Adventures With Patti

Bit by bit, we and our possessions are becoming Californian. It feels very weird to carry a California driver’s license, and to know that Arnold Schwarzenegger is our governor. I thought it wouldn’t get any weirder than having Jesse Ventura when we lived in Minnesota. Our cars both sport California plates. This is jarring to me every time I look at them. The washing machine isn’t in the basement or a utility room, it’s in the garage. I feel weird every time I walk out there to put in a load. Minnesotans know that if you put plumbing in a garage, it will freeze. Californians do not know this. Even Spicy the cat is adapting. He arrived here just after a cold Minnesota winter, bulked up with his extra layer of insulating fur. On these hot days (although it cools off at night, we’ve had several days in the 90s) he sheds copiously. Here is Gauss brushing Spicy’s winter coat. Spicy tears around the house, shedding cat hair wherever he goes. I am constantly vacuuming to try to keep ahead of i

On Monday, July 1, I ran errands by bike: a trip to Target and a Mexican grocery store (great prices on produce), and stops at the bank and hardware store, where I bought wire mesh to put between the storage room and the rest of the attic (rat room.) I was proud of all the stuff I managed to haul home without burning a drop of gas. I leaned my bike against the house, hauled my purchases inside, threw a load of laundry in the machine and then and hung it out on the line. After that, I got busy with work until Gauss came home. We ate dinner, and I went outside to get the dry clothes. Seeing that the bikes were no longer leaning against the house, I thanked Gauss for putting them away. “I didn’t put them away,” he said. “I thought you did.” Crap! It dawned on us that someone else “taken care” of our bikes. The landlady swore that in 25 years, they haven't had to lock their doors, and most people don’t even know that our cottage is back here—but apparently someone has been watching. W