The moment I was kinda cool.

Knowing the right person at the right time happened to me and I was kind of cool for a moment in time.  In my mind anyway.

(L) other people in band, (C) me :) (R) Shaun Morgan Welgemoed

Seether my long time favorite band, ever... by chance happened to be playing at the Benton County Fair. Seether hails from South Africa and the lead singer goes by the name of Shaun Morgan. I admire his writing; even for a song his brilliant and creative use of words I find beautiful. His written lyrics sad and haunting sometimes, most of the time angry but done in a beautiful way.

"Before you hedge those bets you placed against me, be reticent of fortunes they foretell.
Your verbal defecation I can't wash away despite myself.Your vanity it seems to serve you well.Your so quick to choose the path walked by the righteous so you can go and nest among the weak. The innocent observers will refuse to find the light within, renew the disappointment of the meek."

And it is your day lucky, because I was lucky enough to know a guy who got me VIP tickets. So not only did I get to have a great seat, I got to meet the band and have pictures taken with them. What a moment in time that was. I'm not a huge fan of getting to know, stalking, tracking stars down. But I was thrilled to meet this man, thrilled I say... thrilled and honored. A clip from the show.

And as I filmed this clip I turned because behind me in the very small VIP crowd was Vitamin C. Random moment of complete coincidence. Complete surprise to see this man from my past after so much time has passed.

North Kachess

Booted Mom out of the house and strapped the canoe to the top of the Suburu and headed West early Sunday morning. It is the first time I have been on and in Lake Kachess and it was beautiful. The foothills of the Cascades loom on each side of it sometimes leaving no beach.

Meandering and paddling slowly up the lake and heading Norte into the sweltering heat. The air is filled with smoke from the summer fires giving the air a look of humidity. The water is crystal clear and the ghosts of tree's live in the depths. Eerie to see them and gives me a chill on my arms as if the lake is haunted.

We troll and have no luck and stop on the right side of the lake to change out gear. The minnows dart in the shallows nibbling Nick's feet and legs as he stands in the water. I catch an even larger one just off the shelf and reel it in to the bank, just to throw it back.

Crossing to the other side we skim the shore for a good place to stop and swim. We find a spot but there is not enough beach to barbeque so we get back in the canoe and head up the lake again. Finding the spot and set up a temporary camp and dine on smoked ribs, barbeque potato chips, peaches and cake.

Late in afternoon we head back and I can see the reflection of aqua light in a cove. I'm paddling while Nick is fishing so I make the turn to go and explore, the spot beckons me to see it. Breathtaking as we pull into the shore and peal off clothes to swim here. Large masses of rock are underwater and we swim to each of them, stand on them. It is like a coral reef in the Caribbean. The blue sky reflecting into the shallows and giving the illusion of aqua colored water.

Above the cove and beach is a ledge and plateau perfect for camping. "Why is no one here, this is the best spot on the lake." This spot so perfect I want to camp and stay forever and I'm not much of a camper.

No picture will do it justice. Yet I try.

Thursday again

It is Thursday again. And you know what my favorite thing is about Thursdays? It's my one day off to myself. I don't work anywhere and no one is here. I have the house to myself not sharing it with my man, work or anything else. It's mine. It's my day. It's my writing day. Although I write everyday, this day is the one where I can set up my bedroom and hunker in for the long uninterrupted write. I can nap, read, pop out to visit with a friend or neighbor, garden, watch a movie. I kind of leave it up to whatever the hell I feel like doing. It's all mine.

Last night I took some time off work and went to a "Ladies Night" out past Ronald. It was a potluck and clothing exchange. I really wanted to go and I did. But just an hour in, I was overwhelmed by talk. I don't know if I can explain this but there was so much talking it irritated me. It's like when your hair is in your face, eyes and mouth irritating the shit out of you and you just want to scream but settle for putting your hair in a pony tail. Which relieves it but doesn't wipe the irritation from your mind. Do you get what I mean?

There was one person there that talked incessantly and mid into the evening I groaned out loud with it. So I quickly left the building and went back outside to the table that sat among pines. Night shadows and bugs and yet more chatter all of it making me itchy and longing for the solitude of home.

I was overwhelmed by conversation and stories that went on and on about shit I don't give a shit about. When I go out, I want quality conversation not goddamn endless stories told in the second person about how well she raises her kids, reveres god and lives such a pious life. The one saving grace was this lovely creature sitting across the table from me who writes screenplays and mentioned the voices in her head. Now that I wanted to talk about.

Did a search for images of irritation and stunned by the amount of irritated penises and buttholes that loaded onto the screen. Who posts this shit? Gross.

And a lovely little post by one of my favorite authors that makes me feel normal or like the writer I am.

Sometimes I feel a lot of pressure to get out there and be “normal.”  Volunteer. Have dinner parties. Keep regular hours.  Wear the right clothes.  ( I really feel this pressure lately!)
And yet, what I know to be true is that writers are an odd lot.  It’s just that simple.  We’re reclusive and tend toward eccentric habits like going to bed at 7:30 pm or 5:00 am or searching madly for candy corn when it isn’t in season.  There are only two people  in the world that I will talk to on the phone for more than five minutes: my BWF (best writing friend) and my sister, and trust me, other people comment on it.  I need VAST amounts of quiet time, and get really, really, really excited when I know I will be alone in the house for three days (which is coming up this week).   I don’t really want to wear suits. I want to wear emerald green hippie dresses and bare sandals with a super long scarf from India. Barbara O'Neal.