Must Mention

For years my house has had the nickname of Chez Claire, in the manner of an elegant Bed & Breakfast, as run by 'moi', a less-than-elegant harpy. In that light, when company is feared - I mean, expected -I normally ask for their preference in beverages, snacks,etc. I don't ask because I fear their needs might not be met otherwise. I ask because it makes my life easier; I get to buy one item instead of five because I'm second guessing preferences. Anyway! Last week when Barbara was here at Chez Claire, she referred to my house as 'Chez Claire Asylum'. We thought that was quite the knee slapper.

So, skip to last weekend. Don was here, and as I stated in my last post, my home was not in tip-top condition for company. When I woke Sunday morning, Don was in the dining room reading the Sunday paper, sipping freshly brewed coffee and eating a freshly toasted bagel - none of which had been supplied by 'moi'!

Don had risen early and sallying forth, he fetched his own breakfast & newspaper. So much for the sterling reputation of Chez Claire as an A class establishment.

Mon Dieu! Take-out repast at Le elegant Chez Claire?
Plopping down at my dining room table, I muscled in on my share of Don's breakfast - a pumpernickel bagel - my favorite - and store-bought coffee. I was a bit repentant. I sheepishly commented that Chez Claire failed Don on two visits in a row, and my elegant establishment is in danger of losing that elusive Michelin star we haven't quite gotten hold of yet, an unfortunate oversight, I assure you.... I promised Don, if he ever to visit again, Chez Claire would do better.

Don pushed aside my feeble, bagel fueled apologies. He said, "That's all right, I really needed a break from all the stress of work and home. I'm I'm enjoying myself at your little 'B&B'. I'm having a good time here - at Chez Claire's Home for the Mentally Weary.'

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

Ok, those weren't Don's exact words, but what he said closely echoed those from Barbara last week. So, it's official; need some recooperative R&R? Have a bit too much stress in your life and need some quiet R & R for your brittle nerves? Then put in for your visit to Les Chez Claire Assylum. We come highly recommended.

Mini-retirement Flying By

Blast! How can two weeks fly by that fast, without me getting neck whiplash?

Oh well. Got nothing done this weekend, but it was fun anyway. Birder buddy Don came in late Friday night. I was totally unprepared for company - La Chez Claire at its worse. The unassembled cabinet sprawled across the living room, cardboard everywhere, dishes piled high in the sink and me - unsure how things went to hell so fast without even a hand basket to show for it.

Still, we had fun. Saturday morning we headed east to Ice House Road to look for Mountain Quail and found none. Bugger. Then we headed for Markleeville in search of Pinion Jays, and found even less than none - but had a lovely little lunch at one of the tiny town's cafes. The big birder highlight was finding an American Dipper, bobbing it's bum along a Sierra Mountain stream. The bird was so far away it was like watching a ping-pong ball out for a swim - still, I was tickled that Don had managed to find the bird - only the second Dipper I've ever seen. This is astounding when one considers how often I've searched Sierra Streams without finding any Dippers. In future when visiting Sierra streams will just look for grey ping-pong balls & hope for the best.

Yes, I know, the bird is not much to look at, but
Dippers 'walk' under waterNow how cool is that? photo by Robin
We did hit one hot spot for birds, near a high mountain meadow where Mountain Chickadees, Clark's Nutcrackers (score!), Nuthatches and Brown Creepers & every jay, save for the ones we looked for, shot through fir & pine trees. Lastly, we drove into Nevada state, looking for Black-billed Magpies - suspiciously absent.

The day came to a splendid end when we returned to my house, then darted out again to Davis. We saw Man of La Mancha, the third of the Davis Musical Theater Company's season productions. I think it may have been their best yet. The staging was impressive - the Spanish Inquisition Jail with a humongous staircase that lowered periodically so evil guards could access their terrified prisoners.

In the lobby, before the play began I noticed the lead's photo on the list of cast members. He was Asian, and when a young Asian man is cast as an elderly Spanish man, you know, like Smucker's, he's got to be good! And yes, he was wonderful, his voice was rich. Also great was Quixote's adorable & fat squire Sancho and of course, Dulcinea was bedraggled and sweet. Damn. I wish my description of musicals could match my bird descriptions, but there you go. If the musicals want my full praise, singing is not enough, they had better sprout feathers too.

Oh gaw-%$^*!

One of the zillion reasons I took time off for a mini-retirement was to work on my kitchen. My kitchen looked great a few years ago, when the cabinets were painted baby-blue, and shelving was put in over the stove. But several years passed, and the shelves, & every other horizontal surface in the kitchen, are cluttered & dusty, and the baby-blue cabinets are as streaked with dollops of gravy & egg yolk as a baby's chin.

Yes, I know I painted a pretty picture there.

In a revelation, I realized the kitchen's main fault is not enough cabinet space. So, while Barbara was here last week, we had a one day on-line shopping fest. Barbara bought S.A.D. Lights, undies & x-mas gifts. I bought myself a big-arse, free standing kitchen cabinet that ought to fit right in.

The cabinet arrived in a box labeled 'Made in Brazil', but had loads of literature swearing that in the production of my shelf, no Brazilian Howler Monkeys, Tapirs or headhunters were hurt, no primordial forests were denuded, and all was obtained via renewable agricultural forests. Strange, because the cabinet - in about 100 pieces - arrived in enough cardboard to have denuded 1/2 of the rainforests of Brazil, and enough Styrofoam to keep afloat any ice-deprived Polar Bears in the arctic.

Polar Bear carrying Styrofoam packaging, you know, in case ice gets sparse
So I got busy stuffing cardboard into my recycle bin, and burning offerings to the Brazilian forest gods for the offense of the Styrofoam packaging. I started assembling the cabinet where I do all such projects, on the living room fugly rug.

Aha! Yes. Of course, I might have guessed. One of the shelves - not an adjustable shelf, but a permanent lynch-pin shelf, arrived split down the middle; 2 pieces. ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!

I am literally speechle