Here's the Proof

Brad and I enjoyed fish and chips at one of our favorite hangouts - the Lockspot. We have been going there for over 20 years and have never found a parking spot at the side. Oh, we have occasionally parked in the four spaces in front, but we usually park in the pay parking lot. Yesterday, we ruled! I took this picture knowing no one would believe me if I didn't. The Durango has been immortalized.

Me and Archie

A visit to Archie McPhee's <a http://archiemcpheeseattle.com"> . Just about the most fun one can have and spend under $5 dollars. Brad and I were on a pig quest and good quests end up at Archie's. I only wish Jessica had been there. She would have giggled with me, instead I had Brad who rolled his eyes a lot.

What will You Remember?

I looked down our road as I remembered a conversation I had with my Father in his home. He had several bottles of liquid soap on the table. He told me how much he enjoyed the soap and wanted to send me home with a bottle.

As a child, he had to use lots of water before handling the bar of soap to work up any suds. The soap back then was rock hard, with no sweet smell. One had to work hard to get clean.

He said you could squirt liquid soap onto your hands and work up a real lather, before you added water! He thinks you get cleaner this way. My father has seen computers and rockets come of age in his lifetime, but liquid soap can make him stand back and marvel.

I am reminded of a bus ride I took in the mid 1970's. I boarded a city bus headed for downtown Portland and asked an elderly woman if I could take the seat beside her. She said yes and a delightful conversation ensued. During this conversation she kept looking up, out the window. At one point I asked her what change in her lifetime most impressed her. She replied, "windows." When she was growing up at the beginning of the last century, buildings did not have many. The tall buildings she was looking at were covered with windows.

I wonder what changes I will find fascinating when I am a bit older.

Mighty Fine Food

Brad and I had a fun day in Seattle. The Ballad neighborhood has special meaning for Brad and I. We both served on the USCGC Fir which tied up behind the Chittingham Locks. The day started with us roaming the streets looking for a place to enjoy breakfast. Brad stopped in front of the Senor Moose http://SenorMoose.com and asked me how I felt about having Mexican food for breakfast. "I'm game." I knew this was going to be special the moment I stepped inside. We sat at the counter. The dining area was too far from the action.


The staff treated us like guests in their home, not customers. Even the cooks, who did not speak English, smiled and greeted us. The grill and surrounding equipment looked like it was from 1953, compete with hot grease stains. On the wall is a faded picture of the Madonna. Four clocks are on the wall, only one of them works. Two windows are broken. The wooden counter has dents from years of use. The business license hangs askew. A black t-shirt hangs on the wall. Pictured are five moose on stools at a bar. One moose has fallen backwards off his stool. It reads: Moose dropping.


Oh, and the food was as good as it looked. An egg scramble served with black beans. Tortillas kept warm on the side. I was immediately reminded of the small diners we have visited in rural Arizona. This is authentic food, not American Mexican food.


I did have a moment of disappointment. I realized this was going to be the best part of the day, and the day had just begun.

My Corner

My corner. My respite. My link to myself. Since Austin moved out of his bedroom - two years ago, I have been trying to clear the clutter (also known as my fabulous fabric stash). I wanted an oasis in its place. A place to meditate, to sew, to write, and . . . . today. . . I saw the room.

I sat, I breathed. Why didn't I do this two years ago?

A Snowy Day in Paradise

The winter snow has melted. The sun can be seen over the treetops during the afternoon. The birds have been returning; I enjoy them early in the morning. A snowfall started today and I sipped my cup of coffee while watching. Although snow has fallen much this winter, I never know when the last snow of the season will be. Therefore I try to take time to enjoy the spectacle. This picture was taken of our road today. At one point the snowflakes were in such abundance, they were a blur in the camera's eye.

I am reminded of a similar snowfall earlier this winter. I was in Top's Food parking lot waiting for Brad to pick me up after work. Few people were around at midnight. I looked up and noticed this one was special. The flakes were very large, something I had not seen since living in Seward, Alaska. The light from the light pole highlighted the flakes a long way up. The snowflakes looked like a map of the universe, a constellation of snowflakes. Each snowflake fell slowly. I could track the trajectory of each flake from high above. I was mesmerized. Customers stopped to ask me what I was looking at. When I explained that I was peeking into the universe, they joined me in my gazing. God wows us in small ways.

Trees

I was a toddler in 1956. Women wore skirts to just below their knees. My mother would take me to family gatherings. I remember trying to walk. I was unsteady and occasionally reached out to keep from falling. I saw only legs around me, topped by darkness, fringed by the hems of skirts. My hand would reach out and touch a leg to balance myself. At times, I was too far from the leg and would grab up to reach a hem. Usually I would start to fall, but an arm would come down from above the skirt line and right me until I could balance myself.

Last Tuesday, our neighbor sent a text message that a semi-truck had overturned on Highway 2, blocking both lanes. We would have to take Reiter Road home. We followed Reiter Road as it started up the hillside, not knowing if we would be turned away by snow. As we neared the top, the road was barely wide enough for two cars. Luckily, at 1 AM, no other cars were approaching us. Total darkness among the trees. As we turned a corner, the alder trees were an arm's length from me. I could only see the trunks, as the tops were fringed in darkness. The headlights shown on the white trunks. I, again, was a child among the forest of legs. The wonderment of children engulfed me as we silently wound our way through them. I felt I could reach out and touch them to right myself. I miss the women in my life. Silently there to reach down and hold me strong.