Down Memory Lane

Last week I had occasion to visit the neighborhood where I grew up in Santa Venetia, also derogatorily known as Scabo. I’m not sure what that stands for but since it’s an ugly word, I’m guessing it wasn’t known as the most desirable place to live. But I beg to differ.

Santa Venetia

Kids don’t know they don’t live in a mansion. I certainly didn’t. We had 4 bedrooms that weren’t much bigger than some large walk-in closets and closets not much wider than a refrigerator. Now don’t get me wrong; I didn’t care one bit. I had what I needed and that was enough.

our house

Our little house

To me, our Doughboy Pool was the bomb (better known as groovy back then). Other neighborhood dads helped my dad install it. That’s how it was; neighbors helping neighbors. On summer afternoons, being in that pool or playing ping pong on the patio were my favorite places to be.

me in pool

Even as a teen, still in the pool

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Daylight Saving Time

I don’t know about you but daylight saving time always throws me for a loop. As you already know, I’m a night owl. I don’t do mornings well but I’m sorta forced to by my animal menagerie. They see to it I don’t reach the recommended 8 hours of sleep per night. In fact, they are quite adept at it.

I ask you, does any woman over age 60 get 8 hours of sleep? If so, I have yet to meet her. And if I ever do, I’m pretty sure I’d hate her. Wait, hate is too strong. Let’s say dislike immensely. But that’s only because I’d envy her. Then I’d dislike her because I envy her. Confused? Me too…

Now don’t get me wrong; I was unaware of the time change last Sunday. Can you believe it? (That was rhetorical.) Only caught my mistake when I glanced at my phone early that morning. Talk about being oblivious…

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The Baby Shower

Last weekend Sharon gave a baby shower for her 8-month pregnant daughter, Caitlin.

I’ve known Caitlin from the moment she was born, as I witnessed her arrival as well as the birth of my godson Martin. To them I’m Auntie Janet. I’d say it’s the nicest name I’ve ever been called.

Martin at Caitlin’s wedding

Anyway, Sharon asked me to make a watermelon baby carriage for the shower. A WHAT?! I’ve never even seen one let alone carved one. That’s like asking a budding sculpturist to create Michelangelo’s David. Yikes, the pressure!

After a couple attempts of begging Sharon to ask someone else to do it, someone who actually had a clue, I gave up when she emailed me photos of watermelon carriages.

Hint taken, thank you very much
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A Very Good Day

Recently I received a call from a gal named Kyle. She and her husband live in the mountains of Santa Cruz. She heard about my nonprofit feral rescue and wanted rodent control on her 5-acre property. Kyle tried calling organizations closer to her but never heard back. Hum, I wonder why? Sometimes groups are busy and ignore calls. Now don’t get me wrong; we aren’t that group. So I answered her call.

Santa Cruz mountains

Since Santa Cruz is a couple hours away, it’s not easy to hop over for a look at the property. So I asked Kyle to take photos and did a phone interview about their needs and whether the cats would have safe zones from possible predators. (They will.)

Loretta, my trusty volunteer, even took the day off work to help me relocate the 4 ferals. Something must be wrong with her. She loves doing relocations, no matter how far away. She accompanied me when we went to Fresno recently and trapped 6 stranded cats. That was a long day and night but she loved every minute. Like I said, something must be wrong with her. Continue reading