The Toilet Adventure

This week my buddy Barbara is in residence at 'Chez Claire', where we pride ourselves on providing guests with a nice wholesome breakfast. One morning our breakfast fare was hot spinach omelets, other days it's freshly baked waffles or French toast with real maple syrup. This morning we had freshly baked banana bran muffins washed down with loads of coffee. Then, being Saturday, we headed out to the local Farmer's market for farm fresh veggies & fruit.
The Farmer's Market
One of the Fruit Vendor Boothes
Alien Life Form disquised as a Chestnut HuskBarbara treated herself - and her Monterey Garden - with some Native California bull rushes for her little backyard pond. I opted for a tiny White Sage shrub, to take the place of one of the many beautiful White Sages, I and my not-very-green thumb, have murdered over the years.

Barbara buying a Bull rushes From the Native Plant Seller

By the time we returned from the Farmer's Market, the morning coffee had filtered through our intestinal plumbing. I took care of business and then goofed around on the computer, I noticed Barbara - normally a bubbly, talkative person, had disappeared. She was locked away in the guest room and I could hear watery, splashing noises. Hum...

My guest room has a bathroom, in miniature. It's a bathroom so minuscule, so infinitesimally eensie, just closing the door behind you and gyrating your bum onto the toilet requires the sort of acrobatics that made Cirque De Soile famous. Below is a photo of it taken from inside the shower.

The Ensie Wiensie Guest Bathroom

Eventually Barbara came into the living room, looking sheepish.

"Something really, really BAD happened," she said.

EEEEEEEKKKKK!

Yes, the toilet had overflowed and stalwart Barbara - figuratively only - dove right in, taking up the ancient plunger that hasn't seen service in ten years, and plunged for all she was worth, but the water poured out the guest toilet.

Unfortunately, as already mentioned, we'd drunk our body weights in coffee. So, I encouraged Barbara to give the hall bathroom a go and off she went.

Several minutes later Barb raced into the living room. "Something ELSE bad has happened!"

EEEEEEEEKKKKK again! When she flushed the hall toilet, the pee-laden water ran out of the base of the toilet.

Shortly thereafter we were off to the Home Depot for a new, uncracked plunger. It was a beaut - curved flanges, space-age design but damn it, it made no difference, the toilets remained plugged.

So calls were made and a couple of hours later a plumber showed up. My mind made mental calculations on costs that would, on the bad side, ruin me, but on the plus side would allow the plumber's children to attend Cambridge. And lo! A miracle happened. After checking around outside the house, the plumber made a proclamation.

The sewer plug up was not in my house's plumbing - it was instead, the County's sewer lines that were gummed up and the county would come out and fix it all - for FREE!

Still, the toilet adventure had screwed up the hall bathroom and after an hour or so, the plumber had repositioned the hall toilet on its wax seal to the tune of $229. Expensive beyond any possible logical explanation (are wax toilet seals comprised of platinum? Does repairing toilets require a Yale Degree?), but I will not lose the house after all.

Meanwhile a County Crew came out & plunged the County Sewer lines that lead to my home's plumbing. Of course, when the County guys scratched their heads and mentioned a shite load of bananas and bran running freely out of the County sewer lines, Barbara and I had the uncommonly good sense to shut-the-eff up.

Rock Wrangling in the Gold Country

ARRRRGGGGGGGHHH!

That is the sound of two fat ladies, preparing for an auto trip.

My buddy Barbara decided to come for a long visit in order to escape house projects at her home. On day two of her visit, I bundled her into the Honda and we headed southeast through the California historic gold rush lands. I LOVE the drive and it changed since my last visit to the area. There are now 'Historic' bypasses that veer off the main route, that wind though historic houses in quaint, old-timie neighborhoods.

A ruin that reminded me of Ireland's roadside castle ruins
The real purpose of the drive was not sight-seeing, it was THEFT! Yes. I admit. I'm a thief. And just below is a photo of my booty - Calaveras County Marble!

Ill Gotten Gain, or Free Landscaping?

There is a HUMONGOUS vein of marble rock that pops out of the ground in Calaveras County. Not the fanciest marble rock on the planet, but it is nice, whitish grey with streaks of darker gray, and heck, it looks great in my garden. We drove down side streets looking for outcroppings of the rock.

We found one likely spot, and lady-like Auntie Barbara strolled up the incline and began lobbing great chunks of rock down to the road. She has the strength of 37 grizzly bears (piss her off and the grizzly number rises exponentially).

Barbara washing her delicate hands after lobbing boulders downhill.

We stopped briefly for a nice lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Columbia State Park.

Columbia State Park: Photo by Robert Holmes / Cal Tours

On our drive back to Fair Oaks we detoured to an old restored cabin. Mark Twain sort-of-very-nearly-kind-of lived in when he wrote The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. Actually, only the stone chimney and fireplace remain from the original cabin that burned down.

Mark Twain Cabin

Site Marker

The hill Mark Twain's cabin is found on is called Jackass Hill. And by dingies, there was a large jackass in the pasture. No, maybe this month I should call it a donkey, a dignified Democratic donkey at that. Stand proud little donkey! You done good.

Jackass... Dignified Democratic Donkey, on Jackass Hill

I'm RETIRED! Sort of...

This past week I attended a work Conference in the Napa Valley. When you work for CalEPA's Waste Board, as seen below, you shoot photos from a hill at the world's loveliest landfill.

Looking Straight Down the Napa Valley
View on Opposite Side

Happy Napa Valley - the Morning After the Election
My bud Barbie drove up from Monterey & we had loads of fun. Barbara's Aunt Judy lives in Napa and we visited her. We spent at least one evening laughing until our fat belly muscles ached. Really a fun & cheap holiday this vacation paid for by Ah-nee & your hard working state tax dollars.

Oh... had to include this photo, taken at the Napa Marriot. I kept expecting the creepy little twin girls from 'The Shining' to appear and ask me to 'come play' with them.

Spooky long hallway at the Marriott
Now I'm back in Fair Oaks. This morning I thought of when my buddies hardly able to contain our girly enthusiasm over our future, post-graduation jobs. We gushed at the idea of working a 40 hour work week and 'doing better' than our mothers had. Working, striving and achieving were our fondist wishes. Ok, years have past and now I wonder - what the EFF were we thinking????

We - and in this I include my boy buddies too - we now long to get the eff out of town and retire. We dream of lounging on our REI lounge chairs, sipping dark ales and maybe getting in a little traveling. Lovely dream that is.

So, this month, still unable to retire, I'm giving myself three weeks off to do nothing. Nada. Zip. If I accomplish anything at all - and I admit, I have a 'To Do' list that I wish I could turn into the traditional 'Honey Do' list, but tough b'jingos - then I'm cool & down wit' that. My time off begins today and lasts until December 1st. HURRAH for me!