HER COMPLEXION was as fresh as a Georgia peach. In fact, every girl seemed to have a pinkish hue in this college town of Athens, Ga. Maybe it was the weather — hot and humid and not unlike a steam bath at the local gym. But it didn’t deter my daughter, as this week we followed her dream to tour several Southern schools.

The University of Georgia was high on the list since she wanted a big Southern football school. My teen apparently had no problem with the image of 30,000 rabid fans barking for hours during a Georgia Bulldogs game.

Athens is a young, hip, college town built snugly around the UGA campus. It’s like Berkeley without hippies, but with the funky stores and tiny sandwich shops and countless venues for live music. In fact, Athens is known for its music scene, with bands such as REM and the B 52s calling it home.

The architecture in Athens is stately Southern, with old, ivy-covered brick buildings and proud colonial mansions. Even our hotel, the Foundry Park Inn, was reminiscent of a Southern plantation with its own renowned music venue, the Melting Point, in an old foundry on its lush grounds.

I was impressed with Athens and could see my teen fitting right in, despite growing up in a culture of California smugness. But I encouraged her to keep looking, incorporating some of my own favorite towns in the mix.

Chattanooga, Tennessee has a branch of the University of Tennessee that is well regarded.

“I know it doesn’t sound cool to say

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Chattanooga,” I told my daughter, “but this town has lots to offer.”

I proceeded to take her on a tour that would impress even the most skeptical teenager.

“It’s kitschy,” I said as we drove up the side of Lookout Mountain to Rock City. A slice of Americana, the Rock City gardens were advertised on barns across several states in the years leading to and following World War II. Rock City is 75 this year and one of those comforting attractions that reminds us we can still go back in time.

Lookout Mountain has another natural wonder — Ruby Falls. We switched on lanterns for a nighttime tour of the half-mile cave that led to a glorious underground waterfall. I shuddered when I thought of the man who discovered it — crawling on his belly through a narrow crack in the earth — following the sound of water to this impossibly beautiful place. There was no belly crawling on our tour, but it was just as exciting to take the elevator shaft down to the dark, dank tunnel with its ancient rock formations.

From the World War II duck boats, we took on the Tennessee River to the riverfront aquarium and the Wilderness Drive-in Theatre in a farmer’s field (a drive-in so popular it has the world’s largest outdoor screens), Chattanooga had it all, as far as I was concerned.

But was it all about me, and my college-town expectations? Or was I supposed to let go and let her decide? I felt a twinge of guilt every time I brought it up.

As we toured our last Southern campus, the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill, my daughter said candidly: “Maybe I’ll just stay in California.”

Not wanting to put pressure on her, I said, “You have plenty of time to decide.”

Regardless of her decision, I feel good that I took time to show her schools in other parts of the country — places like Minnesota, the Dakotas, and the Bible Belt.

They are regions with cultures so different from that of the Bay Area.

Will she end up choosing a school so far away? Only time will tell.

But thinking back to that night at the country drive-in, when whole families got out of their cars to throw Frisbees under the Georgia moon, I know the trip was worth it.

MY DAD WAS driving down the highway, pumping his fists and singing “My Way” to an old Frank Sinatra tape. The champagne-brown Mercury Sable (premium edition, as he likes to point out) rolled merrily past the endless expanse of chin-high corn and long stalks of prairie grass dancing in the persistent Dakota breeze.

“Stop that crazy noise!” my mom piped up from the back seat, as she often did to get a rise out of dad. Then, turning to my teenage daughter, she added: “You’re lucky. You can tune it out with your iPod.”

“So can you,” quipped my dad. “Just turn down your hearing aids.” The idea, not a new one by any means, always got a laugh.

It was the annual summer road trip and reunion, with four intrepid travelers spanning three generations. This wasn’t for the fainthearted. In fact, my husband and son had opted out years ago. But my dad, mom and daughter found the strength, if not the joy, in continuing this American tradition.

Among the many highlights:

The revelation that two people in the car could be freezing while two others were sure they would die without the air conditioning cranked up too high.

“If you’re cold, put on a sweater,” I suggested with the best of motherly intentions. My teenager was wearing shorts and a tank top that could have been made from two dinner napkins.

“If you’re hot,” the voice from the back seat retorted, “take off something.”

“I can’t. I’m practically naked as it is,” I replied, mildly irritated at the suggestion I might be going through the midlife “change.””Eeeeewwwww!” said the teenager.

“That’s more information than I want to hear,” offered dad.

This kind of scintillating dialogue continued for days as we drove past the red barns and silos and occasional flock of pheasants eating road gravel to digest their food. At night, we took it up a notch.

“Everyone gets one towel,” announced my dad as we checked into our motel room in Jamestown, the home of western novelist Louie L’Amour. This was the Wild West, and Dad was taking charge like the new sheriff in town. He laid down the law about bedtime, too.

“Mom and I are hitting the sack right after the news,” he said firmly. That meant lights out for the teen and the “tweener.”

My daughter resisted, but I reminded her that traveling with the folks was like crossing several time zones, and we’d better try to adapt.

Another revelation: 6 a.m. comes around fast when you’re up half the night reading by flashlight. We had ignored the warning to turn in early the night before and stayed up until midnight. Now we were paying the price as mom turned on the coffee pot just inches from my left ear. Blip … gurgle … drip. It was an ancient water torture mom used to get the family moving and on schedule.

Bismarck by 10 a.m. That was her plan, and there was no wiggle room. My daughter and I shuffled down to breakfast and returned for our predetermined shifts in the bathroom. Dad packed the car with the precision of a puzzlemaker, placing each roller bag in just the right spot in the trunk. It was truly a work of art.

So was the manner in which he drove down the highway to our family reunion in Bismarck, and a second gathering in Aberdeen. Each time he stopped for gas, he calculated the mileage.

“We’re getting 31 miles to the gallon,” he would announce with the pride of a traveling salesman.

It was comments like these that used to slip past me. I’d spend much of my time reading or sleeping on the Dakota road trips of my youth.

But now, I’m keenly aware of time fading away. Each year, it gets harder for my parents to make the trip. Relatives are growing old, and towns like Eureka, my birthplace, are struggling to survive.

“This could be our last trip out here,” Dad said, matter-of-factly. I wonder if it’s true. Then I realize the laughter and the lessons we’ve learned about family love and patience will never die. The memories of these Dakota road trips will stay with us long after my dad’s Mercury Sable logs its last mile.

THE TOWN CRIER has a bone to pick about parking. It’s a meaty topic as a growing number of hills dwellers park their cars on the street.

Many folks feel it’s their right to park in front of their own home. Perhaps they’ve converted their garage into a living space or it’s simply full of stuff — too valuable to toss but not good enough to bring in the house. Is it fair, though, to block a lane of traffic with their vehicle?

On many hills streets, it’s a dangerous indulgence — a seemingly selfish act that forces motorists to go around parked cars on narrow, blind curves. It increases the rate of accidents and the blood pressure of drivers who have to maneuver around obstacles just to get home. It’s also the source of a lot of chatter, right now, on Montclair’s Yahoo listserv (you can sign up at http://www.montclairsic.org).

While many residents are clearly frustrated (especially on Florence Terrace where a number of the old homes were built without garages), it’s not an easy problem to address. How do you legislate street parking?

As the mother of a young driver told me recently, it’s a matter of safety. Her daughter’s car was hit, recently, by a motorist who was forced out of his lane by a car parked on a blind curve.

The neighbor who owned the parked vehicle felt terrible and moved the car immediately. Let’s hope it doesn’t take an accident to spur action in your neighborhood.

ON THE TOWN: The joke was on me the other night at Alameda’s Altarena Playhouse. I had invited two girlfriends (one was a new godmother to the other’s infant twins) to the opening of “Oh My Godmother!” –billed as a Cinderella story with a San Francisco twist.

“Twist” was right. Cinderella was a guy and his “godmother” was the flamboyant male owner of a costume shop. During the intermission, I spotted an older couple I knew, and asked them how they liked the show. They admitted they were as surprised as we were about the storyline. Still, they laughed heartily at the slapstick bits and hilarious dialogue. The acting, we agreed, was superb and the live orchestra added much to the enjoyment of the show. Live theatre is always a lot of fun. In this case, it was also an adventure.

DINNER WITH STRINGS: It’s always a treat to have live music with dinner, but when the instrument is a harp, it’s just heavenly. Angel Simmons (yes, that’s her real name) plays the harp two Friday nights a month at Terzetto’s Restaurant in Moraga. There’s something about soft music that makes you savor your food and drink. It lends itself to warm conversation and may even help with digestion. That’s probably why it’s striking a chord in this bedroom community.

SIPPING AND DIPPING: I discovered a whole new way to be a wine snob the other evening. A friend at the Montclair Bistro poured a fine French wine into a Vinturi aerator, which allowed it to breathe almost instantly. In the time it took to gurgle through the clear acrylic device, the wine opened up with a delightful bouquet and smooth finish. I felt so hip as I sipped my aerated wine and nibbled on an incredible antipasta plate with lightly marinated vegetables and other goodies. The Vinturi aerator — $34.95. The antipasta plate — $10.

The coolness factor — priceless.

On the surface, it seems like a busy Oakland salon — customers getting haircuts and highlights and nail treatments and such. But underground, there’s a secret subterranean spa where some of the city’s best skin work and massages are being done.

James Daviees and Amanda Miller have worked magic with a space that once served as storage for Dina’s Coiffures, 4201 Park Blvd. They’ve designed two perfectly appointed studios in which they do deep, restorative work.

For a longtime customer like me, the spa is an amazing transformation. The calming colors, the soft music, the warm welcome you get when you descend the stairs. And Daviees and Miller are experts in body work.

Daviees’ touch transcends that of the normal massage. It’s as if you can feel the energy leaving his fingertips and charging your cells. His gentle manner let’s you know he’s not just there to work out the kinks in your muscles, but to lighten your mood and lift your spirits.

Miller’s expertise is facials. As a graduate of women’s studies at Duke University, she’s made it her mission to help woman have healthy, glowing skin. Over a cup of healing tea, she shares tips about diet and fitness — then goes to work nurturing your face with a special blend of hydrating, organic products.

Thinking about what Daviees and Miller have done with Dina’s Salon, I’m reminded of all kinds of metaphors. But simply put, here in this underground grotto are two very cool people.

FACE LIFT: It’s a bit of an eyesore now, but Montclair’s Pacific National Bank should be a real beauty by fall. The building is being remodeled into a state-of-the-art banking center, complete with an Internet café where customers can do online banking while they enjoy a free cup of coffee. You’ll also see a name change, as it becomes California Savings Bank when the dust settles.

E-MAIL BAG: With wildfires raging around the state, reader Mike Spencer reminds us to keep our eyes open for suspicious activity in the tinder-dry hills. He says he spotted and reported a brush fire recently while walking his dog along Dimond Canyon trail.

“The fire department arrived pretty quickly,” he wrote, “and got the trail gate unlocked to go put out the fire.”

What concerned Spencer was the fact that he’d just seen a group of kids in the area.

“Those kids either started the fire or saw the fire starting as they came up from the trail,” he wrote.

He gave the description of the kids to the fire captain, but doesn’t know if the youths were questioned.

Regardless, it was Spencer’s quick thinking that prevented the fire from burning out of control.

Let’s all be “heads up” this fire season.

IN THE LIMELIGHT: It’s a bird, it’s a plane . . . it’s a former Bishop O’Dowd High School student dressed as a comic book super hero. Aja DeCoudreaux is one of the contestants this season on the Sci Fi network’s reality show “Who Wants to be a Superhero.” A talented fashion designer, Aja made her costume entirely out of junk: old bike inner tubes, wire, fabric and other throwaways. Her superhero is th

IMAGINE A RACE where your brain rates as high as your body. The sport of orienteering pairs speed with navigational skills, and the man who brought it to the Bay Area lives right here in Montclair.

Joe Scarborough has always been an outdoorsman. As a marathon runner, he discovered orienteering in Scandinavia, where it’s so popular today that races are often televised.

“It’s the thinking man’s sport,” he says, since it combines compass and map-reading skills with speed and agility.

Years ago, Scarborough set up a course in the redwood forest of Joaquin Miller Park. It’s got all kinds of navigational challenges, including steep grades, streams and areas so rugged, they’re impassable. Along the route, there are checkpoints (called control features) that let you know you’re on the right track, and a map of the course is available on Scarborough’s Web site, http://www.orienteer.com.

If this kind of adventure racing sounds like fun to you, check out the BAOC’s next race in Joaquin Miller Park on July 21st. You can get more information on their Web site, http://www.baoc.org.

PICKY THIEVES: With the rise in auto theft in Oakland, it seems nothing can be left in your vehicle these days. Not true. Reader Wanda Hennig says when her stolen car was recovered recently, the thieves had taken an eclectic mix of her favorite CD’s. (Macy Gray and others).

They left, untouched, her collection of Polish music CD’s.

GOOD BUZZ: I ran into a group of ranchers at the Alameda County Fair the other day. Their livestock was bees — working hard to make honey in a glass-enclosed hive. Apiarys in Oakland? Apparently so — and the buzz on their nectar is good. With a hint of eucalyptus, the honey is refreshing and sweet and the perfect compliment for your morning muffin and tea. You can find out more about Alameda beekeepers on the Web at honeybee.com/beeclubs.

ART SCENE: When it comes to painting, the Oakland hills offer plenty of inspiration. So it’s no wonder that local artist Laura Siegel loves to paint the undulating terrain around Mount Diablo.

Her work is being featured at Montclair Gallery (1986 Mountain) this month, along with colorful images of two other favorite sites — Kauai and Bellagio, Italy. Laura draws much of her inspiration from her dad, who passed away a few years back. An avid photographer, his work was once featured with Laura’s at a father/daughter show at the Metropolitan Transportation Commission Gallery. Today, Laura teaches painting at several locations, including Piedmont Adult School.

GREAT NIGHT OUT: San Francisco has Pearls, Oakland has Yoshi’s and now Orinda has its own classy jazz venue. The Orinda House (just down from the Orinda Theatre) is bringing in some great musicians — guys who’ve played with big names like Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller and Lou Rawls. The music director, Bob Belanski packed the house last Saturday night when he brought in London cabaret singer Holly Penfield (an Orinda native). Playful, petite and a powerful singer, Penfield lit up the restaurant and bar like a fireworks display. This place offers something we don’t have in the Montclair — a venue with live jazz and R&B bands Thursday through Sunday. It’s worth the short drive.

THE MOMENT I met her, I knew she was a Minnesotan. Her crisp white apron, the way she came out on the porch to greet me for lunch — that’s so Midwestern. Kim Cole lives in Redwood Heights today, but her cooking career goes back to those childhood days in Marshall.

“Growing up, we had pizza all the time,” she remembers. It was Chef Boyardee Pizza in a Box — a staple in every Midwestern mom’s pantry. “I needed to get close to that (taste) but with my East Bay sensibilities.”

Cole worked on a recipe for almost a year, and finally came up with the organic dough she markets today as Mom’s Pizza Dough. In a word, it’s delicious. Easy to use, you just thaw it in the package and spread it out on a pan, adding your own special ingredients. A little olive oil, some fresh veggies and cheese and voila! — you have a culinary masterpiece.

Cole is a one-woman operation. She makes her dough in a commercial kitchen in Montclair called A Chef’s Eye. She markets it, delivers it and does the bookkeeping while her daughter is in preschool. So far, 12 stores carry her product in the Bay Area, including Rockridge Market and Berkeley Bowl.

Will Cole get rich making dough? Profits are thin, but rising every day.

“I’d like to eventually open a take-and-bake pizza place,” she says. Until then, she’s just happy to be doing something she loves, and helping folks put a healthy meal on the dinner table. For more information, see Cole’s Web site athref=”http://www.momspizzadough.com”>http://www.momspizzadough.com.

Zoo Do: Speaking of culinary masterpieces, the Oakland Zoo’s Walk in the Wild was a huge hit the other night. Men dressed in khakis and women wearing leopard prints got a rare treat — a moonlit party where the animals were the stars. And the food was fantastic. P.F. Chang’s served lettuce wraps; Skates had Kobe Sliders; Spengers was barbecuing oysters and the owner of Compadres, Rick Enos, was serving up savory burritos. The East Bay’s best restaurants, wineries and brew pubs lined the pathways offering hearty samples of their fare. This event has come a long way since it started 14 years ago. It’s a real class act, and one of the many things that makes the Oakland Zoo one of the best in the nation.

Around Town: After months of anticipation, El Agavero is finally open for business in the old Round Table Pizza spot on Mountain Boulevard. What a transformation! The Pelayo family has done a great job of decorating and their light, airy restaurant and bar are a welcome addition to the village. You’ll be surprised, too, at the prices, which are modest by Montclair standards. The father, Gregorio, says he tried to keep the costs close to what he charges at his Fruitvale restaurant, Guadalajara. To that end, the whole family helps. The mom, Rosa, runs the taco trucks, and the kids, Al, Fernando, Maria, and daughter-in-law Nancy, work inside the restaurants. It’s nice to see a family-owned operation in Montclair and I wish the Pelayos the best of luck!

Sweet Deal: There may be no such thing as a free lunch, but you can find a free dessert. Just ask hills mom Sabrina Stewart, who entered the Dreyers Neighborhood Salute contest, last spring, and won $200 worth of free ice cream. It’s the perfect prize, since Stewart has a block party on her circle drive every September. Twelve cartons of ice cream will arrive just in time to set up a sundae table at the block party with bananas and nuts and all the toppings. It’s tough to top that!

A promise is a promise — even if it takes 32 years to fulfill. That’s how long it’s been since the city of Oakland designated Shepherd Canyon Road a scenic route, with a promise to put up appropriate signage. Not surprisingly, the signs never went up, until now.

Neighbors and Boy Scouts have just finished putting up the signs that the city should have installed over three decades ago. It wasn’t easy. Just finding the sign design from those 1975 documents took hours of digging into the state archives.

Once the drawings were located, Matt Ceraldi made the sign installation his Eagle Scout project, placing the first of the placards at the top of Escher Drive. He even used some of the leftover debris (from the years when the city used the park for an un-permitted dump) to anchor the sign’s base.

Signs also went up this week at the top and bottom of Shepherd Canyon Road, the east and west boundaries of the scenic route. Now every motorist, pedestrian and biker will know what we already know — that this canyon is precious and protected. Thanks to the ongoing efforts of our neighbors, and scouts like Ceraldi — a promise made in the 1970s has finally been fulfilled.

LADY LUCK: Some guys have all the luck. Take reader Jack Summerfield. He sent in a postcard for a giveaway on the Regis and Kelly show recently, and within days his card was picked. “They called me at 5 in the morning (8 a.m. in New York) and said they’d call me back live at 6 (a.m.),” hesaid.

That’s when the fun began. The hosts spun the wheel and the marker landed on the biggest prize — a trip to Jamaica and a $5,000 Price Grabbers gift certificate. All Jack had to do was correctly answer a question about the previous day’s show.

“I was hemming and hawing and trying to come up with the answer,” he says, “and with two seconds left of the 20 seconds they gave me — I got it.” Now Jack and his wife are headed to Jamaica to celebrate, not just their good fortune, but Jack’s 75th birthday AND the couple’s 51st wedding anniversary. Congratulations, Jack and Sandy. You guys really know how to live.

CAT SIGHTING: A mountain lion and her cubs have been spotted outside The Village Market on Broadway Terrace, according to reader Howard Smith, who says a dog walker spotted the big cats on the hillside recently. “When he saw the mountain lions, he scooped up his little dog and disappeared,” says Smith, who thinks the cats may have been drawn to the area by a flock of wild turkeys.

AREA ODDITIES: You’ve heard of a jungle beat? Reader Jane Fuerch says there’s a beat of a different kind echoing through the Canyon between Montclair and Moraga. At least once a week, a guy has been playing his drums (a full set including tom tom and cymbals) in a pull-off along Pinehurst Road. The acoustics may be great, but I bet he’s driving the wildlife squirrely.

A GROUP OF GRADUATES gathered for lunch in Montclair Park the other day. Like most classmates, they laughed and shared memories of their school years. But much time has passed since these kids were together. They were students at Montclair Grammar School (now Montclair Elementary School) during the 1930s and early 1940s.

My connection to this group came in a very strange way. I met one of these “youngsters,” quite by chance, in the northernmost part of Finnish Lapland last winter. There I was, in a cold, dark place near the Russian border — on a tour with a man who’d grown up in Montclair.

Dick Winterhalder has colorful memories of his childhood in the Oakland hills. He remembers how the train would rumble past Montclair Grammar School at least twice a day. “Everything stopped,” he recalled. “We’d all wave at the conductor and he’d wave back.”

Alma Rulofson remembers her acrobatics on the monkey bars.

“I would wrap my legs around the bars and twirl and go round and round and round,” she said.

Pat Blesse and her sister Barb used to climb over the fence for a moonlight swim at what was then Forest Pool on Thornhill Drive.

“We never got caught,” boasted Pat with a smile. Back then, the pond in Montclair Park was more of a swamp, Barb recalled, and their parents told them it was full of quick sand. But the girls still caught frogs on the bank, and in a rare snowstorm around 1935, their brother was one of the boys who tried ice skating on the frozen pond.

Beverly Byron remembers walking with her friends to the corner drugstore for sodas. She was a bit of a tomboy, changing into her jeans and her dad’s long white shirt after school to play touch football with the boys in the Montclair field.

The school, at the time, was a mixture of portables and an old red brick building. The brick schoolhouse was demolished because of earthquake fears. Don DeLong and classmates Don Sloan and Byron Schroeder remember the portables being heated with pot-bellied stoves, and each desk had an ink well.

“It was a great school with good teachers,” Schroeder said, “although some of them we didn’t like at the time.” One scary teacher had arms as big as tree trunks — or so he remembered.

But then everything seemed bigger when these grads were small. DeLong said the pond (lake) was bigger and so was the old firehouse. He and his buddies, including John Brodie, who later became a star quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers and a Senior PGA Tour professional golfer, used to play ball on the old baseball diamond and had some rousing games of pingpong.

“Brodie was the champion of everything,” DeLong recalled.

As the group gathered for a photo, Pat Blesse broke into song. A rah-rah song about their great little school that she still recalled after all these years. Classmate Donna Oehm (a well-known activist in Marin) made a pitch for her classmates to join her in working toward peace.

“For your grandchildren” she urged. They smiled for the camera, again and again — posing for posterity.

As I stood there soaking up the sweet memories of a simpler time, I realized the things they did as kids in Montclair were not so different from what kids do today. Catching crawdads in the pond, swinging on the monkey bars and trying to hit baseballs over the fence. It’s what makes Montclair special to those of us blessed enough to spend time here. And with a little imagination, you can almost see the bright-eyed children waving at the train as it passes the old brick school.

MARK TWAIN once said, “It’s more like kingdom come than California.”

Looking at Thomas Hill’s glorious 1876 painting of Yosemite Valley , I wholeheartedly agree. This treasured park is nature’s cathedral — one of the most heavenly places on earth — and the new Yosemite exhibit at the Oakland Museum of California makes me ache to go back.

In photographs, watercolors, graphite and oils, artists have captured the many moods of this American icon. Add to this the storytellers, ranger talks, slide presentations and more, and you’ve got a winning exhibit for the museum through Aug. 26. Catch it on the first Friday of the month and you’ll get a bonus: cool live music and dancing with a cash bar. Now that’s something to celebrate!

ART ADDENDUM: Speaking of art, I ran into Jacque Hachquet with the Montclair Village Jazz & Wine Festival the other night at Ron Scrivani’s hip warehouse party for Pro Arts Open Studios. The room was full of local artists, and Hachquet was no doubt scouting for participants for her Sept. 16 event in the village. If you’re an artist who’d like to be part of the festival, check out http://www.montclairjazzandwine.org.

GOOD BUZZ: The Berkeley Rep’s performance of Oliver Twist is getting great revues and one of the actresses is a homegrown girl. Jennifer Ikeda went to Bishop O’Dowd High School and now tours with a company out of New York. She plays the part of Nancy in the old fashioned Dickens classic which runs through June 24.

RAPID RESPONSE: My recent piece on passport problems triggered a rapid reaction from U.S. Rep. Barbara Lee’s district director. Leslie Littleton questioned a reader’s claim that her office was unresponsive when he called for help in expediting the issuance of a long-awaited passport. She says the congresswoman’s office receives daily praise in its handling of passport issues. With the growing number of complaints about the length of time it takes to process passports, I’m sure Lee’s office is getting plenty of calls.

AROUND TOWN: One of Montclair’s most recognized financiers, Dale Marie Golden, has jumped ship (or should I say the stagecoach) at Wells Fargo Bank. Golden and several colleagues have left the venerable institution to join a start-up called Alta Alliance Bank on Grand Avenue. The bank has branches in Oakland, Piedmont and Walnut Creek.

Meanwhile, the most anticipated new restaurant in Oakland must be El Agavera in Montclair. After lengthy delays in the permit process (converting the space from a longtime pizza parlor), building owner Ed Hirshberg says the Mexican eatery and tequila bar will be open any day now. Really.

And La Salle Cigars has reportedly shut its doors for good. Word has it some of the mental health professionals above the cigar store were complaining about the smell coming from the patio. All those years of business for the La Salle Cigars — up in smoke.

AERIAL ATTACK: You may want to duck and cover when you walk past the Hallmark Store in Montclair. There have been reports of a belligerent blackbird dive-bombing the area. One reader says the creature came down from the awning and boldly pecked at her head, then flew off.

Minutes later she saw two or three other ladies being attacked. Why wom

NOTHING SAYS summer like a day on the water. And while oceans and estuaries are great fun, I’m kind of a river gal, myself. I love the way a river cuts through canyons and spills over rocks, with its roiling rapids and lazy stretches of cool, meandering water.

One of the best ways to enjoy a river is by kayak. You’re low to the water and can feel each little nuance as you maneuver your craft along miles of scenic waterway. Fish jump around you. Birds glide alongside and you get the sense that you’re more in tune with nature in a kayak.

A good place to learn this sport is along the Truckee River in Reno.

They’ve got this great whitewater park downtown, where you can rent an inflatable kayak and go out with a guide along five miles of gentle class 1 and 2 river. Inflatable kayaks are forgiving, and let you bounce off the rocks as you learn to negotiate whitewater. They’re also less “tippy,” so you can stay upright — if a river dip is not in your plans.

So this summer, why not try something new? Instead of jumping in a lake, try giving credence to a new water sport. Rolling on a river.

HEAR, HEAR: Thanks to reader Chuck Harrison for tuning me in to the good deeds of his Oakland audiologist, Raymond Crookston, who spoke recently at a local meeting of the Hearing Loss Association. This Piedmont Avenue doctor, along with two dozen colleagues, spends a week or two each year donating time to treat patients in Third World countries. On their last trip to Africa, they tested 600 villagers and fitted 160 of them, mostly children, for hearing aids. Crookston says the hearing loss among kids is especially bad, triggered by untreated disease and poor overall health. Thank goodness there are people like Crookston who hear the cry of the poor — and respond.

OAKLAND ART: It’s open season for art lovers as we kick off two weekends of ProArts Open Studios in Oakland today. One of the most interesting pieces is being crafted right now by local artist Sal Deguarda, who is working on an 80-foot-tall statue for display on Treasure Island.

The sculpture of a woman is designed to be a symbol of acceptance and welcome for new immigrants.

NIGHT LIFE: Riding through Redwood Park rattled my nerves the other evening. As I bounced along the pitted path, I was keenly aware of the forest’s unnatural sounds at dusk. Shrill cackles echoed through the canyon joined by throaty calls from a distant owl and something that sounded like a blood-curdling scream. It was enough to get my adrenaline pumping, as well as my pedals. Daylight was waning and while I love this peaceful time when shadows dance and the last bit of sunlight splays through the redwoods, my imagination was getting the best of me. I think I’ll make all future outings in midday, when I’ve got plenty of human company. I’ll save my evenings for things less scary — like watching crime shows on TV.