DAY ONE IN THE LAND OF THE STROLLER AND WET SUIT...

Today was my first full day as a genuine citizen of the realm and, with the acute absence of material things to hand, I elected to spend it sight-seeing.  First stop, of course, was a freshly made bagel & coffee… just because I could. Then a visit to the Post Office to establish by bonifides. And of course to the library to acquire a passport to frivolity and history. Full and moderately legitimized I headed out exploring.

Since I am now a coastal dweller I wandered my way west along the edge of the big water from New Brighton Beach to Natural Bridges Park. Very scenic, lots of winding streets making the most of overcoming the natural terrain and a tangle of one way grid down along the Boardwalk. Lots of view parking and every bit of it filled to excess with people eager to gather in the sunshine vitamin while thrashing about in the water below.

Surfing seems, to the novice viewer, to consist mainly of paddling out against the current in order to bob endlessly like a plastic penguin while awaiting a wave worthy of the challenge. Then one suddenly takes a heading downstream, leaping upright and winnowing back and forth through the rush until the wave gives up the ghost, whereupon the surfer appears to spend an inordinate amount of time underwater washing ever closer to the rocky shoreline. The effort to pleasure ratio seems a bit high to me, but it must truly enthrall some folks because, on a nice sunny day like today, they were thicker than bees in a cherry orchard.

I also became acutely aware of the living embodiment of Santa Cruz. Should the city fathers call for a new logo for the town I shall surely enter mine… a silhouette of a young mother, blonde ponytail flying, rail thin and dressed in black spandex, caught in mid-jogging stride while pushing an expensive three wheeled, European designed baby buggy filled to overflowing with DNA. Not as omnipresent as surfers but more on the radar since they pass you every time you have to stop at a damn crosswalk.

Tomorrow morning the movers arrive with my myriad of prized possessions… God willin’ and the creek don’t rise…

TODAY'S TOP TEN THINGS I WILL MISS ABOUT QUINCY.

Let me qualify this entry from the beginning… this is my list of the top ten things I will miss when I leave la Quince. It is not in any particular order, specifically, it is not in order of “missing-ness” nor importance etc. They are listed in order of their appearance in my mind as I sit in front of my laptop at 4 o’clock in the morning.  Since, with a very few notable exceptions, I will miss everyone I have met in the last three years, I also refrain from listing people unless they are integrally attached to my top ten.

1. (or 10) Babs and the Drunk Brush.

If you aspire to a career as a housewife with a drinking problem you need a place you can call home that serves alcohol. I have spent my fair share at the Brush and do not regret a single penny nor moment.

2. (or 9) The gals at Plumas Arts.

Geez, what do you say? The staff, the gallery, the Town Hall, the generosity… not to mention their fear of having an empty square in their annual calendar.  And all of it free or pennies on the dollar.  Not gonna find that in the big city.

3. (or 8) Traci & Lina at Quincy Thrift

A happy mix of laughter and bargains… Any more the term “thrift store” has lost its meaning… hell the Salvation Army has a high end collectables store these days, so it’s a treat to have this one in town. I stocked my home from there and then they graciously took it all back when I began packing.

4. (or 7) Le Coq

You often hear of high profile chefs talking about tossing it all and opening an intimate, homey restaurant in a small town. Since the supply often exceeds demand, talk, as they say, is cheap. And even when they pull it off it’s almost never your home town. I think I ordered off the menu the first time we ate there, but quickly succumbed to the endless list of nightly specials until I learned that you could say, “Just have Patrick make me something good…” What a treat.  I’m sure there are nice restaurants everywhere but few better than this gem.

5. (or 6) Them BLTs

Since we first heard them at the Chester Art Fair 3 years ago we have been hard-core addicts.  Goofy, talented, versatile, and happy, they always put a smile on your lips and a tap in your toes… and besides, they let me sit in now and then.

6. (or 5) The big, yellow Southern Accent trailer

Hummm… a lot of it seems to be about food, eh? I am surely gonna miss Bug & Blinky and their BBQ. They are two tons-o-fun to hang with and the boy can whup up a pot of soup that would make the Gods on Mt. Olympus dump their ambrosia down the toilet.

7. (or4) The road to Meadow Valley

I accept that some people use this highway to actually get to and from work and have to make time. That being said, if it was up to me the speed limit would be 35 mph the whole way.  I love watching Spanish Creek pop in and out of view and one of our simple joys that first summer was to snag Tama from work and, five minutes later, have a gin and tonic below Snake Lake bridge with our camp chairs ankle deep in the cool creek water.

8. (or 3) The 10-2

What can I say? I like to eat and, if you check out some earlier postings, you’ll see that this is one of my favs.

9. (or 2) Working at Casa Fulton

After years of remodeling bathrooms and kitchens, it is all too seldom that you stand before a project and hear the words, “ I’d like… uummm, I think… Oh hell, just do what ever you want.” From the love shack to the chicken bordello this is the best job I’ve had in ages.

10. (or1) The Plumas County Museum

I have always had a penchant for history and volunteering and this was one of the best opportunities to mix them both together. A great resource, an inside track on the local history factoids and a chance to spend time with people who are creative, dedicated and a laugh riot.

So there’s my boo-hoo list as I order a dumpster delivered and await the arrival of the movers.

If you take exception to any entries or feel slighted by your absence I can only suggest that you start your own blog where you can write any opinions you want.

SIGMUND FREUD TAKES COMMUNION WEARING ONLY HIS SLIP...

A little something I caught on the internet news this morning... 

News RSS Feed

Pope Apologizes for Sex Abuse Victims of Church

VOA News | London18 September 2010

Kinda reminds me of the old line: into the bed is a propositional phrase...

THERE AR PLENTY OF THINGS TO FILL IN THE SPACES WHERE THERE AREN'T ANY STOPLIGHTS...

Like four of a kind there ain’t much can beat a western weekend.  And like all really good western weekends this one involved a couple of beautiful gals, a pickup truck and a tailgate full of mixed breed dogs.  We, the two legged trio, were all recently rehabbed from chest colds and the mutts, like good dogs everywhere, couldn’t believe their luck in being chosen to ride along.  Now the ground rules for a good western weekend are painfully simple… start time must be in a window no smaller than, oh, say, four hours.  The majority of the drive time must be on unpaved roadbeds.  You have to have, at the very least, a minimum of two destinations, any or all of which are expendable and, even though you need to have something you really should be doing instead, you can’t have a set time you need to be back amongst the civilized folks.  Extra credit for having coffee and doughnuts for breakfast and for bringing beers.

This adventure was based on hitting the high points of Plumas County; specifically the lookouts on Mount Hough and Argentine Rock and we made it to both with hours to spare.  The views from both were, of course, no less than spectacular and it was fun to stand at the edge of the world on Mount Hough and look down with an Olympian eye upon Crystal Lake, Indian Valley, Taylorsville and, on the far horizon, Mt. Lassen.  Okay, everybody back in the truck, down to Chandler Road then along 70 east with a left hand turn across from Williams Loop.  Along Squirrel Creek for a few miles to a fork in the road… always taking the one that goes uphill the most.  Slow down (and integral part of a western weekend…) and then turn left at Brady Camp campground. You then proceed up a narrow, bumpy track through pines and Manzanita ‘til the road runs out.  Stop. Get out.  Crack a brewski and yank your hat on a little tighter ‘cuz I’m guessing the wind blows through there pretty much all the time.  You can see the abandoned watchtower up along the skyline and all you have to do is locate the lovely hand laid stone stairway (most likely a WPA or CCC work project…) that winds its way up through the brush to what is left of the lookout. There is enough of a walkway along the side and front of the building to let you get a windblown view of pretty much everything between Mt. Lassen and the Sierra Buttes in Lakes Basin.

Now I’ve gotten shit before and will probably get it again for this, but interesting as the aforementioned vista is, that’s all it is to me is interesting.  Good for a sense of place and a game of name that peak… hummm.  Now, if you want beauty just walk back around to the top of the stairs and cast about for the stunning views of the crescent tor that is Argentine Rock.  From the back of the lookout you can see down and across several high alpine meadows, covered in low manzanita, deerbrush and the occasional evergreen.  These meadows are surrounded by and interrupted by upthrusts of basalt; fractured, worn, the color of an old bruise and speckled with white and pale yellow-green lichens.  These are magnificent old geezers who are keepers of the secrets known only to themselves and the lives they harbor… now that is what a real, jim-dandy western weekend is all about.  Getting yourself right up next to a place where you come in second place if you’re lucky.

Alright. Water those dogs and load ‘em up.  Back to town for a burger and fries and a tip of the metaphorical ten gallon hat to Michelle, Lovely, Sally O’Malley, Pepe and Chuck.

THE FIRST HORROR STORY FROM MY MOVE TO SANTA CRUZ...

SANTA CRUZ, Calif. -- A truck carrying 43,000 pounds of beer that overturned Thursday on Highway 17 blocked lanes for nearly four hours at the summit in the Santa Cruz Mountains. The tractor-trailer from Oakland headed to Watsonville overturned on the highway just after 6 a.m. north of Glenwood Drive. The driver of the beer truck was not injured. The California Highway Patrol had to divert traffic onto Summit Road as crews cleared the roadways.

The bottled beer was shrink wrapped onto pallets that had been loaded in the truck.  During the cleanup, southbound traffic was backed up to the Lexington Reservoir and northbound traffic was backed up to the Glenwood cutoff. 

CHP said it appears the truck driver was speeding when he lost control of the vehicle. "According to our only witness and some of the physical evidence it appears that the driver pulled into a turnout and tried to stop but wasn't able to. (He) lost control of the rig and went off the road up an embankment and slid 200 feet," Davide Bruestle of the California Highway Patrol said.

CHP said the driver could be cited but an investigation is ongoing.

43,000 pounds of beer.... now that's alcohol abuse.