Ship's Blog

One thing that I know about blogs is that the most successful blogs have theme. Whether it's 'what's new in the world of gadgets,' thoughts on creating an organized home, or life as a parent, thematic blogs attract readers. If they're well written and interesting, they get repeat visits.

So, it makes perfect sense that I'm starting my first blog without a theme.

I call it "my first blog" because I have thematic plans for the future, to be developed on other sites. But this is home base, and since when has my home base been centered around one single topic, theme, purpose, or identity? I have too many alter egos inside me to be contained under just one Dewey Decimal number.

For now, my ship's blog will chart my wayward course through my adventure-filled life, acting as my repository for my grand schemes, beautifully-executed errors, handy tips, as well as everything that cracks me up. Interested?

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Before I start telling too many stories, I better explain exactly who Marge and Norm are, because I'll no doubt be referring to them often.

It all started a few years ago, when a friend and I were having a conversation about our ideas of how things work. You know, God, the Universe, fairies, chaotic forces...whatever.

I told her that I didn't really buy into the God concept, at least not as presented by popular religion. I believe that there is a life force that flows through everything and is, by its nature divine. I believe that our thoughts and actions can influence this life force. But I don't think that the source of everything can be stamped with a human-perceived personality.

I can, however, buy into the idea that there is some sort of Universal High Council that influences the flow of energy. Taking it further, I can also imagine that I might have representatives who serve on the council and lobby for my interests, and sometimes that might lead to some magical and serendipitous events in my life. Yeah, that, I can believe.

Who then, my friend wanted to know, were my representatives?

I told her that the way things work out for me, I'd probably be represented by a nice couple from Minnesota. Maybe like...Marge and Norm Gunderson. Yeah, as in, the pregnant cop and her artist husband in the movie Fargo. I don't know what led me to say their names. But, they popped into my head and once I'd spoken, it felt completely right. The idea stuck and became, in its way, part of my personal mythology.

Over the years, most my friends have learned the mythology of Marge and Norm. Maybe they are humoring me, I don't know, but often they'll say, "You don't suppose you could ask Marge and Norm to help me out on this?" That's because I am a little blessed when it comes to synchronicity; things just happen to me that are...um...pretty wild coincidences. How it works is that the more I notice them, the more coincidences happen. I think Marge and Norm just like to be appreciated.

I have noticed, over time, that Marge and Norm appear to have distinct interests of their own. While they are disinterested in my small business, but they help me all the time with art-making, writing, and anything involving my home. They like to answer questions through TV and film, often in downright eerie ways. (As in me thinking, "I wonder how you glue lace effectively to a flat surface without the glue seeping," then turning on the TV to find it demonstrated right in front of me. Within half an hour.) They are also always ready to help me shop and find a good meal, just as you might expect from solid Midwestern stock.

I'm sure I'll end up referring to Marge (or Margie) and Norm in upcoming entries. Now you know who they are. And if you want a visual to go with it, watch Fargo - it's a great film. Though it will not help you understand why I chose them as my representatives (or why, perhaps, they chose me). Some mysteries cannot be answered...I can only guess that it is the way of the universe to cast veils before mortals.

"So that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there. And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper. And those three people in Brainerd. And for what? For a little bit of money. There's more to life than a little money, you know. Don't you know that? And here ya are, and it's a beautiful day. Well, I just don't understand it." - Marge Gunderson, Fargo

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Just over four months ago, Kathy and I (and our cats) moved into our fixer-upper on the edge of an open space reserve. Out our back windows, we have a peaceful view of rolling hills. Falcons hunt above our home, horses graze uphill, and coyotes roam at night. Having spent the last nine plus years in the middle of San Francisco, it's quite the change in atmosphere for me!

When we moved in, a neighbor mentioned that we can see cows from our house for part of the year. At the moment, we had no cows and I hadn't seen any. I forgot all about that until one day, recently, when I looked out the bedroom window to see a black cow running at top speed down a walking trail! Off to the right, a cluster of cattle, fresh off trailers, mooed restlessly. Cows! In our backyard!

They disappeared behind a hill and that was that. Go figure.

Today, however, I walked into the backyard and stopped still. A small herd of cattle was grazing within 10 feet of our backyard fence. Big, black cows, just chomping away like they owned the place. You would have thought I had never seen a cow before. I ran inside to grab my camera. I have cows! They eyed me suspiciously while I took pictures. Goodness knows what kind of creep they thought I was.

I can't help but wonder, what's next? Sheep? Mountain lions? We shall see!

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Since we moved into our house five months ago -- and actually a month or so before that, too -- all of our time seems to have been spent fixing up the interior. Before even seeing the house, I knew it was a fixer-upper. It was the term "potential plus!" included in the listing that gave it away. However, it wasn't until we took ownership that we discovered exactly how much had to be fixed up, and finally, after completing an enormous list of rennovations, Kathy and I can finally take a look at the exterior. Oh, my!

Which leads me to wonder...exactly what WAS it with the previous owner and spikey, thorny plants? Now that I'm looking around the yard (which needs more attention than we can afford to give it at the moment) I'm struck by all the pokey plants that keep grabbing my sleeve and cutting my hands. Can landscaping be more unfriendly?

The capper on this demonstration of bad gardening feng shui is the enormous--and I can't emphasize that word enough--yucca palm tree rooted at the front corner of the house. Delivery trucks are always ripping off five foot long heads from the tree that I unsuccessfully try to drag into a lawn trimmings container (they never fit). The entire front of the house is obscured by this monster of a plant which was unfortunately not well-tended to in the last few years.

The base of that tree is at least six feet wide!

As much as I disliked the beast, it wasn't until I found out some new information that we decided enough was enough. It turns out that roof rats like to live in yucca palms and our aging specimen gave them a runway to our roof. Living on the edge of open space has meant that I've become an instant expert in the exlusionary practices rodent proofing. It's a war I'm engaged in, because as long as no one gets in, NO ONE HAS TO DIE.

So, toward that end, we said good-bye to the Yucca Palm this week:

And who knew? Now we have a view that we never had before!

Woo-hoo! Good-bye, pokey plants. It'll be a while before we can relandscape, but just having oppressive, skin-snagging plants out of our garden makes the energy flow better.

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Most of us can agree that regular workouts are good for our body, but what's a person to do when her rich, inner life is not inspired by endless step aerobics done to monotonous music? If you're a daydreamer who wants to get in shape, try out one of these specialty home workouts to motivate both your mind and body. Whether your secret alter ego is an action hero, spy, samurai warrior, tropical temptress, Bollywood star, or something truly exotic, there's a workout just for you.

Espionage

Fancy yourself James Bond or Sydney Bristow, but you need a bit more work on your body before you're ready to head out on a mission? You may just need Katrina Barilova's Elite Forces: Rapid Readiness Workout. Barilova, a former intelligence agent, guides you through four intense workouts, featuring kickboxing, martial arts, pilates, and more. The production values are impressive and the spy theme is maintained from start to finish. Definitely geared to the intermediate-to-advanced exerciser, this workout series will have you heading undercover with confidence.

Samurai Warrior

Who doesn't want to work out with a sword? Well, I suppose be a couple of people out there aren't interested, but for the rest of us, Ilaria Montagnani has written Forza The Samurai Sword Workout: Kick Butt and Get Buff with High-Intensity Sword Fighting Moves. This book is not so much about training as it is about working out, so don't be misled. But why not have a bit of fun? Bokken (wooden sword) sold separately.

Go-Go Dancer

Are gold vinyl boots and some hip-shimmying dance moves your idea of a good time? Then maybe you need to work out with the World Famous Pontani Sisters. Their two DVDs -- Go-Go Robics and Go-Go Robics II - will have you planning your own stage tour in no time. Just think of the costume possibilities!

Tropical Temptress

Perhaps Hawaiian island backgrounds combined with hip-rattling moves are more your speed. If so, Island Girl Dance Fitness (with Kili) offers four DVD workouts for you: Tahitian Cardo, Tahitian Hip-Hop, Cardo Hula, and Hula Abs & Buns. Most people seem to rate the Tahitian workouts higher than the Hula. I say, grab a grass skirt and go for whichever strikes your fancy.

Exotic Dancer

If your secret fantasies involve exotic dancing, you may be a big dismayed by al the stripper-themed workouts that turn out to be pretty bad. However, StriPilates (a sensual pilates DVD) and Urban Striptease Aerobics: "Booty Call" with Tricia Murphy appear to take their topic with a tablespoon less sleaze. One of these workouts may be just the ticket to activate your inner siren and tone those thighs.

Action Heros & Stuntwoman

I haven't found any action hero DVDs, but two recent fitness books may be right up your alley. Jorgen de Mey's The Action Hero Body: The Complete Workout Secrets From Hollywood's Top Trainer appears to target a male audience. For women, there's The Stuntwoman's Workout: Get Your Body Ready for Anything by Danielle Burgio and Jennifer Worick. I think there is a DVD opportunity just waiting to be addressed!

Bollywood Star

Bollywood dance numbers are all the rage of late. I know that I've found myself on the Asian channel on a Saturday morning, hypnotized by music dance videos clipped from Bollywood productions. Want to join in on the fun? Masala Bhangra Workout, Vol. 3: Bollywood Style with Sarina Jain offers one take on it. Honey Kalaria's Bollywood Workout is another. With the increased awareness of Bollywood films in the US, there are sure to be more to come.

Ballerina

It's not just little girls who want to grow up to be ballerinas - big girls do, too! The definitive workout is the New York City Ballet Workout - available as volume 1 and volume 2.

There's no reason to suffer through boring, uninspired workouts when your imagination is screaming for more. Just a couple of these workouts are sure to provide the variety your exercise program demands. If you find more themed workouts, please let me know about them. Daydreamers may balance the same demands day-to-day as everyone else, but surely we can do it with more flair and finesse!

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As many of my fellow cat moms know, it's surprisingly hard to resist giving adorable, goofy names to your little furballs. That such exotic, dignified animals could reduce us to coochie-coo behavior is yet another example of the universe's sense of irony.

Now, some cats don't like goofy talk and I mostly try to respect that. But other cats—often not the ones you would expect—actually revel in ridiculous names and nonsense words. Lola is definitely in the latter category. Oh, she tries to act superior and judging, but all it takes is a minute or two of, "Who's the pretty girl? You are!" and she is putty in my hands.

Last night I strode into new territory when I addressed her as 'Snugglepants' for the first time. I was actually trying to tease her, but she went crazy with delight! Since then, she has been all over me, flipping around in my lap with a drunk purr that makes me think she'll soon be oxygen deprived. Her eyes have that intoxicated look, heavy lidded, with the third membrane coming in from the corner of her eye. And every time I say, "Snugglepants!" she rubs against me and cries out ecstatically.

I swear, it sounds like she's exclaiming, "Mom, I've been waiting all my life for you to call me Snugglepants!" 

Speaking of what's in a name…

I was laughing with a friend recently about all those online compatibility tests where you input birthdates or names, then it spits out your percentage of compatibility with the other person. We were laughing because we had both done these for various people, proving that we are, in reality, TWELVE years old!

"OMIGOD! Dr. Love says I'm 98% compatible with Johnny Depp if I use my full first name (Alexandria). But if I go with Alix, we are only 85% compatible."

I can just see it now…"Johnny, please STOP CALLING ME ALIX! Our relationship depends on it!"

Hmmm...perhaps Lola knows that she is 100% compatible with me only if she goes by the name Snugglepants?

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I am beside myself today. Little Tilly Bear, my ball of gray tabby fur, is sick. I had to leave her at the vet this morning, something I hate to do. I'd rather stay with her while they check her out. Tilly has intense separation anxiety - she stops eating if I'm not around, even if I'm just gone for the day - and so I know this is traumatic for her. Because they had to try several procedures on her (and take her blood) she was terrified by the time they let me come take her home.

Lola, as always, is refusing to welcome her sister home. You see, Tilly comes back from the vet smelling like that evil place and Lola decides that she's not really Tilly. She hisses like a machine gun at her sister, convinced that it is a mistake. It happens every time I take Tilly to the vet. I've tried rubbing Tilly down with a towel then rubbing Lola down with it to transfer the scent. No go. Not even Feliway spray can mellow Lola out. She remains convinced that the cat I bring home is not her sister, and just because everyone else has gone crazy and is welcoming the presence of evil into our home doesn't mean she's going to do the same thing.

This time she snapped in a big way and is hissing at me, too. I really don't know what to do with her. She even growled at me tonight. I think Lola's own vet trauma is just too much for her to bear. If only there was a way to reason with a cat who is threatened. Tilly needs her sister to be nice to her right now. So far she hasn't eaten anything and I'm not sure if that's because her sister is scaring her or because she doesn't feel well. Give it a rest, Lola! I'm sure not going to call you Snugglepants when you act like this.

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Today I talked to the veterinarian. We still don't know what was wrong with Tilly, but the blood test had some good news. You see, Tilly has a rare disorder (rare for cats, though not rare for dogs) where her triglycerides are unnaturally elevated in her blood. It appears to be genetic in origin. Because there are no drugs for this condition that have been tested on cats, we have been treating this through diet and crossing our fingers that it works. Yesterday I had the vet do a blood panel to see how her lipids were. The test showed her lipids near normal levels, which is fabulous news. As far as what made Tilly feel sick, it may be something that resolved itself.

Unfortunately, probably triggered by the visit to the vet, she has also stopped eating. The problem is that cats have delicately balanced metabolisms. If a cat goes without any food for more than 48 hours, they can develop a liver condition that may or may not be reversible. Tilly hasn't eaten since the day before yesterday.

The vet says it is Tilly's stress anorexia coming out, just like when she gets separation anxiety. I know what people say about how if you leave a cat long enough it will eat, but that's not true in this case. The longer she goes without food, the less interested she is in it.  I am trying to coax her to eat.

Meanwhile, Lola is not relaxing her stance on Tilly (or "the Evil Cat that everyone calls Tilly"). I am considering buying a gas mask for Lola to wear whenever I take Tilly back from the vet, so she can pretend she is Darth Lola.

Lola: [Heavy breathing] "Tilly, Obi Wan never told you about your mother..."

Well, she'd enjoy the cape, I'm sure of that.

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It's been a rough few days.

Tilly still wasn't eating on Sunday, so as soon as the pet supply store opened I went in search of a 10cc feeding syringe. I thought this would help me feed her more food, but she would struggle madly (even wrapped in a towel) and I still couldn't get much food into her. The whole thing has made me very worried. She needed to eat. When cats stop eating, that's almost always a baaaad sign.

She skulked around, crawling into my lap for comfort but running if I approached her myself (no doubt afraid I'd force food down her throat). She did a good job of emphasizing a scrawny look, sticking her fur and bones out in all directions. It's a talent that cats have. Lola continued hissing at her, which didn't helping matters. It's hard not to get mad at Lola when she does that, even though I know she's only acting out her own trauma.

Yesterday morning, I spoke with the vet and she prescribed an appetite stimulant. It is one that I used with Purrscilla years ago when I was trying to get her to eat when she had acute kidney disease. I gave the medicine to Tilly as soon as I got home. I could tell that it made her a bit restless; I just was hoping she doesn't feel too strange.

This ordeal was wearing on me and made me weepy. I keep remembering how it was to nurse Purrscilla (my cat of 17-1/2 years) through terminal illness. It's amazing how those memories can suddenly resurface with such force. Tilly is just a baby, only five and a half years old, and I don't want to lose her. I knew that if she would just eat, she'd be okay.

Finally, tonight, she started eating. Yay, Tilly! I am so enormously relieved. I will keep giving her the appetite stimulant for a day or so longer to make sure she keeps it up, though I am halving the dose to make her less jumpy. I know what it's like when you have a sensitive little body, so I don't want to torment her with a bigger dose than she needs.

I feel exhausted. Can I just sit in front of the TV for a few days with kitties in my lap?

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Ever since the cows have moved into the open space behind our house, I've become a peeping Alix. Either I'm standing by the window watching them (with binoculars held to my eyes to get a closer look) or I'm out on the deck with my SLR and a long lens, taking pictures.

I'm not sure what the cows think of this. Kathy keeps correcting me and says steer, not cows. She comes from Wisconsin and she knows about such things. I'm a suburban-urban girl who just thinks, "Wow, they are BIG. And very black. Moo."

The other day—I kid you not—I spent an hour or so online, looking at every breed of cattle I could find, trying to identify my boys. Sure, they might just be Angus cattle, but some of them look a bit woolly and reddish-black, and the pictures don't show Angus steer that look like that. This leads me to wonder, is this their winter it-will-never-stop-raining-will-it coat? Or are they in fact another breed? To my frustration, there are no ranchers nearby to answer questions for me. It's just me and the cows.

Breed aside, the most fascinating part for me is watching how they interact. Okay, okay, so I'm a city girl, but I didn't know that cows—er, steer!—had such defined social structures. I watch best friends moving around the landscape as pairs, inseparable, and then they break out into some weird form of cow wrestling, nuzzling and jostling each other friskily. Do Frank and Ed just like a good time? Or is this Brokeback Mountain?

At any rate, I'm getting kind of attached to our big, black, handsome fellas, so we've declared that they are one big stud herd, whose only purpose in life is to help to make California cows happy. And you if you think otherwise, don't tell me. Any other story is likely to make me worry for my boys.

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Our up-converting DVD player, a Toshiba, recently died. It's not very old and I can't figure out what happened to make it stop responding, so we're not getting another Toshiba.

For those who aren't familiar with up-converting DVD players, these are players that perform a conversion on the picture so that the DVDs that you watch don't look like crap on high definition televisions.

When Kathy first bought her HDTV, no one said anything about this. When we popped in the Pirates of the Caribbean DVD, I was shocked at how awful the picture looked. It was kind of like a low resolution JPG enlarged too much on a computer screen. EW. I spent forever going through all the manuals trying to figure out how to fix the picture, only to later find out that we needed a DVD player that could apply an algorithm to simulate better picture quality.

So, now that we're in the market for a new one, I decided to do some research to find out what would be our best choice. We don't want to spend a fortune on this.

What I found was a DVD player from a company I had never heard of: Oppo. Oppo is located in Mountain View, CA (in the Bay Area). They just make DVD players and more specifically, up-converting ones. Recently, their $199 971H was compared very favorably to a Denon machine that costs $3500. People are raving about the picture quality when you use DVI a connection.

We decided to give the Oppo a go and ordered it through Amazon.com. So far, we're impressed. Oppo appears to have exceptional customer service, something that has become unique nowadays. I'll let you know if our Oppo experience takes a turn.

Someday, our favorite movies will be available in high definition format, and then we can worry about buying yet another DVD player. In the meantime, though, the Oppo 971H appears to be exactly what we need. If you're in the market for a budget-priced DVD player, check this one out. It's available through Amazon.com and directly from Oppo.

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  Pondering World Domination?

Each of our cats has a distinct, well-expressed personality. Skeeter, Kathy's ginger boy, is a serious, lovable, Project Cat. By Project Cat, I mean that when he gets an idea into his head, he'll work away on his project until he achieves his desired result. This can have scary results.

A few weeks ago, he decided his project was to open up the heating vents. Upstairs, our vents are in the floor. Our snazzy Art Deco-style metal louvered vents set into place without the benefit of screws. This is unfortunate, as Skeeter recently decided that he wants lift the vents up. In the lounge area (or, what would be the dining room if we cared about such things) we ended up moving a magazine rack partway over the vent to hold it down. He's just so stubborn.

Well, one morning, while I was in the studio and Kathy was upstairs getting ready for work, I noticed Tilly looking up at a corner of the ceiling. I thought I heard a noise. I would have thought that we had a critter between the floors, but suddenly I got suspicious.

I called Kathy through the intercom system and asked her where Skee was. She looked for him and couldn't find him. Dash meowed when asked about his brother. I said, "Go look at the heating vent in the lounge."

Wouldn't you know it, somehow he moved the heavy magazine rack out of the way and then removed the vent! Near as we could tell, he was in the duct work! Kathy called to Skee and, through the bottom floor door we have leading to the underworld (where the ductwork is) I heard a faint cry. Omigod!

I told Kathy to keep calling from the vent upstairs and peeking down. I pulled on some clothes and shoes (it wasn't 8 am yet). Grabbing my high-powered Xenon flashlight, I stepped into the creepy underworld.

I walked unsteadily along the slope, under the ductwork, calling to Skee. I heard Kathy above me. I had the intercom phone with me. She told me she was reaching into the duct work but couldn't see him. I moved the flashlight around to the duct that leads to the lounge. And there I saw...Kathy's fingers wiggling. What the heck? What happened to our ductwork?

What probably happened was a 15+ lb ginger tabby! We didn't know where he was and we were in a panic. How would we get him out if he had traveled far in? Who knows what state the ductwork was in? Mon dieu!

I went back upstairs to look down the duct. That's when I saw him. In between where the metal ducting attaches to the floor was a gap, and I spotted him...in between the two floors. I ran to get a hammer, then used the claw end to pry the ducting away from the floor. Reaching down, I pulled Skeeter out, trying to make sure he didn't scrape against any sharp edges.

He'd be traumatized by this experience and then he'd never do this again, right? Well, no. He shook himself out, gave me a, "Thanks, Alix" look, and then went on his way. That little rascal! Kathy and I exchanged, "we've got a problem" glances. I hammered down the duct as best I could, then we moved a marble-topped table over the vent. BOYS!

Today I went through the house with my Makita drill and newly-purchased split bit, drilling holes in the metal vents and driving #12 screws into the floor. I'm not letting a tabby cat win at this game. I suppose we ought to place a call to a heating/ventilation repair company, too. I'm pretty darn sure you're not supposed to have huge gaps in your ductwork. Our gas bill might be partially explained by this!

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I'm not the kind of girl who is into weddings. That is, big wedding affairs with expensive dresses and flowers and bridesmaids and churches…it's all alien to me. Of course, I've been to plenty of weddings for friends and family to show my support, but it always feels a bit like I'm walking on the surface of the moon.

There was a time when I thought I'd have to spend every weekend at a wedding. That was back when I was a portrait photographer. I studied marketing and business enough to know that the best way to build a sustainable photography business was to do weddings in addition to portraits. Weddings made decent money and helped keep your business afloat between creatively-fulfilling portrait sessions.

However, I also knew that to do a fabulous and distinctive job as a wedding photographer, you had to be committed to it. That meant getting the right equipment (not the same as for the studio work I love), experimenting to develop your style, and constantly learning more about the genre. For me, that pretty much spelled torture. Even though I risked my financial future, I decided not to do weddings. Did that mean I didn't make decent money? All I'll say is that you'll notice that I'm no longer a professional photographer!

This weekend, though, I was drafted into the ranks of wedding photography. At the end of last October, when my father announced his engagement, he told me I had a choice. I could either photograph the wedding or be a bridesmaid, presumably in blue chiffon. You do what you have to do.

My digital SLR was brand new to me when told me this and we had less than three months to the wedding. I've been spending the last two months trying to learn everything I can about how to use it for event photography. Without the proper lighting and the lightweight equipment needed for this kind of photography (my tripod, for example, is made for studio use) I had no idea how I would make it work. As the day drew near I discovered that, like most churches, theirs has a list of requirements that would be no problem for an experienced wedding photographer. However, for an anal-retentive studio photographer like me, they made me want to breathe into a crumpled paper bag, as they required me to make quick lenses and lighting changes that I am not used to making. Ack!

Well, this Saturday was the big day. As it turned out, I showed up and somehow, nothing exploded and nobody died. I still didn't have the lighting I needed for this sort of thing and the lighting in the church was, as expected, pretty awful, but through the wonders of digital darkroom work, I figure I'll get something decent. Church rules dictated that I had to stay at the back of the church, so I have no idea what anyone said during the wedding, but I was too busy dragging a heavy tripod from one end of the church to the other to pay attention.

The reception was held in the church campus center, under fluorescent lighting. Let's hear it for digital white balance settings, or we could have written off those photos! The entire reception was a bit surreal—church rules prohibited both champagne and dancing—but it's not my wedding. And at 76, I'm not sure how much my father was longing to kick up his heels. Nonetheless, I'll confess that desperately wanted to skid into the room with a big boom box (a la Kevin Bacon in Footloose) and loosen these people up.

But alas, instead of stirring the pot, I just kept taking photo after photo of people I didn't know while the sweat crawled down my back, trapped by the synthetic fibers of an outfit that I will never wear again. It's all part of the wedding ritual, right?

Best part is: it's over. And between you and me, that's the last wedding I will ever photograph.

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This is not a cute story about cuddly mice and smart rats in cages. No, it's about my battle with the wild critters of open space that want to move in with me and how I am determined to vanquish them.

When we were fixing the house up in preparation to move in, several contractors let me know that, at least in the past, there had been a rat problem in the attic and crawlspace. EW! I didn't know if this was an active issue. I brought in a pest control guy (Alfredo) on contract and worked with him to try to rodent-proof the house and assess the problem. Aside from one rat he trapped in the attic, we didn't seem to have any activity. It was also summer and very hot...roof rats have other places to go in that weather.

Now, I know that rats are more common than people think in suburban settings. And certainly, on the edge of an open space preserve, we have a few more critters than usual. Come cold and rainy weather, they want shelter. Thing is, I have no intention of providing it. They may have set up home here before, but now, this hotel is CLOSED.

Everything seemed to be okay until December. I noticed that on one crawlspace vent where Alfredo had sprayed expansion foam to seal a gap, something was gnawing on the foam at night. Um, ew. A couple of weeks later, Tilly and I suspected a problem. She was spending a lot of time looking suspiciously out the window at nightfall (near the crawlspace vents) and I thought I heard something under the floor, so I gave Alfredo a call. He was dubious that anything could get in, but laid traps beneath the bedroom floor to humor me. I bought a Xenon flashlight with ultraviolet settings so that I could hunt for evidence in the dark. It must be unusual to have me for a client!

Shortly after Alfredo laid the traps, I was awakened in the middle of the night to a loud SNAP! Never having had traps set anywhere near me, I was spooked. Was there something dead beneath my feet?

The next day I mulled over what might be under my floor. Even though Alfredo was scheduled to check the traps, it was the beginning of the weekend and he wouldn't be back for days. I wanted to know what was under the floor. Moreover, I felt that it wasn't right for me to be a dictator who turns a blind eye to the effects of her own reign of terror. I had ordered the death of a creature and the least I could do was look at it. 

I didn't work up my courage until two pm. Did I mention that I am afraid of rats? Hey, I saw Willard. I know it can be bad. Even while I was procrastinating, I realized that if I put it off too long it would be dark. I didn't want to go to sleep without knowing the answer.

I started by pulling the furniture out of the closet, exposing the trap door. Then, I lifted the door. Standing above the shallow crawlspace, I could see nothing. One trap was still set and the other, for some reason, was no longer visible. I leaned to one side, seeing nothing, and then...was that a tail? I jumped away and backed up to the other side of the room, heart pounding. A tail, a tail! A really looooong tail!

After a moment, I calmed myself. I had to take responsibility for this and view the execution I had ordered. I went back to the opening. This time, I had to lie down on the floor in order to see it. Lying almost out of view was a dead rat with the longest tail I had ever seen. Of course, it's not like I've looked at a lot of wild rats, so what would I know? At any rate, I looked at it for a little while and realized it was not a demon. It was furry creature that, regrettably, I had to kill. I wish it had stayed away. I went upstairs to sit in a chair looking out the window at the rain. I'm sorry, Mr. Rat, but you can't live here and I thought I gave you all the signs.

Alfredo came by the following Tuesday to take the rat away and reset the trap. He said, "That's a BIG rat!" Having looked at it, I was confused. Perhaps I've watched too much SciFi. When I think "BIG rat," I think 18-inches long (or more!) with fangs that drip blood. I expect to hear the rats rooting around beneath the floor like feral pigs. This was nothing of the sort.

In the next week, we trapped two more rats. I heard the traps snap as I walked across the floor at dusk, definitely a creepy feeling. One of the rats was smaller, with a white underbelly, and I imagined it was female. I felt bad for her, but I didn't regret trapping. I know some people are in favor of live traps, but where are these rats supposed to go? There are too many of them, and they really are a potential health hazard. I'm not going to poison them (that's rife with problems!) but if they get inside the crawlspace, their days are numbered.

In the past few weeks there has been no activity, so I was pretty sure that the rats were all gone. Then, the other day, a routine check showed that the bait was removed from the traps without setting it off. Alfredo came over today and said that now we have a mouse. He said that when we have rats, we are very unlikely to have mice, so he knows the rats are gone. I asked why and he told me something that made my face scrunch up: rats will eat mice. Yuck. (It turns out that this is called muricide and 70% of wild rats engage in this behavior. Thank you, Google.)

So, now Alfredo has put down mouse traps. One might ask why I have a pest control guy to do this when I check the traps myself anyway and even tell him where I want them, but it makes sense in my head. I don't really want to be alone in this and I'm not tormenting Kathy with rodent stories if I can help it.

The battle is now a war and as the General, I'm in command. The biped forces will win; you'll see.

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Now that I'm done with the wedding, I've been able to spend the last week working away on the Great Garage Project of 2006.

In November, I put up 32 feet of heavy duty shelving. That's was when I learned that not all drills are created equal. I had some run-of-the-mill Black and Decker drill that would not make pilot holes into the wall studs under any circumstances. I'll be honest and tell you that I shed a few tears over it. I take home improvement very seriously and don't like failure. But once I received overnight delivery of a Makita 6347DWDE 18-Volt cordless drill from Amazon.com, I was in heaven. Drilling into those studs was like pushing into butter.

After mounting the shelves, I moved onto assembling our garage cabinetry. I put together a 4 x 6 foot cabinet as well as a narrower one, and the Garage Project was well underway. However, holidays, cold weather, and other projects put everything on the back burner until now.

So, this week I have put up 20 feet of additional heavy-duty shelves, assembled two low cabinets that I've attached with a tabletop to make a work area, and put up a pegboard hutch backing. I'm also working on a second 4 x 6 foot cabinet. I'm going to whip this garage into shape if it kills me!

I've also been sorting through all of the boxes leftover from our move. When you combine households, it's a nightmare figuring out where everything is going to go. Some things are duplicates, others no longer have a place in the house, and you inevitably find things you forgot you had. After living in one place for almost 10 years (my flat in San Francisco) it is time for me to re-evaluate all my stuff.

I have stacks of colored post-its that I've been using to tag the different boxes. That way, if I have to move things around, I can easily keep things together. There are the donate boxes, 'sell on eBay' boxes, take the used bookstore boxes, give away on Freecycle boxes, and so on. I'll have a lot to follow up on even after I sort through everything, but at least this way I don't have to worry about getting confused if I get interrupted.

My neighbors watch me do all this with some amusement. One pointed out that I'm not supposed to organize my garage until I've lived here 17 years; otherwise, I make everyone look bad! I've noticed a few of them rummaging around in their garages since I started.

Working on the garage is tiring work but it is enormously fulfilling. Whenever I can sort and organize, I'm a happy girl. Let me use my drill and I'm downright giddy. It's too bad that I'll have to stop soon to work on a bigger project. These are good times....

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Today I put on my Junior Rat Patrol hat and met with the inspector from the pest control company. I had asked him to come out for what's called an "exclusion inspection." That's where they look at all the potential entry points into your house to figure out what changes you can make to keep critters out.

Having declared war on rodents, I've already done quite a bit. I've had all holes in crawlspace vents blocked. I've trimmed trees back from the roof so as not to provide a jumping off point. We removed the Yucca Palm monster that may have served as a nesting place. We don't leave any food outside, not even birdseed.

I never knew I could be like this - rodents used to scare me - but I'm good at rising to the challenge when confronted. After all, this is war. It's important to learn the behavior of the enemy, to think like they think in an attempt to second guess them. You have to know the evidence of their armies, too. I've been known to walk along the exterior of my house with my ultraviolet flashlight, looking for signs of critters at the crawlspace vents. I will trap if I need to, but I'm sending out the message: I do not want to have to kill again. Don't make me.

I did not tell all of this to the inspector. I just accompanied him, bright-eyed, while he conducted his inspection. First, he looked at our crawlspace (also known as The Underworld) to see what was up. We have a vapor barrier over the bare earth and he said that was unfortunate, because we can't see how the critters are getting in. I told him that I had suspicions that they were tunneling, judging from the tiny piles of dirt I saw around one seam of the plastic covering. He took this into consideration.

Next we walked around the house slowly, looking at every access point. None of the crawlspace vents had been compromised. However, when I pointed out two attic vents (very hard for humans to access) that were open, he told me that roof rats can climb straight up a stucco wall. Ew! He pointed his flashlight at an attic vent and said we were looking for swing marks. Those are the greasy marks their bodies leave when they leap to a vent and pull themselves inside. Thankfully, there were none.

(I've lost my readership, haven't I?)

Finally, he walked to the edge of our back deck (which backs onto open space) and leapt over the railing. (Hey, warn me before you do that!) He looked around a bit, then carefully made his way back to tell me that there were signs of rat burrows. His best guess is that they are indeed tunneling underneath the cement patio and into the crawlspace.

So what can we do? Honestly, he said, all you can do is trap them if they get in. LOVELY.

Before he left, he congratulated me on the good job I did with exclusion. I'll admit I puffed up with pride. Yay, me! Junior Rat Patrol!

No one is ever going to invite me to a party, are they? At least until I develop some more socially acceptable topics for discussion....

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This is my last week for working on our garage before turning my attention to prepping Kathy's house for sale, so I'm trying to make the most of it. This means that I've been doing one of my favorite things - getting rid of things!

Having run many of my own massive de-cluttering operations, as well as having helped others organize their spaces, I'm intimately familiar with the challenge of how you get rid of all the stuff you've agreed to part with. Letting go is one thing...but where do you let it go TO? Sometimes it's not so easy figuring out how to get stuff out of your space.

True, some people just throw it all away, no matter what "it" is. I'm not that way; I start to break out in a rash when I see organizers on TV dumping things into plastic garbage bags. Obviously, unlike me, they have zero landfill guilt. I much prefer to make a good faith effort at getting as many items as possible recycled and reused. The thing is, that takes a lot of work.

For our garage, my quick sort left me with the following types of items:

Household goods and clothing in saleable condition - these are the items that are suitable for donation. Having recently merged two robust households, we had a lot of these items. I did some research and found a local charity (Anna's Attic ) that would come pick up our many boxes and a few items of furniture. I photographed everything and made a list of the items for tax purposes. Then, on Tuesday, the truck came and took it all away. I know, we could have a garage sale and made lots of money, but I am horribly impatient with them.  I'd rather just donate the goods to a worthy cause and take the write-off.

Household goods that aren't good to donate, but would make someone happy - these are the things that fall outside of what charities accept. For example, boxes of candles that I set aside as ones I was not going to use, several bags of plastic hangers, a kitchen range that we pulled out of the studio kitchen, old firewood left by the previous owner, and leftover craft supplies. For this, I used the Freecycle group in my area. I posted the items that needed new homes and individuals contacted me to arrange to come take it away. Freecycle is great for hard-to- donate goods, and you make people happy!

Books that I'm ready to pass along - I put these into boxes to take to a used bookstore, to resell. Anything I can't sell will be donated later on.

E-Waste - computers, monitors, TVs, broken phones, printers, and more. These I've set to one side, in preparation to take to the next local computer recycling event.

Special items, such as collectibles - these go into the eBay boxes, to be sold later on. This only works if you actually do get to it. In my case, I've sold on eBay before.

The hauling pile - home improvement debris, icky items left behind by the previous homeowner, and broken goods all get hauled away. I also had enormous stacks of cardboard that I had cut up for recycling. When my haulers came, they took the recycling to a local dump where they separate that out, saving me five trips to the recycling center.

I have to admit, out of all the people who come and take things away, my very favorites are the haulers. That's because they take the things I can't get rid of any other way. I tend to get a little light-headed and giddy when they are here. I giggle. I compliment them. I practically have a cigarette after they leave. I tell ya, one sure way to make me love someone is to have them take away the stuff I no longer want. It's crazy intoxicating!

So, after a week of donating, freecycling, and hauling, I'm feeling pretty good. Each square foot of open space is more room within which I can think and breathe. I can't wait to get back to this project and finish it off, but for now I need to move on to something bigger: prepping Kathy's other house to sell. I'm a woman with a plan and a deadline, so watch out!

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When we moved into our house over the summer, we had almost no time to pack and move and no space in which to put our stuff. Because so much work was still being done on the house, anything we moved in was subject to being moved out for a day when work progressed to this or that room. Given that we were combining households, that was a lot of stuff!

In the case of my flat in San Francisco, we had to move everything on schedule. Luckily, we had some leeway with Kathy's house, because she owned it. We moved what we needed, knowing we could get the rest. Which made it, out of necessity, a partially deferred moved. Anything that was a duplicate or a daily non-essential (like all my old photography equipment being stored in her garage) could wait until we had somewhere to move it to.

So, I conned Kathy into letting me handle this project. I just love sorting, organizing, designing, and all that. Seriously, I cannot watch a show on organizing without leaping up and looking for something to organize—it sets a fire in my blood! To some people, this kind of task would be pure punishment, but I was thrilled when she let me take the weekday shift for working on the house.

Toward that end, I've been spending my days sorting, organizing, cleaning and planning. I bring Kathy by "after hours" to make decisions on the things I've sorted. We're developing the "move to the house" piles, the donate piles, the e-waste piles…does this sound familiar? Well, at least now I know what to do with everything. Of course, everything I pack is sorted and labeled in the most anal-retentive fashion, but…well, it makes me happy. TRUST ME, we'll be grateful I did it this way in the end.

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We have our first pass of plans ready for how to makeover Kathy's house. It's ambitious, but compared to what we had to do on our house over the summer, its peanuts. Okay, well, maybe I won't go that far as to say peanuts. However, I am convinced this will go more smoothly, simply because I now have good people to work on the house that I can trust on to finish in time.

The house is a tiny one: three bedrooms, but just over 1000 square feet. It was built in 1959, when Tara Hills was an up-and-coming housing development attracting young families.

While one previous owner updated some of the light fixtures and the bathroom in the 1970s, everything else was kept original to the house. This means the house is terribly out of date for modern home buyers. Maybe a year ago it wouldn't have mattered, but with the current housing slump, we need to tart this girl up a bit before we put her on the open market.

We'll start by repainting the interior to make it fresh and to appeal to popular taste. All of the outdated ceiling fixtures (including ceiling fans) and the rather bizarre 1959 light switch plates will be replaced. Kathy had the hardwood floors refinished when she moved in, so the floors look great.

In the case of the kitchen, we'll redo much of it. The cabinets are good (I'll put new knobs on the doors) but everything else is showing its age in a bad way. We'll replace the countertop, sink, cook top, and wall oven. The kitchen has a door that goes to the backyard; Kathy wants to replace it with a single French door to increase the perception of size. When we're done, it should look dramatically different.

In the bathroom, the heavy oak and tarnished brass look has got to go. Unfortunately, that means replacing the vanity, sink, a ponderous medicine cabinet, monster towel racks (does no one understand the concept of scale in a small house?), and shower doors. The bathtub enamel is in bad shape and while we can't afford to replace the whole tub, we'll have to refinish it. Oh, and the fixtures-those will have to be replaced, too.

That leaves "little things" here and there. We'll change the closet doors in the bedroom (previous owners stuck mirrored squares on with that 1970s smoky-edged look!), replace the porch lights, remove the tattered screen door, and put house numbers above the garage. The side gate was recently knocked down by a storm (thank you, Mother Nature) and so that will need to be rebuilt. Certainly we'll have to do something with the landscaping-it just needs a little sprucing up-but we'll figure that part out later.

Right now, I'm finding the best prices for the materials we need, placing orders, and scheduling the work to be done. I have a spreadsheet I'm using to track our projected and actual costs so that we can do our best to stay on budget.

Meanwhile, our handyman already started pressure washing the roof and house, as well as cleaning the gutters. I continue to work on the inside. We have a breakneck schedule to get this up in time before spring. If I have any say in it, we're going to make this house the cutest on the block, you wait and see!

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