OLIVES, POTATOES, GROWLING, ZSA ZSA

A quick hodgepodge of completely unrelated stuff.

Yesterday, in her comment on my blog, Myra mentioned something about Christmas stockings - and that sparked a memory that I hadn't thought of in many years.

I've always had an unnatural obsession for olives (yes, olives), ever since I was a tiny child. It's some sort of weird addiction. I can't get enough of them. 

One Christmas when I was either four or five (can't remember), my father put a jar of olives in my Christmas stocking (which I, of course, thought was from Santa Claus). Dad secretly said to Mom "Let's see what the kid goes for first: the toys, candy, or olives."

It was no contest. On Christmas morning, I was ecstatic to find the jar of olives in my stocking. To hell with toys and candy! I pried off the lid and started eating them. My parents eventually pried the jar away from me, or I would have eaten the whole thing in one sitting. 

Strange but true. And I still love olives.
 

The other day when I went shopping in town, I bought a 15 lb. bag of potatoes. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and found a potato that was nearly a foot long. Over eleven inches. I've seldom seen one that big.
This photo doesn't do it justice. 

Please try to contain your excitement.

  
As most of you know, I've been feeding the resident 'possum.  Although basically nocturnal, the 'possum has been coming out in the daylight lately because the nights are so damn cold.

A few days ago my eldest cat Scratch was outside on the back porch. I looked out a window to check on her and she was face to face with the 'possum. Neither of them looked pleased.

I quickly went outside and they were growling at each other! Scratch growls when she's angry, but I've never heard a 'possum growl before. I chased the 'possum and dragged the cat inside.
Not easily intimidated, the 'possum returned five minutes later. I gave him (what else?) some cat food to eat.

I took this blurry pic through the kitchen window.

 Hungarian actress Zsa Zsa Gabor, dead at the ripe old age of 99. Much more known for her glamour and flamboyance than for her acting abilities.

I met Zsa Zsa when I was sixteen. At that time I was a piano student of the Hungarian concert pianist Geza Wolf, who lived in Riverside.

Geza Wolf (real name Wolfenstein) was the former conductor of the Belgrade Opera Orchestra, and a survivor of Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. He was also a close friend of the Gabor family (sisters Zsa Zsa, Eva, and Magda) and visited them often in Palm Springs.

One day when I was arriving at Wolf's house in Riverside, Zsa Zsa was just leaving. We exchanged greetings and talked very briefly. I proudly told her that I was learning some of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsodies. She mentioned that she could make a helluva good Hungarian goulash.

In retrospect, at the time I was hopelessly immature and too young to make much of an impression. 

Just one of my many fleeting California memories.....

An afterthought:
Longevity seems to be in the Gabor family. Zsa Zsa's mother Jolie lived to be 102. 

 

STRANGER IN THE NIGHT

I was planning on writing a sweet, summery, innocuous post in honor of upcoming Independence Day - - but my harrowing adventures here on Hell Mountain are much more interesting.

Let's do a little recap of my recent days for the uninitiated. I was without water in the house for a week, due to a plumbing malfunction (I lifted "malfunction" from NASA's vocabulary). Despite having no water inside, there's plenty of it outside. It never stops raining here. And I mean NEVER. I suppose the highlight of my entire week was when I found the dead mouse in my bed, tucked under my pillow (a gift from one of my cats).

If you read my blog regularly, you wouldn't miss these things and I wouldn't be forced to recapitulate (admonishment from the author).

The plumber came yesterday morning and fixed my pipe (no sexual connotations are intended) and also the faucets to the washing machine hookup. So now - at least for the moment - I have water again. And I can wash clothes. Unfortunately, I can't dry them because I still have to change the power cord on the clothes dryer, but that's another story for another time. I can change the power cord myself. 

Despite projecting an annoying aura of helplessness, I do possess some mechanical abilities. I'm not just another pretty face.

What about the stranger in the night?
I'm getting there. Good stories always require a subtle buildup to induce tension. I'm assuming that you're getting tense.

Late last night I was in the usual company of insomnia. In order to while away the witching hours, I was watching some creepy murder mysteries that I found on YouTube (I was using my laptop in the kitchen).
By the way, it's "while away" - not "wile away". I just checked to be sure.

The rain is pouring and thunder is rumbling continuously. I'm immersed in the murder mystery and the isolated danger of this dark mountainous wilderness. It's deliciously atmospheric.

Suddenly.......

I hear loud, persistent scratching noises coming from one of the bedrooms. Despite being small, this house has three bedrooms. The largest is my bedroom. The second largest contains one of my pianos and some bookcases. I use the smallest bedroom for storage. That's where the noises are coming from.


At first I ignore the noises, convinced that it's one of the cats. My oldest cat Scratch particularly enjoys rummaging around at night, and she's often in that small bedroom.

Somehow, the noises don't sound like a cat. My musician ears are always fine-tuned to sounds, and these noises weren't induced by a feline. Rattling, bumping, and scraping accompanied the scratching.

Perhaps my cat is chasing another mouse (I'm trying to reassure myself).

A few loud bangs really get my attention. I immediately jump up and do a feline head count. Scruffy and Bosco are asleep in my bedroom (where they usually are). Scratch is asleep in the living room. All three cats are accounted for.

Now I'm seriously worried. The noises in the bedroom are increasing, and it sure as hell ain't no mouse.

Summoning the little courage that I have, I grab a broom and go to the bedroom. I switch on the light. I see a large flash of fur scurry into one of the corners, behind a pile of junk.

Holy shit!!!! 
I instinctively turn out the light and close the door. Whatever it is, it's now trapped in the bedroom. I'm admittedly shaken, wondering how I should deal with the situation. The interloper looked fairly large. A broom and a flashlight won't be sufficient ammunition.
   
Yea, I know - - this post is getting irritatingly long - - but what the hell, it's free entertainment.

All right, I'll speed it up and cut to the chase.

There is unnerving silence. The bedroom is quiet. And then I hear scurrying and scratching near the washing machine - - which is closer to the kitchen (and not in the bedroom!).

I leap up and look behind the washer.
I'm face to face with an opossum! 

This guy looks very similar to the one I encountered

"Opossum" is the sophisticated term. In this part of the country it's "Possum". Great for eatin', makes a good stew.

He somehow went through the bedroom closet, via the water heater route, and exited into the laundry area. It's a complication that I won't detail.

The possum is kinda large. Kinda cute (in an unnerving way). Definitely something you don't want in your spare bedroom.
I open the back door (which is right by the laundry area) and eventually manage to swoosh it out with the broom.

Possums aren't aggressive or particularly dangerous but they can act vicious. They seldom bite even though they have about fifty sharp teeth. They seldom have rabies but they carry ticks, fleas, and other undesirable things. They're dang good at playing dead when they're frightened. And they like to eat cat food.

They like to live under porches - which is where this one resides. He (she?) got into the house through the open clothes dryer vent. I don't have the dryer hooked up and the vent is uncovered.

I definitely have it covered now, and I'm going to get some screening to put over it. I had carelessly left it uncovered for about two days.

Hopefully this midnight intruder won't make a repeat performance.

This is what I'm going to look like in a few

 years if I keep living in the mountain wilderness

Note:

This wasn't my first encounter with possums. I was very familiar with them when I lived in the Missouri Ozarks. And I had them in my garage when I lived in Texas.

In Texas I also had a snake in my kitchen, lizards in the silverware drawer, and turkey buzzards in the back yard.
Not to mention scorpions.........