More about birds

I finally had to clean out and refill my bird feeder. We have been ‘discovered’ by little yellow birds of unknown (to me) pedigree and they have each seemingly enjoyed our ‘offering’ and, presumably, come back for more. I have no idea, of course, how many of the little buggers there have been – vs. how many times the same one comes – and nor do I know how much one little yellow bird eats in a day. But altogether, it seems like the seeds have lasted a long time. I mean, I put the feeder up in mid-April!

So I’m guessing that birds don’t rely on a single source of food, no matter how plentiful it may seem. Rather than gorging at my feeder and then kicking back the rest of the day, these guys must nibble here, nibble there, always working on new possibilities. Which is good to know, because right now the feeder is empty and drying out in the sun, and if any of them came limping in on their last legs, so to speak, they’d be disappointed. Good to know that they aren’t really counting on just me.

This seems like good decision-making to me; leaving me to wonder about the last little quail baby that was hatched on my sister’s porch – one little guy who broke through his shell after all the other excitement was over and came into the world in an already-empty nest. Rather than waiting around, he hopped to it and dashed off by himself to seek his fortune. Bad decision-making there, I’d say.

In the family discussion about the quail eggs, we heard that there was a nest on my brother’s back porch as well. Only in this case, when they put out some seeds and water for him, the little one promptly drowned in the bowl. (I am, possibly, taking 'literature liberties' with this story that I only got second- or third-hand.)

Maybe ‘decision-making’ is too strong a case to make here?

Morning Proceedings

We tried to sleep in yesterday morning. A holiday thing, you know? We’d had plans to take a long drive but when the alarm went off at 8:00 we easily dissuaded ourselves and went back to sleep. It just didn’t last long.

At 8:15 we heard one of our cell phones ringing. Which one? Where? We have those phones that ring a different tune for an ‘unidentified’ number and this was singing away and we couldn’t find it. We assumed it was my phone, because mine is the one we usually use and give the number out for, but it turned out to be Mark’s – which was finally located in his pants pocket. Wrong number.

But we’d gotten all excited about it maybe being the Kentucky realtor (it was an 859 area code) and were anxious to call back or get a message. Very disappointing when we found a hillbilly on the other end of the connection who had no idea where that phone call might have come from.

Back to bed.

Well, Frik and Maddie were having none of that! Frik expects to be fed some canned food as soon as Mark gets up and Mark WAS, technically, UP so… Maddie also thinks mornings should proceed in an orderly fashion – first we do this, then we do this, then we do this…She likes to have a little milk spilled on the counter to lap up and appreciates a thorough head-parts scratching along about the time that happens as well.

Cat duties dispatched, we tried again. But the person in the apartment next door turned on their bathroom fan and the shower. Someone started their car and beeped for someone else to join them. A helicopter flew low over the lake we live right next to. The garbage trucks drove in to do their thing – back-up beepers going and engines roaring as their equipment banged around with the large apartment dumpsters. Good grief.

Frik decided he needed to be under the covers with me and then just purred his little ass off. Maddie got ‘lost’ in the kitchen when she realized that Frik wasn’t with her and started a series of increasingly frantic cries for him. She finally settled on the bed too, between my ankles, and only after ‘smoofing’ me for some time. (Don’t remember what ‘smoofing is? See my posting way back on September 7th.) And after being thus ‘pinned’ by two full-size cats, I got uncomfortable and tried to adjust my position and the cats exploded outward.

“It’s no use” Mark said. I had to agree.

Bellevue Botanical Garden

It rained heavily most of the day yesterday but we finally got a break - and used it to check out the Bellevue Botanical Garden! They have many demonstration gardens, water features, trails and exotic plants - and a hobbit hole besides! Can you see the bee hovering by the white flower stalk?

Awareness

I saw a new bumper sticker the other day, of the kind shaped like the 'cross-over ribbon' that we see all the time for various causes. You know the ones, in various colors depending on the subject: "Support our Troops" (yellow) "Breast Cancer Awareness" (pink) "AIDS" (red.) This one was in a jigsaw pattern of many colors and said "Autism Awareness."

I think we are getting carried away with 'awareness.'

What good is it going to do an autistic child - or his parents - that someone following a car down a street, is 'aware' of autism? If you want to help a cause, donate money to research it, prepare for a career in it, study it, take action about it. But don't carry on about 'awareness' as if that is sufficient. What that is, is superficial. Meaningless. Worse than inaction, because it apparently allows the 'aware' to feel like they've made a contribution when they clearly have not.

As a nation, we already have to be, judging by the bumper stickers I see on the road, as 'aware' as we are ever going to get. Someone, please, show me an instance where that has made a substantial difference. In anything!

Why are we led into this ridiculous self-righteous notion that being 'aware,' or making someone else be 'aware' means we've made an impact on a big issue? (Driving around with a bumper sticker on it that says "Free Tibet" makes as much sense - and as much of a difference for that matter.)

Evidently there is an awareness ribbon specifically for everything: Acid Reflux Disease, Agoraphobia, Amish Support (I don't make this stuff up) and all the way through the alphabet (Chronic Fatigue, Fireworks Safety, Hernia Awareness, Irritable Bowel Syndrome...) to such causes as Water Accident Awareness and, yes, Young Onset Parkinson's Disease Awareness. Go ahead, Google it and see!

I don't get it. But in an effort to, as it were, get it, I did a little research into what these people think they are doing:

A) It's a personal symbol of (pick your favorite) empathy, sympathy, hope, anger...

B) They want to show that there are more people ready to support action into (insert cause here) than are readily identifiable. (Show? To whom?)

C) It serves as a constant reminder of ______.

Sorry. It just doesn't do it for me. If you believe in something, choose to make an actual, measurable impact on it.

Leave 'awareness' to things like broken fingernails and holes in your pants.

Leavenworth

No, not the one with the military prison...

This is Leavenworth, WA - a "Bavarian Village" tourist trap on the other side of the Cascades and our destination today. It was very cheesy. We love cheesy.

Why do we have so much fun with these places? Well, of course, they invariably have a great fudge shop, and in this case a taffy shop as well - both extraordinary. They also have restaurants - here a bunch of German ones featuring such things as pork hocks and sausages and schnitzl and sour kraut. And artsy shops with blown glass, and Bavarian clothing stores (maybe we skipped that one) and tea cups and tiny toy tea services and more tea cups. And, well, lots of stuff, including tea cups.

Leavenworth was a dying timber town in the 60s when it decided to restyle itself for tourism. Being right up against the towering Cascade Mountains, it certainly looked Bavarian - so they redid everything with that theme. Amazing really. (Especially with all the tea cups.)

And the drive there was just as extraordinary - through mountain passes, waterfalls and massive forests. It did rain on us - especially on the way back. It POURED on us, on the drive home.

Good thing we had, er... teacups, in case we'd have needed to bail the car out or something.

(More pictures - for a limited time - on my website - click here.)

'Snowing'

Somewhere in our neighborhood a tree, surely the most ambitious and forward thinking of its species, is spewing its cottony seed for all it's worth. The air all around us has been filled, for days, with white, fluffy 'snow' caught up in eddies and light breezes, swirling around other trees and buildings; quite the most noticeable thing as one looks out a window. It collects in drifts on the rooftops, only to be blown away again with the next movement of air. It's lovely, really. And, um, abundant.

Did I mention that it is EVERYWHERE?

A fantasy life

Our little Maddie kittie is making 'howling' noises and dashing around from room to room. She's running up and down furniture, leaping on and off the bed, rushing behind the door and then back out again. Every so often she stops abruptly, back arched and eyes wide alert. She is imagining she is...

What?

No idea. She has a brain the size of a walnut. What could she possibly be imagining?

Being chased by boogies? Catching birdies? Playing 'string?'

Frik got easily caught up in her enthusiasm and now he is running around too - not really after her, but sort of in a 'parallel play' thing. Actually, I think he may have started it, by getting into a pillow case and batting at the sides in play.

Cats have a great fantasy life. I think it must be good to let go when a hint of energy strikes, and just let it take you where it can. Just to run for the pure joy of it, simply because you can.

Internet Browsing

Mark sent me a link to something he saw and wanted to buy on the internet recently. Playskool has a Mr. Potato Head version of the Star Wars characters, including Artoo Potatoo and Darth Tater. If you haven’t seen these, well… you just have to! Not only are they cute, but the advertising staff has gone around the bend on their copy, with all imaginable references to potatoes and the trouble they can get into. (But does Darth Vader even have teeth?)

OK. So, very cute. But I do have to wonder how Mark found them in the first place. What was he ‘searching’ for that he came across this stuff? Somehow I don’t think he was just browsing through the Playskool site.

Mark is a champion internet shopper. ‘Shop and Click’ is his fallback entertainment, always. He is the best ever customer of Amazon.com – resulting in nearly daily deliveries of books. (We should own stock, but don’t.) He actually HAS his own lightsaber – found on the internet, of course. He also recently picked up a yo-yo habit, from something he read on the internet, no doubt. One time a package that was delivered turned out to be ‘Quick Clot’ stuff, used in war zones to stop otherwise-life-threatening bleeding. Good thing to have around I guess, but I seriously doubt that I’d have ever come across it on the internet myself. Another time he found a black Zippo lighter with a cool design on it that he just had to have – we don’t smoke or otherwise have an actual need for a lighter, but he thought the ‘click’ it makes when you open it was very cool. Other packages on our doorstep have included ‘camouflage’ backpacks, Benny Hill DVD’s, staplers, springs, vacuum cleaner bags, stuffed animals and t-shirts.

I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Mark. Endlessly fascinating, yes. But one of the great Internet Browsers of all time.

Circle of life sort of stuff

My sister in Arizona is reporting progress on the quail's eggs that were laid in her hanging fern pot a month or so ago. It seems they are hatching, and much activity is being observed. (The dog had to stay inside - the likelihood of one of the chicks dropping right into the waiting jaws of Kita is actually quite high!)

It seems that quails make a break for it almost as soon as they hatch. No lolling around in the nest while the patar familia bring juicy worms and such. These chicks pop out of their eggs and hardly have time to adjust their eyes before they are teetering precariously on the edge of - in this case - a clay pot hanging 4 feet above a concrete porch, and spreading their still-wet wings! Off they go! Plop.

Alas.

I sometimes wonder how it all stays going. How improbable are some of these life cycles? These little guys, if they manage that first flight without harm, will spend a few weeks (months, maybe? I really don't know) scrambling along behind their parents in utter terror that they aren't the last one in line to get caught by some quick lizard tongue or swooping hawk. Where will the next bite to eat come from? Where is the nearest shelter from harm? What's good / what's bad in this very fast and dangerous world? I don't really want nature to be as arbitrary as it is - so much trade-off and interdependency.

(If you haven't already read Douglas Adams' book "Last Chance to See" - please rush to the bookstore and get it now. Talk about improbable life cycles!)

I hope these little ones make it. I always hope that.

But at least my sister can water her fern again!

What’s it worth?

Mark saw that Elton John was going to play in Seattle and thought it might be fun to go to the concert.

Now we aren’t big concert goers, tending, as we do, to shy away from crowds. I think the last concert we attended was in Portland when we went to see Blondie, maybe 8 years ago. Not big concert goers at all. But we like to have special things to look forward to and this just seemed like a good idea. Until we saw the prices for tickets.

A single ticket – the lowest possible price and worst imaginable seat in the house – was $176. The best seats in the house were priced at $805. Each.

Are we that ‘out of it’ that we are shocked about this? Is it typical that a single special evening out should cost a couple the equivalent of their monthly mortgage payment, for example?

Would he sing, maybe 12 songs – 15 tops? He has to talk in between sets, of course. Advancing his political agenda or whatever (which, in MY opinion, he should be paying US to listen to but I guess THAT won’t happen.) So we’re talking, in a range here, between $107 and $134 a song for this ‘special’ evening?

Please, someone, tell me this isn’t the way of the world!


P.S. - New pictures from our Recent Excursion are on my website. I'm really going to try to keep it up to date! Well, we'll see...

Movie Come-ons

When I was a kid, we used to be able to successfully pick movies we'd like to see based on subject type. For example, if they were Musicals or Adventures (my dad was a sucker for all things Tarzan, my first boyfriend wanted to see all the James Bond movies) we'd probably like them, but if they were Horror films we probably wouldn't. (Although some of those Tarzan flicks were certainly 'Horrible.') Or we could even be pretty sure that we'd like them based on who was in them - Doris Day, good, Bette Davis, bad; Julie Andrews, good. (Until she made that awful "Americanization of Emily" movie which my parents took us all to see as kids and were mortified that it was so inappropriate for little girls. It even had James Garner in it - should have been just the thing for the family huh? That was sort of the beginning of the end of Movie Confidence.)

These days, critical praise of a movie is almost always a hint to me that I won't like it. I hardly even know any of the current 'stars' so that doesn't provide much attraction either. (Doesn't it seem like EVERYONE today is related to someone from "yesterday" in Hollywood? They deny accusations of rampant nepotism and cronyism and claim, instead, that their tremendous and undeniable talent is inherited. But if you go along with that don't you also have to believe in such things as racial profiling? And I'm sure they don't.)

Anyway, to choose a movie now, I pretty much have to go by the description alone.

And therein lies madness.

We have digital cable and have access to a multitude of movies at any given time. Each listing on the 'Guide' is accompanied by a brief plot description that was obviously written by someone who is unhappy with his job, has a Sense of Humor, or is clueless (or, of course, all three.) Some of this - call it either 'bad writing' or 'perverse humor.' your choice - can be forgiven. For when a Director names his movie "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" he probably deserves to have it described as "Four teens keep in touch by passing along a pair of jeans." Now you may be familiar with this book-turned-movie, and aware of its popularity, but if this was all you had to go on, would you be watching this? I think not.

So today I've taken note of some special gems in the listings. Please don't try to match the description to a movie you may have seen, but just look at the description and make a judgment about whether or not the movie appeals:

"A blind swordsman battles a deadly clan."
"An embattled bureau chief contends with blame."
"An African elder seeks his French military pension" (I don't think these last two are related but they certainly could be.)
"A boy tries to thwart terrorist hijackers"
"Brothers inherit a mansion occupied by a rodent."
"Promoter hires sportswriter to hype boxer for mob."
"Killer cyborg visits 1984 Los Angeles to alter history" (OK - you know that is The Terminator with Arnold Schwarzenegger, but is this the way to hype a big action thriller? Alter history?)
"A Texas Ranger protects cheerleaders who witnessed a murder." (This looks, on first read, to be a porn movie, but it has - of course - Tommy Lee Jones in it, so maybe not.)
"White ad exec, black car-jacker team up for crime." (I can see this as a viable plot...)
"Advice-to-lovelorn writer loves only single girl in town."
"A judge orders a playboy to date her sister as therapy." (Would you believe, a Cary Grant, Shirley Temple thing?)
"Sisters bond when their father becomes ill."
"A hockey star becomes involved with an impoverished mother."
"Milwaukee baker goes to 1920's Hollywood to be the next Valentino." (a baker from Milwaukee?)
"South American family faces turbulent years." (Yawn)

But finally there is one that looks like it would be great:

"A 1930s gumshoe sticks nose into LA land/water mess."

Whidbey Island

Our travels today took us to Whidbey Island to see Deception Pass. I somehow had this notion that there was a state park nearby (besides Deception Pass State Park itself) that had trails and 360 degree views and was a 'must see' that we hadn't, in fact, seen the last time. So we went off in search of it. I actually had directions to a state park that I thought was it - Fort Ebey State Park which, despite being miles away from Deception Pass and in the coastal lowlands, seemed, at the outset, like it might actually be the place... And from here the quest gets a little fuzzy.

Fort Ebey was wonderful, but there really doesn't seem to BE, actually, another park such as the one I was looking for. Did I dream it up? Picture it there when it was really somewhere else?

While that remains a complete mystery, the question of my sanity seems to be clearing up somewhat.

Zoo Success

We made it to the zoo - no rain, no parking problems. Amazing.

They were a little heavy on birds, we thought - but even they are interesting, if not for their plumage as much as their names: Sunda Wrinkled Hornbill, Northern Helmeted Curassow, White-Crested Laughing Thrush, Blyth's Tragopan. Just sort of rolls off the tongue, huh?

Our favorites were the primates and we got some amazing pictures that we are really enjoying looking through this evening. The siamangs were particularly noisy and put on quite a show with their booming antics. Two of them chased each other around and did figure-8 swings around each other, ending their 'dance' with a high-5 gesture. (If you want to see them, go to the Woodland Park Zoo's Photo Gallery and click on Mammals/Primates

(And speaking of pictures, we did, somehow, end up with a 'surprise' picture of a wolf taking a dump that gave us quite a laugh as well - the 'super' zoom on my camera sees more than the naked eye! I really didn't know that was what he was doing at the time.)

Slugs

We went for a long walk last night, in the rain, and spent the whole time dodging slugs on the sidewalk. If you've not spent a lot of time in the northwest, you may not be familiar with these little gems of the insect world. (Wait - are they insects? Grubs? Snails-without-shells? Particularly peculiar worms? I don't really know!) They are brown (or greenish) and long and fat and ugly, and seem to consist mostly of slime. They don't so much crawl, as ooze their way across the sidewalk.

(When I first moved to Alaska I had never even heard of the things, yet by the end of that first year I was 'intimately' familiar with them. I had a garden, you see. Lettuces and such. The sort that have loose leafy parts. Enough said. Slugs on the sidewalk are revolting enough - but in the dinner salad, having somehow escaped the washing part, well... words are insufficient.)

So today we are being slugs ourselves, of a different sort. We can't decide what to do in the rain. We have conflicting theories of the likelihood of a successful acquisition of a parking place at the zoo today - Mark thinks that since nearly everyone who might ever want to go to the zoo was actually there last week, they are surely being 'slugs' THIS week and staying home. Furthermore, all those fair weather zoo-goers wouldn't be tempted by cloudy skies. My theory is that all those people who were wandering around the parking lot with us last week and creating the traffic jams we were in and who were ultimately stymied in their attempt, will have to 'attempt' it again this week if only because a desire to see the zoo isn't something that goes away easily. Slugs or not, these people were denied last week and by golly are not going to be denied again.

Hmmmmm. What'll it be?

Conversing with the non-conversant

I tried to weigh myself this morning with Mark’s high tech scale.

I don’t usually want to know anything about my weight at all, but once in a while I get twinges of guilt about cookie binges and decide I’d better have a reality check. I do have my own scale, somewhere in storage; the kind that you stand on, look down at and read the numbers off of. Simple. To the point. Concise. Mildly inaccurate, in an encouraging sort of way.

Mark’s scale doesn’t actually do anything when you stand on it. You have to bend down and turn it on first. If you do manage to get it turned on, assuming that you’ve actually found the right button, you get beeps beeping and lights flashing.

Then it wants to know if you are Mark.

If not, it invites you to sign in as a guest and tell it your age. It generously wants to provide you with your percent body fat. It seems less interested in weight, but will do that too. Or so it says.

(Good Grief. “Lots” is as accurate a measure of body fat as I want to have, and I can give it to myself every time I try on new jeans. This was supposed to be a selling feature?)

I don’t want to have a conversation with a bathroom scale. I don’t really believe that running a small electrical charge through my feet, as it claims to do, is going to give me information about my overall health – unless to tell me I am gullible and there is a bridge in Brooklyn with my name on it. So if that’s what it wants to talk about, it can find another ‘guest.’

I don’t let my computer talk to me either. If I hit a website with a sound track I get out of it quickly. I don’t want my internet browser telling me ‘good morning’ or my email telling me the infamous “You’ve got mail!” I hate it that my printer wants to tell me that the print job is complete or that ink is running out. (On that topic it has rather a lot to say actually – none of it good.) I turned it off too.

This whole business is what brought us automated answering services instead of people to talk to in doctor's offices for heaven sake!

My sister once had a car that talked to her. Now that I think about it, it might still be in the family somewhere, continuing to regale its driver of tales of gas consumption, doors ajar and engine trouble. In fact, some of the younger generation were fond of trying to get it to reveal its extended vocabulary of trouble statements - but I’m not sure how, actually. Best not to know in that case, I suspect.

Verbal communication is, as it should be, low tech. The most I want to hear from my appliances is a ‘ding’ – to let me know my cookies are done baking!

Visits from Dan

More euphemisms here...

Mark isn’t feeling well and while that is very sad in itself, he not being a very good patient, it always yields some of his best humor. Potty humor, of course. All you readers too delicate for such issues, please avert your eyes.

Diarrhea is a very funny topic for Mark (in between bouts, that is.) According to him, many famous books have been written on this subject. For example: ‘Spots on the Ceiling,’ by Who Flung Dung, or ‘Trails Across the Desert’ by Diarrhea Dan, or possibly someone’s best effort – ‘Twenty Yards to the Outhouse’ by Willie Makkitt and Betty Dont. (You have to read that last one out loud for ‘full effect.’)

Mark thinks there is something about intestinal troubles that compel confession and sharing. Sympathy is expected, of course, but in addition, an audience is needed for the sheer comedic value of the situation. He’ll even offer a pathetic rendition of the little musical ditty “Stranded… on the bathroom bowl. Stranded… without a roll.” (In 4/4 time, with a full 3 beats following the first word please. From the top…)

This is, of course, seriously threatening our long walk this evening. But we might have to forego it in favor of a good laugh and a lot of sympathy.

This is NOT, I am informed, really a laughing matter. But it evidently could be ‘blogged’ about anyway.

Woes and Celebrations

If there has been a single mantra in my life, I'm embarrassed to say, it has probably been something really stupid like “Into each life a little rain must fall.” Oh well. I guess it’s just been my way of telling myself that it isn’t that I deserve trouble – it’s just that trouble happens, and having had it, life will be that much sweeter after it is resolved.

So I am reminding myself of the happier life events that are taking place with the people in my world. My son just got a fabulous job offer to compete with the one he already had - and won't even graduate for months yet. The soon-to-be bride in the family has just found the perfect gown, the nursing student has graduated and landed a great job, a high school student is graduating, a surgery has turned out good results – and, most wondrous of all, a new baby is expected. Several sighs of relief are being exhaled as another college semester comes to an end. Vacationers are enjoying a well-planned trip and others are just planning their summer activities.

It gives me a little perspective. Now is not, evidently, my time. But I can live vicariously for a bit on all those happy happenings.

What prompted this? I know I used to be more interesting. I hope I will be again sometime. I hope this dull spell is temporary and that soon I’ll be doing more than going through the motions and having ‘activities.’

♪ We’re Havin’ a Heat Wave ♪♪

I don’t really feel like singing about it but… we are REALLY having warm temperatures. And I remind you here that it is only May. This is very discouraging, because houses and apartments in Seattle DO NOT have air conditioning. Inexplicable, but there you are.

I don’t do ‘hot’ very well.

My options are being hot at home, or going to the library or mall or someplace, but since I just filled my tank with gas that cost me $3.449 a gallon, I think I should just put the car in storage somewhere safe instead. (Sure wish I had a locking gas tank!)

Maybe singing isn’t a bad idea after all.

Building web pages (again)

I don't know what possesses me to do this stuff. I got hung up yesterday on my web page again, since it wasn't working right (directing me to the wrong pages, wrapping text and then hiding it...) It turned out that if you 'click' just here on the page, instead of there, you will get completely different options popping up on the 'right click' menu. Click inside a box and you can do one group of things, click on the edge of the box and you can do another group, click in the middle of the edge (as opposed to just randomly on the edge) and you can do something else. It was just making me crazy to see something and then not be able to find it again, until I finally realized what was affecting that. Am I just stupid? Or was that actually 'intuitive' as software developers are fond of saying? "Huh!" Mark would say. "Obviously a Microsoft product."

Anyway, I got it done and added a page for pictures of recent day trips so that if I wax eloquent in my blog about a place we visited, you might be able to see more of it - if you are so inclined.

It's ALL about the pictures for me!

Spell Checking

One little piece of information that stuck with me from my years of working with, shall we say, 'developing' writers (high school students) is this: If you are a really bad speller, a word processing program's spellchecker is not your friend.

I was reminded of that when I ran a check on yesterday's blog posting that included the word 'carpooling.' Blogger's spellchecker flagged that as misspelled and suggested changing it to "corpulence." Not really where I was going with my sentence at all.

It also wanted to change 'spellchecker' to 'splices', 'blog' to 'bloc' and, when I purposely misspelled 'sentance,' gave me back a suggestion that the word I wanted might be 'cantankerous.' Really.

I may have discovered a new parlor game.

The Space Needle

We started out yesterday morning with plans to go to the zoo, but never actually made it there. Instead, we spent much of the day in traffic jams and looking for non-existent parking places. In all fairness, the zoo's website did have the cryptic statement "we recommend using public transportation or carpooling to the zoo" which should have given us pause for thought. But we tried anyway. Unfortunately, it would appear that this statement justifies providing only, say, 14 parking places to the general public.

Does recommending carpooling relieve them of the obligation to actually provide a service - parking - while taking public money?

I guess it was a good decision though, from their perspective, just to make a statement, rather than go to the expense of building new parking lots. Much cheaper. Leaves more money for things like elaborate board rooms and donor parties and such. (Similarly, I always think that road caution signs that say things like 'Dip' or 'Rough Road' are simply indicative of some city council's decision to spend money on something other than road repairs. Warning signs are cheaper than filling in pot holes I guess. I'd love to sit in on some of those meetings.)

Anyway, we ended up downtown at the Space Needle instead.

Probably better all around.

Mother's Day

It's hard for me to get sentimental about a "Hallmark" holiday like Mother's Day. But it's very easy for me to get sentimental about mothers and mother/child relationships. Puts me in a bit of a fix.

I adore my mother. I've made enough comments about her here and there that I know that it shows. She just sparkles with humor, is one of the best strategic thinkers I know, and always has an encouraging word when needed. She is one of my favorite people to be around - and I think that says a lot about our relationship. I know I'm fortunate. Mother/Daughter things can be fraught with a lifetime's worth of baggage, but we just don't have any of that. Amazing that she could have built it all that way.

My son, my own 'mother credential' as it were, is an incredible young man and I actually try to take credit for some of that, giving another dimension to the whole issue. (And he writes the nicest Mother's Day Card notes...)

And my husband's mother is one of the very best too - fun to be with, upbeat and positive, an amazing woman. All in all, we've done pretty well in the 'mother' department.

But here it is, Mother's Day, and I spent it yet again apart from my mother and from my son. Alas.

So to all the mothers - and sons and daughters that make them that way - a very sentimental Happy Mother's Day to you!

Extreme Day Tripping

In an effort to get ourselves away from an apartment we don't want to be in, we took a drive today - over 500 miles and 13.5 hours. We took a ferry to Bainbridge Island, drove up the Olympic Peninsula to Hurricane Ridge, went back out to US 101 to Sol Duc Falls for a hike, continued on to Ruby Beach on the far west coast and then drove down 101 until the turnoff to Olympia and back to I-5 to home. I am wiped out!

But, oh the places we saw and the pictures we took...

Personal Web Page

I've hated having a broken link on my blog, but when we left Kentucky we also left the server that the web page was on and it finally got disconnected. But it is back...

I even updated.

It still needs a new concept, but I just don't have one. This will have to do.

Men’s fashion conformity

Mark came home the other day and announced that they’d all agreed that they should wear shorts to work on Friday. Forgive me, but I just burst out laughing. The picture of a bunch of middle-aged geeky engineer-types sitting around making group fashion decisions is just too weird. How do you suppose that came about?

Was there a memo?

This just isn’t the sort of conversation I imagine these guys having at lunch. How did this get started; who started it; what discussion preceded it; was it meant as a joke related to something else – or a joke ON someone else? Mark has previously recounted lunch conversations about Sci Fi movies, Chinese food, laptop computer purchase decisions, funny stories in the Onion, walking sticks, politics, and of course his personal favorite, miscellaneous bodily functions. But where, in that conversational set, does one of these guys suddenly pop up with an enthusiastic “I know – let’s all wear shorts on Friday!”

And have the rest of them agree.

Mark really won’t say how this all happened. He claims he doesn’t really remember…

Putting the 'touch' on

While we were walking in downtown Seattle the other day, a bum came up to a group of us waiting for a green light. "Hey Brother! Do you have 5 bucks to spare?" he said, with hand outstretched.

Five Dollars?

We all looked at each other. Grins all around. "Wow, when did the price go up?" Spare change, yes. We were used to having the touch put on us for spare change on the street, or even for a dollar. We are assaulted at every corner and usually somewhere in between. But even the seasoned Seattle-ites in the group were set back on their heels at this request.

Of course, this is Seattle where you can't just get a cup of coffee for a dime. The home of Starbucks requires some class - a latte or cappuccino at least. Why should they settle for less? Inflation, for heaven sake. The price of gas is way up. The prices of other 'consumer goods' such as every bum on the street needs are certainly way up as well. One has to make ends meet.

The vagaries of luck

Mark always says he used up all his potential good luck in finding me. We don't really care about 'luck' so much any more. But sometimes, in the middle of waves of bad news (real estate hassles, a 20% increase in our apartment rent already, the damage done to our furniture and the necessity to go through an amazing number of hoops to claim on it...) we think that there couldn't be two more unlucky people. But perspective is everything, even in 'luck assessment.'

On Sunday it was supposed to be cloudy and rainy and, indeed, even by mid-morning the sky was completely gray. So we decided to do some 'street walking' in downtown Seattle to see some of the big indoor shopping malls. We are still a little unsure of how to get around in downtown, but we just randomly pick an exit from the freeway, and then try to figure out where to park. Every skyscraper has a parking garage underneath and they seem to wind down forever under huge pillars and improbably low concrete ceilings so they always feel 'risky' to us to even enter. But we found a garage with unusually high clearance, found a parking space just inside the entrance, took the elevator back up and ended up right in the middle of one of the malls we were looking for! And when we emerged onto the street, the clouds had parted and the sun was shining.

Williams Sonoma had just taken some samples of a wonderful peach bundt cake out of the oven and it smelled (and tasted) wonderful! The sunglasses store had a funny and elaborately gay guy who knew a lot about sunglasses and with whom Mark shared lively opinions about designer Michael Kors and the last season of Project Runway. Eddie Bauer actually HAD sunglasses that I could wear - along with some stylish shorts for Mark and a whole crew of salespeople who were willing to jump into the joke and tell Mark, every time he turned around in the store, that the 'short' shorts he wanted to find are hopelessly out of style and the longer ones he was trying on looked fabulous on his great legs. Crate and Barrel had wonderful things to look at, the sun was still shining when we left the mall, the Market had incredibly fragrant lilac cuttings in their flower displays, the cashews were fresh roasted and warm, we didn't have to wait to be seated in our new favorite restaurant on the waterfront and we managed to actually find our garage and car again when we were ready to go home. AND - there was a Sunday special at that garage so parking only cost us $5 instead of $17!

The sun shone all the way home and when we got there we took a nap. By the time we got up it was cloudy and gray again.

Luck? You'd think we could win the lottery.

Nastygrams

We had another disappointment in the Great Real Estate Disaster again yesterday. It was pointed out to us that our house listing on the MLS failed to include the fact that the house sits on over an acre of land - the only reason that people in that area look for a house outside Lexington. So anyone (including any real estate agent) doing a search for possible properties in our area using that as one of their main criteria, wouldn't end up with our house on their list of 'potentials' at all.

No wonder no one is looking at it.

There have been mistakes like that made throughout this frustrating last six months. And we've tried to let our agents know that we are unhappy with their lack of attention to detail. But this last mistake loosed a tirade from both of us about outright incompetence, and I'm afraid we, well, hurled one at them. Directly. A Nastygram, for sure.

Well, not a profanity sort of thing, but certainly angry. We told them right off. (Well, Mark wrote it, bless his heart...)

And now I'm wondering if that was the right thing to do. Do people get the message if the tone is inflammatory? Or do they just dismiss the author as a crackpot off his meds? Did we give them an excuse to ignore their own culpability? This morning we got yet another "I know you're frustrated but..." note back from them. No matter what their mistake - and there have been some doozies - they always insist that it doesn't really make any difference, because the market is so slow.

(All the more reason to 'execute' perfectly, in our opinion. But apparently they don't see it that way.)

I guess that it was clear that they DIDN'T get the message with all my other 'moderate' missives, so the nastygram was probably justified but, since it didn't seem to achieve anything either, I still wonder...

I think it comes down to the question of whether it made us feel better. And I think it did!

Stumped

Every once in a while I am stumped for a blog topic and Mark 'helps' with some suggestions. I rarely act upon those suggestions though, and he is always wounded by my lack of enthusiasm for them.

Today, for example, he thought I should write about 'tabs on shoes.' Athletic shoes, particularly. You know - those 'tongues' that stick up above the tie of the laces and then get caught up in the bottom of your pants and end up making you look like a dork.

What else can one say about 'tabs' that hasn't already been said? I've already identified them, given an example, described their offense, and 'dramatized' the resulting end state - dorkiness. What else is there? I can't very well make up a story about them. I haven't, my own self, been traumatized by them, although I could say with some reliability that I do at least avoid buying shoes that are made with excessive tabs.

But really. 'Tabs' do not an engaging topic make. Sorry dear.

300

(Another posting for my record keeping - which I'm not really sure why I am "keeping" but seem to have the compulsion to do so anyway... Please disregard.)

300th posting, 4067 hits, 272 comments, 10 months of archives.

Home again, home again

Was anyone taking bets on whether my flight home would go off without a hitch given my previous statements about my very poor record on airline travel?

I barely made the original flight out of Tucson, having heeded local advice about how slow the Tucson airport is and instead finding umpteen flights trying to leave from there all at once. But, in fairness, I did get on board 'in the nick' as it were. But then in Albuquerque our plane was broken and they were sending for another one until they were informed by several nearly hysterical passengers that they, the passengers, needed to be in Seattle to catch a cruise ship's 4pm sailing. Since a mechanical problem is the airline's responsibility, and considering a cruise fare liability, Southwest Airlines made a business decision, presumably, and emptied another plane that was full of other hopeful travelers, and loaded us onto it. Off we went. Boy were those other folks unhappy!

Anyway, I finally got here...

And though I didn't take many pictures while I was there, I'll leave you with this one:

Morning people

I'm going home tomorrow, on a 6:30am flight. Even with the relatively crowd-free Tucson airport that means getting up around 4am. I am not a morning person; I've never really seen the point. Sunrises aren't all that great. I don't even drink coffee.

But it got me thinking about "morning" people. Why do they always act so smug about their early-rising habits, as if waking up before first light is a sign of being a Better Person somehow. Is it a character flaw to actually get some sleep? You don't see the rest of us carrying on about how they could possibly be such duds as to have nothing to do in the evening but get to bed by 8:30 (which seems like such a waste to me, but just a waste, not a moral issue.)

Uh oh. Am I 'carrying on?'

I have to get up tomorrow at 4. It will ruin my day.

Automated answering systems

We've had quite a hassle over the last two days trying to get a prescription refilled. The pharmacy got no response when they tried to reach the doctor for authorization, so my mother had to try to reach them - with seemingly no result. The problem? One of those awful automated answering systems that never, ever, lets you reach an actual person.

This one at least would allow you to leave a message. But then no one ever called back. I've been stuck in some systems that won't even let you do that. You can never even THINK that you've actually contacted someone who could help you. I'm not sure which is worse - having the false sense that you've left a message and should get a response but don't, or having no hope at all!

I'd love to have been in one of those administrative meetings in which the business or professional office made the decision to use an automated system - and decided what the choices would be for clients calling that system. I would really be interested in how some office worker, whose job it was to be the office connection to the outside world, justified cutting that contact off by, literally, 100%. What perverse reasoning would have been offered to get someone to approve that? A business office in which 'customers' are NEVER able to talk to an actual person? How does that work?

I know how it ought to work. We should all find another service provider. But then how would we ever let the former one know that we've left them?