Old Friends

I have lived long enough to have lost touch with friends. Moving often has allowed me to leave the past behind quickly and acquire new friends wherever I am. When I was younger I felt much lonliness and wanted friends, although I never seemed to acquire a wide circle of them. Through the years I have realized that I am a loner and my need for friendship was more of a need for self-acceptance than a need for friends. I now choose a few friends carefully and take a long time to know them. I like this about me as I value my alone time, alot.



Recently, Brad and I discussed the lifestyle we have had of pulling up roots every five years or so. We played the game of who do we wish we still had contact with; that we let slip away. Each of us had only one friend from the past we miss. Brad missed an old Coast Guard buddy, I missed a friend from my college days. I have thought of him often and prayed that he was safe.



One evening, using the wonderful vastness of the internet, I found my old friend. 27 years of wondering laid bare on the monitor screen. He is alive, well, and leading a fulfilling life. I took a chance last night and sent him an e-mail. I broke my rule of letting the past lie still. I remind myself that he may no longer want contact and the treasures of our friendship are enough. More than enough. Yet, this reaching out into the unknown, a willingness to be rejected, is new. I know I will accept whatever this action brings me and am gladdened that I do have self-acceptance now and will be fine with the future outcome. I like this quality I have acquired. 27 years ago would have found me taking it personally if a person did not want contact with me. I had not even realised this change within me. I wonder what the next 27 years will bring.

Getting ready for Fun

I leave in a few hours for Ocean Shores on the Washington Coast. I will be traveling with Austin and my Mom and meeting up with my Aunt Mary. Some unstructured time is ahead of me. Instead of trying to find my inner child or inner saint, I am going to search for my inner dog. The one that likes to stick her head out of a moving car and feel the wind on her cheek. The one that can eat and drink on the run, no questions asked about where the food came from. The one that can run on the beach, and sit on the sidewalk. For just a few moments. Then off for a new distraction. I don't plan on meditating.

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?