The Gurly Life

This Week in Maliboo Kitty

Maliboo Kitty loves socks and slippers. And by love, I mean she likes to grab them and toss them around, bring them to me like they're kittens, and hide them. My mom has not quite worked out a system of slipper-protection. To wit:

It's the stupid things

On Saturday, my evening plans fell through so my mom and I decided to have dinner at a local  restaurant. The food is good, and the staff are friendly and welcoming. They do everything they can to compete with the other, similar restaurant down the street. Bless their hearts.

Saturday evening was no exception. They had a violin/erhu/piano player in a full-on tux with tails. His hair was slick, and he played with the passion of a concert violinist. The only problem was that he really was not good at all. When we walked in he was playing some Christmas song on the violin, and he was off-key and flat, to boot. At first I thought I was having a stroke and that the auditory center of my brain had melted, but then I realized my mom was hearing the same thing. Let the giggling begin!

The entertainment moved on to the piano, where he launched into a piece by Mozart, messed it up a few times, stopped and started again, and then trailed into nothing. Ditto with Claire de Lune. After that, it was back to the erhu, which sounded ok to us - we assume he can play that one, and he's dabbling in the other instruments. Then again to his forte, the violin. He played several famous pieces, which we were kind of able to recognize - he would begin by keeping it simple, and do ok (not great, just ok), then his confidence would apparently outswell his skills, and he would take it to the next level, where it all went to shit.

While I realize this makes us horrible people, I have to admit we had the best time and giggled helplessly most of the evening, and walked out with big smiles on our faces. Naturally, we clapped at the end of each number. In fact, I enjoyed the bad playing more than I enjoy good playing: I like to chat with my company during dinner and have fun, not be distracted by good music and then feel obligated to pay attention. This was much, much better. We had no trouble telling the management that we enjoyed the evening's entertainment.

A mysterious infestation

I don't use thumbtacks. I mean, I think I have used them occasionally throughout my life, but I'm not a thumb tack user. I'm a post-it user, I have post-its all over the place, I find them just about everywhere at work and at home, and that makes sense. But recently, thumb tacks have started appearing, too. You know the kind, with the flat, colored plastic back and the sharpy pointy bit. They have been showing up on the floor, and getting into my mom's feet, or batted around by the cats and then getting into my mom's feet.

We couldn't figure out where they were coming from until my mom found a little box of the things tucked in with some other art supplies of mine (yes, said supplies include crayons and play-do, no art supply pile is complete without them). Or maybe it was a in a drawer, I forget. Point is, I have no idea where that box of tacks came from, and how some of them ended up ambushing my mom. We threw the box away, we have no use for them, but we keep finding them in the oddest places.

To wit:

Trees!!

You may have noticed I am trying a different blogging approach with this weekend trip. I am grouping pictures together rather than going chronologically. Maybe it will work, maybe it will be dry as a bone, a bone that has been removed from the body and has been on the desert floor for a year. I've also added a couple of little videos, it's very difficult to get across the massiveness of these trees so I tried a couple of different things.

Giant Tree Museum, with giant tree. Look at the teeeeeny tiiiiny people.


The Sentinel, just an average sequoia, which weighs as much as two fully-loaded 747's.


This tree is enchanting. Its newer leaves are a lighter color than its older leaves, and with the sun shining on it it looks like it is internally illuminated.

There are A LOT of felled trees in the forest, which of course make it immediately obvious why someone would ask the question of whether, when a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, it makes a sound. It is a very reasonable question. These are the roots from a collapsed sequoia.

Here's a little video with some interesting info about sequoias.






Ed by Ned, the twin trees that grew so close together that they fused into one tree. This is not uncommon, it seems, there are quite a few that look like this. If you go to the post before this, you can see a picture of my mom inside a simulated footprint of Ed by Ned. It's a big footprint with a small mom inside.

This is a little video to show you how tall Ed by Ned is/are.

This just looks like an Ent. I was half expecting it to grab me with its branchy fingers and take me half way to Mordor.

Along Dry Creek Drive.

Mom and I take the national parks (after paying the entrance fee, of course, who do you take us for?)

Mom and I remembered to take some pictures of each other as well as pictures of the scenery. Here are a few.

Saturday morning, waiting for breakfast poolside with my Kindle.

Just some little ol' trees along the road. The tiny person with the red cap is my mom.

Between two trees.



My mom standing inside the footprint of two giant sequoias that grew so close together they became one tree at the base. They're called Ed by Ned (more pics later).

Mom in front of General Sherman, the largest living tree in the world. It is 3200 hundred years old. My mom's big thing was that she was afraid of bears. They have brown bears at these parks, which are generally not aggressive, unless they get used to eating people food and/or unless they have cubs. Instead, she got stung by a bee. It was a fuzzy, beautiful bee, so we felt kinda bad for it, poor thing.

I have made it to the top of Moro Rock, in Sequoia. 380 steps at over 6000' in altitude (about 2000m +). It makes you a little winded but it's doable. But if you are afraid of heights, I don't recommend it, there are sheer drops on both sides of the Rock.

Mom at the Kings Canyon Visitors Center.

By the river at the bottom of the Canyon.

Where we stayed

This weekend, my mom and I went to Sequoia National Park and to Kings Canyon National Park. We went to see the giant sequoias and Kings Canyon. It's true.

We stayed at a B&B about 17 miles south of Sequoia's entrance, the Plantation Bed & Breakfast, Lemon Cove, CA, pop. 190. A family reunion could double the population. It's a homey b&b, with a pool and jacuzzi and a lovely garden where humming birds and bees flourish, despite the garden being a neighborhood cat favorite. Every morning you get a gourmet breakfast made by Marie, who co-owns the place with her husband Scott. Everything is home made, and absolutely delicious. Laid back lovely place to stay. Here are some pics.

[Photo by my mom]
[Photo by my mom]

We stayed in Aunt Pittypat's room. The whole place has a Gone With The Wind theme, so each room is named after a charcter in the bookmovie.

By the way, I took the pictures this weekend with my little point and shoot, as I was too tired to bring my big camera. Plus I think having limits is good for me to practice being more particular about how I shoot. I will only edit a few of the pics, and you'll just have to be satisfied with that. You're welcome.

Let them eat cake!

For my birthday, my mom made me a super chocolatey cake, specifically, a Sachertorte. A gluten-free, hyperchocolated Sachertorte. As follows:

Old friends, new friends, part deux

My best friend from college, Dwight, is in town with his perpetual motion daughter, Jade. They're in So Cal for her hockey tournament. There's something ironic about a hockey tournament while it's 90F outside, but whatever. That's not the point.

Dwight and I have known each other for 24 years, and like with old friends like that, we just pick up where we left off, no matter how long it's been. It's weird to think we've been friends longer than his daughter has been alive, but I guess that's always going to be the case. That reminds me, when I was Jade's age, I remember hearing my parents saying the same things: oh my god how you've grown (to Jade I said, dear god you're taller than me), we've been friends for [insert double digit number here] years, I could tell you stories!, then my parents and their friends would remind each other of some youthful caper that I would think was a lot more boring than they realized, while they laughed happily.

I won't be so lame, I thought, when I grow up. Eh hem. Anywaayyyy....

We did a mini tour of LA. We went up to Griffith Park, where I once again tried to understand the concept behind Foucault Pendulum, which apparently proves that the earth rotates. I'm all, whatever, I've read the explanation 18 times already and I cannot wrap my mind around it. So all I will say about it is that it's pretty. And incidentally, my photo is so much better than the one they have on the website. Seriously, I may need to send it to them.

Griffith Observatory on a Thursday afternoon was almost empty. It was wonderful. We could see all the exhibits without swarms of pushy smelly children and stupid people making stupid comments, which left me entirely free to make all the stupid comments that could be made. I was also pushy and smelly. Very liberating.

It was very peaceful up there.

It was quiet enough to hear the birds sing, though it took a few tries to get this particular bird because a member of the janitorial staff was changing out the trash bags and made an infernal racket slamming things, dragging things, unfurling bags, throwing full bags noisily into the wheely bin, I wanted to kick her.

 

Then we went to Hollywood, where we saw the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and the hand and footprints at Grauman's Chinese Theater. Once again I note the poor quality of the photo on the website. I mean, seriously?

This picture of Jade is a reference to the fact that, being 15, she can't drink, and apparently she drinks Shirley Temples or some such thing. Which is easier to say than Arnold Palmer, except that I won't switch to Shirley Temples because they are absolutely foul. No offense, Ms. Temple.

We also made a quick stop at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, home of the early Oscar ceremonies.

We then picked up my mom and we went downtown to dinner at Fleming's Steakhouse, where we stuffed ourselves full of meat (sorry, vegetarians and vegans) and where at last the true story behind my now chronic wrist injury was revealed. Because I'm a true hero, and true heroes are modest, I won't get too detailed. I will say however that the whole "it was a garlic press injury" was a clever cover-up, a la Clark Kent, and that bopping sharks on the nose may or may not cause a wrist injury.

As we walked back to the car, with our post-dinner pooches, Jade asked me if I go to the clubs (how sweet that she thinks that I'm not enough of a cryptkeeper that I might actually go to clubs. At night). When I explained that I leave my place at 7:30am only to return 12 or 13 hours later during the week, she pointed out that there were still plenty of evening hours left to go clubbing.

HAHAHAHAHAHA! [wipes tears of laughter from her eyes]

Apparently I was able to pass myself off as some kind of Cool Person Who Does Cool Things and Goes Out At Night.

We had fun, we hung out, we had excellent food, and it was great to see my good friend Dwight, who I've known for more than half our lives. I only wish I could have my dearest and oldest friends all living close by, instead of scattered all over the country, all over the globe. In the meantime, I have promised that I will visit him and Jade, as well as his wife Vicky and youngest daughter Katie, in Charlotte. I don't even know what state it's in. I'm not kidding.

Traumatized!

A few weeks ago, Cricket the Calico Hippo went on a big adventure. The short version, for the lazy, is that Cricket, about 3 years after once being accidentally locked out of my condo for about 10 seconds, finally went outside again, about 3 feet outside the front door.

She's been going outside occasionally, and seemed to be gathering steam. She has even made friends with the neighbor's cat.

And then it happened. Again.

When we're home, we usually leave the front door open if it's warm outside. Cricket sits in front of the door, and goes outside a little bit. Today the wind closed the door, vewy vewy quietly, with Cricket outside.

GASP!

Cricket got so scared she lost her little voice, and all my mom heard was a faint scratching at the door. She didn't realize Cricket was outside, but she walked to the door because she thought it might be the neighbor's cat. When she opened the door, Cricket raced inside like a bat into hell, and hid in the closet.

Feeling guilty about allowing this awful thing to happen to Cricket, my mom had a genius idea: fix it with T-R-E-A-T-S. So she pulled out the little bag of treats, which is basically what Cricket LIVES for. She warbled, TREEAAATS, which is how we announce that it's time for the daily dose of joy. Then mom patiently laid a trail of treats from the living room to the open door, which she wedged open with our rubber crocodile, aka, the welcoming committee, so as to avoid yet another trauma.

Finally, after many minutes between treats, Cricket got back to the door. She's not going outside now, but she's willing to walk to the door and look out, while carefully avoiding getting closer than a few inches from the threshhold.

I told my mom that she's lucky that Cricket didn't die of terror. She laughed and said if Cricket had died, then she would have died, too. So I would have come home to find a dead cat outside the door, a dead mom inside the door, and I would NEVER have figured out what the hell happened.

Joy of Love Day 18: Going Out

I'm all over the place with this one! All over the place. The instructions say, have someone else take a snapshot while you're out. Whatever. It said, going out. Here's my mom, going out. She's off to the Senior Center, there's a group of folks who meet every Friday to discuss politics, so that's where she was going. She's looking at her watch because she doesn't want me to waste a lot of time taking the picture. Tee hee.