Once upon a time, Del lived in a house in the country. It was a nice house, it had rooms, and stairs, and a big yard. It also had a wood-burning stove in the main room that we used all the time for heat. My details are fuzzy, I don't have the memory for stuff like my brother or dad do, so the best I can tell you is that I think wood shavings or some such ended up too close to said stove, and we awoke in the middle of the night to our house on fire. Our bedrooms were on the second floor, so I woke up to my dad rushing into my room, and hurrying us out to the window that was above the back porch, so we could climb out and then be lowered down to safety. I, of course, felt the need to run back into my room and get my Blankie to take with me, no way was I going to let that burn up, which made dad yell at me because when your house is on fire, running BACK into danger for something that isn't alive is just silly. Hey, I was young, cut me some slack. So said Blankie in hand, we got out of the window and down from the porch and retreated to a safe distance to watch the house burn.
The next morning we sifted through the wreckage. I remember my bed being a burnt wire frame that was upside down, and all my plastic horses had melted and fused into odd shapes. It was more devastating to me than losing the house. Until we could tear down the mess, and rebuild, our closest neighbors across the street bravely allowed us to stay with them. They were Bill and Toot Puckett. I don't know Toot's real name, or if that was, but that's what we called her. They were an elderly couple, they had a very nice house, a very nice barn, a pond, and none of their stuff was child-proof and oh-so-breakable. They had an old organ they let us play, it was magic. It must have been very trying for them to have us stay there, but they were always nice. The trauma of the fire must have really affected me, because I started wetting the temporary bed they had provided for me. No matter what, it seemed like it happened again and again. Those poor people, I think they qualified for Sainthood by the time our house was rebuilt and we were able to move back and out of their house.
The local townsfolk took up a collection for stuff for us, there was probably clothes and sundry, but all I remember is getting a big paper bag full of plastic horses. I don't know who donated them, but I was never so thankful of anything in all my life. I probably would have been thankful of Bill & Toot but they had too many things I couldn't touch, or that were breakable, and I was too young to realize how wonderful they were to open their home to us.
I still have Blankie.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Nothing To See Here
Today's blog non-post is brought to you by the letters S, and T.. as in Sick & Tired. I did manage to drag myself out of bed long enough to fix dinner, of which I am not partaking, and now I think I shall drag myself *back* to bed, and hopefully sleep off whatever Funk this is. I have lots of things I shall talk about in future posts, however today they are all slightly mauve-colored and as I try to draw near them they sullenly glare at me and give off the faint odor of a high school gym. I think they can wait until another day.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Regarding Morning Things
I am not a morning person. Anybody that knows me for any length of time knows this. I prefer to stay up really late (early?) and then sleep in really late. This rarely happens. Well, I should say, the staying up late happens all the time. The sleeping in, not so much.
Usually when I get up in the mornings to get ready for work, I'm in Zombie Mode. That shuffling, shambling, bumping into things along with grumbling mutterings. Sort of an autopilot mode, it usually suffices to get me propelled into the shower. Of course, there's a slight risk when turning off your brain when getting ready. Yesterday morning, I tried to take my morning pills by using my toothbrush as a water glass. I spent a few moments puzzling over why my toothbrush was not adequate for water holdage, before realizing what I was holding. This morning, I made a piece of toast for breakfast, and decided to put peanut butter on it. The entire time my bread toasted I stood looking down at the fork I had grabbed to spread the peanut butter on it, then was like.. the hell? This is a fork! I suppose I *could* have just flipped it around and used the handle to spread, but opted to exchange it for a butter knife. We won't discuss the time I tried to lock my front door as I was leaving with my mail key.
Understand, I can FAKE being a morning person, if I have to. If a kid knocks on my door in the early hours, I'm instantly awake and alert and can deal with whatever emergency is happening (what? the cat peed on your bed AGAIN? seriously, dude, keep your door shut). If I have early morning tasks I have to do, like travel or starting the crockpot, I can get up and be quite functional. Doesn't mean I *LIKE* to do it. Or that I'll do it cheerfully. It also inevitably means interacting with Morning People. Oh, Morning People. I think it's cool that some people like getting up before God Himself is even awake (looking at YOU, Dad) and I'm sure that the sunrise and quiet time is great. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Also doesn't mean I have to like your chipper, happy, bouncy, AWAKENESS that freakin early in the morning. At one point I came in to work, and a Morning Person here FOLLOWED ME THROUGH THE OFFICE chirping "Good Mornings" at me trying to get me to reciprocate. I may have snarled a bit. Of course that morning I also had a borderline migraine headache, so that wasn't improving my mood. Still. I think Morning People need to understand that the rest of us are here under duress, so just push the coffee/donuts/cereal/huge box of chocolate our way with a stick and back off and wait.
Usually when I get up in the mornings to get ready for work, I'm in Zombie Mode. That shuffling, shambling, bumping into things along with grumbling mutterings. Sort of an autopilot mode, it usually suffices to get me propelled into the shower. Of course, there's a slight risk when turning off your brain when getting ready. Yesterday morning, I tried to take my morning pills by using my toothbrush as a water glass. I spent a few moments puzzling over why my toothbrush was not adequate for water holdage, before realizing what I was holding. This morning, I made a piece of toast for breakfast, and decided to put peanut butter on it. The entire time my bread toasted I stood looking down at the fork I had grabbed to spread the peanut butter on it, then was like.. the hell? This is a fork! I suppose I *could* have just flipped it around and used the handle to spread, but opted to exchange it for a butter knife. We won't discuss the time I tried to lock my front door as I was leaving with my mail key.
Understand, I can FAKE being a morning person, if I have to. If a kid knocks on my door in the early hours, I'm instantly awake and alert and can deal with whatever emergency is happening (what? the cat peed on your bed AGAIN? seriously, dude, keep your door shut). If I have early morning tasks I have to do, like travel or starting the crockpot, I can get up and be quite functional. Doesn't mean I *LIKE* to do it. Or that I'll do it cheerfully. It also inevitably means interacting with Morning People. Oh, Morning People. I think it's cool that some people like getting up before God Himself is even awake (looking at YOU, Dad) and I'm sure that the sunrise and quiet time is great. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Also doesn't mean I have to like your chipper, happy, bouncy, AWAKENESS that freakin early in the morning. At one point I came in to work, and a Morning Person here FOLLOWED ME THROUGH THE OFFICE chirping "Good Mornings" at me trying to get me to reciprocate. I may have snarled a bit. Of course that morning I also had a borderline migraine headache, so that wasn't improving my mood. Still. I think Morning People need to understand that the rest of us are here under duress, so just push the coffee/donuts/cereal/huge box of chocolate our way with a stick and back off and wait.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Someone To Watch Over You
When I lived in Ohio, I drove to work about half an hour a day, each way. It was mainly freeway driving, and there were lots of corporate buildings along the way. This meant that there were also big ponds, since all the corporations have to put in an at-hand water supply in case of fires.
Every day I would drive the same route, and almost every day, without fail, a heron would fly across the freeway, right above where I was driving at that exact moment. It wouldn't always be at the same location. It wouldn't always be at the same time of day. Sometimes it would be on the way to work. Sometimes on the way home. Regardless, it was ALWAYS THERE. It was almost as if there was a flock of herons, off stage-right, just waiting for their cue. Oop! There she is! Quick GO! GO! GO! And across it flew.
Something I've noticed about the world; there are a lot of people going through life, but not actually SEEING it. Both my parents instilled in me an avid curiosity about the world around me. Part of that is just, well, NOTICING things. Part of it is not taking things for granted, or becoming so inured to them that they cease to hold wonder. One time I was riding on the Ferry here in Washington, and the view was just beautiful. Mountains in the distance, houses peppering the hills, the downtown skyline in the distance, other watercraft zooming by. There was this man sitting there working on his laptop. He looked like a commuter -- someone that lived on the other side of the water so he took the ferry every day to work downtown. He could have been out on the deck clinging to a rail feeling the wind in his face and smelling the salty fish air, or looking at that spectacular view, or even people watching. Instead he was sitting at one of the tables inside, typety-typing away at his laptop and not raising his head once. I felt sorry for him, in that moment. He had become so used to the amazingness around him, he didn't even see it. Jaded.
I notice things. Little things. Things that probably a lot of people miss. Maybe it's when someone goes out of their way to do something to make my life a little brighter. Or maybe it's how the sunlight streams through a patch of trees *just so* and it looks like something out of a movie and I expect a Unicorn to step out from between the trees any second. Perhaps it's the way the leaves swirl in our cul de sac like they're playing a huge game of tag and everyone's It. I noticed the Herons. At first, it was a novelty. Wow! Is that a blue heron? Grey heron? No clue, kind of hard to tell while driving at freeway speeds and getting a glancing peek as it flies across overhead. Then, it became almost a ritual. Where will I see it today? When? Which direction will it be flying? Then, it became.. a comfort. It felt like it was MY heron. It was there, flying over at that precise moment when I was driving under it, just for me. It was watching over me. Or, perhaps Someone sent it to remind me that I was always being watched over.
I was sad about the herons when I moved to the great Northwest. Sure, they have them here, but they're not very common where I live, we get more crows, hawks, seagulls and the occasional bald eagle. I had resigned myself to enjoying the beauty of towering pines and the magic Mt. Rainier for my drive to and from work. And then in happened. One day, on the way to work, my heron flew over. Right across the freeway, right above my car. It happened a couple more times in the months that followed, and then, something new.
There is a couple mile stretch of freeway that I drive through that has a series of on and off ramps going to various places. There's a bunch of light posts strategically placed around this so at night it doesn't become a navigation hazard. Every day for quite a while now, while driving home through that section, I see at least one hawk perched on one of the lights. Today, in that little stretch, I saw three. They're just hanging out, watching for roadkill I assume. I wonder how many people drive under them, every day, and never even look up and see them? Every time I see them, they make me smile. They are my silent drive companions, beautiful, noble, and always watching over me.
Every day I would drive the same route, and almost every day, without fail, a heron would fly across the freeway, right above where I was driving at that exact moment. It wouldn't always be at the same location. It wouldn't always be at the same time of day. Sometimes it would be on the way to work. Sometimes on the way home. Regardless, it was ALWAYS THERE. It was almost as if there was a flock of herons, off stage-right, just waiting for their cue. Oop! There she is! Quick GO! GO! GO! And across it flew.
Something I've noticed about the world; there are a lot of people going through life, but not actually SEEING it. Both my parents instilled in me an avid curiosity about the world around me. Part of that is just, well, NOTICING things. Part of it is not taking things for granted, or becoming so inured to them that they cease to hold wonder. One time I was riding on the Ferry here in Washington, and the view was just beautiful. Mountains in the distance, houses peppering the hills, the downtown skyline in the distance, other watercraft zooming by. There was this man sitting there working on his laptop. He looked like a commuter -- someone that lived on the other side of the water so he took the ferry every day to work downtown. He could have been out on the deck clinging to a rail feeling the wind in his face and smelling the salty fish air, or looking at that spectacular view, or even people watching. Instead he was sitting at one of the tables inside, typety-typing away at his laptop and not raising his head once. I felt sorry for him, in that moment. He had become so used to the amazingness around him, he didn't even see it. Jaded.
I notice things. Little things. Things that probably a lot of people miss. Maybe it's when someone goes out of their way to do something to make my life a little brighter. Or maybe it's how the sunlight streams through a patch of trees *just so* and it looks like something out of a movie and I expect a Unicorn to step out from between the trees any second. Perhaps it's the way the leaves swirl in our cul de sac like they're playing a huge game of tag and everyone's It. I noticed the Herons. At first, it was a novelty. Wow! Is that a blue heron? Grey heron? No clue, kind of hard to tell while driving at freeway speeds and getting a glancing peek as it flies across overhead. Then, it became almost a ritual. Where will I see it today? When? Which direction will it be flying? Then, it became.. a comfort. It felt like it was MY heron. It was there, flying over at that precise moment when I was driving under it, just for me. It was watching over me. Or, perhaps Someone sent it to remind me that I was always being watched over.
I was sad about the herons when I moved to the great Northwest. Sure, they have them here, but they're not very common where I live, we get more crows, hawks, seagulls and the occasional bald eagle. I had resigned myself to enjoying the beauty of towering pines and the magic Mt. Rainier for my drive to and from work. And then in happened. One day, on the way to work, my heron flew over. Right across the freeway, right above my car. It happened a couple more times in the months that followed, and then, something new.
There is a couple mile stretch of freeway that I drive through that has a series of on and off ramps going to various places. There's a bunch of light posts strategically placed around this so at night it doesn't become a navigation hazard. Every day for quite a while now, while driving home through that section, I see at least one hawk perched on one of the lights. Today, in that little stretch, I saw three. They're just hanging out, watching for roadkill I assume. I wonder how many people drive under them, every day, and never even look up and see them? Every time I see them, they make me smile. They are my silent drive companions, beautiful, noble, and always watching over me.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
First Date
My teenage daughter went on her first REAL date tonight, to the movies and dinner. We've taken her and her boyfriend of the moment places before; restaurants and movies, but always with us (though we let them sit together somewhere else in the movie theater) nothing solo. I made sure she was bathed, had pants on (she has a predilection to wearing shorts around the house since they're comfy), shoes, jacket.
Then we went over some Ground Rules. Luckily she's really not a big fan of PDA (public display of affection), so I didn't have to worry about her playing tonsil hockey during the movie. Still. No tonsil hockey during the movie. Hand holding is great! No leaving the movie theater mid-movie. Be where they said they were going to be, at each step. Let me know when the movie is over. (They walked right next door to Johnny Rockets for dinner.) Let me know when they're done and his parents have picked them up.
She followed my Rules to the letter (though of course I can't verify the tonsil hockey part). She ended up going back to his house to hang out with him and his parents for a bit, then I picked her up. On the way home, she told me how funny the movie was, and how it was really cute that he didn't know how to pay for the dinner (him: "Do I pay up front, or what??" her: "No. They'll bring a check, you pay then, dear."). She had a great time, she was very grateful that I allowed her to go and trusted her enough.
When we got home, there was a huge pile of leaves on our drive from the earlier winds, and we took a few minutes to have a leaf fight.
Sometimes, teenagers aren't so bad.
Then we went over some Ground Rules. Luckily she's really not a big fan of PDA (public display of affection), so I didn't have to worry about her playing tonsil hockey during the movie. Still. No tonsil hockey during the movie. Hand holding is great! No leaving the movie theater mid-movie. Be where they said they were going to be, at each step. Let me know when the movie is over. (They walked right next door to Johnny Rockets for dinner.) Let me know when they're done and his parents have picked them up.
She followed my Rules to the letter (though of course I can't verify the tonsil hockey part). She ended up going back to his house to hang out with him and his parents for a bit, then I picked her up. On the way home, she told me how funny the movie was, and how it was really cute that he didn't know how to pay for the dinner (him: "Do I pay up front, or what??" her: "No. They'll bring a check, you pay then, dear."). She had a great time, she was very grateful that I allowed her to go and trusted her enough.
When we got home, there was a huge pile of leaves on our drive from the earlier winds, and we took a few minutes to have a leaf fight.
Sometimes, teenagers aren't so bad.
Friday, November 1, 2013
The Posts That Never Were
It happens to all of us that post online. You start a post, you get interrupted, or you can't think of how to finish it, or a million other things come up and they just sit sadly in the Drafts folder waiting to be finished.
I was reminded of this November writing thing, there's one where you have to write a zillion words in the month (that's a rough estimate, I'm too lazy to Google it), and I just found out you can also just post a blog post a day for the month. Well.. I can't commit to writing a NUMBER of words, but I can commit to writing a post a day. I'm totally counting pictures with commentary in there too, so be warned. In doing so, I logged into my sadly neglected Blog site (it's been 2 years!), and pulled up all the posts I'd ever done, published and not.
And there they were.
I didn't know whether I should just delete them without reading them, knowing the hurt I would feel if I revisited them, or cauterize that wound so I could move on with my life. I chose to read them. The excitement and optimism in them cuts to the bone. They were written years ago, when things weren't great, but they weren't where they are now. They were meant to be companion posts, the one leading to the next. They contain dreams, and a different future, and hope. I haven't felt those for quite awhile until recently, and not for these reasons.
The problem with pre-emptive writing, is that sometimes it can come back to bite you in the butt. You anticipate an event, an outcome, some THING you are excited about, and so in your excitement you write about it, just WAITING for that day all things align and that amazing Something happens and you can be all smuggy smug and hit POST and not even have to try to formulate your thoughts because you've PRETHOUGHT it and it's just there waiting for the world to read. And then.. it doesn't happen. You wait, and you pray, and you try and make it happen, and it just.. doesn't. If you wait long enough, eventually you realize it never will, and you give up. The hope dies. The posts that before were your triumphant Shut The Hell Up And Be Happy to the world now loom over you, twisting in your gut.
And yet..
There's also a sense of Freedom. You can look down the rabbit hole of where life would have taken you had you been able to post those writings, and you realize that you don't have to deal with that future. It's an alternate timeline that just never came into being. You're in THIS timeline. You know how this one has played out. Perhaps that one would have paralleled this one to an extent; it contained the same players, the same things were going on before the paths diverged. Who's to say that would have been better? It definitely could have been worse, more complicated.
And then I decide those posts can go the way of the Dodo. I can delete them, remove them from my past, and move on and look forward. It doesn't matter now what they were about, that's ancient history and ended up being just fiction. What matters now is where I go from here, I think I'm ready for a new future.
I was reminded of this November writing thing, there's one where you have to write a zillion words in the month (that's a rough estimate, I'm too lazy to Google it), and I just found out you can also just post a blog post a day for the month. Well.. I can't commit to writing a NUMBER of words, but I can commit to writing a post a day. I'm totally counting pictures with commentary in there too, so be warned. In doing so, I logged into my sadly neglected Blog site (it's been 2 years!), and pulled up all the posts I'd ever done, published and not.
And there they were.
I didn't know whether I should just delete them without reading them, knowing the hurt I would feel if I revisited them, or cauterize that wound so I could move on with my life. I chose to read them. The excitement and optimism in them cuts to the bone. They were written years ago, when things weren't great, but they weren't where they are now. They were meant to be companion posts, the one leading to the next. They contain dreams, and a different future, and hope. I haven't felt those for quite awhile until recently, and not for these reasons.
The problem with pre-emptive writing, is that sometimes it can come back to bite you in the butt. You anticipate an event, an outcome, some THING you are excited about, and so in your excitement you write about it, just WAITING for that day all things align and that amazing Something happens and you can be all smuggy smug and hit POST and not even have to try to formulate your thoughts because you've PRETHOUGHT it and it's just there waiting for the world to read. And then.. it doesn't happen. You wait, and you pray, and you try and make it happen, and it just.. doesn't. If you wait long enough, eventually you realize it never will, and you give up. The hope dies. The posts that before were your triumphant Shut The Hell Up And Be Happy to the world now loom over you, twisting in your gut.
And yet..
There's also a sense of Freedom. You can look down the rabbit hole of where life would have taken you had you been able to post those writings, and you realize that you don't have to deal with that future. It's an alternate timeline that just never came into being. You're in THIS timeline. You know how this one has played out. Perhaps that one would have paralleled this one to an extent; it contained the same players, the same things were going on before the paths diverged. Who's to say that would have been better? It definitely could have been worse, more complicated.
And then I decide those posts can go the way of the Dodo. I can delete them, remove them from my past, and move on and look forward. It doesn't matter now what they were about, that's ancient history and ended up being just fiction. What matters now is where I go from here, I think I'm ready for a new future.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Fair Food
A few weeks ago we went to the Puyallup Fair. We walked around, saw animals, crafts, LOTS of vendors, and of course, ate lots of unhealthy FAIR FOOD!! Ready for a bunch of random pics!
As we were walking in, we passed by a car in the parking lot that was rather disturbing.
Um. I think you left your kid in there?
Yeah that's not creepy at all.
This is for my friend Craig:
AAAW look, little baby pigs! They are so cute:
We stopped at a Fried Foods Vendor, and found the following:
Wait. Deep Fried, Fried Butter? Isn't that.. redundant? How.. how do you even fry butter, BEFORE deep frying it?? I'm so confused. And? YUCK
Just say NO
Not enough deep fried deliciousness? Here's MORE!
Adam wanted to try the Deep Fried Rocky Mountain Oysters ("I like oysters!") until we told him what they REALLY were ("Ewwwwwwwwww!!!")
I'm sorry, but these look like some bizarre sex toys or something:
They had this deal before the Fair, where you could buy Ride Wristbands for slightly cheaper than at the Fair for "unlimited rides". We opted not to get them, since we didn't want the kids to pester us to ride rides all day. I'm really glad we didn't, because half of the rides had these:
We watched them turn away SO many kids/people with wristbands it was appalling.
Because EVERYTHING tastes better on a stick!
Mmmmmmm Unicorns... NOMNOMNOM
This was a pic that was painted along the side of one of the roller coaster rides. WATCH OUT! WATCH OUT FOR THE VAMPIRES!
And now, for the obligatory Metal Chicken pictures. Don't know why? Read THIS, and THIS
It was a great day, and at the end of it we saw Weird Al Yankovic in concert there, where during Wanna Be Ur Luvr he came down the center aisle and sat in my lap and sang to me!! A perfect end to a great day!
As we were walking in, we passed by a car in the parking lot that was rather disturbing.
Um. I think you left your kid in there?
Yeah that's not creepy at all.
This is for my friend Craig:
AAAW look, little baby pigs! They are so cute:
We stopped at a Fried Foods Vendor, and found the following:
Wait. Deep Fried, Fried Butter? Isn't that.. redundant? How.. how do you even fry butter, BEFORE deep frying it?? I'm so confused. And? YUCK
Just say NO
Not enough deep fried deliciousness? Here's MORE!
Adam wanted to try the Deep Fried Rocky Mountain Oysters ("I like oysters!") until we told him what they REALLY were ("Ewwwwwwwwww!!!")
I'm sorry, but these look like some bizarre sex toys or something:
They had this deal before the Fair, where you could buy Ride Wristbands for slightly cheaper than at the Fair for "unlimited rides". We opted not to get them, since we didn't want the kids to pester us to ride rides all day. I'm really glad we didn't, because half of the rides had these:
We watched them turn away SO many kids/people with wristbands it was appalling.
Because EVERYTHING tastes better on a stick!
Mmmmmmm Unicorns... NOMNOMNOM
This was a pic that was painted along the side of one of the roller coaster rides. WATCH OUT! WATCH OUT FOR THE VAMPIRES!
And now, for the obligatory Metal Chicken pictures. Don't know why? Read THIS, and THIS
It was a great day, and at the end of it we saw Weird Al Yankovic in concert there, where during Wanna Be Ur Luvr he came down the center aisle and sat in my lap and sang to me!! A perfect end to a great day!
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