided The Candy Barrel!

$21.00 worth of candy later..

By the time we decided to hit Old Sac, the winds were up and the temperature had dropped, so all the carriages had their tops up. I plan on taking her out again, once the weather is warmer, and take a quick film of her if I can. When our ride behind Angel (one of several horses from Top Hand Ranch) was over, we disembarked and asked the driver if it would be okay for Gabby to come around to the horse's head. Turns out Angel is a pure lady. She looked around towards her driver, then turned her head towards Gabby and bobbed down for pettings. Since I was perched on the edge of a raised boardwalk (whose boards scrape ABOVE my ankle when I'm standing at street level), with one arm wrapped around a column and the other arm wrapped around the waist of a toddler being stretched out towards a Beast of Moderate Size and Immense Trampling Power, I had no hands to get a shot of her Very First Touch, but it's a moment seared into my brain for eternity.
Let's put it this way.. Earlier this week, she SAW a Real Live Horse for the first time, when one of the carriages clopped past while we were walking from our friend's car. You know how they say your eyes dilate slightly when you feel attraction? I got to watch her pupils WHOOM out huge when the horse tap-danced past her. I had to stop and announce that she had officially experienced that weird "girl|horse" connection that ensnared so many of us into pleading for horse figurines and notebooks and stuffed animals.

Below are a couple pictures that are not mine. Check out the boardwalk.

Photo copyright: Top Hand Ranch

FreeFoto.com image used under Creative Commons Usage

Moving..

Moving is like a mission in a weird game; but you aren't just collecting things, you're collecting things and putting them in various sized boxes. Then, you put the smaller boxes into bigger boxes, until you're nauseous at the mere sight of a piece of cardboard.
Then, you find out all those BOXES have to go in a CAR and be DRIVEN to a new place, where you aren't sure you'll have power, and you KNOW you won't have internet, and you start looking at your iPhone like it is The Holy Grail of Life Giving Connectivity and realize you're soon going to have to take things to a whole new level of Boxdom. Why?
Well...

You still haven't bought a toaster. Or a plug-in counter top burner. Or a microwave. Or a tea kettle. Or important things like one of every single thing that belongs in a kitchen. Also, you still don't have pans yet, and the whole of your dining capabilities rest in the hands of a fistful of forks you nabbed from your soon-to-be-former housemates (because how awesome is it to have a fork with tines THAT LONG?) and a partial set of dishes from said housemates. You also don't have a cat crate to house the soon-to-be-neurotic cat that's only just gotten over the fact that you disappeared for a week and left him to watch furniture move and his little friend die.
You sit in a corner for a while, babbling incessantly to yourself about Lists and Boxes and Panic Attacks and Where Are The Meds, Again, and Why Did I Ever Decide It'd Be Easier To Wait Another Month.
Then you find out the trip you were going to take to get the bulk of the stuff to New Place is canceled. Just when you organized your brain enough to throw Panic in a dark cell with a ball gag and straight jacket on.
Suddenly, like The Joker, there it is again, cackling at you.
So you walk around high-strung, which starts a fight about how your part of Moving is "easy" and all you can think is "What the fuck EASY. YOU get to leave me there and go home to a house that has everything right where you left it and people are happy and there's internet and cable and a working, clean kitchen and people who aren't entirely CRAZY. I have to deal with unpacking all these damn BOXXEN and try to keep a cat from dying of a heart attack and find out at three a.m. that I FORGOT TO BUY MUSTARD AND DAMMIT I NEED MUSTARD RIGHT NOW and there's no handy person with a car right there saying 'hey, it's right down the street, let's go pick some up and maybe a little drive-thru food, too since we're passing eleven hundred places that sell hot food convenience' because there's only an aunt and crazy uncle and I can't drive and the nearest store that's open after midnight is FIVE TOWNS OVER and there isn't even a goddamn TOWN for thirty fucking miles!"
Pretty soon, you've got high enough stress levels that you're sure you've lost at least a dozen years from your optimal parts usage and you've cleaned most of the kitchen.

So, hours later, we've moved all but one giant box and a few small boxes (plus one cat and one suitcase) in one load, dealt with several bouts of crying, , deposited BOXXEN, drove most of the way back, stopped for a drink, and came home to a cranky mama that was supposed to be asleep for all the hours it took to drive out. Silly opens the door and out bursts a massive smile and streak of curls, who dances on seeing Daddy is home, but is NOT coming inside till she sees Lala is home, too. And all you can think is... it's going to break her heart when Daddy drives off for all day again in a week and comes home alone.

As important as it is... I find myself wanting to say "Nevermind, I don't want to go, I want to go back to having my safe space and playing with my girl and watching her grow up and never missing a minute of it and god dammit, why did I choose to move so far away?"

How Our Little Stinkerbell Got So GRIM.

GRIM.. -sigh-
Gabrielle Renee-Iris M****. The dash makes me twitch every time I see it, dunno why.

Silly was the one to decide she'd have that name. And she shares the story with total strangers if they so much as coo at Stinkerbell. Gabrielle for Xena's companion. Renee because it's the actress' name.
We thought... okay, that's done. She'll have Blue's last name. All set.
..and then the day after seeing our little girl's first sonogram (one a kidney-bean, the other a lizard), Silly's Nan passed away. This is a woman who'd fought hard to stay around for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren; past the death of her husband and soul mate, past the loss of her sight, past weekly dialysis and failing organs, past a money-grubbing daughter in law's bumbling care. She had the BEST (and apparently lower-class) British accent and a spitfire spirit to back it up. The first time she met me, we attempted to explain who I was. She cut everyone off, took my hand, and said "Call me Nanna."
On her last good day, she sat and talked to Silly for hours, told her all about her pregnancies and gave her every bit of mothering advice she could squeeze in. She touched the sonogram prints, and got to see them in whatever small amount of vision she had left. The next day, when we got the call, we rushed to the hospital. She was still hanging on.
She waited till we all got into the room with her, the whole family touching her arms, legs, and hair. Silly said "I'm here, Nanna." As quickly and quietly as the next breath, she was gone.
Months later, I'd hear a low-class British accent over the newborn's monitor, calling me by name in a calm, comfortable, seeking way, followed by "...could you come in here, please?" The only other person in the house was The Boy, and he was sitting in the same room, engrossed in his video game. Acting nonchalant, I got up from my desk and went to GRIM's room. Sure enough, no one there. Just Gabby. Gabby who had somehow managed to get her hat off and bury her face in it.
What else could I do? I said "Thanks, Nanna, I see it." and got the hat out. Checked that Gabby was breathing normally, and closed the door behind me when I left.
Every once in a while, Gabby giggles and waves at nothing. She's very focused on SOMETHING when she does it, and she's done it since she first learnt how to smile. After that experience, ever since.. I say hello to Silly's Nan and Pampy. I hope they enjoy their visits.

Anyhow.. that's how Gabby ended up with two middle names, and how a baby girl with the initials GRM became our GRIM little giggler.

Midnight Phonecalls [ominous music]

I changed our land line's ring tone. heehee.
Now, it plays the opening bars of..

Bach-Toccata and Fuge in D minor

It sounds epic. xD
I forgot to tell Blue and Silly... Both said, the first time the phone rang while they were home, they "nearly had a heart attack". I thought it was a far cry better than our usual 'LEE LEE LEE ... LEE LEE LEE', one of the standard, ear splitting out-of-the-box rings most cordless phones have.
I say it fits with our future plans to turn the boot room (tiny, tiny foyer) into a Haunted Mansion styled space. They say I'm going "a bit far" with the whole thing. In the end, though, we've kept it. I think it grows on you.
...besides, if they made me change it, I'd pick the William Tell Overture. LOL

ON TO THE PHONE CALL!
This is why I'm making a post, after all, to write about a phone call. Rather, what the phone call stirred in me.

I think a lot about the garden. When the realization first sank in, I was all gung-ho, ordering scads of seed catalogues and talking "garden" nonstop while visions of our back yard transformed danced through my head. As time marches on, however, my excitement dims. I'm holding onto the hope that it'll happen, that I'll make it happen, but every idea... every effort that goes nowhere leaves me more and more despondent. I've accepted that it won't look the way I want, that I'll likely be gardening out of containers for the foreseeable future. I've accepted that we simply, honestly, cannot work out there right now. We're all getting over this virus and the weather has been peaking steadily at 115* F. Hell, our inflated-ring pool is like slightly-warm bathwater now! WITHOUT the help of a solar cover! There's no way we could go out and rip up the ground like this.

Still... I'd like a little enthusiasm from my pair. I've stopped badgering them with facts and bits of trivia, I would love to hear the occasional suggestion or even encouragement. Now, when my seed books arrive, I don't bother beyond a cursory flipping. Drop it open to the middle, glance at a couple pages, sigh, and toss them in the drawer with the first ones. The ones I'd so lovingly studied, shared with GRIM, wrote notes regarding.

It's happened. I've hit the "what's the point" phase, and I haven't even got a handful of soil to show for it. I didn't plan on having anything planted this year, but I would have liked to buy a tomato and put it in a bucket. Something.

Which brings me to tonight's midnight call. My ominous Bach making me smile. There are only three people who would call me at midnight, when the baby's home. Silly, who works graveyard and gets lonely. Mom, who knows I'm almost always up at night. Patti, my aunt. We've both been the type for odd hours all our lives. Sometimes, midnight is the only chance you get. Your one chance to talk without an impatiently eager child clamoring to be heard by one end of the phone or the other, away from spouses that have an innate sense and decide that's exactly when they need you (similar to the previous).
The house is quiet, everything is peace and calm, you've had a chance to destress and let go.

~dee doo deet... deeedaaduuuudum.. dooodoodoooot dooo dee dooo, dooo~

So. It's my mom.
My son has informed her that I will *be there* for the fourth.
He is emphatic.
I WILL be there.
No one can dissuade him.
There is no argument strong enough, no reason valid enough.
I will be there.
He knows it.
KNOWS it.

...I'd like to know HOW he knows that.
I offered for him to come out here. Have a barbecue, watch the fireworks, splash in our wading pool, get heatstroke in the park down the street, maybe. I never once said anything about going out there. See, we already had two families coming in for Blue's feed-me-till-I-pop barbecue. I thought it'd be better to add two (or three, or four) mouths to the party, than have me out there.. alone.. trying to remember how long you wait before adding sauce.
Blue had told me the next DAY that he'd called it off because we'd all been sick. He couldn't take grilling and smoking in this breath-sucking dry heat, let alone a repeat of his birthday's chaos. I'd texted mom later that night, saying I would be out for the fourth, if it was okay with her. I hadn't talked to anyone outside of my own house or Blue's mom since then. Mom's phone wasn't set up for texts yet, so it never arrived.

Baffled.

The boy has the pure, singular ability to baffle.

Anyhow, our call gets dropped mid-sentence, and I can't reach my mom. I'm going straight to voicemail, then I get some man speaking Spanish. I wait a little while, and she doesn't call back. Now, she isn't in the best of health. I know this and I'm starting to worry, so I dig my aunt's number out of the phone and wake her out of a sound sleep. Sure, she can go check on mom, tell her I've been trying to call back. Then, since mom's busy, I end up chatting with my aunt.

She's renovating that tiny house, the standing vestige of my grandfather's memory. She's planting in his once-loved soil; mourning the dead lizards that crawled into the walls to hibernate and didn't find a way out.
As is generally true, talk of the property leads to talk of my grandfather. Everyone but his family called him Jim. We called him many other things, from 'grandpa' to 'Fattio Daddio'. He was a great man, but had flaws like anyone else.

He used to cut up half gallon and quart milk jugs, the "paper" ones, and make them into "lizard houses". You could find him outside, kicking back on a pile of old wood like it was a luxury lounger, and he'd gesture you over.
"Quiet!" he'd hiss, grabbing you roughly by the wrist before you could step into an unseen bolt-hole. Once you were settled in, silent and still... he'd lean back again.
Like a magician, his hand would disappear. Bringing it out again with a casual flourish, he'd drop a blue-belly lizard in your lap.. or your palm.. or on the sleeve of your borrowed "cover" shirt.
And there it'd stay.
Staring at you.
You could swear... the damned thing was judging you!
Eventually, it'd look back to him, he'd nod, and it'd skitter off or settle in.
Once they were on me, I found I could sit stock still for hours in that heat. I'd giggle and try to stifle it, squirm a bit with the excitement of it all, and stare deeply into reptilian eyes that seemed just as human as any other. Sometimes, they'd let me touch them, but mostly not. My grandpa, meanwhile, would be crook'd into his lounge, muttering around his rollie cigarette.

I used to think he did it because he loved me best. I was his first, he told everyone. First grandchild; and later, the bringer of the first great-grandchild. His golden one. I thought it was my duty to learn everything he had to teach me. That somehow, all of these experiences were lessons I would need to know when I was grown, when I would take on the mantle none of us could picture him letting slip. Now... Now I think he just needed some peace. A little space of quiet and stillness. Like a child told to play "Let's Pretend" and they've been given the role of "moss on a log", I eagerly accepted and strained to do the best I could at being still and silent.
He never was an outwardly affectionate type. He told people he loved them by saying things like "get a haircut" and "you're too fat". If cornered, he'd admit that he was never taught how to show love. He didn't want his family to be taunted in school, so they should cut their hair. He worried about their health, afraid of seeing them die from something that could have been prevented.

Mostly, though, his love came through in money. "Take some money out of my account and buy that girl of yours a new dress. I don't like her wearing rags." That was said after the family got together (in old, faded clothes) to scrub his floors clean, after he was moved into what would become his hospice area. This man, who would fish out clothes that had washed downstream and take them home to wear, whose ceiling was a schitzophrenic's dream of colors, who'd eaten out of cans he bought by the case.. hated seeing his children or his grandchildren in anything less than "Goin' To Town" clothes.

So we got to talking about the lizards in the walls, my aunt and I. Until she mentioned them, I'd forgotten all about those cut up rectangles. They, like my grandfather, had just... always been there. Accepted, loved, appreciated, sought out. No matter how faded the logos got, no matter how warped by rain they'd become, we - and the lizards - still returned to them, year after year and season after season.

It looks like my Big Idea is going to have to wait for another entry, but I do hope you'll stick around. Whoever... wherever... you are.

About The Yard

So I've done a little puttering about the yard. Spent a little time over two days with the camera.
Bad perspective changes, should have stood closer to center when I took the pictures.
Left fence, red line depicts start of back fence, second red line depicts end of back fence, right fence.
The garden will be on the right-hand side of the first line, between the phone pole (that's behind the fence) and the playhouse.



This.. is Booshy Boosh. It's huge and it's been getting bigger ever since we arrived. It's also taking up way too much yard and harboring hundreds (may be an exaggeration) of snails. I have Big Plans for Booshy Boosh.

After a couple hours of work, two days ago...
Booshy Boosh started on it's way to being a bit less... Booshy.

While this was going on, Punkin Little..

..was watching me from her stroller, which I'd pushed outside. The grass has been treated with Weed & Feed and she loves to pluck off bits, stick them in her mouth, and then make faces..

...so it wasn't safe for her to be down in it. She thought it was hysterical to pick "stars" off her tray and fling them in my general direction while I'm sweatin' and swearin' and bush whackin'.
Screwed up my thumb, my hand, and my ankle. Got a "bark bite" on the inside of my opposite arm. Got loved on VERY MUCH by some sort of weed..

Ignore the hair, please. These are the weeds I was "loved" by. They were on my shoes, my pants, and up to chest high on my shirt. Which is odd.. considering the weeds I was walking through were only high enough to reach my ankles.

Elsewhere in the yard... we've got a pool! Hub's mom bought him one of those pipe-and-mesh screened gazebos and an inflate-a-ring above ground pool for his birthday. In a moment of brilliance, he put one inside the other. We jokingly call it our "indoor pool" and have taken to soaking in it every night. It's not really big enough for any sort of swimming, seeing as it's only high enough to reach (barely) the top of my thighs and is about 12' in diameter, but it's awesome for relaxing at the end of the day or splashing with our little waterbug.