Again. Drawing class. It was last night. Week one missed both nights. Cringe worthy.
Did other things like pulled all the couch covers and put them through the laundry. Surprised when I put them back on and they hadn’t shrunk and the zippers didn’t break. The for certain test of my mental state is pulling back the couch cushions. No mushed food, legos, xbox controllers, watches, flashlights or batteries.
It was really nice drawing at the park, must have gotten some of that out of my system. I’m positive just that little bit of drawing increased my productivity in other ways. Watched lots of video docs on my favorite artists. Much less expensive and boring than sitting in a lecture on art history. Not once in art school was there mention of the use of curved lenses and mirrors in 1420 to create full color photographic projections that were traced for portraits. (they cheated. paint by numbers, that’s all it is.) Knowing that, it’s interesting to hear the art professors that don’t know, drone on about the work of that period.
This drawing thing was supposed to be a 5 week study. Now it’s a 4 week study. No pressure. None at all.
When she’s happy she flattens out like a pancake.
We love you and didn’t forget!
Found the Vashon Island Papers given to me June 30, 1997 & July 3, 1997 in Burton @ Cafe Nautica. He’s written notes all over a series of papers and such beautiful handwriting, notes from 1920 and three signed maps that he made, copies yet signed them. A colorful senior, bent way over carrying a walking stick and backpack.
One of them is titled: The Lost World of Maury-Vashon Isles Indian Historical Map. It is this map he made with little boxes around the border with stories and coded to locations on Vashon-Maury. There are a total of 25 notations.
ie: 1. Glacier Recedes Indians en Isle Enjoy Paradise 11,000 B.C. (now the ferry dock, south end.)
2. Spirit Lake Maiden Angry Devil Monster Underground Many Moons Ago. (@ Lost Lake today)
3. Snake People Attack Sawababc Swiftwater Kwilut Village. #3 is located where Dockton Park is today.
8. Remains of Longhouse Isle Chief (frontbeach), Now Governor’s Mansion.
The other is a small map but large hand printed document titled: The Attack of the Snakes. Related by Charles Sotai’akum. Born 1835 Cedar River Duwamish Indian. The Interpreter James Goudy, a Snohomishi-Skagit Indian. Recorded by Arthur C. Ballard. Born 1876 Died 1962 Auburn. Noted are The Indian file at the Vashon Library and it looks like the word Anthropology @ UW. (My short version: The Snake People were a tribe of shapeshifters, from the then Indian village now named Des Moines. Canoed over with Lizard Woman who landed stern first and all the snakes slithered out of the canoe, asked for directions and wiped out a village leaving only one crying woman and her peeps. The crying woman knew that snake the swiftwater man killed was actually a prince and she was the only one who felt bad so they let her live. )
Oh lovely, what a surprise. That house that we lived in on the spit between Vashon/Maury was a burial ground. It says: Burial Grounds. Canoes Suspended Aloft In Madrona Grove. We rented it for a year, didn’t stay long., it was um, active. Moved over to Dockton, to another spot on this map where there was a small pox epidemic, first in 1830 & again 1884. Again we didn’t stay long, great views, both places, really cheap rent, lol.
*first avenue main stage 90’s, if only he had a venue like that here.
(just getting started, finished looks much different, hours later it has three gold, blue and pink fish and when completed was given to the owner of The Defiant Goldfish restaurant. the photos were taken by beauty blogger, Amanda Gligorea. Thank you Amanda, these are the only photos, we didn’t bring a camera, grateful and appreciative for the moment you captured and shared with us to keep. that was very lovely of you!)
Spent the day drawing goldfish with little man and papa bear. We watched a turtle sunbathing on a rock. Beautiful dragonfly’s and baby geese. Wanted to spend more time in the rose gardens. Will have to go back and visit again soon.
Left the park to smoke and met a new friend. We smoked a bowl and watched a you tube lecture that his son gave at NASA last week. We just set his phone up like a tv on my back pack. Awesome to have shared that happy dad moment with him. It was the third video in a series and he hadn’t seen that one yet. Very cool. We really are STARDUST.
This is our second year at Pt Defiance Park, it is our new favorite thing, we’ll definately be back year after year. It’s very nice and old fashioned to passenger ferry it over there, only takes a few minutes. We used to visit Orcas Island on Solstice, 4 hours each way, min. We did that for a decade. Our favorite year was when we brought RJ. Every year the hardware store up there throws a beautiful party. They have tents full of art supplies for the kids. We have a collection of garden art the kids have made through the years. LIttle concrete blocks with seashells and marbles and beachglass. That and they have a big race track for remote controlled cars and the big contest. Every year my middle son entered the contest and always the boys on Orcas won, hometown advantage. Until we brought RJ…
It was being alive and a ghost. My family was downward spiraling. I was haunting them. My eyes were open watching a living nightmare and when I spoke my sentences were backwards. 15 minutes may have felt like 5 hours or 5 hours feeling like 15 minutes. Time went vertigo. I don’t remember the first or second year post concussion, just that for for three years, when asked my daughters age, I answered, 11. The age she was before the car crash.
The only person who understood the time issue was my friend Lisa, who had survived a stroke. She said she would go to make a phone call and after dialing she would hear the stutter tone, because she was pausing for so long between the numbers while dialing and didn’t realize how long it was taking her. The stroke occured just after she received her acceptance letter to grad school, library sciences. She was born with a hole in her heart that wasn’t discovered until several years after the stroke, she then had to under go open heart surgery. The night of the stroke, her boyfriend got her to the er within the “20 minute window” and that hospital just so happened to studying a new stroke medicine.
A strong woman she has made a full recovery. There were those middle years though, between the stroke and the heart surgery. “Limbo” years, she lived here for a couple of those years. She slept a lot, so much we really didn’t understand. We suspected she was depressed, we thought maybe it was the stroke. We didn’t question it, we just supported her recovery. She read a book a day. She kept her mind very busy doing that. Looking back on those years I could kick myself for not seeing if there was more we could have done about depression. Of course we didn’t know. She pulled through, but what it must have been like.
“In the wake of Sunday’s police killing of Charleena Lyles, an African-American mother who called the police for assistance and ended up dead, the idea of the Jewish Federation carrying through this award is especially appalling,” reads the petition. “The argument that the Police Department may work with the Jewish community effectively on other matters is, at this point, completely overshadowed by the police killing in our community of yet another Black person.”
Listened to the audio released by the SPD on Charleena Lyles. 100 pound loving and protective, pregnant mother of several children who called the police because someone stole one of her kids XBOX. They complain all the way up to the door, with absolute malicious intention and within ten minutes, BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM, so many shots fired in such rapid order I couldn’t count them fast enough. And her kids were home, right? Right. They knew that walking in.
Have to ask where they find these guys. They could not possibly have made themselves appear any less than hulking racist cowardly murdering idiots. The only possible way to make them look worse is to show the body cam footage. Where is it.
I mean after John T , in two minutes notice the woman walking across the street. She hears and sees it and cries out… Did you just shoot him? He didn’t even do anything! The murderer screams at her, Mam, he wouldn’t drop the knife… What an idiot. First of all the man was hearing impaired, secondly he was a well loved Native Totem Pole Carver! And after all the investigations, the justice dept, the SPD trying to sue the feds over the recommendations and the new imposed rules, regs, training. All for nothing it seems. Like trying to teach a pig how to sing.
Reminds me of Jesse James Mish, out here on the island. Jesse was mentally unstable and they shot at him over 15 times and missing every single shot. Oh they were angry, went on a man hunt, sent helicopters. Jesse wasn’t armed. Jesse was upset that he owed Sandy $30.00 and was trying to buck up firewood into his pick up to pay her. That’s all. Oh the police were so angry. Why? Jesse lived, he was lucky. A well loved high school wrestling champ. The cop went absolutely nuts when Jesse backed his little pick up into the squad car. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM, repeat 15 times.
I cried last night talking with Jon, honey, they would shoot me also for depression and post concussion, right in front of our kids. They would, without a doubt, and honey you know it. We were instructed to call the fire dept and flag the house for asthma and mental health, so an aid car would be sent instead of hot head cops they send to the island to cool off. I’ve suffered psychosis, after RJ died, I thought he was in the house with me. I was even talking to him in front of people. I was like, he’s right there, hiding in the pantry, can’t you see him? Ohhh, you can’t see him, because that’s not him, because he died. I needed meds, I recovered.
It’s like when Leah and I were at this gas station and this woman was having a melt down and with good reason. The attendant was like, GTFO, I’m calling the cops. I looked at the attendant and said, Ok, you gotta do what you gotta do, but please, she’s obviously not dangerous, please call an aid car instead so they don’t shoot her in your store.
I’m just glad Evergreen State didn’t allow the police onto the campus during the student protests, no matter how ugly. Didn’t like the behaviors and the bullying of the professor but THANK GOD the president of the school stayed cool.
He crashed his bike when he was 16 and he wasn’t wearing a bike helmet. He sustained massive head trauma, one of his eyes was knocked from the socket and hanging by a string all night long.
Because it happened in the middle of nowhere it took a series of first responders, aid cars, hospitals until he was finally airlifted to a proper trauma center that could actually treat his injuries. Everyone knows that timely treatment can affect years of following recovery. This was treatment that he never received. Saved his life, but gave him no assistance in how to live it.
It’s been ten years. One would never know what happened by just a glance. Especially if he smiles.
Most of everything I’ve journaled about in my recovery from post concussion syndrome is for him. He was here last September and just recently went back to the midwest.
Was fortunate to spend as much time as I could counseling him as much as possible on how I manage life post concussion.
Something I hadn’t sat down and discussed with either Austin Franks or RJ. Who knows how many concussions either of them sustained after Lacrosse, Skateboarding and Snowboarding. I did sit with both of them and shared about my concussion and how much it changed me and especially RJ saw it. What I didn’t realize was that all of us were also struggling with depression as a subset. Within a year or so of eachother, both Austin and Rj shot themselves.
As for me, there were several prior concussions. Once when I was little I accidentally pulled a heavy jar off the top of the fridge and it landed directly on top of my head and I remember feeling violently nauseaous. No one knew back then. Fell forward ice skating on a lake while my dad was ice fishing. What an ordeal getting back to the shanty and then not mentioning it to him. Again when I dumped my little bike with those banana handle bars. Hit the front of my head on a bolt in the center of the handle bars and woke in a ditch who knows how many hours later. So that’s three concussions by age eight.
Fast forward to age 21, a horrible car accident with my hearing impaired room mate and my baby in the back seat. We drove to visit April’s parents in South Bend and on the return there was a blizzard. While driving over a large bridge that spanned a river, we hit black ice and were spun and flipped over the rail. We rolled many times down the embankment and landed upside down on the shore. The baby in the back seat is the now grown son, who crashed his bike. We had only been on the road a few minutes after this long break. We stopped for coffee and gas, changed the baby, fed the baby. I remember walking around the car kicking ice off all the lights, turn signals, etc. At the time I had the safest car seat available and it was rear facing and he was strapped in correctly and didn’t sustain even a scratch. As for me I was completely knocked out. i remember hearing the earth rush by my head and understanding i had not rolled down the window and accepting that half of my body was out the window and believing the car was landing on my back, crushing it and not being afraid that i was a dead woman. I remember a flash of light and then darkness and then hearing a baby crying in the distance and then a while before I realized it was my baby, not in the distance, not thrown from the car. When I was able to open my eyes, April was trying to kick out the windshield and I was hitting her chest to make her stop because I saw the water line and the car was rocking. I remember being so disoriented that I thought I was facing the back seat. Still not understanding that we were upside down, until I released my seat belt. Again, had no idea about post concussion, I was so young I bounced back. That was the fourth concussion which brings me to the crash in 2010, that one wasn’t the worst of them per say, but it was the definitive straw that broke the camel’s back.
We talked about counseling, meds and anger management, that alcohol consumption with TBI is an absolute death sentence. Everything I wished I had spoke to Austin and RJ about. Now I have to let it go.
ps… and that crash, outside of South Bend. April and I somehow got out of the car and flipped it back over and the roof was collapsed to the steering wheel, the windows were crushed, the doors were crushed, the tires had all popped off the rims from the force of rolling and bouncing. somehow i crawled into the car and got the baby out of his car seat and tossed him over my back to April, who caught him. Then we climbed back to the road and I went out onto the highway to wave a car down. no one would stop. of course i was covered in blood and had to wipe it from my eyes to see. i remember screaming at April, forgetting how to use sign language and she full on slapped me across the face, which did help. a semi did stop after a while, he heard radio warnings that others had sent over cb radio. so the driver was looking for us. he took the baby into the cab and brought out blankets for us and called the highway patrol. we were in the middle of nowhere. the first responders were in a chevette that drove us for an hour to meet an ambulance for another long drive to er. no one talked about concussion. it was about xrays. i know i was still in shock. my sternum was busted up and my collar bone, to get the xray after no luck, a hard core frau cow said, “I’ll teach these er nurses how to take an xray!” she sat on top of me and pulled my wrists on the count of three. screamed and passed out. that’s what it was like back then. when i woke, there were my parents. we had to go back to the car to retrieve the car seat. everything else was gone, the highway patrol said there were high winds on the bridge because of the river and the only reason we all survived was that we were wearing our seatbelts. i remember my mom wanted to go over to see the car and my dad wouldn’t let her. better that way.
pps… the crash in 2010. it took a long time to figure out what was wrong with me. this time i had hit the side of my head. there were different issues like vertigo and backward sentences. i didn’t get it until i was with Amma. prior to that year i had loved being a prasad assistant and keeping time on the stage with all the devotees. it was my happiest time on the planet. in 2010 i went up to assist with prasad and my eyes were picking up on visual cues but my body was in slow motion and wasn’t listening to me like this strange paralysis and it wasn’t like me at all, Amma turned and looked at me, i looked back and another devotee helped me with it and i turned and left. that’s when i knew something was really wrong and would require a lot of occupational therapy. That particular seva, Prasad Assistant requires a certain skill set, especially timing, and I’m still out of the loop. One look like that from Amma, that she would have to look to see who i was and what was wrong with me. Oh that was sad, very sad. haven’t been back.
Wow. So I’m just really lazy. Negative attitude.
Just look at her legs. She is in such great shape.
That is something to see. This is inspiration.
Actually have everything listed. Except the books, but I’m very happy to have reviewed them and put them on my wish list. The obstacles: I’m tired. How I could sleep so much and wake tired and in pain is some question. Waking in pain is tiring, so there. Slipped into old age. I used to be so physically strong. Now when I stretch my arms, it feels like they are being torn from my sockets. Screaming pain. Doubt I will ever grind a winch again. It’s from all the sleeping. There is some anxiety that people will speak to me and I will be under some obligation to answer. Need to conserve brain energy for lifting pencil. That spot about being politely anti-social. So many fake artists, so little time. I like painters who make their own temperas and sometimes taste the colors. I don’t want to lug all this crap around. Already the board with paper is heavy. First class, bringing a tiny tin with charcoal bits and a pencil, an eraser and one sketch book, 8.5 X 11.
|Magrath Drawing course – student materials|
|Course Materials; please have by first day of class|
|18×24” drawing pad. Medium weight with good tooth – “Layout Bond” or “Biggie Sketch”|
|Vine Charcoal, Willow sticks – thin, soft. One box., min 10 sticks|
|soft Chamois best, alt – small bit of rag…a bit of old tee shirt will work|
|(Note, can buy chamois at an auto parts store, much cheaper than at art store!)|
|Cheap Portfolio (for carrying above pads, supplies)|
|Pony, Bulldog or Binder clips wide enough for pads above.|
|Large Gum Eraser (brown), Kneaded eraser (grey)|
|The following materials will be useful for class this quarter, but you may wait until after first day to discuss appropriateness.|
|Sketchbook – 8 1/2 x 11” Hardbound|
|Better paper –|
|Seth Cole Velum 60#, 40 sheets, Borden Reilly, 90# velum, or Strathmore 400 series|
|draftsmans tape or blue masking tape|
|2 x #2 Pencils, also 2 each 4B (or Ebony), 2H,|
|1 x Charcoal pencils. (General 2b med or 4b soft)|
|Box cutter, w/ breakoff blades or a small pencil sharpener|
|sandpaper – ~100G for sharpening charcoal, pencils|
|Tackle other utility box to carry above supplies in.|
|Spray Fixative, Odorless, or Aquanet hair spray|
|Suggested Additional Materials, not critical, but nice to have. Will discuss in class|
|drawing board with built in clips for 18 x 24 pads|
|White Eraser, Steadtler Mars, Hard|
|White Eraser Pen|
|White charcoal, compressed|
|Box of compressed charcoal, “Char-Kole”|
|A few thicker, vine charcoal sticks if desired|
|Pens and pencils of many shapes and colors|
|Viewfinder. An empty 35mm slide frame will work or can make own|
|Drawing from Observation, Brian Curtis|
|The Practice and Science of Drawing, Harold Speed|
|The Natural Way to Draw, Kimon Nicolaides|
|Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, Betty Edwards|
|A Guide to Drawing, Diane Mendelowitz, Duanne Wakeham|
|Figure Drawing, Nathan Goldstein (the inexpensive older edition is fine)|
and after all that, the heave ho out the door, pulled it all together, complained to jon profusely about just wanting to be invisible and humble and work it all out on paper and when i arrived, the lights were off and no one was there. no note, calls went to voicemail. so. wtf. reviewed emails and website and it says, monday night is a standing thing. there wondering if it was tuesday. i used to do things like that all the time, post concussion syndrome, but jon scheduled this and wouldn’t have let me miss it. so even if i was fairly confident it was in fact monday, it felt like tuesday. came home and checked email, nothing, tried to phone again, nothing. so. not quite sure what to think. except that i’m so tired i don’t really care.
Had a panic attack anyway and later into the evening the studio did email. They simply took the night off. The panic attack felt different from others, not as severe in terms of dread or fear. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. It felt like I had passed the anxiety stage and went directly to a near black out. Felt my heart pounding and couldn’t fight it, went to my bed with just a few seconds to spare before I most certainly would have collapsed from it. Part of it was that I was so tired and the other was that I forgot to eat all day. It ended up being a great lesson in prep for a proper session. Will show up rested and with stabil blood sugar and also with a smile. Let’s see what a difference it makes.
Pulling focus. Way back a friend asked me to go downtown and photograph the homeless, tent cities, show people, let the photos tell the story. There was this urgency about it and I tried to explain why it’s not my project. It’s too big a thing for me to absorb, still recovering from other painful things. It would consume me, open me like a present and toss me to the side when finished playing with me.
Once I did volunteer to make breakfast and deliver it under the James Street Bridge. Wish I had brought my camera. Had to make a point to focus on what I was doing. I was just slowing everyone down. There was this terrible pressure when we arrived just a few minutes late. These people had been waiting and were cold and tired and I felt disappointed in myself. That and I was wearing a new pair of warm winter boots and felt ashamed. The other volunteers were stone cold pro’s . They can distance themselves somehow. They volunteer regularly. There was a woman who was walking around picking up cigarette butts and smoking them. So I gave her some of my new cigarettes. The other volunteers didn’t like that. And I didn’t like that they didn’t like that. Haven’t gone back, just didn’t fit in.
If I did go back, it would be on my own, with care packages to share.
Jon constantly changes my channels and redirects me from click bait and dark movies, saying, “you shouldn’t be watching this.” Instead there are two other places I would love to bring my camera. Jon has to make calls and request an appointment to bring me. Waiting to hear back on that. They are sacred work spaces of peace and quiet concentration.
Post Concussion. As much as I have changed, so has everything about creating art. That is all about problem solving, it’s just the math became really complicated like my brain wiring. Totally different priorities in the challenge, still the same challenge.
Renewed personal art challenge: 60 hours of figure drawing in 6 weeks. Figure Drawing Mondays, 3hrs and 3hrs homework each week for 6 weeks. Foundation Figure Study Wednesdays, 3hrs and 3hrs homework, for 5 weeks.
Have a specific thing I want to practice, line drawing w/coffee splattering, over sheet music, but who knows if I’ll get there, to that level to try it. It’s been a long time. Technically, it’s ink, need to put it out of my mind for 6 weeks. but yeah, then take a photo and transfer the image onto a primed block for encaustics, that would be so pretty. and a t’shirt.
Incredible Photos. I love the first one of the little girl holding her book and pointing to her photo and just staring at her real life princess. So Beautiful! Award Winning! Oh and the poster of the glasses with heart lenses, looking directly at the bride, it’s just picture perfect…
Saturn has been fixed over my skies for two and a half years, of a 7.5 year thing. It’s only since Sept that it has transited to Sag, ending with a retrograde. I can feel it letting me go, its eyes now turning to Capricorn. What ever work I was able to accomplish will set the tone from here to my late 80’s. When it happens again. Love, structure, discipline, karma, responsibility, death, disease. Hardly a mid life crisis. More like a sustained hurricane. Shutting down my pc and picking up my paintbrush. Grateful and Blessed.
…Saturn in Capricorn 2017-2020? Don’t think about it.
With each passing year the odds of global economic collapse rises significantly. Late-2017 could be the trigger while 2018 – 2019 is likely to anchor it. As researched by Gover, Uranus in it’s final year in Aries in 2018 makes economic collapse even more probable. Add to this “Grim Reaper” Saturn strong in its home sign of Capricorn for a full three years and joining Pluto to end the Saturn/Pluto cycle, 2017 – 2020 is a textbook astrological recipe for a significant global deflationary downturn.
As a result of these cycles and energies, 2017 – 2020 will probably be the hardest four years humans have faced since The Crash of 1929 and the onset of The Great Depression.
|6/28/2017||Gesture for layout|
First Week In November.
A fund raiser to help the Prevention of Homelessness on the island, they also use the food bank and we the hand crafters want to help by raising $$. So they can have their bus passes, a doctor/dental visit and so on.
Sent a photo of the infinity scarf and the ladies loved it, hope it fetches a pretty penny.
Have been so weepy. Olive’s health declined rapidly yesterday and last night she died. Wasn’t there, she was sleeping on my daughter’s bed. Olive spent the last week or so with me and it was nice, she was a very sweet little girl. My daughter had school and is working two jobs. I was happy to sit with Olive.
But last night, after saying goodbye to Olive, I went to visit Bunny. The rabbit must have known. She was very mellow and immediately went to my face and began kissing my tears away. “Oh what’s wrong? Here, you stop that crying…” That’s the thing about empathy. Animals don’t withold it. They live by it. Especially bunnies I think. Very energy sensitive. This one doesn’t talk at all, or purr, or chatter.
Still she’s got this big personality. Hops in circles around my feet. Jumps in the air when she’s happy. Drags my pillow away when it’s on “her” place on my bed. Tosses her water dish when she’s thirsty. When she sees Jon, he says Hello Little Bunny and then she nibbles on his shoes, everytime. When she’s angry for lack of attention, she digs and pees on my stuff. Pretty straight forward.
My son and his beautiful girlfriend are heading back to WI with his dog. Another weepy heart smile. More goodbyes. That dog has been wonderful. A great friend to Buddy and all the kids. When I came back from Bellevue, whoah the dogs went nuts happy when they saw me. It’s just going to be really quiet. Going to miss them. They are already talking about the next visit.
Olive’s funeral will be held later tonight. Brought her to Jon and he offered her a formal funeral in the nicest way. Several times he came in to find me sleeping with Olive on my chest, or curled up in my hair around my neck. Something he couldn’t do.
Jon’s Grandmother @ relatives Silver Wedding Anniversary Celebration: South Dakota 6-2-1925 . Her family immigrated from Norway in 1842. Jon and I guess that it is the patriach and wife on the left front row. Then it looks like Emma’s Mother and Emma. Guessing because of her hair and that she wore black to the celebration. Emma lost her husband that year. Perhaps the patriach and matriarch were Emma’s in laws. Jon doesn’t recall family in South Dakota.
A care package arrived. Family photos that go back to 1918, the 20’s, 30’s, 40’s & 50’s. Aunt Gail kept them all and they were passed on to Jon.
Emma, Seated Left- Her Mother Seated Right
so happy it made my cry. several of “RJ’s KIDS” will directly benefit from the new clinic. the clinic will be open in time for their graduations. even younger RJ’s KIDS like little man. this is a really beautiful thing for the future of all island kids. thank you.
it was something to see the community raise the money to re-open the clinic that served the whole island, it was alot of money. no one had it. i remember talking with father tryphon and his focus was very clear about the need of the hour to find resources and make them availble to island children. that it has to happen here. as I remember the community raised well over $300,00 to match funds to reopen it.
we never talked about another clinic for youth, of course it’s the perfect fix. we were focusing on youth housing.
to increase access to healthy foods, create more opportunities for physical activity and reduce exposure to firearms and harmful substances.
“We are delivering on the promise I made to the people of King County — to create safer, healthier, better-connected communities where all children and youth can flourish,” Constantine said.
$766,000 to construct and operate a clinic at Vashon High School. Neighborcare and school district officials say the clinic — set to open during the upcoming school year — will provide medical, mental health and dental care to students who are part of the public school system.
There was all this car drama. My car was parked half way down the driveway on a slope because I was losing reverse. It was parked next to the lane on the grass. It is a late 80’s Saab turbo. Very well maintained. It’s a tank, really. (drove it to San Ramon and while I was there, did some driving to pick up people and drop people off at the airport, out of nowhere, Swami Mommy asked to tag along, couldn’t believe it, she left her wheel chair and away we went. I was nervous but it was fun. )
Nate from Troll Motors lives or used to live on island. So when I originally bought the car, I took it to Nate, who confirmed all the work, his name was all over the engine, he laughed that he had done all the work for the last ten years. Knew the car better than his new fiance. He’s far and away the best Saab mechanic in Seattle.
Well RJ hit the driver’s door while backing down the driveway. Didn’t tell me, told Jon. That’s the part that bothered me. He couldn’t face me. I just left the car sit. Rj did go to pick and pull to find another door, but I could have saved him the trip. When he died, the car just sat there. Wouldn’t let anyone touch it.
There was and still are these emotional events that might be considered a trigger. But I’m learning the weight of what’s behind the trigger, it is where work waits, undone, patiently waiting to be calmed.
A year later, while I watched from my bedroom window. My son’s girlfriend backed down the driveway in her truck and hit the Saab again. This time the car didn’t let go. The music was so loud I could hear it. She didn’t know she hit something. Took her a second to figure it out. She tried to drive forward and no go. Sent Jon out to help them. Both times my car was hit, my kids were in the vehicle that hit it.
* the car is going back to Nate, my son would like to have it. fine.
Also, Rj brought a lot of helmets over here. His old ones and some he kept replacing as the kids got bigger. He was very good about that. Skateboarding, biking and snowboarding. Once my son came home with a broken arm, skateboarding in the city with Rj. Kids. Once in a while I would find a helmet in my car, or around the house and that was also a trigger. Until recently when this son that I gave the car to, the one who broke his arm, stopped by on his skateboard and I pulled an Rj helmet. He said no way, it won’t fit. I slapped it on my head and it was fine. Passed it to him and he put it on, watched him fly down the dirt driveway wearing it and that was just last week. Calmed me. It’s ok. It’s going to be ok.
Hospice rat care going on. My daughter’s pet, Olive has grown old. They can go quickly. Have to really watch them. This one is special. Sweet personality. When she was young she went everywhere with my daughter.
Found her when I came back from Bellevue, thought she was done but she came back. Pulled her from her mouse house she shares with her girlfriends. This one won’t die in her cage. Sometimes it happens, we try to stay with them as much as possible.
She’s walking around now, leaving me in disbelief. A week ago she was in a stiff little fluff ball, cold and smelled like death. We’ve been feeding her canned peaches, she likes the sugar water. Better than trying to encourage her to sip water from our hands.
The bunny has checked her out and they seem to be comfortable with eachother. Olive has her chitter chatter, that’s how she talks to me. When she’s hungry, wants to walk and stretch, or sleep. She looks around for me when she’s tired and falls asleep listening to me breathe and feeling my chest rise and fall. When she sleeps on me she snores. She smells much better.
Blocking activities for a while to pay closer attention to her. She’s really darling. Seems to be spending a good amount of time cleaning her fur and muscles are working just fine. It shows how much they depend on the company of their people. Have a little hay box for her with fruit, soft cheese and canadian spam brought back from the race.
Can’t postpone the inevitable, but we can see to it she’s comfortable and has all her needs met. Left alone I think she would die quickly in her cage. She seems to really be enjoying herself with her little hay box and freedom of movement. She’s spent her whole life with people. What a good friend. Teaching us all about love and responsibility, compassion and kindness. Wasn’t ever meant to live in a cage, but for a safe place when we couldn’t bring her with us. She’s had hammocks and toys and she’s just too old to climb or play. So cute, she’s like a little doll.
My son brought home the first rat, it was a gift from a girl, who became his girlfriend, lol. Then all the kids were walking around with them. It was like when my daughter brought home that pregnant cat and we had kittens all over. The kids made the rat’s condo’s by redesigning bird cages with lofts and ramps and hammocks. The empty cages are piling up.
“There’s no labor pool up here to draw from,” said Todd Callewaert, president of the Island House hotel.
blah blah blah,
Chambers, whose great-great-grandfather authored the island’s ban on the automobile, operates both island tours and horse taxis..
Jon and I laughed out loud. I love how they tip toed around the fact that the 3,000 immigrant Visa’s are from the Domincan Republic, intentionally to support the illusion of colonial slavery. The imported staff stay in the original slave barracks.
Who will shovel the horse manure? Who will take care of the guests at the hotels? Who will clean the toliets and work in the kitchens? Gasp! Who will make the fudge! Who will load the carriages at the dock?
Weaving conversation with my husband. He said really he’s a war baby, same age as the rock stars. He said there are no 1943 Fords, maybe 1942, a few 1941, no 1943’s because Ford made tanks. There were sugar rations. He has said before, in his household that after squeezing as much tooth paste as they could from the tube, he remembers his family flattening the tube and cutting it open with a razor blade to wipe it clean with a toothbrush, nothing was wasted.
So he doesn’t know about the Beatles and Maharaja and Dear Prudence. He missed Timothy Leary, Ram Dass and The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test. I can understand that he doesn’t like The Dead. What matters is that he loves Bob Dylan and Neil Young.
In every hippie house I’ve ever been, there has been a copy of Be Here Now. Someone gifted me my copy. So I guess that makes me a hippie, I dunno. I’ve fished through the book, it’s always been like the comics, in one ear and out the other. Cool art, positive vibes. A hippie bible? Maybe. It’s up there with The Vegetarian Epicure. In fact I gave away a copy of Be Here Now and someone else gave me another copy. Both people were like, here, this belongs to you.
Still when I met Bhagavan Das I had no idea who he was. And it’s funny to me, because when I met him I was alone and naked. He was in robes and layered in mala’s, one in his hands. Tried to think of what I was doing there, it doesn’t make sense. Was helping a friend move, but we were way off course. It was late near a pool at Harben. So it was totally appropriate. No judgement. I was healing up from some soul thing. The only thing he said was to be careful, the water was hot. I answered that the cold plunge would be worse and he giggled and went back to his meditation.
And I do get it. What it was like for Jon growing up. Hardtimes. My grandmother shared stories with me about what those years were like for her and her parents. What it was like in Alaska in the 50’s rasing a family living “off the grid” before it was a thing, with her husband, my grandfather who served in WW2, New Guinea. My other grandfather in the Navy. So it’s not like it all went over my head.