The breakfast language of champions.

I have been laying in bed the past couple of nights, tossing around ideas for this weekends blog. Last night I remembered the gist of it and then woke not remembering what the dang idea was AGAIN. It lays on the outskirts of my memory, and last night as I was falling to sleep; I told myself  "Now remember this, you doorknob this is your idea for tomorrow." Perhaps I need to write this at night for a change of pace. I even had a title and how everything would be tied together.

This Saturday morning I'm at my sisters, I woke hearing this click clack that I could not place and it slowly drove me out of bed with the irritation of my counting the timing between clicks and clacks and thus keeping me awake. I climbed the lit stairs to find my sister up as well, I turned the water pot on for tea and we sat at the kitchen island sipping our morning drinks and chatting. The island itself an island; as it was still dark out and the windows all around us dark and spotlighting us as an oasis of light. My Dad joined us, and just the three of us sat there for some time talking until dawn took us out of the spotlight. But one of those moments that you take a picture of for your memory, just us having our Dad to ourselves, surrounded by the dark blue shadows of overcast skies and predawn.

Now I have to help my FLS cook breakfast. We are having at Steve's request; a frittata similar to the one on Thanksgiving that I made. Served with hash browns, sausage and bacon. Suddenly and presently my Dad is speaking in a fake language to my niece and I remembered one of the ideas I had and wanted to research; speaking in tongues.

Then life interrupted and suddenly it is after the solstice. Meaning I started writing this last weekend was interrupted by life and now making the time to finish it. Of course I have lost the thread of my ideas and who knows where this will go. It was a busy week; again the solstice, a lunar eclipse, work and driving back over the pass for the second round of holiday festivities.

The gift of tongues is speaking in a language a person does not know in order to minister to someone who does speak that language. Xenoglossia. So now I have done a little research on one of my topics. Sadly disappointed on the research of it, because it really did not pertain to what I was thinking of using it for, but... well.... that is the way it goes sometimes. Also I have been interrupted yet again by life and another weekend has passed and I have yet to finish this original blog.

On a super happy note I did invest in a knew laptop and shall be back in action more comfortably for any future ideas. To pull it all together, the new laptop underlines the words I misspell along the way, so that my writing does not come out looking like I'm writing in tongue. My Mothers sadly did not have this feature, her laptop similar to a dinosaur were you have to hit the button to spell check.

Came the time

Came the time when the two travellers knew night would catch them, and shelter must be found.

The first line of the new book I'm reading called 'Speaks the Nightbird' by Robert McCammon. Something about that line intrigued me from the get go. The placement of words and the thoughts it invokes.

Yesterday afternoon my Mother and I headed to Ellensburg to meet #61 for his birthday, he will be seventeen in a matter of days. So we spoiled him for hours, then he was ready to go hang with his friends and my Mother and I faced the decision of what to do now. Light was retreating and we needed a place to stay. Mickey blue eyes also had his own plans and it came to us that we were not needed anymore. As a parent and Mother some times it is shocking to realize my own guilt need not be so deep. I reflect back in my mind to those days when I was the same age, and what I can remember is that you only want your parents around when you need them. That your life with your friends was the most important part of you. You being the key word. You, yourself want to hang with your friends and enjoy the simple pleasures of that feeling that you belong to a clan of sorts. Having grown apart so much from your parents, into your own self with wants and desires for a life apart from them. That is what seventeen is all about, the precipice to adulthood and breaking away. The key is to know, as a parent when to let go and when you are needed.

So my Mother and I thought about what we wanted to do and opted for the comforts of our own beds and lives with a little sashay side trip to Barnes and Noble. Friday night at Barnes in Noble in the mall adjacent next to the Movie Theater? The place was filled with teenagers, many of them seventeen year old boys loitering about with their friends and girlfriends. I wandered through the rows to my favorite section and came upon three teens, two girls and a boy. All were tall and thin, with skinny jeans and hair cut with that shag cut, that makes me think of the Bay City Rollers on the cover of their album, era's ago, perhaps the only difference was the amount of piercings between generations. They were hovered close together and one was reading from a book to the other two. So I smiled to myself, and eavesdropped. When she finished reading they went on to discuss the book and life in general. But what I felt myself was, the sweetness of the moment in their freedom to be out enjoying themselves on a Friday night without their parents. I moved on and around the bookstore exploring my favorite haunts; bargain books, various display tables and the journal section.

I can hear the hoards of teenagers around me hollering intermittently as they move to different plans, I mused over a new journal; two of them catching my eyes, the first with a ornate metal owl embedded in the cover, my name means 'little wise owl', but after looking at the price not so enamored of it, perhaps later with a gift card I think. The second etched with embroidery and the paper folded in a way, to resemble an old notebook. I sigh, however I'm not ready yet to commit to the purchase of a new one and decide to wait to the new year or my birthday and the books I'm carrying are weighing heavy in my arms.

Heading up to the counter to pay for my two new books, the clerk asking the usual questions and one specific to another book I had selected. Suddenly a loud whoop filled our air, and we both turned to look as lanky boys filed out the door. She shook her head, smiled and said "teenagers."

The G-Unit fades into that dark night

1956, G-unit is forty and on the left.

My Men

Richard Stultz passed away peacefully on the morning of December 6th 2010 at the ripe old age of 93. He was born on March 21, 1917 and was my birthday buddy my entire life since I was born on March 22nd. I was the one birthday he never forgot of all his Grandkids. Today the man in my life texted me after I let him know that my beloved Grandpa had passed away. Saying something to me in a text that made my heart melt. That possibly he had come into my life to replace the G-Unit as the birthday buddy. His birthday is March 21st and I cannot put into words what it means to me.

Tonight I grabbed my Grandpa's plaque off his wall in his room. It say's "If the term 'legendary' applies to any Lake Stevens High School coach, it applies first and most indelibly to Dick Stultz, who while famously teaching English and literature, coached football at the "Pink Palace" during the fifties, sixties and seventies. His genius and memory still walk these halls. Between 1964 and 1966 he recruited players from study hall and coached with only one or two assistants. Coach Stultz's Vikings beat Monroe and Stanwood both undefeated and top-ranked winning 36 consecutive games, and outscored their ten opponents 405 to 37. Those 1966 Vikings earned First Team All League honors in 18 of 22 positions and the State Championship vote. Dick was voted Man of the Year in Sports three times; 1960, 1962 and 1965. He was coach of the year in 1966 and was elected to the Washington State Football Coaches Hall of Fame in 1981. Said by many to have the best football mind of any coach they have ever known, the Lake Stevens football tradition owes much to the legacy of Dick Stultz."

That is the part of his life he is most famous for besides his love of the game. He loved sports and women and was full of life, piss and vinegar.

He taught me how to shoot a basketball and throw a football. He taught me the love of football, baseball and basketball, crosswords, reading and fishing. So many fishing, hunting trips and parties. He was married three times. Bettye Pandolofo, Sue and his last wife who also preceded him in death Earline "Sparky" Stultz. Bettye was my Mom's Mom and the Mother of his children she was wonderful, beautiful  and creative. Sue was the one I remember the least, but had a Mother of her own that lived on Lake Stevens. Grandma Vega; what a character, Swedish pancakes and fishing on the lake. So many buried memories. The first time I met Earline, I was in the sixth grade and just returning home from Camp Wooten. It turned out to be a historical weekend, May 18, 1980 Mount Saint Helens erupted and we never did return to the sixth grade. His woman were as colorful as he was. He was the last of my Grandparents.

Holy Moly! As he would say, and what a ride!

Children
Richard Stultz
Michael Stultz
Rozan Meacham
Jeffrey Stultz

Step-Children
Erica, Krissy, Tom and Jackie

Grandchildren
Mark Stultz
Darren Stultz
Brian Stultz
Shannon Johansen
Kerry Meacham
Michael Stultz
David Stultz
Keely Finn

 and numerous Great Grand children...

Draw me a map

Draw me a map, that leads me back to you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFGPYR5mdFM

This is one of those songs that I will love for my lifetime. Something about the music and the words just make me yearn and at the same time happy. I wasn't planning on writing today, but I just spent much of the morning reflecting deeply on the whys and how's of what I think deep in my soul and saying them out loud. As I finished writing it all down in an email and hit send. I could hear this song in the background coming from the living room, my Dad loves this radio show on Sunday mornings with Ed Dailey, "Legends of Country." It is a ritual with him and one of my favorites now too. But after it is over the new country comes on and they always play this, and I love Dierks Bentley and this is my all time favorite of his. So one of my favorite quirks in life is how the little things tie everything together and viola I have to write this idea down.

Another of the things my Dad and I have in common is that we can spend hours studying maps and are never lost because we always know where we are. But in the same breath the words to this song make my kind of sense. "Help me find the road your on, I just need directions home." Sometimes I feel lost and restless and this morning I found the answer is an anchor. The freedom to travel in my mind, create write and be lost for hours in another world and then have an anchor back to reality where it's home. Home.
The answers are not always far away sometimes they are right in front of you.

The email I wrote is the answer to the question of why I want to be traveling and living in other places but not really. And on the other hand shouldn't life come with a soundtrack. I think that would be the coolest, the song in your head that you hear should always be playing in the background. The life soundtrack. So that would be the perfect trip for me, the right soundtrack, person and a map back home.

Since I'm in a music and writing mood this morning, thinking about the songs that would be on my soundtrack of life. I'm going with the first three that would be on it. My all time favorite song in the entire history of the world. That would be number one on my soundtrack of life. 'Feels so right' by Alabama. How can you not love a song that begins with the words. "Whisper to me softly, breathe words upon my skin."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0hQmC_8yi4&feature=related

and the third and final song that give me chills. every. single. time. since the first time I ever heard it. 'Shadow on the sun'. It's sexy, slow, dark and hard just like life sometimes and the line that starts. "Those inside my head, bolted from within".... just makes my kind of sense.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zhSRNFeQpM

My Boudoir

"Historically, the boudoir formed part of the private suite of rooms of a lady, for bathing and dressing, adjacent to her bedchamber, being the female equivalent of the male cabinet. In later periods, the boudoir was used as a private drawing room, and was used for other activities, such as embroidery or spending time with one's romantic partner."

This past month I have not had much time to write for myself other than the blog. Life intrudes in the usual ways; the unexpected and the sad but true. My G-unit is slowly fading out of his life and worsens more everyday so I stay close to help my weary parents. I have three jobs and balancing those consume me; and then the simple pleasures of friends, balanced with the joy of my children, combined... all these things pull me away from my stories that are put on hold for the moment. Another thing that has me sidetracked, is a romantic life. One of the best parts of it, is the writing involved. We email long notes, and last night on the phone we were discussing bedrooms.

When I first started thinking about this blog this morning; I seriously thought I would write it about sex, since that is what I woke up with on my mind. Sex, pure pleasurable sex. I need some bad. But the more I laid in bed thinking about sex, my mind kept moving onto other things that revolve around it. The bedroom, the boudoir. One of my favorite places to be. Bedrooms are my retreat; an oasis of comfort, warmth and all my favorite things. A great man, a great book, soft warm sheets and perhaps a bath and the best thing that it always ends with....sleep. It is my favorite place to write. And at this exact moment in time while I'm writing this I'm laying in my bed, laptop on my lap, feet tucked into warmed sheets and blankets. Thoughts exploding out of my head, fighting to get out so that at some point I can take a nap.

My fantasy bedroom, would be like above in the definition of boudoir, a suite of sorts. Maybe the top floor of a house or just a large space with smaller rooms. It would have great light and my favorite color on the walls. Soft butter. The bed firm and covered in very expensive cotton sheets. That is one of those things in life you learn along the way. Good sheets are the shit, and the more you wash them the better they get. I would like a window seat and a living room in my bedroom, a fireplace and library. A claw foot tub that is deep and long. A separate shower with heated floors and perhaps a heated bench seat in it since it is my fantasy after all. The bedroom should encourage sex in all its nooks and crannies and I'm thinking a bench in a shower would have many benefits and how could it be wrong to have the damn thing heated? Especially when I imagine it in porcelain tile. A towel warmer...and sumptuous rugs with the sumptuous moving into carpet of the same on the bedroom floor. A closet that is organized with shelves and drawers. Sexy, heavy, warm curtains for cold nights maybe in Scarlet.

Icicles & Holidays

The blizzards arrival was slow and steady, building slowly so that when it finally got here it still surprised us. It was similar to waiting for a baby, or presents. Sunday night at about nine pm it descended into white madness and left us feeling giddy and excited into Monday. Amazon closed its doors at 4pm on Monday because of the storm and I had a lovely evening at home making homemade won tons with the Mom. On my favorite authors blog she wrote about journals. I love blank journals and filling them with words, thoughts and complaints. Bits and pieces of life intertwined with the words; business cards, movie tickets, fortunes and other trinkets. So I have decided that this weekends blog will be somewhat of a diary format.

Started an ass kissing quilt as my FLS has deemed it. I did not consciously try to impress my Mom I just wanted the damn quilt.

11-24&25-10
I'm hovering at the precipice of holidays, I have a lazy morning and then the afternoon shift and then three lovely days off to spend with family. I love the time with them but at some point the traditions and the work involved get overwhelming and I long for a holiday on holidays. Dishes, table dressing and the chauvinism combined with all the work. I want to whine; and then need to step away from it all for a break only to begin to think a lovely dinner in some quaint restaurant sounds much more comforting and very logical.

11-26-10
This morning is the middle of the three day holiday for me. Made a fine breakfast of potato pancakes, bacon and poached eggs topped with sauteed mushrooms and onions. I have some chores to do; but my eyes are irritated causing me to long for moist eyes upon awakening from a nap with my current book tucked under my chin. Can I pull off this fantasy today, making it my reality? Hmmm. I have many things I want to do but the thought of the wretched Black Friday insane shoppers makes me want to stay in. With the amount of silent bitching going on in my head right now, it might be best to send myself to bed. On the other hand perhaps the true problem lies in the voices in my head, that have been screaming for weeks to be put on paper so the solution is most likely to nap and order the thoughts and write.

Went out and about and took Miss O to her first theater experience. The objects flying towards her in 3D made her toss her glasses off lickety split, but we all enjoyed the new Disney movie 'Tangled' and as we made the jaunt home I announced to the car of women, "Next year I plan to be Rapunzel for Halloween." Olivia said "Ohhh, me too, Aunt Shanie." That's my girl!

11-27-10
This morning I made the final holiday breakfast of sausage patties, frittata and homemade cinnamon rolls. With homemade cream cheese icing FLS request. G-Unit inhaled it all for a nice change of pace. Also someone special returned from the last frontier and we had a long morning chat. :)

Built a snowman with Miss O, and she felt he needed family. So we had to make a Mommy and baby snowman to go with the original. After that they packed up their copious amounts of stuff and headed for the sound. So, with fresh air and exercise catapulting creative thoughts into my head I headed for the pages and wrote a nice while. Now... I have an event to attend with my Mermaid and Spanish Princess; Mermaid and Pimp Posse have invited us to their family party. A Chinese gift exchange, got the hair did and shopped the house for some regifting.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Popping bottles in the ice like a blizzard

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4s6H4ku6ZY

Hell Yeah!

Last night we were popping bottles from the ice, like the blizzard that is hopefully coming. Spanish Princess had a foot detox party. On ice she had Rolling Rock, Kokanee, Irish Cream and water. You know you are getting old when you plan all week to go dancing at Diddly's and bed sounds better. It was a long week work wise, training and such. Is it ironic to detox impurities while enjoying and replacing impurities? All our foot juice was disgusting and different. All I have to say is thank god mine did not stink like Kelcie's did. TFS!

All around us it is snowing just not here yet. I have a list of things to accomplish today and grateful this (writing of blog) is one of them.

1. Cancel gym membership
2. Apply at Amazon Seattle
3. Cruise thru some paperwork
      a. heat pump
      b. other shit
4. Offload Hockey tickets on FB
5. Write
6. Hang with G-unit for potato delivery
7. Laundry in progress

Four down and some to go! Watching the clouds build up into something important and feeling swell now that all this weird shit has come out of my feet??? How does that work.

Me & Kelcie @ Spanish Princess BDP

Words & Scents

I love new words; the Readers Digest in the back has a great little quiz testing your skills on words and definitions. Some of the new words I learned this week.

bacchanal-wild drunken revelry
renascent-rising again
saltation-leaping or dancing

Grandpa also for some reason has developed a vampire lifestyle. Snoozing during the day, listless and confused and then miraculously running around like a madman in the wee hours. I have him playing musical chairs today trying to keep him from his torpor between the commercials of the football game.

This morning the streets were wet from a light rain. The fall leaves still clinging to the branches, now the sun has come out warming the day nicely, the blue of the sky contrasting nicely with the burnt orange of the dead foliage lining the yards in our neighborhood. I need to get out of the house and warring with myself about having the free time to write or go on a walk.

Opted for the brisk walk to the river because it tends to help the creative process. Thought about many things, one of them the strangeness of finding a bois d'arc seed all alone along the banks of the Columbia. The lime green ball a reminder of Texas while the banks sending me back to the beginning of the summer with Vitamin C and the meet and greet in the same cove. Oddly still in a tank top, standing in the same spot perched on the rocks, the river low now so that my legs are covered with pants instead of the water, the sounds of summer and being able to watch the heat waves meeting the crisp sways of the river gone. Thinking about the decision to make many changes as with the seasons. Hoping the flow of life continues to be fruitful like the river I don't visit often enough.

Leading me to wonder how much time the G-unit has left. Pondering a man that I like and being honest about how much I miss him after such a short time, and actually dwelling deeply on whether to admit it to myself, let alone say it aloud. Marveling at the beauty of the fall colors. Meditating on a world that takes so dang long to lead you to all the answers.

Also needing a Miss O fix. A picture of her today on the river, the day she got her Indian Princess name.
"She who's mouth runs like the river." And joy he is back and calling!

The life of a rap star.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_9XqyB7bQM


Hanging with the boys this weekend and I'm likening them to a rap song on Facebook. My first post on the big FB since last weekend.  "Hanging with G-unit, Pops and D."

and then figured I needed my guilty pleasure of Usher to sing along. Love me some Hot Tottie.

My Mom is out of town for a deserved weekend away and #61 drove over to hang with his Mom. So it's me with Grandpa, My Dad and #61. (aka) G-unit, pops, D.

Mickey Blue Eyes promptly replies to above post and says "Who's That?" So it worked, causing a small amount of interest. The only one missing is Mickey himself.

We headed out to the late showing of "Jackass 3D" last night. Pretty entertaining crap... and I seriously mean crap. Never would I think watching a guy sitting in a sani-can attached to a bungee cord flung into the sky with dog shit, would be funny. But it worked and I laughed... but was so very grateful they have not incorporated smell with 3D. Also the whole standing behind the exhaust of an airplane was pretty damn comical. Sometimes teenage boy humor is just what you need for the evening. Although the boys of Jackass are getting old and it's showing. Not moving to get up from some silly stunt as fast these days.

Tonight for dinner we are having Carne Asada, at #61's request, going to make some homemade tortillas too. Also not procrastinating today for very long and going to use the free time I have to work on the book. Actually took time away from it to write this. My heart has not been in it with the death of beloved laptop, but today the desire returned. The packing of beloved laptop off to the mountains to be repaired making heart light enough to use the frustratingly slow laptop of my dear Mother.

And on a final note; you got to love rap, they can make the funniest things rhyme. Big balling... and Illuminati....and well the beat and the words makes me think of all kinds of fun stunts and the ideas that they use in a song from patron to hot totties.....I find it creative and fascinating.

I can tie in a title, blog idea and the rest all together even when it's short. (Your killing me smalls.)

Older Men

Men, I love them sincerely.
Especially the good ones brewed with a bit of wickedness and a lot of sexy.

And then there are the older ones of my travels; been thinking about EB today of Bonham, TX who is 76 this year. A true American hero and patriot. Raised in the swamps of Florida, when alligator was what the poor kids ate and is now a delicacy. He taught me how to skin a catfish, and does the best fish fry ever. He was pick up man of the year for many years. Not a hundred percent sure of what that entails I just know it has something to do with rodeos.

On every trip or move I find myself meeting the most fascinating old men and I wonder why they are moved in my path of life; for their stories to share I wonder, so now that I can write them down. My sister and I went to Ireland and sitting at stools in O'Reilly's Pub met Jerry Doyle. It was back in the day when you could still smoke inside the bars. Oddly enough they had Budweiser on tap,Smithwicks or Guiness. He became our companion every evening thereafter; for us a couple of pints, for him many more. Sometimes so much Guiness we had to catch him twice, once if he was napping or then falling off his stool. His County Kerry accent rolling off his tongue and telling my sister Kerry every story or two. "Kerry you are so fecking cuckoo, Kerry." God, we adored him and his kind blue eyes. He threw us a party on our last night at our cottage in Kilgarvan. We danced and drank with him for hours and promised to send him a card for his birthday. We did from Vegas, with ourselves in Showgirl forms. Shortly thereafter he died. When we returned two years later we found his grave and had a beer with him. My niece Tara joining us in the soft Irish rain.

On that same second trip we met a Welshman and his buddy in Cobh. He invited us to stay with him and his wife and gave us a business card to drop in any time. In Scotland there was another in a quiet bar outside Edinburgh across the Firth of Forth. A whiskey swilling, cigar smoking character of epic purportions.

Leading me to ponder, the two new older man in my life and what I'm learning from them. One I work for and one just happens to be the blast from the past.

BFTP, Although only a day older he is still older. But he meets the criteria for "good ones brewed with wicked and a lot of sexy." One night long ago we had a beers in a bar together that made me open up my eyes and pay attention in a different way. The comment he made, that did the sitting up, is sadly lost on me now, but years and years later I still remember that moment. Now we have different lives but also a different moment. His stories of the last great frontier and it's vastmess intrigue me as does he.

WMS, where's my stuff.

Friday night the Warriors played the Knights in Royal City. It was a sad loss, a playoff game and therefore the final game of the season 56-13. On a happy note #61 played quite a bit. I'm just in shock he is soon to be a Senior and is working on his plans for life when he turns eighteen next year and adulthood: Scuba diver, Marine Bioligist? What will he end up doing with his dreams? Leading to me thinking about my life after raising two kids to this age. What do I want to do with it? The options are endless and new ones seem to be popping up all the time. But the first goal is to move to Ro-town back into my house and have that senior year with #61.

Man I miss him # 61, Mickey Blue eyes will be twenty-one soon so already out and about...and I miss my stuff. WMS, where's my stuff... is an Amazon phrase.

Last weekend I visited my stuff. It is currently in a small storage container on the outskirts of Roslyn, just off the roundabout. I find it shocking that a three bedroom house can fit in this tiny space. My couch that I bought with my quarterly bonus from Clearwire, that is perfect for a bunch of teenage boys to lounge upon to play vids or watch football. It is made of brown microfleece, one side is seven feet long the other nine feet. So cozy and yummy like a big tootsie roll. From that my eyes move down to the large red ottoman I bought in Denison,Texas for a steal. That we use as a footrest and tea table and then onto my petite armoire that I refinished years ago, after buying it at an estate sell for twenty-five dollars. Glancing at my Dads childhood brass bed and then at one of my newest pieces a pulpit. But thoughts of using it are turned away by digging through the boxes looking for a beloved jacket I cannot seem to come across.

Ah, but here are some socks, I have been looking for. Turning I spy a book that I want to reread, sitting that aside to take with me back to the sagelands, placing the socks on top of the book. Moving on to search under the drafting table that my ex-husbands Uncle made years ago, that his family asked me if I wanted after he passed away. It is beautiful, handmade and after taking a seat you can perch your feet on a large copper tube he placed there for that purpose. On top are piles of my oil paintings and blank canvasses. Popping my head underneath I look over the titles on the boxes and decide, perhaps I will adjust these just in case there is a lot of snow this year and water seeps in. My travel journals of Scotland, Ireland, Barbados and many more trips and stories. Also the irreplaceable: each of my son's baby books and photo ablums need to be on a second level off the ground. After that I move my watercolors off the floor too.

All this is exhausting and makes me long for the moment when it is all surrounding me again. Imagining myself sitting on my couch drinking a cup of tea, my feet propped against the ottoman looking at the stuff I love, all around me. My beloved books, small movie collection. The quilts my Mom has made me. My boots sitting in my closet and that damn brown corduroy coat I can't seem to find for another damn year, actually hanging on a peg waiting patiently for a walk.

Sighing, I tell all my stuff so long... I bring down the rickety red metal door and pound the lock into place. Hop back into my truck with just the socks and a book lying on the seat next to me.

Blast from the past.

My life is rarely boring but what I enjoy best about the whole damn process is the strange quirks of fate. Friday night was the division title playoffs for #61, after work at Amazon the spoiled princess of the world (self) took a drive to Zillah. I love when I'am able to call myself the spoiled princess of the world it means all is going well, just like I planned... through positive thoughts sent through out the world to make it do what I want. Now if I could only harness that power and get it to work for the megamillion, lotto and such.

Saturday I woke with some fascinating hair leftover from my day spent as Queen of Sparta. Went with it, and headed off to Eltopia to hang and work for a bit and then packed up the costume again and headed to Roslyn for the Halloween festivities with Sassy red head who did not make the timeline for her Woad Warrior and opted to be Kris from Bladerunner. Also stopped in to see True Friend and her peeps before heading to SRH house on the hill for the third and final time as Queen Gorgo of Sparta. Each time I changed up the costume a tad so I would not get bored. Tonight; this might sound morbid but technically they are all already dead anyway... but I went as the widow of Leonidas, I added a fancy belt from my belly dancing days as my funeral garb. The whole evening was fun as we moved around town from Marko's to the Brick and then to the Pasttime. This year the Brick was my favorite.

Now maybe to the whole point of this blog. I have been on the phone for an hour and a half with a blast from the past for the second night in a row, causing me to have quite the delay in getting this done so that I believe it may have to be continued.  Life is funny and its twists and turns are fascinating and there will be more to come when I figure it all out.

Olivia's funny

Miss O

From an email via FLS (favorite little sister). Also some background... Our Mother has twice sewn her Snow White Halloween costume due to daily wear in the last month. My sister sent it over last week for the most recent repair and My Mom spent sometime reinforcing and repairing it and sent it back.

           October 21st

'This morning she was cleaning my shower and removed her clothes so they wouldn’t get wet.  As she was pulling her panties off she saw that they were starting to unravel.  Under her breath I hear her say “Oh, no!  My panties need to be fixed, I need to send them to Grandma”.  Then she looks at me and says – “Can you do that for me?!”

          October 14th

As said to her cousin Ava recently. "Ava do you want to go play the princess and the pea? I get to be the princess and you get to be the pea." To which her Mother says, "Olivia why can't you both be the princess?" Olivia looks at her Mother and says "Well somebody has to be the pea!"

November 2nd

"Mama I just love you so damn much."

November 7th

My sister trying to explain the difference between the liquor store and licorice.

November 25th

We are watching Beauty and The Beast in the living room after Thanksgiving Dinner. Olivia loves the dresses of the Disney girls. FLS turns to me and Olivia and says, "When your cousin Jared was little and we were watching this movie, he said "That Gaston is such a buttass." So today's funny is a forgotten memory of when Mickey Blue Eyes was a little critter.

I know it's been awhile and there has been some Olivia's funny that I have not posted. But life intrudes. However today my FLS shared one I got a kick out of.

Olivia's Dad came into the house from working in the yard looking for the car keys to move my sisters car so that the hired help could get in the driveway. He found them and left. Olivia says to her Mom. "Well that's just a pain in the ass isn't it."

The Princesses

Sponge Bob Oddities

So, today at work I learned how to para-phrase and a key word in para-phrasing is So.. I like that... makes it easy. Para-phrasing is a kind way to parrot someone. Which I'm not sure how this beginning sentence will tie in with the rest of what I'm going to write but these things have a way of working themselves out. Let's see what happens.

The odd things in life I truly enjoy are meeting random peeps anywhere that strike up peculiar conversations with you.  Yesterday I'm in the restroom at work washing my hands, and a young woman with a very friendly smile walks my way, stops next to me and starts a random conversation with me.

"Yesterday did you get to meet Spongebob?" I must have looked perplexed by this question from someone I have never met, as well as confused, because she quickly added. "He was here yesterday afternoon and so was the voice of Patrick."

"No, I did not get to meet Spongebob, I don't believe I knew he was coming." I say kindly as I reach for the paper towels to dry my hands.

"Ohhhh, that is so sad, that you didn't, I was so excited, I almost cried."

We walk out the bathroom door together and she gushes on further. What can I say at this point, I mean really, I don't mean to be grumpy but how do you cry with excitement over a guy dressed in a costume for a cartoon show. She gushed on about it and the moment and how much it meant to her and.... I was just lost for a reply of any type, but decided that I found this whole conversation so amusing that it made me laugh all the way to my desk and that is what I like about life, it's funny as hell and sometimes the oddest conversation can make your day. Because I kept finding myself laughing at odd moments all day thinking about her and her joy in Spongebob.

But I will give her this, it is not everyday that you can tell people that Spongebob was at work with you. Seriously did he come visit you yesterday at work? Yeah, didn't think so. So on further reflection a day or so later if I saw her again, I would tell her she made my day.

And now I have found a way to tie in the whole thing, with today's learning curve and the mastery of para-phrasing on the spot and under pressure. If I could have learned yesterday what I learned today I might have been able to talk some Spongebob language. Let me try and write a few quick one's on the fly.

So, you were able to meet Spongebob, I appreciate you sharing your joy with me.
So, Spongebob is very real to you, no, that's not a good one....
So, your excitement over Spongebob made my day, (once i got beyond the weird part) Thank you.  Alright enough of that.

Spongebob! Squarepants!

Amazon women and the sheer delight of boots

Chilled bare feet on concrete; amazing how fast the toes can exchange, warm from the bed heat for the chill of October. It's time to wear socks and boots, at last. I collect boots from all over the world and in the Fall they get to come out of their boxes along with cozy wool socks and be incorporated back into fashion, but not just any fashion....Fall Fashion.

Today I plan to wear my boots that I bought in Northern Ireland with my Niece: The hills of Tara. The three of us including my favorite little sister took an unforgettable trip to Ireland, with my friend Shannon Tate (Scottish Dream Tours). We started the first weekend in Dublin at the culmination of the Hurling Championships ending again the third weekend in Dublin at the all Ireland Football Championships. With County Kerry as the champs and the party to end all parties. I made it back to my motel room in the morning with just enough time to pack and head to the airport. In between the weekends, we toured the entire island South to North clockwise and with a teenage niece in the midst, shopped and studied fashion all day everyday. Also she was considered of drinking age on the island and studied the alcohol just as much as the rest of us. WKD being our favorite....pronounced "wicked." So many naughty details left out in this blog; but each story is a story in itself; the parties, the hangovers and shopping mixed with the scenery and history.

What a trip, at two weeks and three weekends I did not want to come back at all. I could live there in a heartbeat. The rain, the colors and the people. I have been to Ireland three time and love it like Washington. Over and over, I have read what people feel to their bones when touching Irish soil for the first time. I feel it for both my state and Eire. A note of a song, that touches your soul or a taste of food so divine, a delicious piece of heated blanket that warms your toes on a chilled fall afternoon... these things are as close to that feeling that I can come with words.

Yesterday I wore my favorite Franco Sarto brown suede boots as I started my first day at Amazon.com. I was excited to learn they have a office in Cork, Ireland and then finished the evening by wearing them to #61's football game in Granger. We won 42-16. I love how a thought, works itself into writing, and the writing comes full circle encompassing all the ideas to cohesive. Speaking of which while at the game last night playing the Spartans, I came up with my Halloween costume 'Queen of Sparta.'

Today the Mermaid and I are taking our "Moms" to the Woman's expo. First I must dye the grays out of my hair, write a blog, have a second cup of tea. To then dig out those boots that cost a small fortune in Londonderry Ireland.

Homecoming & Samhain

Homecoming is the title of the game under the FNL's tonight. How it would suck to be the team rated worst in the league and the best team to play for a sure win for Homecoming festivities. As I sat at work waiting for the clock to hit the 3pm mark, a medium sized spider dropped from the sky with a loud plop to land directly in front of me. Yes, I screamed it was the second one this week. I can handle snakes; even a cotton-mouth chasing me, mouth open wide from across a pond with less heebie jeebies than a spider. Spanish Princess says it must be a sign, a sure sign to lock up the building methinks and head to the mountains for the game.

It is a beautiful Fall day in the Upper County. Today, favorite sassy red head is at favorite liquor store. This liquor store 'The Spirit Mine' is the Starbucks of liquor. She has an even sassier, snappy new 'do' and cool highlights to debunk the grays. Need me some of that!

She has just returned from abroad with hubby and found me a man while there. She has never 'found' me a man, not once in all the years I have known her has she done this, she has always watched from the sidelines with some dismay. So I'm intrigued, he will visit in July as he currently resides in London. We chat and catch up, round up some mini's for the game then on a lark decide to head to The Brick for a beer. Roslyn is having it's first ever 'Pubcrawl' (30 bands, 3 bars in two days) and we talk ourselves beyond the bouncer, (the owner) without paying cover, because we only want solo beer together and not membership for the next two days and figure home ownership should include cover charges for any local just looking for a single beer.

Bartender is surly and cards us, must be looking under thirty today and not over forty, will forgive her surliness this time. But if bouncer is providing this service for bartender why must we provide docs again? Bouncer kindly waves surly bartender off as she knows us for the age we are and she just knows us, bartender is knew and once again not very nice, and I'm being nice about her not being very nice for the record.

Over beers we discuss our favorite holiday, Halloween. The design and plan of our costumes involves much discussion and preparation. She is thinking Madonna or woad warrior, I'm hoping she goes for woad warrior as I will be the one to paint her tats with blue permanent marker on planned areas for authentic look and design. I'm still up in the air on this years costume. Waiting for divine intervention of creative idea. Guido girl was top of list, but fake and bake terrifies me. Hell those Jersey girls terrify me. Locals start streaming into the bar and it is time to head to the game before we are sucked into the crawl festivities.

Meet father of children at the game and we have a nice evening together. It is funny how football season is like going to a therapist or counselor together. #61 was worried about not being able to play in game due to sore throat and absence due to doctor visit, but apparently half the team is sick and also absent so they all play. Once again #61's sheer magnetism propels our team to a win 34-9. Don't have much time with him after the game he has to make the dance bus, enough time for a hug and dispensing of cash.

#61 and girlfriend ring this morning to say they had a great time, he rode the mechanical bull twice but they forgot to get pictures. WTS!

The Prince of Thieves with the Spanish Princess

Watching the Hawks game with the very happy to be home Grandpa. It is an early one today starting at ten. Alternating working on novel and watching the game dreaming about M&M cookies that I want to make and eat. Actually I don't really want to make them, but in order to eat them going to have to make them. Promised my boys more homemade cookies. Woke late because the sky resembled a war zone. Hazy and dense grays hanging about on the low sage hills, resembling gun smoke and residuals from camp fires. Like a war scene from the civil war is my thought.

Last night went out late, meeting the Spanish Princess at the movie theater to watch again "The Town." Based on the novel "Prince of Thieves" written by John Hogan. I picked up that book (retitled now to "The Town") the other day on the second of three tries at Costco to buy the book "Wolfhall" and read it soon after watching the movie the first time with the mermaid.

Now back to the actual viewing of the movie: paid attention to the words this time instead of being distracted by the action. I really liked this movie. So did princess from her frequent murmurs of appreciation of bad sexy men. She smuggled in wine coolers and we drank them while watching the movie, in cups filled with ice and long straws. It is always nice to be a little wicked. Spanish Princess leans over and says she would love to be wife of criminal, this is why I love her so damn much. Me too.

The only snag was little boy crashed next to me kicking my left thigh with his feet when stretching or startled by the gun fire while he slept. But I'm blissful with Grandpa home and second wine cooler and kindly laughed it off. Reminded me of my son's when they were little and you have to wake them up to move them to their beds and they are like odd little robots with their batteries dying, flinging arms and legs in jerky movements. The next time it happened his Dad pulled him into his lap and his son was at that borderline age where he is almost to big to do it anymore, as he snuggles under his Dad's head the rest of him flowing across him and out into the seat he was laying in....but you hold onto the last moments of being able to hold them like that and I love that in a man, the soft part of being a Dad that loves his child.

Woot woot! Seahawks are on the board. The remnants of breakfast are fast fading from my stomach. The change from sun and summer to the October gunmetal skies has me also thinking about potato bacon soup and homemade fresh bread. Going to make that right after I make those M&M cookies.

Spokane Bound

No time this morning for lounging and writing a Saturday blog. Must scurry around the house picking up as the Mom is back on American soil and I'm heading to Spokane to get "The Coach" my ninety three year old Grandfather. He is heading back to the desert today. He was an English teacher and coach for thirty six years. Welcome back G-pa! I missed you. I did however throw a fake pass and have included an essay that I wrote a couple of years ago.

Preservation Poster Child

 Preservation Poster Child

                A love of architecture and history has led me down the path, to the pursuing of a career in Historic Preservation.  For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be an architect. When I was a young girl, my sister and I played for hours in our irrigation pond, designing mud homes with vast landscapes. In the winter months I drew elaborate house plans supported by clippings of people and products from the Sear catalog. My husband and I bought our first house in 1990; it was to coin the popular phrase a “fixer-upper”.  After the sale of the first house, we upgraded and remodeled our second home; the third led us to Roslyn for a final one together.  We had both vacationed in Roslyn as children and moved to Roslyn to get back to the east side of the mountains and four seasons. We did the majority of the remodel work together and ourselves.  This leads me to the point of this essay encompassing my love for history, architecture, beer and becoming the poster child for preservation in the town of Roslyn as a newly single mom.  

                 It is another Friday night in the small mountain town of Roslyn. Roslyn is tucked between two foothills of the Cascade Mountain range. My kids are with their Dad and I ride my bike down to Marko’s the local’s hangout for beer, free pool and local drama. Dogs are allowed inside but smoking is not and the air of the bar is more reminiscent of dog farts then nicotine anymore. Tie dye shirts for sale hang from the edges of the old wooden mirrored bar. Julie Miller; bartender, home owner and student is the Friday bartender.  I come to her for companionship, beer and a lecture. The lecture from Julie entails; the encouragement to move ahead on my purchase agreement, to buy Joe Peck’s house on 5^th street. When the deal is done, it will be dubbed the last good deal in Roslyn. I have a purchase and sale agreement for fifty thousand dollars and with the advent of Suncadia the master planned resort being built nearby; even the derelict buildings are going up in value rapidly. I have spent many hours recently, completing the Planning Commission application packet and drawing myself, the required specs for front, side and rear elevations, drawn to scale with dimensions shown to scale.  Also, a plot plan showing setbacks, significant slopes, all structures on my property and immediate neighboring structures, with distance and dimensions to scale.  These applications, the construction loan and the intricacy of planning the timing with the Planning and Historic Commissions are finished.  All this is done while I hold down a full-time job and raising two kids.  I’m feeling overwhelmed and exhausted and have not done any manual labor yet.

                The entire platted portion of the City of Roslyn has been a National Historic District since 1978. Design review is mandatory for all construction by application to the Planning Commission. The Historic Commission encourages all home owners to list their buildings on the local Roslyn Register of Historic Places. Roslyn has an interesting and unique history reflected in its residential architecture which was predominantly built in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century’s.  Founded in 1886 and incorporated in 1891, coal was discovered in 1886 and Roslyn became a mining town and helped to build the State of Washington. The character of Roslyn’s residential neighborhoods are supported by several design elements;  houses on the same street are similar in size, scale and orientation, main entrances face the street with a raised covered porch, roofs have a similar shape and are steep in pitch to allow for fire safety and not allowing large accumulations of snow. Garages and other buildings are detached and face the alley and not the street.  At the height of its glory Roslyn had twenty-three saloons and two breweries; currently there are only six bars and one brewery. Immigrants came from all over Europe to work in the mines. The cemeteries reflect this rich cultural diversity and the local cemetery is also listed on the Historic Register and has its own Commission. The cemetery contains twenty-five separate ethnic but adjacent cemeteries, with each section maintained by its own ethnic organization. The last mine shut down in 1963 and there has been no further major industry here. In 1990 and until 1995 the television show Northern Exposure was filmed here as the fictional town of Cicely, Alaska.  

                My house sets across the street from Maggie’s house a character in Northern Exposure. In June of 2006 we broke ground on my project. My contractor thought he would have me in the house by Thanksgiving.  The first day of construction the neighbor in the alley behind me, comes by and mentions to my contractor the thought that I was crazy to take on this project; however she was grateful for the eyesore improvement and wanted to document the project from beginning to end with her digital camera.  This turned out to be a blessing as she was retired and took pictures of happenings that I missed out on due to working.  The documentation of my preservation project beginning to end through paperwork and photos was to be used by the Historic Commission to assist others in preservation of Roslyn history and for a tax incentive. The Commission had asked me to be there poster child. As word got around as it does in small towns I was also asked by two reporters for interviews and photos of the project, they took the title given to me by the Historic Commission and used it as well.

                The fireplaces and roof of my house were not salvageable and were removed. A bad addition had been added at some point. We removed it and added a new back on out to the existing foundation. The inside was gutted and a new more efficient floor plan was created.  The windows were no longer the original windows and not reusable and with some regret I put in vinyl windows, while economical, they would not be allowed as a deduction on the tax incentive. The contractor salvaged much of the outside siding from the old addition and I was able to use it on the new. To save money, Don my contractor knowing I had experience with construction allowed me to do some of the work. At the beginning of the project, I was responsible for yard preparation and tree removal.  I removed all the beautiful foot wide planks of wood from the interior walls to salvage for shelving. The bathtub was a rundown claw foot tub. With the help of my sister we sanded, painted and scrubbed it. I was also able to salvage two doors. The first was the front door with beautiful intricate woodwork with antique hinges, iron plate and knobs. The other was its counterpart a wooden screen door with iron scrolling. I sanded and stained both doors and replaced the screen with copper screening rather than the dull silver. Outside the house I pressure washed, sanded and caulked the siding. In areas due to times influence, there were gaps of light seen from outdoors while standing inside the house. I repaired them and then moved onto primer. I had many painting volunteers and we were able to get the primer on in one weekend.  The following weekend we put the final coat of paint on.  My volunteers worked for free but I thanked them with dinner and beers at The Brick and The Pastime taverns consecutive weekends.  The weather was changing fast to winter and the crisp apple air of October was changing to November rains, it was time to move inside where I did the finish work of grouting, sanding, painting and staining.

                By listing my house on the Historic Register I received tax incentives through the government. When construction is completed, within two years I had to submit to the County the paperwork for the tax incentive. The tax incentive is based on the taxed assessed value of my home when purchased and allowable for ten years. I will pay taxes for ten years at the value of $28,960 compared to its 2008 tax assessed value of $176,440. The house is protected by its Historic listing and any future changes to the structure or landscaping will have to be approved by the Historic Commission.

                 It is the tail end of Thanksgiving weekend as my friend Laura and I approach the stairs that lead into the infamous Brick Tavern. The Brick was established in 1889 and is one of the oldest running taverns in Washington State and was featured regularly in the Northern Exposure series.  One of my favorite annual activities at The Brick is in March when The Brick hosts the spittoon boat races. A race of hand designed miniature boats in different class’s race down the old spittoon river that lies underneath the stools attached to the antique bar. Laura and I climb the thick concrete steps and enter through the double doors and walk to the famous bar were we sit down on a stool so that our feet dangle over the spittoon river.  Murphy, the bartender heads our way and says to me with a smile “Why hello, if it’s not our own Preservation Poster child.” He lives nearby in the City of Ellensburg and has been reading the articles in the paper.  I smile and say, the kids and I moved in today, and order my usual drink.  He makes my drink for me and places it in front of me and says, “This drink is on me, congratulations on finishing your house, it looks really good”.

Indolence versus decadence

Today I have a mandatory day off, due to a cut in hours. Making it in my mind decadent, then I looked up the meaning of the word and was sadly disappointed in its actual definition. All this time I thought it meant something luxurious and special. NOPE. It means the losing of morals and as badly as I would like to say that I was going to spend the day having an illicit dirty affair with a very sexy married man over beers at lunch in his office, I really had intended to lounge around in my jammies with a cuppa and write.

So had to go find one single word for what 'today' would mean to me and it ended up being indolence but it is not yet right either. I had big plans to write and work on finishing the novel I'm working on, but faced with a day full of freedom to do so, I got stage-fright.
So I sat down, did the rounds on Facebook then went to the back up plan of interviewing my characters, to get in touch with them.
Part of the problem is also the removing of a week long immersion in another book idea... writing furiously on every surface available, basic research and just a total check out from life. I was on zombie mode for most of the week trying to get the basics down and out of my head. I wonder if other writers feel like this when they get hit with an idea. It consumes me, the conversations between characters that are before I know it..literally outside my head and I'm talking to myself. The visions of scenery, houses, characters making me lost so deep in the storyline that when the damn phone rings at work I'm angry that I have to work.

So....that works and I get beyond the stage fright, I'm back in the other characters. Pick up the phone and call my sister and an hour later I'm back at it again with no problems.

For lunch I went and had street taco's with me favorite mermaid. Then thought while out, I will hit Costco and the bank. Want this book called Wolfhall and have been to Costco officially three times now with no luck. Even though this third trip was the actual computer says date.... No go... but I ask you. Doesn't anybody work anymore? The place was packed and so was the damn bank and I thought I could be at home writing and texted mermaid with all this info and that I was returning to Hawaii (current books current location). She says to me Alpha, which doesn't surprise me but thought it odd in this context. (Not something I really want to get into explaining). So I replied promptly...bleeder. To which she replies she meant Aloha and I had to LMAO. Which makes no sense to the average lookie loo but still sends me into laughter. Now enough procrastination back to the real work. Ah wait cool dance song is on.... and it is fitting..feeling like a zombie coming back to life...

Dirty Sexy

Love me some dirty sexy bad men, or just those appearing to have it on the outside.

What is it about a man, a bad guy in a movie that can make you want him to beat the system.
I just went and saw 'The Town' with my Mermaid and left with my creative juices flowing and excited to write. To write something dirty, sexy and gritty. Like the movie. An idea I had years ago about a woman in the Irish Republican Army... it all just clicked and made sense suddenly out of nowhere and I was consumed by getting the gist of it down. So today's will be short and sweet.
"A good bad man is just sexy. Like my fro-yo red velvet cake with twix pieces on the top and droplets of chocolate sauce."
Mermaid and I have started a little ritual, getting ourselves a fro-yo and eating it while walking and talking and when finished head to the movie. 

"The house you lived in when you were seven.”

Ten minute writing exercise- via- Writer Afoot
"The house you lived in when you were seven."

I’m lying on the living room floor on long thick lime green shag carpet in front of the black and white television. It's back in the day when you had to move to change the channel, of which there is only three. It sits on a metal stand and to the right of me is the front window very large. My strongest memory of that window is the plants my Mom had in it and the big one in the middle that hung from the ceiling. It was macrame, and I cannot remember if she made it, but I do remember being embarrassed by it. Now I look back and wonder why? Why was I embarrassed about this, at the time I thought it was ugly, now having lived a slight hippie lifestyle it would be antique and cool. One of the strongest memories I have of that living room, is lying on this carpet watching the television and the neighbor’s daughter knocking and coming in so upset that Elvis had died.

The house had three bedrooms and sat atop of Scootney hill in Othello. Some winters when it was a bad winter, a car would take the corner to fast and end up in our yard. So my Dad put in some railroad ties and rocks. One summer he planted rutabaga and it seemed liked forever we were digging and getting rid of it. We had a above ground pool in the backyard one summer and ran around all over the neighborhood terrorizing, having fun. A time in history when kids were allowed to roam free through town unattended. 

In the bedroom my sister and I shared we had bunkbeds with matching blankets with our names on it. They had lime green trim, and matched the carpet. Later when we moved to the country my friend Michelle moved into this house and my memories of her in that room tie in with my own sometimes so that I can’t remember whose it was at the time. For instance Patrick Duffy of Dallas pin-up on the wall where all us bluebird and campfire girls took turns making out with him pinned to the wall by the door. The more I recall this memory it’s her time in it and not mine. 

Friday Night Lights

#61

Last week at the game it rained steadily. We planned ahead and brought an umbrella and grabbed a bright pink towel I use for my Grandpa's dog out of the back seat of my truck. It worked well for the first half of the game, at halftime we wanted to smoke. (Secret guilty pleasure of smoking on school grounds, just to buck the system and the righteous.) We pondered for long moments on whether to leave the comfort of this spot, but looking down at the towel turned a darker pink from the encroaching incessant rain. We decided dry asses were going fast at this rate anyway, but on the other hand if we left ..the seats would get soaked. Solution: On return from smoke, stand at sidelines to watch the game.

This worked well and better than planned #61 was placed promptly in the game as the threat of Mother on the sidelines passed down the line of boys and men dressed in tights.

And true friend standing in the driving rain alongside me and who provided the fabulously large umbrella also believed that once #61 was placed in the game, the game changed for the team and if we had more time he could have won the game with sheer magnetism. He did get a great tackle that was announced over the loud speaker, much to his Mothers delight. She also then texted his girlfriend to share said delight. (More on this later.)

Also the announcer say's "Goats score," friend and I glance at each other..."Did they really just say that"....goats? ghosts?" Who names there team the goats? Not very manly, which could lead me off on a tangent complaining about pansies and their whining about "PC" which is asinine period, people need to toughen the hell up.

Alas, #61's magnetism was not enough to win the game but after his presence our team made a solid comeback of three touchdowns.... bringing a total score of the game to 42-21. At halftime score was 42-6. Just saying could have been my kid making the difference.

September 24th

Today's weather seems more promising, I hope that as I head to the mountains it keeps the promise. I'm meeting my sister at the game as well as picking up #61's girlfriend and I'm excited to see all. Sisters entourage; my niece, and her significant other along with his nephew. (No, that does not make him my nephew necessarily, it is his sisters child, but I like him.) They will be following me home into the desert, to attend the WSU game tomorrow.

I love football. It is another sign that Fall has arrived. Go Warriors and #61 half my heart.

I arrive into town, and favor oddly enough, the public restroom... in the oddest location on the main drag into town for changing into comfortable game attire. Sassy red headed friend not at other favored location for such shenanigans aka the liquor store.This restroom and I have a history that is good and kind. It's easy access and cleanliness at all times of the night and early morning always a welcomed sight. Moving on....

On a hunch I call from my cell phone; my other half of my heart "Mickey Blue Eye's" He is working at the hamburger joint up the road and I invite myself to dinner. I drop him some bling and he makes me dinner. Then I head back down the mountain trail, checking for signs of autumn for description in my novel I'm writing in my spare time. Shocked to find autumn colors are not really happening yet, even this late in September. Note to self...

Pick up #61's cute girlfriend and she was so excited to be going to this week's game (grounded last week). (I'm jealous she is wearing Jersey of #61.) I ask sweetly if she got it by sleeping with him. We laugh together and she tells me proudly that she is now on birth control. I remind her to not give up current birth control till the other has time to stick. Do they not tell kids this stuff when getting on it...1). That it takes a cycle or two for it to kick in for full proof avoidance of grandparenthood. 2). That any antibiotic could cause a reversal of it's effectiveness.

I digress, however number one worry is... grandparenthood anytime in the next ten years. I can still bear my own children for heavens sake. Girlfriend says her excitement about #61 getting a tackle and an announcement on loud speaker was dashed by #61 saying "They do that for everyone." I agree with her that it is special, and always better than a bad comment. We arrive at game with a wool blanket from my Mom's backseat and select our seats. Another note to self: wool blanket keeps ass nice and cozy compared to towel whether it is raining or not. Ex-husband and buddy arrive and we proceed to have a very nice time. (Other secret pleasure of smuggling in small amounts of alcohol achieved, this year he impresses me by bringing it and breaking the rule rather than the other way around.)

19-0 not in our favor starting the second quarter and once again the magnetism of #61 this time brought in earlier (due to the decibel of his cheering section, perhaps?) changes the game and at halftime we are ahead 26-19.

Favorite and only little sister arrives. She is knocked up and must skip illegal beverages, but we enjoy game very much and hanging with #61 in parking lot after the game. Give #61 some bling similar to bling given to older brother "Mickey Blue Eyes".

The final score is 54-39 our win of course.

Mickey Blue Eyes

October 23rd

The triangle; Mermaid-Spanish Princess and Ballerina roadtripped to the Mountains last night as the sun set in the western sky to catch the last half of the game. Exiting the car to the scents of pine and fall football.
It was not a big scoring game and we won by the skin of our teeth 21-20, leading us into the divisional playoffs next week against Zillah. #61 did not play much due to it being Senior day.

Skin of our teeth, Skin of my teeth.... such a strange phrase decided to go check out its origins.

Meaning

Narrowly; barely. Usually used in regard to a narrow escape from a disaster.

Origin

The phrase first appears in English in the Geneva Bible, 1560, in Job 19:20, which provides a literal translation of the original Hebrew:

"I haue escaped with the skinne of my tethe."

Teeth don't have skin, of course, so the writer may have been alluding to the teeth's surface or simply to a notional minute measure - something that might now be referred to, with less poetic imagery than the biblical version, as 'as small as the hairs on a gnat's bollock'. 

At the game we enjoyed smuggled nips of Baileys with cocoa or coffee. After the game making a short jaunt  to a Halloween party in South Cle Elum where we had some Rolling Rock and picked up True Friend, who was dressed in a Halloween costume that looked quite sexy on her. Shortly moving on to the gauntlet so that we could hit the Brick and Marko's. The Brick had some good Irish music. We headed up the street of memories to Marko's, finding Atley bar tending, he made us a pizza and told us the story of him finding love.... and it must be if he is moving out of Roslyn for two years to be with her.

After the witching hour heading back to true friends pad set below the dark towering pines of the ridge for some quick shut eye. In the morning the autumn colors were invigorating and Mermaid and I took a short jaunt down the road while waiting for our Spanish Princess to get ready. Gathering up #61 and Mickey Blue Eyes for some grubbing breakfast at The Sunset. Window shopped a tad and stopped into see sassy red head at favorite liquor store and headed back to Rotown to my house to hunt down Cleopatra. Adding a quick left for a sashay through the Cemeteries before heading to the sagelands. 

Mermaid, Spanish Princess, Ballerina and True Friend at Marko's.