The first storm of the season — the biggest in October on the Central Coast since 1962 — pounded Santa Cruz County with heavy rain and high winds Tuesday, knocking down trees and power lines, flooding roads, closing schools and state parks, touching off mudslides and forcing evacuations.

More than 10 inches of rain fell in parts of the county, with wind gusts approaching 50 mph. Santa Cruz Sentinel (10/14/2009)

There are many ways to enter an old house. We may only fit through the doors and windows, but any rodent can point out countless other entrances. At night, in addition to the sounds of the house settling, we could sometimes hear field mice building condos and subdivisions in our attic. Occasionally we would find our cats staring at the walls, listening to their favorite woodland snacks travel the main thoroughfares that meandered through the insulation.

One day in the middle of winter, Cliff stayed home from work, nursing a terrible flu. Just as he was finally nodding off to sleep, he heard the Hav-A-Hart trap in the attic slam shut. After many minutes, he convinced himself to leave his warm cocoon of blankets and threw on a coat, boots and hat over his pajamas. Not prepared to drive this jittery red squirrel over the Connecticut River to New Hampshire (our equivalent to the New Jersey car ride), he drove just 3 miles to the pavement and swung open the car door. Hanging half out of the vehicle, he dangled the trap over the road and slowly opened it. With an flash of orange, the squirrel hopped back into the car! Weak with sickness, Cliff pulled himself to his feet opened all of the car doors, and stood out in the cold for the prerequisite 5 minutes, assuming that the squirrel had jumped ship, before driving back home.

The next morning, as I was walking by the windows near where we parked the cars, I was surprised to discover a squirrel leaping between the seats, stopping occasionally to rest on the dashboard. Figuring that it wouldn’t walk out an open door, we got the brilliant idea to chase it out of the car with the cats. But the moment we shut the cats into the Subaru, they entered into a yowling panic, and pounded on the windows until they were released.

Next we tried dropping the squirrel off at the transfer station. While others in my community quietly dumped their trash and recyclables into the appropriate receptacles, Cliff and I opened the doors and rear hatch of our car and proceeded to tap on the dashboard, move the seats back and forth and even considered removing some of the plastic paneling, that is until we caught sight of our neighbors staring at the spectacle.

If it wasn’t for our collective embarrassment, I’m not sure how long it would have taken to realize that we couldn’t scare the squirrel out of its hiding place. Frustrated, we drove to a diner for breakfast, but left the windows down, hoping this time that the red rodent would attempt to escape from its tormentors. We didn’t notice the snow during our meal until we found a thick blanket of white fluffy snow covering the car interior, but no tiny tracks leading from it.

Frustrated, we dropped the Subaru off at the house, and spent the rest of the day trying not to think about the hitchhiker locked in the car.

When we finally arrived home that night, Cliff opened the rear hatch and could hear some rustling. We joked that the little guy was sustaining himself on the potato chip crumbles that speckled the carpet. We located him in the spare tire, and chased him outside.

The next morning we awoke to the sounds of scurrying from the attic.

Concept2 Model D Rowing Machine

A couple of years ago, I treated myself to a demo erg that had just been used during a couple of indoor rowing competitions. I felt very fortunate to live in Vermont, not too far from the Concept 2, allowing me to pick up my new rowing machine and to tour the factory.

I confess that over the last two years I have rowed on my erg sporadically. Some months, almost every day (once I had built up callouses), but many months I skipped completely, stopping every now and then just to wipe the dust from the machine. But this summer as I pine for the fluid motion and challenge of catching crabs, I’m going to rely upon iRow, Concept 2′s Personal Logbook and Online World Rankings, and maybe a new pair of slides to keep me motivated until I can return the water once more.

Paul Reed Smith Standard 24

KittyCaster

I’m not exactly sure how or why it happened, but at some point I graduated from the KittyCaster to Cliff’s gorgeous crimson red Paul Reed Smith guitar, that had been languishing in it’s case for 5+ years. I keep telling myself that the KittyCaster’s buzzy and tinny growls will be great for punk, or at the very least to be taken to the beach, but it is so evident that what I originally thought was love, was just infatuation with saccharin. This time, I swear I’m in love for real!

Full disclaimer: I live on a steep, one-lane, dirt road with a hairpin turn right in the middle of it. That’s not all. The only way to access our little road is by way of another dirt road. The other dirt road is one of the main thoroughfares through my town, but because up until recently we only had a two-man road crew to maintain 70+ miles of road… Imagine months of deep snow, ice, slush, and now mud, and you too will understand that my little Yaris wasn’t built to travel on roads like this.

2008 Toyota Yaris

Don’t get me wrong, I love my Yaris. I just don’t love where I live. I’m SO ready for Spring. Hell, right now I’d be willing to forsake the crocuses, daffodils and lilacs completely for the hard, washboard-ridden, potholed, yet dry roads of summer.

[Update: It was only a bent heat shield, but a wake up call nonetheless. Time to start parking on the pavement and walking or carpooling home.] ]]> http://twistedstitches.net/archives/california-dreamin/feed/ 0 http://twistedstitches.net/archives/rowing-river-etiquette/ http://twistedstitches.net/archives/rowing-river-etiquette/#comments Tue, 10 Jul 2007 20:30:52 +0000 Courtney http://twistedstitches.net/archives/rowing-river-etiquette I am brand new to sculling (I just entered my third week of rowing on the Connecticut River) and am learning not only about how to keep my boat stable, but also about the rowing culture. During my two-day Learn-to-Scull class, my coach introduced us to the etiquette that governs river travel. What I have found very interesting, is that these rules almost seem to be universally accepted, at least in the United States.

Lane Direction: The upstream and downstream lanes are the same as a road, so you always row on the starboard side the river. Beginners are encouraged to row closer to the shore, in order to allow faster boats to use the middle of the river as a passing lane.

Launching: With lane direction in mind, when launching off the dock, always push off with the bow facing upstream. This is to avoid having to cross a lane and to prevent possible collisions. Also, if other rowers are waiting to launch, strap in and make stretcher adjustments in the water. Do not make the other rowers hold their shells on their shoulders for any longer than necessary.

Right-of-Way & Yielding: In terms of sweep and sculling shells, boats must yield to the larger and/or faster boats. So a single scull must yield to a double, a double to a quad, etc. (Technically, sailboats have the right-of-way over all other boats, and rowboats and canoes have the right-of-way over motorboats. But as a rower, it makes sense to yield to a motorboat because it is faster.) And whatever the size, a scull or sweep needs to yield to a faster scull or sweep. When overtaking a slower boat, passing should be done in the middle of the river. If being overtaken by another shell, it is important to yield towards the shore and to announce your presence as soon as possible to help avoid collision.

Landing: When landing, one should approach the dock from downstream. Land on the downstream most section of dock (this allows for others to launch) then walk the boat upstream to make room for other boats that may be landing.

Vintage Sculling Photo from 1934

Yesterday was the first day of my sculling class on the Connecticut River with Carin Reynolds of the Upper Valley Rowing Foundation. This time the weather was hazy, hot and humid. It was very tempting to tip the boat as an excuse to get into the water. (The Dartmouth students that were diving off the docks, weren’t helping matters.)

Despite the obvious distractions, Carin taught us the basics of the the perfect stroke, how to get the oars into the oarlocks, river etiquette, how to get into and out of the boat, as well as how to turn and row backwards.

The fluid motion that is synonymous with rowing and sculling is much harder than it looks.

In recent years her memory has been pretty impaired, due to dementia. I wasn’t sure how my time with her would be, but she was completely lucid and reflective for the whole week.

It was my first visit to her new apartment. She had lived in her previous apartment in the suburbs for as long as I could remember, and had recently moved back to the South Side of Syracuse into an “enriched living” apartment. She lives on the fourteenth floor, and has a gorgeous view of the city’s skyline and a little park. The house where she raised her five sons isn’t too far away, although I don’t know if she can see it from her windows.

Oh, how time changes everything and nothing. She had grown more pale and fragile since I had last seen her, but was as generous and kind as always. When we went out to get dinner, as I was accelerating out of the drive, she looked over at me and said, “This is funny. When you used to visit, I always drove.” I am completely unfamiliar with Syracuse, so our drive to the restaurant was quite scenic. Well, kind of. Syracuse has the feeling of a rust-belt city that once relied heavily on industry. Now so many of her historic buildings, even high-rise office complexes are empty. The downtown and business district is so desolate. Houses and businesses are boarded up in every direction and on every street. It seems as though the city is dying off, much like the remaining elders of my grandmother’s generation.

My grandmother and I spent most of out time chatting about our lives, our dreams and our memories together. Occasionally I’d pick up a notebook and ask her questions about her childhood or her family. On the day before I left, I set up the recording equipment and did a more formal interview. We recorded about 45 minutes together. When we took a break, I explained to the best of my abilities (as I had just learned days earlier how to run the equipment in a very rudimentary way) how it all worked and played the conversation back to her. Oh, how she giggled as she put the isolation headphones on. The mixing board reminded her of when electric typewriters first appeared on the market.

Although she opted to try chemotherapy, with category IV cancer, she has gotten so very sick very quickly. Since my visit, a blood clot was discovered in one of her lungs, and she has had at least two blood transfusions. She now has a prescription for morphine, and needs round-the-clock care. The end appears to be near.

Today was the first time that I had revisited our recording. It was hard to listen to knowing that it may have been my one of my last days with her. I tried to no avail to figure out a way to transfer our conversation from mini-disc to my computer. Why does remastering have to be so difficult? Why can’t it be as simple as importing pictures from my camera?

Out of frustration, or maybe solace, I went to my photo albums to find all of the pictures that I have of my grandmother. Sadly, there aren’t many. But I did discover that we share the same huge smile (with a squared bottom lip, showing off our molars).

I believe in aging and death with dignity. Out of respect for her status as an elder, sister, mother and grandmother, I hope to be by her side during her final moments. I want to comfort her, rub her hands and wipe away all of her fears, say prayers with her and let her know how much she is truly loved. I want to ensure that she is surrounded with the same loving warmth and compassion that she always showers on others, assisting her through this new transition in life.

She will greatly be missed.

TAYATA OM BEKANDZE BEKANDZE MAHA BEKANDZE RANDZA SAMUNGATE SOHA

[tags]Betty Mahaney, cancer, death with dignity, Elizabeth Mahaney, grandmother, hospice, Mahaney, Story Corps, Syracuse, grandmother, Mahaney [/tags]