Saturday I decided to drive to Grass Valley to see Teej & Richard at the Rancho. The three of us got to yacking and stayed up way past our bedtimes—till about 3:00. Even so, we got up relatively early on Sunday (well, it was still morning) and I was impressed at how age has not diminished our ability to keep strange hours. Or so I thought.
While Richard weed-whacked his acres, Teej and I went exploring north of Nevada City. We parked my tank on a dirt road and walked until we spotted some light-dappled trails through the pines, hiking along the softest earth I’ve ever tromped. At Teej’s suggestion I sampled the tender, new shoots of a cypress bough. She said they’re high in vitamin C. They tasted like it.
Driving home a few hours later, we got lost because of all the confusing new roads across the ridge where there used to be only woods. We found ourselves on my old road which I didn’t even recognize at first. It’s now graded, with nary a pothole. And to get to the top, where there’s a lovely view of the Sierra, it used to require four-wheel drive. No more.
We snuck a peak at my old house. The current owners have torn down the chicken coop/playhouse that Dad and I cobbled together in the early 90s. In its place are high-end swing sets and climbing structures.
Arriving back at the Rancho around 7:00 pm, we found Richard stretched out on his reclining chair covered by a blankie. I stole the prime spot nearby on the sofa, leaving Teej to seek a horizontal surface upstairs. We decided to postpone dinner so we could take a wee rest first.
Fourteen hours later, we woke up. So much for thinking we were young enough to handle sleep-deprivation with finesse. I have seen the future, and it is embarrassing.
The only bad thing is I slept so long I didn’t get to see Syd before I left on Monday, bound for Sacramento. Hearing that Lulu was sick, I bought her a ton of fruit and other goodies. When I arrived at the dorm, she was playing on her computer so what was I to do but curl up in a relatively tiny ball on her bed and take a nap? Then it was on to dance class where I got assigned an official spot on the Trip to the Cottage team. Man, is that a complicated dance. I hope I can learn to do those twirly, spinny parts without getting beheaded by my partners’ armpits.
In conclusion, here’s another picture of my great-nephew’s lips, which, I must remind you, are even cooler than a guinea pig’s.
You have a tank.
Yes, I have a tank. Maybe I’ll let you ride in it when you come visit. You can sit in the fold-down seat in the waaaaay-back.
Your old house reminds me of my old place in Twain Harte, except a whole lot neater. Its missing several tons of scrap metal and old trucks and Devil worshipping supplies. 4000 ft? I miss it sometimes but not always. I particularly miss visiting the wild plants and trying to eat them. Never got sick or died. Thats good.
Im Rancho nichts Neues. As usual.
Okay, so life up here isn’t the frenzied pursuit of sexual excess and drug-addled epiphany we remember so fondly from our youth. (Thanks for letting everybody know, Ginna.) But that doesn’t mean we won’t pointlessly risk life and limb when occasion offers.
La Teej and I went to Upper Scotts Flat yesterday for a fling aboard my brother’s recently restored sailboat. “You do remember how to sail?†I asked casually as I stepped on board. “Ha!†he scoffed.
It was when the nearest (real) sailors began shouting, “Put on your life vests!†that I suspected the terrible error I had made. “We don’t want drownings on our lake!†they added indignantly.
“Damn,†said Steve a moment later, staring at the catamaran hurtling down at us, “I don’t remember that thing about the right-of-way.â€
“The car on the right goes first,†I offered.
“Whatever,†he replied, diving for the deck as the boom whistled through the space occupied by his head a millisecond earlier. “They can miss us if they really want to.â€
“Uh…†I said, “Have you considered taking lessons? You know, if you’re a bit rusty…â€
“Nah, it’s coming back to me. I can feel it. Hey, can you grab that line that goes to the triangle thing-y, I think it’s going to…OH SHIT!â€
This time we both dove for the deck. The boom was in a bloodthirsty mood. It could smell my fear.
“Okay, Steve, how long has it been since you sailed last?â€
“Hey, it’s cool…â€
“HOW LONG?â€
“Well, remember that guy who lived two doors down from us in high school? He used to race a lot…â€
“What? Are you telling me…â€
“I crewed for him twice,†Steve said proudly. “Now, quit whining and help me untangle this stuff, will ya?â€
* * *
So there, GA. We really do live lives of high adventure around here. You just caught us on weekend when we were…uh…recuperating from all the excitement.
R