Year End

The snow is accumulating.
It looks airbrushed where it covers moved snow.
My front slope below my house and above fifth street resembles a paused rolling boil.
Pathways are beginning to look like a maze.
A hedgerow in white.

Two roof lines meet in a dense and dangerous collision.
The thick mass of ice underneath snow, hovers in space.
As the snow creeps in a slow slide the fresh layers on top meet with the melt from the heat of my house.
Stalactite spikes and tails drip.
The spikes curl and point stiff fingers at me as I stare from behind the window.

The snow and ice seem suspended in time.
A sharp contrast to the rush of end of days at year end.
Each day comes quickly to a close and fades into the background.
Beautiful glare.
I wince as I gaze out the window.
Searching, reading, writing to find where the year has gone.

Merry Christmas

With a tail as big as a kite. No North star to be seen tonight. But the moon has made an appearance.

A blanket in solid white rolls and plunges, it rests heavy over yards and on the green boughs of towering pines. A white Christmas in Roslyn. Snoqualmie Pass reopened today after being closed for two days.

13 Seconds

What can be done in thirteen seconds?

Set the timer  on the microwave... What can you get done in thirteen seconds...

Blow your nose.
Wash a pan.
Unwrap and eat a piece of chocolate.

Eight seconds is required to ride a bull and it seems like a lifetime. Rocketed in the air wearing tight blue Lee's, boots and a cowboy hat. The crowd watches in slow motion as a arm held high in the air balances the man as he rolls and thrusts on top of an angry bucking bull.

Last night we paid sixty dollars to watch Conor McGregor get his long awaited title fight. Thirteen seconds it took him to take it from the twelve year reigning champ Jose Aldo. 

He crouched low on all fours on the white floor of the octagon, stretching. His ass clad in tight shorts in green rocked back and forth in front of the audience. The tattoo that runs down his spine rolls and slithers. The fighters quickly move to the center of the ring. No time for the fancy leg acrobats just solid punches. Fast, hard throws. Conor reels from a clip to the head as his left punch lands in that sweet spot. Jose drops to the mat. Tap. Tap. Two more head shots and the match is called.

McGregor is the winner. We sit stunned and speechless on the couch for brief seconds.

Pasta and Bitches

Been a long week. The aftermath of Black Friday and Cyber Monday. I could hardly stand to work today. I wanted to go to the library book sales and craft fair. I took some time off and did those things because I'm tired of angry nagging bitches.

Last one of the day was the worst. Michelle in Detroit hella pissed over some goddamn lipgloss. Thankful that I did not have Charlotte the crazy pregnant woman threatening for days to kill people.
Sometimes I just want to say 'what in the hell is wrong with you' that you think you need to talk to people in that way over a thing. A thing like lip gloss.

Peeps get all up in arms over their kids being picked on, bullied and such. Well listen to yourself for a change on the phone to customer service. People up in arms over shootings, massacres.
Listen to yourself talk to others. Most people are not nice to other people, we want life to be fair and nice but its not. We are all mean to each other its human nature to be cruel, mean and hurtful. I don't care how nice you are. We are all mean.

Yep...In a bad mood, but like I said left early and went to the book sale. I got some great stuff. A book on the Puget Sound, one on baths. (Remember the last blog.. Merlin in the Roman bath with Amelia).. yeah a cool book on the history of baths in hardback for a dollar. For an idea percolating in my head for yet another book.

I got a Nora Roberts that I haven't read set on Orcas Island and another one I wanted to have for my personal library. Picked up a few gifts for Christmas and then felt a bit better to try and finish the day at work. Nick is making Pasta for dinner. Fettuccine. I needed some comfort food. Bitches will be getting worse in the month to come. 

Hadrians Wall

125 AD Chester’s Fort, Britannia

 

It’s quiet when I leave the bed of my husband. I fear to wake him. Yet he sleeps hard and deep. A soldier cutting stone to build a wall, he is exhausted daily.  The most Northern point of the Roman Empire and commanded to build a wall.  His anger is brittle unlike the gray stone he chisels. His rage would be unequaled if he found that I have forsaken him for a Brittunculi.  A cruel slur for the people of the island we conquered.

Near the door I take off my fine gold filigreed betrothal ring and place it in a bowl. It states my name and a plea to God, a small prayer that Amelia may live. I slip on my sandals. The leather is cool and smooth upon my feet as I walk away from our house. The house sits outside Hadrian’s Wall not within. In a village below the gates and fort, it is filled with artisans, a butcher and soldiers.

There is a guard on the wall above me but I slip past him unnoticed in the dark shadows. I walk to the bathhouse. A thing of beauty to make us Romans fill at home and warm after leaving the Mediterranean weather. Inside the high stone ceilings and walls are painted white and embellished with art. In this room painted dolphins with cherubs upon their backs soar above me. Alcoves are built within the walls with windows to look out at the lush green land, saturated with rain.

The moon shines through the skylights illuminating my way. I slip my sandals off and pull my dark blue nightdress over my head. My long hair cascades with the movement and tickles my back as it swings across it. The floors are heated. My unclad feet inhale the floors warmth as I cross the room. I step down into the tub recessed in the floor. The water so warm, embraces me and my toes sting with the heat.

He waits for me in the water. The arms of a Pict heavily tattooed in woad darkened to indigo surround me. His hands brush my hips and my stomach. Ahhhh I moan as he cups my breasts with his dark hands. He is magic my Merlin. His hands and tongue are enchanted.

“Leave with me.” He whispers in my ear and I shiver as his tongue travels down delicately from below the back of my ear to the pulse at the base of my neck.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” I reply in a desperate whisper.

Through the forest below the towering fifteen foot wall they chase us. Merlin grips my hand tightly as we run. One sandal catches in the soft clay near a sacred Oak. A pull, a hard tug and the leather band between my toes snaps.  I nearly fall with the freedom and the pull of his hand. The shoe must stay behind I have no time. I pull the other off my foot and carry it in my free hand as we race west to outrun the wall.

Need I say more.. its that time again.

Nanowrimo..

Please stand by...

reflections on life and death

The sunrise in the east reflects in the west this morning. Briefly the pink hues show in the gray clouds out my western faced window. I stop writing to admire the one cotton candy pink cloud and take a picture of it. To the east a brilliant sunrise in turgid bright pink.

Death has come to Fifth street and Roslyn this past week. The neighbor behind me vocal for so many years has passed away. Leaving the backyard quiet. Karyn fed the crows, they have moved on to the trees in front of my house. High in the pines they caw. No longer do I hear the scritch scratch of the claws on my metal roof.

Her obituary reads like this.

"Karyn Ware entered into the next realm of her existence on October 3, 2015. Born in Everett on August 26, 1937 she claims a varied and interesting time on this earth. She often stated "I've done everything in this life I've ever wanted to do and more than a few things that I probably shouldn't have done, and I embrace the next phase of my existence."

So full of life like she was. The things that were not said was that she researched the cemeteries and provided the City of Roslyn with a resource of its history. She loved her dog. She loved feeding the crows. She took a photo every single day of my renovation project while I worked so that I had a beautiful essay of the changes.

At her request there will be no services. However in keeping the wonderful words of a friend recently passed, she wished only that her friends do a kindness for someone else as well as for the animal critters who look to us humans for care.

Wildlife

A single black crow caws in the morning sun. He sits high on a wire overlooking the yellow leaves of an apple tree. Rusted pine needles poke from the branches of its tree. Two fawns play on the hillside across the street from my house. Butting heads and dancing precariously above an abandoned foundation. The white fur on their rumps flashes in the lingering fog.

The lone crow is out of sync with nature this week. The deer, skunks and raccoon's have all been paired up wandering fifth street. Paired I say because I watched the raccoon in the street as he kept a watchful eye on me. He used my yard to cut through and he stares hard, watchful and protective while his wife sneaks past and joins him on the street. They kiss and cuddle, wander off. Another evening two skunks cavorted together underneath a truck.

Those pesky bugs of fall get stuck in my hair and I have been swatting flies like a mad woman. Nick made a new compost bin for the garden. All the creatures love the bin. They stir and bury the treasures benefiting us both. We have been cleaning the yard preparing for winter. I'm weary of work and some Indian holiday bringing tons of overtime. I keep saying, "I won't regret the paycheck."

This time of the year is my favorite because I get to wear warm cozy clothes, socks and boots. Hunker down on early long nights with soup, bread and a movie. And football. Yes fall brings football and more wildlife.

Go Hawks!

Slivovitch

Festering fruit permeates the air. The sweet stench of rot wafts through streets and narrow unpaved alleys in my small mountain town. Juicy purple plums not chosen have dropped to the ground. They stick to the bottom of my shoes as I walk up the alley. They are slick too, like my neighbors grandson snot covered upper lip. I catch myself with a jolt as I skid on the skins and my lower back twinges like it was zapped with a minor volt of electricity as my shoe slides across the flesh. The juices ooze and hornets feast.

The local Croatians from the old mining families make Slivovitch. I watch from my porch as another car stops on fifth street. Just past the old Mayor's house. A woman holding a white plastic bag gets out of the car and starts picking plums from the copse of plum trees on the empty lot between the Mayors and Popavich's house. Popavich is outside in his yard behind her in his mustard running shorts, tanned, lean and healthy these days. He pulls weeds instead of smoking crack now.  

I have tasted the plum essence in the dark amber shadows of the Sodylicious. A slow sip out of a glass tumbler as my breasts rest against the wood trim of the counter. I think I liked it, but can't quite place the taste now. The basement bar and restaurant upstairs have been closed and for sale for years. Joseph Ojurovich owner of the bar is now deceased. I wonder if his son Stephen makes the Silvovitch from a secret family recipe.

Secret family recipe. Reminds me of the great scene in Black Mass. James Bulger begs the secret to the steaks from the FBI agent. I cannot do the scene justice by explaining it here. Go see the movie. Johnny Depp is mesmerizing as James "Whitey" Bulger.

Danish Design

The interior paint of my house has always been rich color.
Wheat in the living room, sugar cookie in the hall and my bedroom with butter yellow and crimson. The office and bathroom in blues. Trim is natural wood. I have floor to ceiling wood bookshelves in dark brown.

Last summer I changed the living room color to more of an arctic ice blue. The floor to a deep cranberry. Set against the colors in the rest of the house... I felt like I was in an Easter Egg. You remember the sugar eggs, opened at the end and inside was a frosting created scene. I felt like I was stuck in one of those. The rest of the house badly needs to be painted. The colors I listed above were the original colors from 2005.

"After returning from Denmark I decided, I want a Danish Design color scheme". My sister sits on my couch and glances around my living room. Vibrant in color.

"Are you going to paint the trim?"

Speechless I look at all my natural wood, unpainted trim. In order to go Danish light and airy, I would have to paint all my trim. And doors. Fuck. What a project.

I started two weeks ago, with my bedroom and wow. What a difference. I choose thin ice for the walls and a delicate white for the trim. The thin ice can look gray, lavender or blue in the light. It brings out the accent colors from my bed coverings that were hidden before. I'm also going through clutter.

But as I enter my living room which is in stages of trim conversion. Now I need to paint the floor again and change the curtains. I want to get a new shower curtain in the bathroom, new rugs. This is getting expensive. But man its beautiful to look at and so calming.

Mountbatten Castle

Ben Bulbin is hidden by fairy smoke, it writhes and flows from over the tops of their cauldrons. Mountbatten Castle stares into the dense gray vapors, brooding. The green velvet fields flow behind the castle like a cloak.

I'm working on yet another edit. This morning it's Tears of God and it starts near this Castle. I love this photo and the magic in it.

I slept good when I was sleeping. When I was awake I was kept up by resentful, betrayed thoughts. Betrayed is a good description of what I'm feeling today about my employer Amazon. Five years and our love affair is over. I applied last night at the juicy apple.

A good morning to write about treachery, assassination and revenge. Don't you think?

Immersion

Lazy. I dwell in the comfort of warm sheets and my bedroom. Sleeping, reading and now writing. The lamp next to my bed is my only light. The heavy green curtains are drawn against a dismal August Saturday morning.

Rain. Long in coming has arrived but it is barren. A false sense of moisture. Because it is.

I'm reading 'Olive Kitteridge.' Dark and yet humorous and frightening in the way of it's truth. The truth of life, marriage and old age. What do you do? You live and find the happy humorous moments and try to forget how dark the world really is.

I'm struggling with indecision, restlessness and being true to myself. Really? I'm lazy and can't find desire to make things happen or change. I don't really care either. The best course of action.... stay warm, make a cup of tea and crawl back into bed with a book, laptop and some chocolate. 

Vacation

I just returned from abroad. You know that ripple affect? The one when a word, picture or situation keeps popping up again and again. I had that happen with this trip.

Denmark... Othello...

I traveled to Denmark to visit my old friend Anette. She was the 1985-1986 exchange student from Denmark at Othello High School. We hit it off when we were 17 and I have always wanted to go see her. I had or made the chance, happen this year. 

While I was there posting pictures on Facebook, the best man at my one and only wedding posted. He also attended Othello High School. He mentioned that he was going to be in Denmark too. Alas we were not able to meet since he arrived after I departed the same day.

Another friend on Facebook and from Othello High School was I'm pretty sure the person interviewed in PNW magazine that comes as an insert in the Seattle Times. I wanted to ask but didn't since she was on vacation in Spain. But as I checked Facebook while in Denmark she posted a picture of a house that looked Danish. So I commented. I figured it was a house built in Danish style maybe influenced by Danish settlement. No. She was actually now in Denmark.

Small world big ripple.
Here are some of my favorite photo's from the trip.

Sassafras

The little one is now potty trained and is getting an Aunt Shanie weekend. She is fierce, independent and full of sass. I meet Kerry at Taco Time in Issaquah to pick up Gabriella. I tell her, her new nickname will be sassafras.

"Aunt Shanie, it's sweet sassafras."

I teach her how to make tortillas and we have taco's for dinner. We water the garden and she runs circles around and through the house.

Later she brushes her teeth in the bathroom getting ready for bed and scurries back out to the living room to get Nick. There is a spider in the sink. He is dutiful and follows her back to the bathroom to dispose of it, but is back quickly to have me come and see the size of the scary spider.

It's hardly the size of crumb. 

Breakfast

I have been working on an essay with my writers group. We all selected 'breakfast' as our title to write about. We are on our fourth week of perfecting them.

It's been fun, challenging and a great exercise. I'm going to post my early draft rather than the finished. Or maybe not since I did not save it as a separate file.

It's titled 'Breakfast with The Bruce.'

Here is an excerpt from 'American Babes in Scotland' my journal from the trip that I based the essay on.

We will look tomorrow from a distance we suppose .We also saw the sign for Robert Bruce s cave (Rathlin Island). It is too dark for that as well. The cave is significant in history because The Bruce was hiding in there between battles and was worn out and ready to quit when he noticed a spider making a web and after watching it struggle and succeed had renewed hope for fighting for Scotlands freedom. Outside of Machrie the road clings to the sea with hills tumbling down almost to the beach. Pirnmill, Catacol. The town of Lochranza is also famous for Robert the Bruce buffs too (me) the castle is said to have been used by him as a staging post in 1307. In 1306 it is said to have been the spot at which Robert the Bruce landed on his return from Ireland, and before his successful bid for               the Scottish Crown. It was certainly in the possession of his grandson when he became King Robert II of Scotland in 1371. Lochranza is just ahead over a hill and if it is pleasant enough we will stop there for the night. 

It is definitely pleasant; the castle is gorgeous. Apparently since it is not roped off we can still walk to it. The houses all line the road on the right, facing a body of water. We are not sure what it is called and will look it up. We spot one hotel that is open and decide this will do. The hotel is called appropriately enough the Lochranza Hotel. The proprietors are George and Fiona Stewart. The hotel has two story bay windows The houses lining the street are all fenced. At the front gate of our hotel is a sign posted   Do not let the wild animals in!   What is that supposed to mean? We glance around for any wild animals. None to be seen so we let ourselves in the gate. The hotel also has a pub that serves food. Quite a few people there but they were not into visiting and we did not try very hard, we then headed to bed. Our room has a TV mounted up high so we lay in bed and watch a show called The Weakest Link, it is pretty brutal and hilarious. This is well before it arrived in the states somewhat toned down, compared to their version. Our room looks out over the Kilbrannan Sound and Lochranza Castle.

 

Wild beasts abound

March 11th

Woke up early and I wanted to explore. Kerry wanted to sleep in so I left our room as quietly as I could. I let myself out of the gate and glanced at this spot of the world I was in, for the first morning view, it is breathtaking. I continued on my walk, it is about 5 blocks to the castle. At the Castle I turned in a complete circle it was amazing the high mountains behind the town the rising sun, the full moon setting and the rosy hue of the heather reflecting onto the sound. I wanted to take a picture I reached into my pocket it was empty, Can you believe it! I forgot my fucking camera. So I walked all the way back to the Hotel and let myself in the gate and hiked back up to our room.  Woke Kerry, told her sorry, grabbed the camera and went back out to the road and started walking back to the castle to take the picture. On my way there I ran into free roaming sheep in the road. Ah! The wild animals, hence the sign? I decided I would take their picture and did; the camera promptly started rewinding. Shit! I had not brought any extra film canisters with me. So again I walked back to the hotel and let myself in the gate and went back to the room. Woke Kerry again she is pissed now, and will not let me leave again. I have to wait for her. So I do and we walk back down to the castle but the moon has set and the lovely photo opportunity is gone. I'm such a doorknob.      Breakfast was good. Their egg yolks are very bright yellow almost orange. I had a potato pancake that I have not eaten the likes of since it was delicious. We both passed on blood sausage and kippers. Toured island drove through a village called Corrie. Goatfell to the right The town of Brodick and Brodick Castle and Gardens closed.  Most of the stores in Brodick were closed it was Sunday. The grocery store was open and it is our favorite place to shop anyway. We discover the eggs are kept in the bread section unrefrigerated. We wanted to buy alcohol. But on Sundays you cannot buy until noon. No drunks or hangover cures allowed till after repentance I suppose. We decide to cut through the middle of the island on the B880. From there Took a side road and saw cool mail box took pictures then thought we should take a picture of our car ran into a Sean Connery look alike trumping along in his wellies. Headed on down the road beautiful countryside with sheep everywhere and video taped. Stumbled on the Auchagallon stones we wanted to see. Took pictures no walking. Then headed back to Lochranza to catch ferry that we thought was going to Calonaig but went to Tarbert instead. Goatfell ridges Why we chose Arran

The woman who cooked our breakfast told us the ferry only came once on Sunday and that it came at one. According to the ferry schedule this was not true however we would take the advice of a local who saw the ferry on a daily basis verse some schmuck in a high raise typing the schedule on his computer. We were told to come early because there was a limited space of cars for the ferry not really a problem in March but play it safe she told us. We arrived at 12:30 and as the time came closer grew more and more worried out to sea we could see no ferry approaching and nobody was riding the ferry with us. About after one sometime we could spot the ferry and a few cars lined up behind us. Oh, It  s on a Scottish schedule so we are all right. The ferry ride was long. The ferry was very small holding about 8 cars. Both ends of the ferry came up and held the cars on. and to the left side were an enclosed seating area Kerry and I, both went in to sit. After about 30 minutes I became restless and went outside to smoke and decide to sit in the car and map out a route to the Island of Skye.

Out of the Woods

Sunday is a day of rituals. The one day to sleep in. The luxury of sleeping till 7:32. Heavy moss green curtains ordered from Amazon that block cold and light are now closed. They are left open the other six days of the week. Upon waking the same rituals apply, a cup of tea and a smoke, later a visit to the bathroom. The view up and down Fifth Street beckons to me, the spring sun in the East blinds.

I stand on the porch. I sit at my glass top table. I wander in my yard. All with a mug of tea in my hand. The mug today is from Chile. I have other mugs; Amazon, Eire, Reading, and Britain and plan to get one from Denmark. Lacking is one from Scotland.

Nick brings the Sunday paper home. With my cup of tea, I read the Pacific Northwest insert. The beautiful photos and intriguing local stories make me happy and creative. I may wander back in to watch the Sunday Morning show the name of which, eludes me right now. But that show also depends on who has slept on the couch. Sometimes we have breakfast in, sometimes out or not at all.

Today brings the thought of working in the yard, writing and maybe a bike ride to hunt mushrooms (An annual ritual). I do what I want today according to the weather and family demands. But also I look forward to the little rituals we have.

Tonight we will cook and dine to Beyond Borders and 60 Minutes.

Birthdays Come & Go

Today in one hour I will be off and on a mini-vacation. I don't work on my birthday. This year my birthday falls on my day off which is a Sunday. I took a long weekend to celebrate my life. I have planned a weekend with Yvette we are going to the city and spa.

And did I mention... I'm going to Denmark! 

Clean Springs

 

The first closet, now organized with built-ins.

I love Sunday for so many reasons but the best part is that its the day I wake up naturally. No alarms, no work. Just the quiet silence of my own thoughts and the peace of a day to myself. (Can I put quiet and silence next to each other in a sentence? In my mind this morning it means two separate things to me.)

I have been working on the second closet project and it has me spring cleaning my house, life and now the office/studio/writing space. Leading me to this email/blog post of sorts. I want to organize the room so that it calls to me in the hard writing times. Lately my head is so full of thoughts for myself and my situation that its much to loud in my head to write and paint. Other than in my own journal that is. 

Part of organizing and preparation of this space for the future led me to sift through the files on my computer. I was impelled to grab a piece of paper and hand write the list of books I have stored in my mind and on my laptop. They are all in various forms of progress. I just found it shockingly large, the list and needed to share so that I make an effort to get back to it and them, the stories.

A Colander Sky (Notes only)
All Roads 5K
American Babes Travel Journal 23K
Chocolate (Notes only)
Down Under (Notes only)
End Time 28K
Errant Breezes 105K
Curador 96K
The Good Life 54K
Meth Widow Journal 25K
Running the Sling (Notes only)
Stones & Heather 21K
Tears of God 57K

What I'm working on in my mind now for this room is to remove furniture. Furniture that stores things. I want to get rid of the furniture but not necessarily the things in them. Therefore built-in shelves in the closet are being built in unfinished closets. Also I'm considering moving my Art Studio out of here and upstairs. The one set back of upstairs is the lack of natural light. But its a cool space, spacious and I do already have a guest room so why can't this space be mine? Would I come up here to paint? I could save and add skylights. I could set up my stereo. I could put in a door.  

Again I'm distracted by the possibilities. I painted the office closet yesterday afternoon in preparation of the new shelves. Previously it had a distracting bright orange. Mickey Blue eyes once upon a time had it the colors of KTM (motorcycle). I don't like clutter and this room is cluttered and hindering me from my creativity. 

Still. 
But.

I hope to have it done by the end of the day. 

How could you not know.

This line is often used in situations most people do not want to find themselves in. A friend, policeman or loved one might ask this. "How could you not know?" That your husband has been raping and killing woman. How could you not know your son was on heroin? How could you not know your wife was cheating on you? How could you not know your husband was molesting your daughters?"

All questions we ask of others. All questions we ask of ourselves.

I was watching 'Broadchurch' on Netflix recently and it brought this same question up in the last show. How could the mother not know her husband was raping her daughter, the policewoman asked a woman that was being questioned about a recent crime this same question about the crimes in her past.

The woman just looked at her unable to answer.

At the end of the show the policewoman herself is blindsided by the fact her own husband has killed a neighbor child (the recent crime mentioned above). The child's Mother a close friend said to the policewoman as they meet after her husband has been arrested "How could you not know."

Chills ran down my arms as I heard that line again. I may have mentioned it or said it in my own life. It has been said to me. In that moment on the show she got it, I got it, maybe the world got it. 

The fact is maybe you just don't know sometimes and it's not for lack of love or inattention. We have jobs that we commute to and are away from the house and you are trusting someone you love to be the same in kind.

"A man just wants a woman to love him. 
A woman just wants a man to not kill her."

'The Fall: Netlix'

Gauche

Driving early the Pepto-Bismol sunrise lightens the dawn sky, but my mood is heavy as is my heart. The opposite of love is indifference. Yet again this song, these words play for an arrival and a departure.

We smell of alcohol and diesel. The odor makes me ache with longing for him, for me.

We had dinner in the woods with friends Mexican themed; Polla a la Crema, sautéed beef, peppers, beans and corn tortillas. Beer coated all sides of the meal and dessert was tequila, whiskey and bourbon.

We sleep apart now. Even here. Sometimes I forget and reach out to touch him. My misplaced hand reaches out and then slowly retracts  in remembrance.

The weakest hour has passed in a long dark night. The alcohol made me angry, weak and yet hopeful. Which when added and mixed together comes out to be the equivalent of feeble. He is indifferent and I’m discomfited and filled with cold regret.

The odor of skunk lingers as we drive through town heading home to more separate beds with the sunrise at our backs.