What fun to clean up.

Ugh. I have taken the opportunity of a few rainy days with not too much going on at work to try to get both workspace and home organized. There are few chores I despise more as it pains me to get rid of things. Any things. But when I lived in New York, hoarding wasn’t an option; there simply wasn’t space to stash 12 extra rolls of paper towels or a cool table spotted at the Chelsea flea market. Ski gear? We always rented. Here, I am ashamed to admit, it didn’t take long to change entirely. We even rented a small storage unit to hold holiday décor and some of the overflow, which is to say I’m no longer saying no to great flea market finds, two chandeliers (so far!) that I might use one day and classic books I might read. Furnishings for the Red House boutique taking shape in my imagination are also accumulating. I know it’s wrong. And I can’t seem to say goodbye to any samples I’ve collected at work. Whether it’s a zipper style, fabric, thread color or button size not currently in use, it MAY be ideal next year or ten years from now and I’ll be glad I saved it, right? And what about Andrew and Delia’s artistic endeavors – can I really throw out their heartfelt smears of poster paint on kraft paper?! Not yet, I’m afraid.

So what did I accomplish? Well, a couple of things. After reading Getting Organized (another airport find!) I began to take action on each piece of paper as soon as I got it so the paperwork wouldn’t accumulate. School schedules, invitations – all get entered in my master calendar hasta pronto. And I made a visible dent in clutter by going room to room with an eye on elimination. Not the clean sweep the experts advised, but hey, it was a three-day effort when three weeks might have been warranted. I do feel good about donating some winter clothes I was hanging onto. Who knows, some local family might move some place where down coats are actually necessary. By giving them up I feel even more a part of life in Napa. Like when I gave up Andrew’s high chair, I knew I was done with babies. And with all the travel I do for Red House I’ve accumulated quite the stash of tiny toiletries. From now on these are going to a shelter for women and children, who could use a little luxury in their lives. In the kitchen I asked myself, “How many spatulas is enough?” Turns out to be three: one in each size. Now the drawer closes much easier. These are only baby steps towards an organized life yet I feel better. But don’t ask why I’m collecting corks, as I don’t have a good answer. How about – I’m going to build a raft someday and sail to Tahiti? Ok, not likely.

Charlotte drives a wedge.

He got it!……! The news I’ve been waiting for and the answer I had hoped would not come: The bank in Charlotte, North Carolina has just offered Michael the prestigious job he just can’t refuse. Now it’s his turn to say, “Thanks, I‘ll take it, I can’t wait to start my job on a provisional basis and lead your company into glorious hegemony before lesser banking giants in the grand New South, but my wife and two children will come only if California falls into the sea, and by the way, I am co-owner and Chief Financial Officer of a dynamic and growing clothing company located in said state and have no intention of making a clean break from hearth, home or preexisting employment.” I was hoping he could just memorize that line and repeat it verbatim when he meets with his Human Resources representative today. And I reminded him of this a few times on the way to the airport. He said he’d take it under advisement. I’m not sure, but I think he might have been snickering a little bit when he was pretending to clear his throat. Ok Michael, go ahead and mock Maddie, but just wait until you catch the look on their faces when you tell them you’re thinking part-time and three time zones away for your new career.

I could spend more time worrying about his day in Charlotte and replaying in my mind what I what him to say, that he attach so many conditions that their heads start to spin, but I know he’s got to do it his own way and there may be some concessions that I’m not going to be comfortable with. BUT MOVING TO CHARLOTTE IS NOT AN OPTION! NEVER! EVER! (I just won’t go.)

I decided that I wouldn’t wait any longer to let Kerin know what’s going on, that Michael doesn’t have a sick aunt (or was it uncle? Cousin?) he’s been flying back and forth to visit. I was going to shock her with the Charlotte news while at the same time giving her a much-deserved promotion, but I do need to work on a few more details with Michael before making that part official.

I decided to tell Kerin of Michael’s plans over lunch at Santé, the restaurant at the Fairmont Mission Inn Sonoma (www.fairmont.com/sonoma) and said we’d finish with a manicure at the beautiful spa. Well, we were barely seated before Kerin told me that she knew that things have been strained between Michael and me, and that if we were getting a divorce (!!) we didn’t have to worry about her – she was loyal to both of us and wouldn’t choose sides. She said she believes in Red House and wants to stay on - regardless of our marital status. Whoa! She seemed relieved, but also a bit embarrassed when I told her what was really going on, like she should no longer trust her perceptions. I disagreed; she’s spot-on except for this instance. And anyway, I can imagine how the Charlotte trips must appear to the only other person in the office. Kerin hopes the bank job does work out for Michael. I tried to agree. Meanwhile, we enjoyed our lunch and subsequent paraffin dips. We both chose vibrant shades of red for our fingernails, as if to signal that we too are changing things up.

Science Fiction?

I want to make perfume! My hero of lifestyle design, Ralph Lauren, has multiple, successful lines. Every celeb of the moment has his/her 15 minutes of fragrance fame, so why shouldn’t Red House have a scent that reflects the good life in Napa? This is a thought I’ve had for months and want to explore further – starting in my garage. Stranger things have happened, right? The problem is that while I have the right instincts and artistic flair, I have no skills in hard science whatsoever. I know that an acid differs from a base and that’s about it. And despite a love of wine and its components, I haven’t had the best of luck at wine blending parties, tending to go through the motions and deferring to whoever knows what they are doing. If I am going to create a scent that represents the wine country elegance of Red House and not the contents of a backyard compost I need to gather a team of biophysicists and chemical engineers to carefully consider every detail, and to make sure that I don’t give in to my inclinations and make the dominant note Cabernet (!). But now is not the time for assembling a research laboratory full of experts so I’ll start with a little low budget experimentation and at least learn what I like.

This much I know. Napa is a place of many inspirations, a multi-sensorial experience. The food and wine come to mind first of course, the enjoyment enhanced by a mis-en-scène of glorious vineyards, mountains and valleys. The textures and colors combine with climate of abundant sunlight and cool nights to create the terroir. All I have to do is distill this down (!). Oh, but I won’t be done yet - I must then add a bit of European attitude – the casual but refined approach to life that led to the creation of Red House itself. What IS this attitude? A whiff of champagne and suntan lotion? Sea spray and citrus? As soon as I figure that out I’ll have my scent. Then I guess it’s sourcing, production, packaging and marketing. An army of lawyers to add to the scientists – yikes! I have no idea what I’m doing! At least I’m not wasting money. Yet.

My exploration has already started with hunting and gathering of essences. Rose is one of the most predominant and intensely scented flowers here and I know I want to include it. I’ve got dried petals and oils of multiple varieties, most of which smell exactly the same to my under-trained nose. My other must-include element is the woodsy and aromatic eucalyptus. I’ve collected bags of bark and leaves. It’s heavenly – I should make it into a mattress! Lavender has to be involved. Bay leaf, maybe? And mustard is beautiful in the spring – a sea of yellow everywhere. To me it represents the ” joie de vivre” of Red House, though I’m not sure any form of mustard belongs in cologne. I’ll need something earthy for the terroir – maybe some wild mushroom? Right now, my collection is piling up on Michael’s workbench. Soon, I’ll zip myself into an asbestos suit, gloves and goggles with my tongs and beakers and hot plates and start cooking! How can fine art fail to follow?

Free Samples!

Let me tell you a little tale about Oakland, a city I tend to avoid after dark. That said, a potential client, a referral, had called to schedule an evening appointment to see everything Red House had to offer. I was trying to find a daytime appointment that would work and wasn’t getting anywhere. This guy was even busier than I! We settled on an evening when I was sure Michael would be available to ride shotgun. (Well, that’s not quite the right image, particularly for Oakland.) Unfortunately, at the last minute he came down with the flu. That’s what happens when you fly a lot – first, you get run down from the hassle of coming and going. It’s the reality of ultra-stressed air travel today. Then, in a weakened state, you provide the perfect milieu for incubating your fellow-travelers germs, each of which has been constantly recirculated throughout the plane for five-plus hours at a time. Yuck. Nice wife that I am, I left him some chicken soup from Dean & DeLuca. This stuff is so good; it almost makes it worthwhile to be sick.

So it would be Kerin and I going to meet with the owner of a bike messenger agency. We discussed our presentation on the way. It seemed pretty straightforward. He’d probably want polo shirts that would give his fleet a consistent look, refined enough for the genteel office environments where the mysterious pouches of divorce papers, liens and private investigators’ photos would be signed for. Kerin had a good point though, these kamikaze bikers had such an alternative mien about them with their multiple facial piercings and Technicolor spiked hair that the shirts would not be what people noticed. Their jobs are dangerous and they like to look the part. In addition, they often entered elevators sweaty and out of breath, noses running… (We won’t recommend a long sleeve style lest it stand in for a Kleenex!) And were any of our colors going to be visible enough to keep the riders seen as they darted between lanes and parked cars?

We parked on the street, as close as possible to the building where we’d be meeting. There was one homeless guy pushing a cart full of what appeared to be recyclables - good for him. No sounds of gunfire or shady characters hanging out - a good sign. We lugged the sample cases, which were plenty heavy - especially by the end of the block. As I was about to press the intercom button to get us in, I couldn’t remember if I locked the car. Locking the car is important, that I knew. I didn’t want one of us to go alone to check and we sure were not going to drag the cases back to the car, so we stashed them in the alley around the corner and together walked back to the car, which did turn out to be locked. (Note to myself: try to use memory more effectively.) We walked back to the building, turned into the alley and…a sense of panic hit us. Where were the cases?! They were GONE! It only took five minutes for an opportunist to strike. I was furious! Now what? I called the client, who buzzed us in. I explained the situation and he tried to make me feel better by telling me of things he’s found at the entrance to the building. It didn’t help. I called to make a police report and was told I would need to come in, which added to my anger and frustration. Kerin and I did our best to present our “samples” via laptop, but the color registration is never ideal and I was so distracted anyway. And, found myself angry at Michael for no reason at all. Kerin kept her calm and did most of the talking. In the end, she convinced the client that the Double-Mercerized Polo (RH04) in Turquoise was the right choice for his crew.

We returned to the car, which was fortunately still where I parked it (and with all its wheels!) and headed over to the P.D. for paperwork. (Not a place I’d want to linger…) We returned home not expecting to hear anything. I was able to replace all my samples within days so no real hardship. Then, a few weeks later came the call - from the ALAMEDA COUNTY BOMB SQUAD!! I gasped audibly. They were going through some stolen property records and the matter of my two purloined cases had caught their eye in an “uh-oh moment.” It was they who had been alerted to the cases in the alley, by a homeless man who keeps an eye on things. They were a suspicious sight, partially hidden in the alley next to a building containing a law firm that has recently represented some ecoterrorism suspects. The unit had quietly removed the cases and EXPLODED THEM (!!!) at an undisclosed location with their handy robotic remote control vehicle. Apparently, things don’t need to tick to be trouble. And this sort of event is not as uncommon as I might have thought. I pictured colorful fragments of silk herringbone and pinpoint cotton raining down over the city. Well, I guess Red House has made its own small contribution to the war on terror. Whoa.

Skip the boardwalk.

Early this morning, Michael and I headed back to Napa by ourselves. Monique and John kindly offered to keep the kids for more Monterey exploring and a bit of beach and boardwalk time in Santa Cruz, blustery though it was. Natalie would come back with them too. I appreciated the time alone, as we needed to have some time to talk. We started our itinerary with the dazzlingly beautiful 17 Mile Drive through Pebble Beach. Oh, I could live here! Golf has never looked better.

We stopped for breakfast at the Stillwater Bar & Grill in The Lodge at Pebble Beach (www.pebblebeach.com). First though, we walked around the resort. It felt very gentrified, not at all like golf courses in Napa, but then this is one of the most amazing looking courses on earth. Good thing we were wearing resort-appropriate Red House pieces, the ivory cardigan for me (RH17) and black Silk Cavalry Twill Jacket for Michael (RH28) - instead of our new Monterey Bay Aquarium sweatshirts! Starchy though the atmosphere might be, you sure can’t beat the setting. This morning was foggy and serenely magical. I could spend all day on the terrace here sipping Bloody Marys and gazing out at Carmel Bay.

We didn’t talk as much about the job in Charlotte as I thought we would. The jist is that Michael wants the job and they want him – or they want the other candidate. He learned when he got there that there is another person they are also closely considering, but not to worry: the other’s qualifications are very different. That’s all they wanted to tell him. Hmmm…. And did Michael mention his geographical, family and preexisting career and transitional conditions? No. He reminded me that the right time to negotiate is when the offer is on the table. Sigh. So not only is he still in the running but I have to wait even longer to FIND OUT. I hate that.

The rest of the family got in pretty late. Apparently, the junk food and rides (bad combination!) of the Santa Cruz boardwalk were a real hit with the kids, especially the old wooden coaster. Monique said it was old and rickety and she ended up with a few bruises after multiple jerky rides. She was surprised it hasn’t been scrapped in favor of one of those smooth magnetic coasters as used by Disneyworld. (Thanks for taking a few hits for the team, sister! So sorry I missed it!) She said Santa Cruz reminded her of our childhood trips to Coney Island. Ah yes, the sad and creepy carnival atmosphere. And at dusk the Santa Cruz gangs sort of drift in and take over the boardwalk so Monique and Jon decided they’d leave rather abruptly. This didn’t go over well with Andrew, who, unbeknownst to them, stormed off onto the beach. For about eight scary minutes (that seemed much longer), Monique, Natalie, Jon and Delia looked for him, finally finding him pouting and kicking sand. This was probably due as much to a saltwater taffy and churros-meltdown than unhappiness to be leaving the unsavory boardwalk. Anyway, she didn’t want to call and scare us while they were looking. Yikes.

The one thing Michael and I agreed on today was to promise ourselves that no matter what, we’d be back to Pebble Beach next summer to see more of this incredible place. It would be The Concours d’Elegance for him, with its sparkling fleet of classic luxury and racing cars, and the Lodge spa and galleries in Carmel for me. We both want to see the Mission Carmel, built in 1771. And how about wineries?! We missed them all! Oh, happy thoughts, please supplant those I don’t want to think about!

Sardine City

Stefan had to stay home and study, so it was just family going to Monterey. And it made sense for us to stay overnight as it was a 3+ hour drive each way. Monique and Jon were still tired from their flight from Newark. Michael had just returned from Charlotte and his trip was even longer thanks to a connection in Chicago. (What, the reality of the commute doesn’t seem like so much fun after all?)

The drive down was long but lovely. As in the redwoods, I really got the sense of California as a vast and complex place. Truly inspiring – I’m so glad we chose this state to start Red House. It’s differently beautiful everywhere I have been. This trip, we saw farmlands showcasing the agricultural richness that makes this state’s economy more like a country’s. There’s Gilroy and its garlic. Watsonville produces most of America’s strawberries. And Salinas, the birthplace of John Steinbeck, is known as the Salad Bowl of America. Everywhere you look there’s spinach, cabbage, carrots, broccoli and artichokes. I just wanted to run out into the fields with a fork! They even grow watermelons here. Another treat was the incredibly fragrant eucalyptus trees lining the highway. They are so dramatic looking, with the wind whistling through their branches and papery bark. Also, apparently they can be a real fire hazard. When they burn they burn long and hard. Even so, I’ve got to have a small one for the yard.

I had been excited about seeing Steinbeck’s Cannery Row in downtown Monterey, but it was barely remembered, glimpsed behind endless tourist-y candy and souvenir shops. Still, seeing the wobbly shacks gave me a sense of what the life of a cannery worker must have been like here in Steinbeck’s day. A variety of the world’s people, lived like sardines and worked really awful hours canning actual sardines in cold, wet and stinky conditions. Makes my worst design jobs seem absolutely luxurious.

But here’s why we came - The Monterey Bay Aquarium. It has to be the best of its kind anywhere. (See www.mbayaq.org) We loved every exhibit - from the history of the fished-out Bay and how the canneries worked, to the dappled sunlight shining down on the towering Pacific kelp forest. It’s like the redwoods, only underwater! And, the aquarium provides little cards to keep in your wallet that tell you what fish you can eat without feeling guilty or filling up on mercury. Got to like that.

And speaking of food, only severe hunger made it possible to drag Andrew, Delia and Natalie from the aquarium. All of the adults were pretty worn out after a few hours dodging strollers and crowds. We had the family birthday feast at the Sardine Factory restaurant (www.sardinefactory.com.) Apparently, there are a few sardines left – or did we eat the last?! They were smoked and quite good. We loved the abalone chowder too, a favorite of President Reagan. And yes, it’s on the sustainable seafood list. Natalie had chosen the restaurant and there was a special cake for the birthday girl. Happy 20th, Natalie! You know what made us all happy? During dinner, Nat talked excitedly about the aquarium and nothing else. I wonder if there’s a spark of career interest… Could my niece be a future marine biologist?! I am going to encourage her!

We’re at the Hyatt, which has a nice lobby but felt dated everywhere else. I’ve seen this before – be wary of nice lobbies as the shag carpeting lurks just around the corner! Good night!

The sisters’ sit-down.

Of course there is no shortage of exciting and scenic things to do in the Bay Area, but Natalie surprised me by suggesting we all go to the Monterey Bay Aquarium for her birthday weekend. Andrew and Delia squealed in delight at the prospect. We had talked about going, but it’s a long trip down there – and back. Nat also wanted to see Santa Cruz, which has a beach with volleyball-playing hippies, a boardwalk and pier with tourists, surfers of all ages and an old wooden roller coaster, among other amusements. We’ll need to stay overnight Saturday, and Michael will balk as he’ll just be back from Charlotte but we’ll have fun.

Meanwhile, Monique and Jon are here. I’m swamped at work, and making sure the kids get baths, food, and to and from school - especially with Michael gone. Today though, I took my sister to one of my favorite restaurants in Sonoma, The Girl and The Fig. (www.thegirlandthefig.com - just look at the menu and see if it doesn’t ALL look delectable!) This is like nothing she has back in Saddlebrook, NJ so I knew she’d be impressed. We talked a lot about Natalie and what might be ahead for her. We both hope her great adventures will be mainly in the areas of employment and education. Nat does like it out here, and is having fun with Stefan - we know that much, but there’s not a lot of goal setting. Having lunch with Monique reminded me that she was the same way, and actually still is. Not that there’s anything wrong with planning life around charity auctions, tennis and spa appointments – nice work if you can get it, right? But it’s a bit…passive, and Natalie needs a female role model who is balancing more of life’s roles. That is, after all, why she was sent out to me. Not that I’ve had the influence I was hoping for, like encouraging her to develop interest in business. Her Red House internship was a disaster. Maybe it’ll take more time for Nat to develop the maturity to figure out how to go about getting what she wants.

This was just lunch - we couldn’t resolve all of Nat’s issues. (Or ours either!) We did agree to communicate more about what’s going on. (Until now, I hadn’t told Monique about the arrest, the “NaSte” tattoo - and even now couldn’t bring myself to mention the dynamite as the other info caused her to squirm quite a bit. So much for me thinking she’s blasé!) I was glad we were able to talk. Monique agreed to participate more in her daughter’s life. She needs to have an opinion, and I could do with fewer (!), but we both want the best for our Natalie.

I wrote up a list of fabulous wineries for Monique and Jon to visit. Plus, they’ll be doing a bit of used car shopping with their daughter. And I went back to the office to resolve issues that Kerin then called clients about. She is really taking control of every project I throw at her, I’m so glad that she’s here!

The Natalie Plan.

There’s always another shoe to drop, isn’t there? On my way to the meeting, Michael calls me with information that probably spiked my blood pressure enough to blow the sunroof right off of my car. At the same time my sister and her husband will be flying west, my husband will be flying east for another round of interviews in Charlotte, banking capital of the New South. He tells me to relax (I hate that), that it’s just the next two days and he’ll be back for the party and related Bay Area excursions. Not much I can do so I allow the anger to boil even though I know I shouldn’t. I rant loudly about the logo problem, the messy house, the gum, the early-arriving guests and the EIGHT STICKS OF DYNAMITE IN THE GARAGE! I just hate how low-key he can be about something Homeland Security would be all over, but he said to get the facts from Natalie before I react. He’s right (and that is what I’m doing) but I’m mad so I don’t care.

Yet, just as the suffocating weight of all I have to do and resolve threatens my already tenuous mood, one answer comes that takes some of the pressure. Natalie responded to my terse text message, in which I used as many exclamation points as I did letters: “Not a terrorist. Trust me.” Ok…. But what then? I can’t respond with questions while driving. It would have to wait.

The realtors were not as unreasonable as expected. Each thought a heart should be incorporated, but one wanted a pair of work gloves with a heart, another wanted a watering can sprinkling hearts, and another liked the original heart surrounding the house, only wanted the house replaced by the National Association of Realtors logo. These were all good and feasible-to-create images – I hadn’t expected that degree of clarity in their thinking. (I guess that in their line of work they have to be as good with details as I am.) I told them I would do some thumbnails of these three new potential logos and the project would be on hold until they had voted on their favorite.

I tried texting Nat again right after the meeting and no response, but she was at the house when I got there. Did my eyes deceive me? She was vacuuming! I hated to stop her but it was time for a long talk. She was really sorry about the dynamite – and had almost forgotten about it. (How could you forget about explosives under your bed?!) Her reason for having it was not as sinister as I had feared, though it wasn’t very smart. She and Stefan were going to try to blast a wine cave out of a hill at his parents’ winery as a gift for their 25th wedding anniversary! Thoughtful, but ill conceived. Now, I’m no engineer, but I don’t think it’s that easy to create a cave. For one thing, there are geological concerns, possibly utility lines - not to mention the likelihood of collateral damage, death and dismemberment. Natalie knew it was probably illegal to possess dynamite as they had tried a hardware store and even a gun shop (!) first with no success. (This isn’t Deadwood, S.D. – or 1857!) She and Stefan eventually bought their cache from some bikers who had bought it from someone on an Indian reservation. I told her she had to get the box out of the garage, though I lacked advice for what she should do with it after that. (Soak the sticks in a bucket of water?) Sigh. Nat was pretty contrite about what amounted to encouraging Andrew to shed his clothes in kindergarten too. And I learned her summer interest in concert promotion had been thwarted by the fact that Lynyrd Skynyrd was not interested in playing any vineyards – they were booked solid in venues of more reliable attendance (i.e. former Confederate states). I let her get back to cleaning. Later, the five of us sat down to a happy dinner to plan the weekend fun. I think we all need a little of that!

Under Siege

I COULD NOT believe what I was seeing- there had to be some explanation. “Dynamite” and “keep dry” were handwritten on the rather ordinary-looking cardboard box. I carefully pulled it out from under the bed and opened it - it wasn’t even taped. Sure enough, eight sticks in bubble wrap. Why would Natalie have these?! She works in a winery, not a mine! I had to find out what she was up to. Should I call the police? F.B.I.? The Bureau of Land Management? I decided not to get the government involved just yet, but I did move the box to the garage, placed it in the corner farthest from the house and put a bag of potting soil on top. (As if that would absorb the explosion!)

Just as I was about to text Natalie (which, I have learned, is the quickest way to get her to respond) her mother (my sister) called. The Tata Nano car they wanted to get for Natalie isn’t available yet so they are going to get her something here in California. And, since they now are not driving west they wanted to come to the birthday celebration five days early – tomorrow (!) and was that ok…? AAHH! What could I say? I had no real party plans in place yet, and a box of explosives in the garage, but sure, Monique! I gritted my teeth and told her it would be great to see her and Jon TOMORROW. (Hopefully, I said it without a shred of sarcasm.) Now what?!

I rushed to meet with the group of realtors who were suddenly not in agreement about the house encircled by a heart as the logo for their red polo shirts. Apparently, the do-gooding agents are not all with the same firm and petty disagreements had already arisen concerning the colors of flowers chosen to brighten up yards, and even which brand of window cleaner they should be using. (Sale price won out over green formula.) Ordinarily, this sort of issue would not be a problem for me: I’d hear all opinions and carefully consider and offer my own - except for the fact that the order was in and embroidery was already scheduled. I had to jump on this now if the logo was not to end up being a house broken in pieces. (Interesting that that image came to mind just after I stashed dynamite in my garage!)

The Trouble with 20.

I could coast a long time on the good feelings associated with generating new business. It’s no coincidence of course, but my enthusiasm is carrying over into a new love for football. I am actually watching the playoffs on TV. This also helps distract me from thinking about Michael’s potential job in Charlotte. I have another distraction: Natalie’s impending birthday. She’s about to turn 20, and as she lives with us (some of the time anyway) I feel that we should have a party for her. This task is way more difficult than the cupcakes and party favors of a Delia or Andrew party. I don’t know most of Nat’s friends, wouldn’t want to, and doubt she wants to mix them with family anyway. I compromised by inviting my sister and her husband out for a weekend visit. They haven’t seen their errant teen since last Christmas and now she’s about to be an ex-teen. I too, have been less than involved with Natalie lately as she’s been working at Stefan’s parents’ winery and living with their son in a tree house anyway, and well, we’ve had some drama of our own at this house... I realize that I never asked Nat what became of the idea for the “Skynyrd in the Vineyard” concert. Nor had I had that talk with her yet about her having told my son “clothing is optional”. She at least needs to know her philosophy does not extend to kindergarten circle time… I had really hoped that her time here (almost a year so far!) would lead to something other than various legal and professional mishaps, tattoos and a high school boyfriend. But Red House’s first and ex-intern has other plans, I just hope she knows what they might be.

My sister and her husband will be coming out and staying in our Natalie-occupied guest room, so I’ll need to move Nat into Delia’s tiny room, and plan the birthday dinner and one or two outings for the seven of us – eight if Stefan’s interested. I learned that Nat’s parents are surprising her with a car for her milestone birthday, an Indian Tata Nano that they are driving out from New Jersey themselves. (Why didn’t they just start from India? That would be fun!) They chose white –check it out at tatanano.com – looks like a golf ball, but what’s not to like about a $2,500 car?! And, as the insurance will be carried by someone other than myself I think this is a great idea!

I had asked Natalie several times to come help clean up the house for her parents’ arrival, but as she and her boyfriend have weatherproofed their tree house platform she’s over here pretty much only when Stefan has to study. I know I shouldn’t let her slide, but it is her birthday so I decided to just get the work done myself - starting with her room. I learned early on to insist that she keep the door closed but I was unprepared for the wasteland before me. Even with rubber gloves the task was daunting: dirty clothes covering every inch of floor, and underneath? Lots of science fair-worthy surprises - apple cores that had to date back to her arrival last winter, half-eaten containers of yogurt, and bottles of nail polish, with one missing its top! I got flat on the floor next to the bed and slowly lifted the dust ruffle - fearing vermin. And what did I see? A long line of used gum affixed to the bedrail! The globs were equidistant, suggesting purpose. How appalling! And what I saw next made me gasp - the most science fair-worthy surprise of all – a box labeled DYNAMITE!