*(drat, I'd hoped to have the first positive week this time!)

"An host had prepared their destruction, but still they denied it." Kipling, quoted by John Derbyshire.

Vodkapundit gets married today!

Last night at the play, we saw a guy with a tiny teacup dog, a mini-daschie puppy, in a shoulder pack. I always enjoy the musicals when Dennis Castelano of Stan Lunetta's orchestra is the conductor. He's always singing along. He's fun to watch, as is the woman who sits in the first row opposite. The first row is too close, and sometimes scenery gets in the way, but when she can see, she really gets wrapped up in the show.

This morning, before we left for our day in the foothills, the paramedics came by for our neighbor. She'd fallen and called them, but no neighbor had a key. They did get in the back before her daughter arrived. Her husband has been gone to Ohio for a week, I assume to see a dying sibling.

Later reports say this was a slight stroke. When we first came here, 25 years ago, Ann's first husband died. I would dash over to help her with groceries, etc., because I thought of her as an old widow lady. Now I figure she must have been younger than I am now, and I'm not at all sure I'd take kindly to some youngster treating me as feeble. About 5 years later she met the current husband, who had a 9-yr-old daughter. They've been great neighbors. He just had his 80th birthday. I hope Ann makes a good recovery.

So, cabin fever, and we decided to have a day in the hills. I'd read an article about Fiddletown and we thought we might go look at the new fiddle on the firehouse and maybe go wine tasting. Then there are other things to do in the area, as well. So we drove to the east via highway 16. The first stop was Sloughhouse, where I planned to pick up some corn.

Mighod. When we first went for Sloughhouse corn (the best corn in the universe) there was a small shed and parking for about 5 cars. Nowadays, it's a huge farmer's market and there's a large parking lot in back and a kid out directing traffic. They grow Christmas trees, too. The hop fields that used to be out there 20-plus years ago, are no more. (Maybe that's why the corn is so good!) In the event, we picked up strawberries and thyme as well as 6 ears of corn. Yummmmm.

Onwards on what used to be the Jackson Highway but is now the Van Vleik Memorial Highway. He was the rancher who owned most of the land and who died last year. We drove past the part of his land where they have black powder shooting. Rich and the Scouts camped there a couple of times. Once I went out there and took an eager Vince out on the roads to begin to learn to drive. He'd been changing gears for me for a couple of years, but it's different when it's your own foot on the clutch. We drove up and down a mile-long stretch of road and practiced turning... he did very well. (No cows died in this experience!) We passed the place where we went looking at Swift-Tuttle and the other mid-90s comet with Gerhard. We passed a historical marker for Forest Home Stage and Freight Stopover.

Plymouth used to be Ole Pokeville. Back when I was a Girl Scout Leader, one time we camped near there and went to a scout fair at the fairgrounds. That was a fun trip, even though my assistant leader finked out. A few years ago, Rich and I went back to look at the County Fair. I forget what we went to see especially, but whatever, it wasn't very exciting.

Today I noted a paramedic vehicle in front of the cafe. That would give one pause, would it not? From there we headed up a smallish road which would dead-end in Fiddletown. There was a story in the Bee in early June which said:

Foothill town's cherished symbol will rise again

Sometime in the hush of an October night last year, the giant fiddle perched atop the rusty roof of the community center finally succumbed to time and the elements. It broke loose of its moorings and crashed to the ground 10 feet below.

The next day, there it was for all to see, sprawled across Fiddletown Road. It was 16 feet long and 18 years removed from its last restoration, rotted, weathered and now splintered to bits.

So, the residents got up a fund-raising plan and put up a new fiddle. Indeed, there it is on the firehouse (about 2/3 paid for according to the billboard outside town.)

We were parked a bit down the street outside the Rock Hound Saloon. Had I read the article a bit farther, I'd have realized that it's no longer a bar at all, but as it was, I was a little diffident about going in. The lady that runs the rock shop doesn't know where a lot of her stock comes from. It's great. It's got rosaries she makes (with a "pray for me" card attached, too.) I loved a couple of them, but really can't use it. I did spend a whopping $2 on three little fossil sand dollars and a piece of petrified wood from Roseville. Then she showed us her rock garden. Oh, wow. There were also a couple-dozen "furry rocks" or "feline rocks" out there.

Then we drove up the hill to look at the cemetery.

Wiseman is the oldest one we found. There were two wives of King F. Lott, Sarah J. who died November 27 1871 aged 38 years and Mary Ann d. Feb 4 1873 aged 23. (In childbirth?) King himself died November 7 1902 aged 77. I wonder if he had another wife or two in there.

There were some wood markers. I suppose they're replacing vandalized stones. (They are in too good shape to be original) These are Maria Seely, 1840-1909; Matt Seely, 1830-1897; and Maria Wall, 1844-1889. Maria and Matt had their share of tragedy: side by side on one marker we have

I always wonder. Did they have an epidemic? Were there other children?

From this fascinating site we went on to the Chew Kee Store, which is a museum. You can wander through the whole restored herbal store, which was apparently also a tea shop and gathering place. There's a wok in back, too. Fascinating. There are blackberries back there, but Rich restrained himself.

You can see Rancho Seco as you drive back to Plymouth. Onwards toward Placerville. We passed a gated community that had the name of the "mobile home estates." It's a glorified trailer park! We kept passing signs for Tomary heirloom tomatoes, and we'll definitely have to go there someday, but this time we turned toward Placerville because it was lunchtime.

To be continued... this is long enough as it is.