Week #3 The Attic in Pacific Grove

Ah the attic. I have dreamed about what was crammed inside it. Two years ago, when I made the very impetuous decision to move to Oregon, I had 4 weeks to go through every single thing I owned.

I sorted it into 5 piles:

1) Stuff for Oregon (I knew the size of the small duplex I had rented)

2) Stuff to pass on to my children (just about anything they wanted) 

3) Things I wanted to keep but didn't make the cut to go to Oregon (this was the stuff in my attic)
4) Things to store in my cousin Pattie's garage - stuff for the annual Yosemite camping trip and other odds and ends that didn't fit in the attic.
 5) Goodwill - lots went to Goodwill. Why do we save stuff we never use?

One goal of this trip was to deal with what remained in California - items #3 and #4. When I arrived in early July I went though the 10 bins stored at Pattie's. I decided to keep about 2 boxes worth of stuff and will take these back to Portland at the end of the month. The rest I gave to Goodwill or to family members. All that is now left at Pattie's is my Yosemite camping stuff. Thank you, Pattie!

Now I had to face the attic. It is a small attic - maybe 15 feet long by 5 feet wide but with a sharply slanting roof. It is more of a crawl space than a true attic. In my memory it was stuffed with cartons, bags and 35 boxes of books. The reality was much better than I remembered. There were only 19 boxes of books and I could actually see space around things - it wasn't stuffed to capacity. It only took 20 minutes to unload it all into the small bedroom where the attic entrance is located. It took another 40 minutes, using the bucket brigade method, to pass all the boxes and bags down the narrow stairs to the living room, from the living room to the side deck, and from the side deck to my neighbor's driveway across the street (I didn't want to use my own driveway given that it technically belongs to my tenants)

My house

I thank Lee and Michelle who drove down from Oakland to help, Francia's friend René (who laughed when I asked him to please arrive at 4:00 American time, not Honduran time), and my tenant Albert. I couldn't have done it without them. René happily took all the bedding that I had saved - no need for it now - and some small pieces of furniture. What he could not use, he told me, he would pass on to people at his church. 

René and his daughter Frances

René's wife and Francia

Lee and Michelle took Lee's great grandfather's desk and chair and my old dog Bayley's very comfortable bed for Buloot.

What was left was piled on my neighbor's driveway. Several years ago my wonderful neighbor Greg had filled his driveway with the contents of his business from which he had just retired and odds and ends from his life's work. His equally wonderful wife, Robin, despaired that "Camp Greg," as she called it, would never disappear. It took 4 years but, eventually, all was stored away. I now asked if Camp Greg could reappear for about 10 days as a place for me to sort the attic contents. Robin is a good friend and not only did she agree, Greg had a table and dolly ready for me to use. These are great neighbors.

Views of portions of the New Camp Greg

Then the sorting began. It was actually much easier than I thought it would be. I tackled the boxes of stuff-other-than-books first. I opened a box, took out what I thought I would want then texted photos of the rest of the stuff to family members in California and Oregon. I described each item, gave approximate sizes and history and then asked the key question - do you want it? Here are a few samples:

My dolls and clothes - Candy took them.

Garden tool hooks - Mary took them.

Aborigine bark painting from a 1968 trip to Australia and my brother's clock -
Pattie took the painting, Mary took the clock.

China from my Aunt Ethel. Candy will repair the broken creamer then pass them on.

An odd combination - a crucifix from a church in Rome and
a boomerang and spear head from that trip to Australia.
Steph took the boomerang, Pattie took the spear, Candy took the crucifix.

Celtic angel from Ireland - Loretta took it.

All went smoothly until this image appeared on text messages in California and Oregon:

This is an oil painting done many years ago by my sister-in-law Melinda. She gave it to my parents. When my Mom moved to Canterbury Woods after Dad died, she took it with her and hung it in her living room. When she died there was much jockeying among the 5 offspring to get it. Of course Melinda had the most right - she was the artist after all, but all 3 sisters wanted it as well. While we tried to come up with reasons why it best belonged to each of us, I took it off the wall to look at it more closely and there, on the back, written in my mother's handwriting, was the sweetest message of all: "For Donna." Of course, if I had been gracious, I would have quietly acknowledged it and then, just as quietly, put it in my pile but of course nothing like that happened. I whooped and hollered and bounced up and down as I pointed out the message, made sure each one of them read it, reveled in it as I walked around the room, parading as if I had just won the gold. I ignored my brother, Melinda's husband, who pointed out that I had, on many occasions, forged my mother's name when signing papers that couldn't wait until I was actually with her. Of course this was her writing! Ridiculous.

For the past 9 years I have been the proud owner of this painting and it hung in my living room in my sweet house in Pacific Grove. Now I do not have enough wall space. However, I am not stupid. I announced, in the text, that it would still be mine but if anyone wanted to "store" it on a wall in their home I would gratefully consider it - but it must be understood it remained MINE. Pattie answered first, "Are you kidding??? Of course I could find room!!"  Mary was next, "There is ALWAYS room for another Melinda painting." But then Melinda came in with "I will take that one!" The artist won out. She assures me that she knows it is mine and I can visit it whenever I am at her house which is good because I love it. Thank goodness I have 5 of her other paintings hanging in my wee unit. I couldn't go Melinda Miller Collins free. No way. If you don't know her work, go online at melindamillercollins.com. It is spectacular.

Then it was time to tackle the books. At the end of the day I had 7 boxes set aside to donate to the Carmel library, 9 to send to Oregon, 2 to give to Candy for the Mercy Retreat Center and 1 to give to Pattie. However, during the night, when I couldn't sleep, I reviewed what was in the boxes for Oregon. I didn't need 9 boxes of books. In the morning I went through all 9 and removed enough to add 2 more boxes to the pile for the library. It was with great relief that I schlepped all 9 boxes to the library and took 7 to the post office to mail to Oregon. Phew. Greg's dolly came in quite handy at both the library and the P.O.

So now I have about 7 plastic bins of things to take back to Oregon plus the dollhouse that Gary built for Stephanie. It is fragile, parts have become unglued, but I think Stephanie and I can restore it. I filled the rooms of the dollhouse with plastic air bags and packed the whole thing in bubble wrap. Oh I hope it survives the ride to Oregon.

It is done. I can't quite believe it. My goodness. Stuff-free.

Week #2 Yosemite

I do love Yosemite. It was hot this year - in the high 80s, low 90s, but Loretta brought a fan and what a difference that made. The Housekeeping campground is about the lowest form of camping you can do at Yosemite (well, setting up your own tent would be lower) - the tents are old, the ground around the cement apron in front of each tent is pitted, the attached table is a bit wobbly, the counter can be precariously attached to the outer stockade wall, the mattresses on the beds can be a bit lumpy, ground squirrels annoy you no end but there are a few things that makes it all quite wonderful - it is right on the Merced River, it has views of Half Dome and Yosemite Falls, the lovely scent of forest trees fill the air  and, get ready, each camp site has 2 electric outlets. This makes all the difference. We brought a water heater and a French press - et voila, coffee! We could charge our iPhones and laptops, plug in the fan. Yea electricity.

This year our group's ten sites were in the inner zone of the campground (we are assigned sites right on the river every other year) but I really liked our particular site. We were close to the river, had areas with open sky views (for nighttime stargazing), were not far from the little store, were able to park right next to our tent site so unpacking was a breeze - all in all, a good site.

This year my cousin Pattie and I decided to continue with the tradition of minimalist camping we had established last year but this is not quite possible for Pattie's sister, Loretta, who joined us for the first time. She is at the other end of the spectrum - she tends to pack a lot. For example, I was a bit surprised when she brought 2 pairs of scissors on our trip to Egypt. I didn't think to bring any (but all concerns about her overpacking disappeared when my luggage was lost for the first 4 days of that trip and her amply filled bag helped supply things I was most grateful to use). So Loretta brought lots of baked goodies, 2 fans, a large cooler, kitchen supplies, tablecloths, wine and champagne and appropriate glasses  - well, what's not to love about what she brought?!?!? I became a fan.

The kitchen area of our housekeeping unit - the new floats are behind our table. 

Pattie and I learned from last year - we bought inflatable tubes on Amazon and used them to float down the river. The cost of all 3 was less than the rental price of one ride down the Merced River on a Yosemite inflatable boat. But what we most enjoyed was tying all 3 together, latching them to a tree on the shore and then reading, talking and laughing while we looked up at Half Dome and Yosemite Falls. Quite a view.

I know, not a close up, but what can you do? Our floats attached to the shore. 

The little specks on the left side of the photo are other folks floating down the river. What waited ahead of them made us (and all the people playing on the nearby beach) laugh a lot. A group of young kids, maybe 3, 4, 6 and 8 year olds, gathered on the beach. Half hid across on the opposite bank in some tall grasses, while the others stood in plain view on the shore. As a person on a raft approached, the kids appeared indifferent but, as soon as the raft hit the deepest channel (where all the floaters had to go - it was too shallow on the rest of the river bed), the kids, stationed on either side, pulled out their water guns and blasted the poor folks floating by. They were so young you just  didn't expect such mischief. Everyone laughed, including most of the surprised rafters.

Three of the mischief makers - the rest hid across the water in the grasses.

Then the most wonderful thing happened. A man, alone, spread out on his back, sunglasses perched on his nose, almost asleep, floated by - right towards the imps. We all held our breaths - what a sitting duck he made! Just as he got to the kids he surprised us all by suddenly sitting up and drenching them with his hidden water cannon. It was priceless. The kids were completely unprepared and the beach crowds applauded madly. We joined in. He got 'em. 

What a wonderful way to spend a hot sunny day on a river. 

The days slid lazily by. Pattie and Loretta climbed up to Vernal Falls - I wished them well. I had said goodby to Vernal Falls several years ago. Those of you who have been to Yosemite know what it is like to climb the steep uneven stone stairs of the Mist Trail as you get sprayed from the Falls nearby. We toured museums, rode the shuttle around the park and I read lots of sixth grade books for my new library volunteer job (I am going to be a "Book Lady" who, every other month, shares synopses of 8 books with sixth grade classes and leaves them copies of these books), visited others in our group, stared up at the evening sky - so incredibly clear - and enjoyed every single second.

Candy, Pattie, Me, Loretta

And, of course, I had an "Ahwahnee Day" when I pretend I am staying at that grand old lodge instead of in the Housekeeping Campground at the opposite end of the luxury scale. We had lunch in the restaurant, drinks at the outside bar, lounged in chairs scattered throughout the public rooms and shopped in the elegant gift shop. And then I went happily back to Housekeeping.

Oh it was all lovely as were the beautiful drives to and back. I am now on my way to Pacific Grove for week #3 of my time in California - I will be emptying the attic in my house that is now rented. What awaits me?

Week #1 An Odd Start

I left early Saturday morning for California. It was 85 miles past a McDonald's north of Ashland when I realized, with sickening horror, that I had left my purse back in the McDonald's bathroom - the purse with my money, credit cards, bank cards, medical cards, 2 checkbooks, driver's license, Triple A card, iphone, all forms of id - the works. I checked the gas gauge and knew I had enough to get back to Ashland, but not enough to get to Portland if my purse were gone - and I had no way to buy more gas. I whipped the car around, drove back over the mountain pass into Oregon while starting the prayers, "Please . . .  if I had found a purse I would have turned it in, let the same thing happen now." "Please, they can take the money, just leave my bank card and license." Then the bargaining, "If they leave a credit card, they can have the phone." And, "Why am I speeding? It has been 90 minutes since I left the purse - it has either been turned in or stripped and thrown out a car window. My getting back faster won't change anything."

It was there - and nothing had been taken. I thanked the staff at McDonald's, said another prayer in thanks to the kind person who turned it in then drove the 85 miles back over the pass and down to Shasta and then on to my cousin's in Marin - the unexpected round trip added an additional 3 hours to the usual 11 hours on the road. 14 hours, 798 miles. One long trip - but I remain grateful.

Sunday Lee took my cousin Pattie and me out in his sail boat. Michelle was home with a neck injury and we missed her sorely. Well, she was much sorer than we were. Lee sailed us out through the Alameda estuary where we slipped among huge cargo ships moving back and forth from the Oakland shipyards, sailed past the former Alameda naval shipyard (where some of the episodes of Mythbusters are filmed) and then out into the Bay.

Lee's dog, Buloot. A wonderful sailor.

We sailed under the new portion of the Bay Bridge (so fascinating from underneath) and then out into San Francisco Bay, around Treasure Island and slowly back.

We hoped to catch a glimpse of the America's Cup ships at practice but no such luck. It was, however, a simply wonderful way to spend a hot sunny day. Perfection. Then back to his place in Oakland.

The thing I like about Oakland is its unpredictability. Lee lives in the Jingletown neighborhood of Fruitvale. Parts of it are extremely dodgy, this is Oakland, after all. Lee's immediate neighborhood is, however, most interesting. It has warehouses, light industry, new condos, funky houses, industrial lofts - a mish mosh. There have been drug deals and guns fired but also lots of artists who call it home and have started the gentrification process. His loft combines both living and work spaces.

While driving toward the marina, Lee said, "There's Seppie Mayes." "Seppie Mayes?" I asked. Yep, Seppie Mayes who, I quickly learned, is someone we all know. When Seppie was young he was the stunt double for the boy in the film ET. Seppie was the one who rode the bike with ET on his handlebars. You know the poster with the boy and ET in front of the big fat moon? That's Seppie. Unfortunately he took $650 instead of a percent of the returns. Bad choice.

The rest of the week was both restful - time spent over coffee in Pattie's garden - and fascinating with visits to vineyards in Napa (yum) and the Walt Disney Museum at the Presido in San Francisco (I need to go back to fully take in all the information about his life). We finally caught a glimpse of the America's Cup ships in San Francisco Bay - they are huge.

Pattie's garden - so restful!

The Fremont Diner outside of Napa -what a combo - delicious food and a great truck.

Friday, I met a friend at Half Moon Bay for lunch (perfect clam chowder and fish tacos) then over the pass to my sister's house when my car started acting up - it missed when I pressed on the gas, steam came out from under the hood - not good. I pulled over at a rest stop, called AAA and my brother-in-law. He connected me with his mechanic where the car was towed and today, Saturday, I have a new radiator - fixed in time for Yosemite.

Today, my birthday, was a day of mixed emotions. I had breakfast with a former student, Julie, and her husband and children (all charming).  I hadn't seen her in many years and it was wonderful to catch up.  Then came the call about the death of the uncle I am named for - Uncle Don. He (and his first wife) are the last of my relatives in the generation above me. Phew.

Then came the news of the plane crash at the San Francisco airport - just a few miles from my sister's house where I am staying. Lots of fire engines streamed by. We watched the news while dressing for the wedding of an extended family member. It was a lovely wedding - perfect in every last detail - but as I type this, late in the evening, planes are flying overhead - not following the normal flight pattern  because the usual runways remain closed. I keep all 181 injured in the crash in my prayers.

It has been a most interesting 65th birthday. I send thanks to Julie for the lovely breakfast, to friends and family for all their wonderful notes (Facebook is so amazing), and to the bride and groom for a fantastic afternoon and evening.

Onwards and upwards to a week camping at Yosemite.