First of all, I've added another link to a really funny site, especially if you like catty women. And the stuff they find is amazing. Amazingly awful! It's a whole new definition of fu'ugly.
My posts for a while will probably be a bit short. Typing really hurts my hand, and I need to rest it, so I'm going to be typing very little for a while. But I'm still looking for photos to add to the gallery, so if you have anything, don't hesitate to send them along!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
02/19/06 Sunday Drives
Not long ago, Lillian and I went out, driving around, just looking, exploring the area. It's one of my favorite activities, and I really wish that gas prices were low enough to allow us to do it more often, even though I know it's bad for the environment.
I find myself looking out at the trees, and with very little effort I can see how the land looked before we got here and put up housing developments and strip malls. It's so easy to see how someone rode up over a hill and saw water sparkling in the distance, the mountains covered with snow, Ranier shining in pinks and oranges as the sun sets. It's really beautiful up here, and it's still fairly exotic to me, having grown up in the desert.
And berries! Berry picking is quite the thing here. There are whole farms where you can pick your own, and blackberries grow wild. In fact, they're considered a nuisance, and if you doubt me, you should ask Lillian about them, especially during the summer when she has to hack her way through them. My girl wields a mean machete! And my co-worker, Tammy, makes jam to die for.
There are all kinds of berries up here I'd never heard of, and it's been tons of fun trying them. Lingonberries, loganberries, marionberries, tayberries. We had an unfortunate run-in with a wild loganberry pie last summer, and we've become addicted to tayberry jam.
And there are lavender farms up here. There's even a lavender festival, and one of our customers brought me lavender candy from it, since she knows I love the stuff (and apparently I'm in a serious minority here, but that's fine, more for me), and the smells are amazing.
So, one of these Sundays in the not-too-distant future, I'm looking forward to another trip through the countryside, seeing what we see. I'll take pictures, I promise!
I find myself looking out at the trees, and with very little effort I can see how the land looked before we got here and put up housing developments and strip malls. It's so easy to see how someone rode up over a hill and saw water sparkling in the distance, the mountains covered with snow, Ranier shining in pinks and oranges as the sun sets. It's really beautiful up here, and it's still fairly exotic to me, having grown up in the desert.
And berries! Berry picking is quite the thing here. There are whole farms where you can pick your own, and blackberries grow wild. In fact, they're considered a nuisance, and if you doubt me, you should ask Lillian about them, especially during the summer when she has to hack her way through them. My girl wields a mean machete! And my co-worker, Tammy, makes jam to die for.
There are all kinds of berries up here I'd never heard of, and it's been tons of fun trying them. Lingonberries, loganberries, marionberries, tayberries. We had an unfortunate run-in with a wild loganberry pie last summer, and we've become addicted to tayberry jam.
And there are lavender farms up here. There's even a lavender festival, and one of our customers brought me lavender candy from it, since she knows I love the stuff (and apparently I'm in a serious minority here, but that's fine, more for me), and the smells are amazing.
So, one of these Sundays in the not-too-distant future, I'm looking forward to another trip through the countryside, seeing what we see. I'll take pictures, I promise!
02/18/06 Medical Weirdness
Okay, on Monday I fell and sprained my hand, and on Friday I went to the doc, who pushed and prodded and generally made my sore paw ache even more. We see naturopaths, so they try to come up with more natural remedies and that's fine. Still, we've reached an odd moment in physical therapy.
I have a cream, and I have some pills, all designed to help reduce the swelling, reduce the pain and generally make things work right again. But the therapy is "contrasting hydro-therapy", which is a fancy way of saying water torture. Well, torture may be overstating it, but it's decidedly odd and un-fun. I heat a pan full of water to as hot as I can stand it, and no cheating - it has to be hot, then put my hand in, preferably gently swirling, for three minutes. Then I take my hand out and put it under icy water for 30 seconds. Then I do it twice more.
I understand why I'm doing it, opening the blood vessels and whatnot up to release the toxins and then constricting them to push them out. I get it, I do. But there are some odd issues that go with it. First of all, it feels like my fingernails are coming loose. And the tingling feels like that pins-and-needles feeling you get when your hand falls asleep, and it happens both when my hand goes into the hot and into the cold water. Then too, remember what happens when water runs over your fingers sometimes? Yeah, part-way through the process, I have seriously got to pee!
So, there I am, standing over a hot stove with my hand in the pot! It's wildly surreal. Aren't we told not to do that as kids? And for good reason! I'm glad there aren't any small people watching me.
Fortunately for me, the stove is right by the fridge, and we do have magnetic poetry, so I'll be playing with that over the next week. Fortunately for you, I won't be copying down what I write there. And while the grocery list is close at hand, I can't really write with my left hand so all the strange things that I think of won't make it onto the list, and the shock of the cold water tends to drive frivolous thoughts out of my head. But it's entirely possible that my vocabulary might expand.
And this had better work! As I said, my doc is a naturopath, and if the swelling doesn't go down this way, you KNOW what's next!
Leeches.
I have a cream, and I have some pills, all designed to help reduce the swelling, reduce the pain and generally make things work right again. But the therapy is "contrasting hydro-therapy", which is a fancy way of saying water torture. Well, torture may be overstating it, but it's decidedly odd and un-fun. I heat a pan full of water to as hot as I can stand it, and no cheating - it has to be hot, then put my hand in, preferably gently swirling, for three minutes. Then I take my hand out and put it under icy water for 30 seconds. Then I do it twice more.
I understand why I'm doing it, opening the blood vessels and whatnot up to release the toxins and then constricting them to push them out. I get it, I do. But there are some odd issues that go with it. First of all, it feels like my fingernails are coming loose. And the tingling feels like that pins-and-needles feeling you get when your hand falls asleep, and it happens both when my hand goes into the hot and into the cold water. Then too, remember what happens when water runs over your fingers sometimes? Yeah, part-way through the process, I have seriously got to pee!
So, there I am, standing over a hot stove with my hand in the pot! It's wildly surreal. Aren't we told not to do that as kids? And for good reason! I'm glad there aren't any small people watching me.
Fortunately for me, the stove is right by the fridge, and we do have magnetic poetry, so I'll be playing with that over the next week. Fortunately for you, I won't be copying down what I write there. And while the grocery list is close at hand, I can't really write with my left hand so all the strange things that I think of won't make it onto the list, and the shock of the cold water tends to drive frivolous thoughts out of my head. But it's entirely possible that my vocabulary might expand.
And this had better work! As I said, my doc is a naturopath, and if the swelling doesn't go down this way, you KNOW what's next!
Leeches.
02/17/06 Another Link
"Faster than Kudzu" (over in the Fun Links section) is Joshilyn Jackson's blog. Joshilyn is a southern author with a totally whacked-out sense of humor. I loved her first novel, gods in Alabama, and she generously let us at SMB read the manuscript for her upcoming novel, Between Georgia. But she won us over with her zany emails, and if you need a good giggle, read through her blog here. She's truly our Peach!
02/16/06 Public Restrooms
Okay, we need them. I'm not denying that.
But let's talk about etiquette, shall we? The restroom in our part of the building serves less than a dozen of us (depending on how many people the hair ladies have in and how many of them have to go potty), and I have no idea what the guys' restroom is like, but generally ours is clean. However.
What does it take to NOT pee on the toilet seat? If you're a girl? Please?
Sheesh.
Of course I can wipe off the seat, and I did. At least I didn't have to deal with the cell phone lady. One of the customers from the hair ladies came into the restroom when my co-worker was in there a while back, and she was chatting on her phone the entire time. It's a small room and everything echoes, and tinkling is...well, it was difficult, I understand. But cell phone etiquette is another matter. Just suffice it to say that there's nothing you need to say in a public bathroom on your phone.
But I was impressed with the reception she was getting. There is that.
There's a porta-potty (privs in the Outlands, biffies up here) just outside our shop - there's been a lot of construction going on - and I was vaguely amused to catch a guy peeing next to it. I shrugged and walked on, he zipped up and sauntered off, and I wondered just how nasty it was in there. Those of us in the SCA are used to porta-potties, but there are some that just don't get the attention they should, so I do kinda understand why he was whizzing in the alley. Or maybe he just had to go...but no. It was kind of a statement. I guess that's why the apartments in that building are so cheap. Well, that and they're about the size of your average hotel closet.
We have a new transit center for the buses, and it's really spiffy, bright and shiny new. When I was at the old center, one of the workers pointed out that the new center would have public restrooms. I smiled and nodded, and I'm glad, I really am! The cases that hold the bikes in the old station really smell like urine when it gets warm, so having public restrooms will be good. But...I'm not gonna use them. Nope. The transit center's close enough to home, and they scare me. If I've really gotta go, well, Wendys is nearby.
So, yay for public restrooms! But I'd still rather be home, y'know?
But let's talk about etiquette, shall we? The restroom in our part of the building serves less than a dozen of us (depending on how many people the hair ladies have in and how many of them have to go potty), and I have no idea what the guys' restroom is like, but generally ours is clean. However.
What does it take to NOT pee on the toilet seat? If you're a girl? Please?
Sheesh.
Of course I can wipe off the seat, and I did. At least I didn't have to deal with the cell phone lady. One of the customers from the hair ladies came into the restroom when my co-worker was in there a while back, and she was chatting on her phone the entire time. It's a small room and everything echoes, and tinkling is...well, it was difficult, I understand. But cell phone etiquette is another matter. Just suffice it to say that there's nothing you need to say in a public bathroom on your phone.
But I was impressed with the reception she was getting. There is that.
There's a porta-potty (privs in the Outlands, biffies up here) just outside our shop - there's been a lot of construction going on - and I was vaguely amused to catch a guy peeing next to it. I shrugged and walked on, he zipped up and sauntered off, and I wondered just how nasty it was in there. Those of us in the SCA are used to porta-potties, but there are some that just don't get the attention they should, so I do kinda understand why he was whizzing in the alley. Or maybe he just had to go...but no. It was kind of a statement. I guess that's why the apartments in that building are so cheap. Well, that and they're about the size of your average hotel closet.
We have a new transit center for the buses, and it's really spiffy, bright and shiny new. When I was at the old center, one of the workers pointed out that the new center would have public restrooms. I smiled and nodded, and I'm glad, I really am! The cases that hold the bikes in the old station really smell like urine when it gets warm, so having public restrooms will be good. But...I'm not gonna use them. Nope. The transit center's close enough to home, and they scare me. If I've really gotta go, well, Wendys is nearby.
So, yay for public restrooms! But I'd still rather be home, y'know?
02/15/06 Architecture
I like looking at buildings. I've always loved to look at cool houses and neat buildings. Lou and Ty and I used to go to the Parade of Homes and decide which houses we'd like to live in best. Of course one of the most memorable events on one of those tours wasn't the beautiful designs but the fact that Lou let Ty drive that awful white van of hers. Ohmygod.
However, here in Seattle, I find myself looking at the buildings downtown when I walk from the bus to the shop, or when I'm out running errands. There are some wonderful new buildings, all shimmering, watery glass in curving and geometrical shapes that just draw the eye. There's this great waterfall-type fountain on Fourth that I love walking past, 'cause the sound is soothing, and it's nice to watch the whitewater rushing down the sides. The huge glass case on the corner by that incredibly tall black BoA building has a series of slowly twirling glass discs that catch the light. It's either beautiful or blinding, depending.
But mostly I like the older stuff. The old brick and stone. There are some amazing small decorative embellishments and friezes on the buildings downtown. When I sit on the little wall outside the salad shop waiting for my bus, I'm always looking for details that I might have missed. There's a small alley between the building I work in and the one next door that reminds me of London, around the law school, if I remember right. Oh my, it takes me back, especially when it's cold and you've got that smell of damp chill and diesel and hot food.
However, here in Seattle, I find myself looking at the buildings downtown when I walk from the bus to the shop, or when I'm out running errands. There are some wonderful new buildings, all shimmering, watery glass in curving and geometrical shapes that just draw the eye. There's this great waterfall-type fountain on Fourth that I love walking past, 'cause the sound is soothing, and it's nice to watch the whitewater rushing down the sides. The huge glass case on the corner by that incredibly tall black BoA building has a series of slowly twirling glass discs that catch the light. It's either beautiful or blinding, depending.
But mostly I like the older stuff. The old brick and stone. There are some amazing small decorative embellishments and friezes on the buildings downtown. When I sit on the little wall outside the salad shop waiting for my bus, I'm always looking for details that I might have missed. There's a small alley between the building I work in and the one next door that reminds me of London, around the law school, if I remember right. Oh my, it takes me back, especially when it's cold and you've got that smell of damp chill and diesel and hot food.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
02/14/06 Getting Older
What, you thought I'd talk about Valentine's Day?
Last night I stumbled while I was trying to sit down and fell, wickedly thumping my right hand. I didn't break my little finger, but it's still unpleasant. And I can feel it all up my forearm, and my ankle's tender, and I'm grateful that I didn't throw out my back, especially since I tripped today at work and toppled over.
Let's not laugh at the slapstick turn my life is taking right now, shall we? Well, okay, maybe a little. But it occurs to me that as a youngster, I'd shake off this kind of stuff without a thought. Hell, I even managed to hide the slight damage that happened when my horse fell on me. But now...now every little thing aches.
And I protest, darn it!
I'm almost 50. I've finally learned that I'm not invincible, with or without tequila, and that bran muffins are good, and that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to because it's the right thing to do. So can't I at least be clumsy without feeling more than just silly? But no, oh no. Silly and in pain.
But then life is a little odd sometimes. I told a telemarketer today at work that we didn't want her services, and after questioning whether or not I was authorized to make those kinds of decisions (I am, we all are, they just piss my boss off), she later called back to tell me that I hurt her feelings.
Honestly, sometimes I think my life is just surreal.
Okay, I'm gonna go check the fire. It's supposed to get cold tonight (no snow for us but it happened at the other end of Seattle, so some kids got snow days), and the fireplace offsets those pesky heating bills. But I'm gonna be careful. With my current track record, I'll bop myself in the nose with the wood when I put it into the stove. Wish me luck!
Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day. Or Happy Un-Valentine's Day. Whichever.
Last night I stumbled while I was trying to sit down and fell, wickedly thumping my right hand. I didn't break my little finger, but it's still unpleasant. And I can feel it all up my forearm, and my ankle's tender, and I'm grateful that I didn't throw out my back, especially since I tripped today at work and toppled over.
Let's not laugh at the slapstick turn my life is taking right now, shall we? Well, okay, maybe a little. But it occurs to me that as a youngster, I'd shake off this kind of stuff without a thought. Hell, I even managed to hide the slight damage that happened when my horse fell on me. But now...now every little thing aches.
And I protest, darn it!
I'm almost 50. I've finally learned that I'm not invincible, with or without tequila, and that bran muffins are good, and that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to because it's the right thing to do. So can't I at least be clumsy without feeling more than just silly? But no, oh no. Silly and in pain.
But then life is a little odd sometimes. I told a telemarketer today at work that we didn't want her services, and after questioning whether or not I was authorized to make those kinds of decisions (I am, we all are, they just piss my boss off), she later called back to tell me that I hurt her feelings.
Honestly, sometimes I think my life is just surreal.
Okay, I'm gonna go check the fire. It's supposed to get cold tonight (no snow for us but it happened at the other end of Seattle, so some kids got snow days), and the fireplace offsets those pesky heating bills. But I'm gonna be careful. With my current track record, I'll bop myself in the nose with the wood when I put it into the stove. Wish me luck!
Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day. Or Happy Un-Valentine's Day. Whichever.
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