Not really, we all talked about it. But kinda sorta anyway. When I mentioned it to the kids they both said fake no while trying to hide their smiles from me. Jon fake complained about more mouths to feed. Everyone melted when I brought them home. My daughter saw them this morning and said, Oh they are so precious I do not regret this decision. They are 3 and 4 months old. The black one growls like a dog while stalking like a panther. The striped one is a chatter box. Our old lady cats passed and we always need kitchen duty mice hunters. These are in training and I can tell the black one is going to be great.
Phoned friend in Chicago. I said I wasn’t sure about introducing the rabbit to the kittens. He said get it over with. It’s true the bunny is probably the sweetest friendliest bunny in the world. When I hung up phone I introduced them. It was so fun. Super sweet. The bunny is happy and was running in circles around my feet and then over to the kittens. Both kittens and bunny are super gentle. Within a half hour I let them alone. Things got quiet and after a while longer I peeked and there they were all three taking a nap together. I think the bunny was really lonely. This was a great idea.
Kids are there and back already. Had epic time. Well except for one of them getting run over. Hit and run style by a skier. Guess she scorpion tailed. She was sitting it out and crying some that the person didn’t bother to check her ok. But these other nice guys did. People circled around her through the worst of it when she began cursing in tears. It made people hold back giggles because it was listening to a child hurl their first swear words, they all knew she didn’t mean it, she was just hurt. One of the nice guys said, Yeah that sucks, it really does. My daughter said she knew her friend didn’t mean it, she didn’t know how to articulate feelings like that, it never happened to her before. They were just words that her family says around the house. She’s never heard her friend speak like that before and she was ok, it was still pretty funny. Shockingly innocent.
Begins with anchor set. Crew below deck. The bell rings all hands on deck. That’s how the race begins. I did it once and skip it every year since. He really likes the speed drill, for him it’s like playing his violin scales. Well orchestrated chaos. He’s got it down to a science.
The year that I went, brought my friend Wendy Jo along. We will have that crazy story to share for the rest of our lives. That year there was a delayed start. I remember staying below deck and calling out numbers from the depth sounder. The boat has an 8 foot draft and in a low tide that harbor is tricky crowded stressful. I didn’t like it. We burned up fuel over it. Forgot all about it until the sail home and the wind died completely.
We got caught in this huge counter clockwise current centered between Gig Harbor, Colvos Passage & Vashon. Right off Point Defiance. It was especially dark because in that stretch of water there aren’t many lights because of the park side, Tacoma and the heavily forested south end of the island.
Of course without fuel or wind we couldn’t steer. We were stuck in the counter clockwise current for hours. 45 minutes per circle. There were very experienced racers with us. Everyone was creeped out. One sailor exclaimed to Jon, I can’t watch the water’s surface anymore it doesn’t make sense and it’s making me sick. Most of them retired below deck. Biggest concern was drifting into ferry or freighter.
(fyi, this is the near the Vashon MIB/ Maury Incident, lol)
Jon stayed at the helm with Wendy Jo on port and myself on starboard. We were visited by a large pod of Dall’s Porpoise. Wendy Jo and I calmly conversed that they seemed to be swimming in a steady clockwise circle off the bow and if we timed it right we could catch their current like a gate out of the tidal gate we were stuck in. Sort of like an infinity symbol. It worked and that’s how we got out of it. Dall’s Porpoise. We left for the race @ 7am, sailed all day and night and returned around 6 am, the race that year took almost 24 hours. No sleep for solid 24hrs counting the time to unload sails and park the boat.
Instructions for Classes 1 and 2 At the PREPARATORY SIGNAL:
All boats will be anchored in their designated starting area. Maximum allowed scope for anchoring is 5:1
All crew must be below deck.
The mainsail must be down and on the boom and tied with at least one sail tie.
The headsail will be down on the foredeck. Roller-furling sails will be entirely furled.
Halyards may be attached and sails pre-fed.
At each boat’s respective STARTING SIGNAL: Crew may come on deck, raise the anchor (no buoying the anchor), set sail and must pass through the start line. If your boat is over early you must round one end of the line to restart. Remember your lack of rights if doing so.
“S” – Short Course
From the designated starting areas inside Gig Harbor, boats will proceed north in Colvos Passage to a mark due east of Pt. Richmond and near the Vashon shore (north of Camp Sealth). Leave that mark to port and return to the finish line inside Gig Harbor.
“L” – Long Course
From the designated starting areas inside Gig Harbor, boats will proceed north around a temporary mark 400 yards east of the Olalla Bridge at approximately 47 25.215 N, 122 32.220 W (leave this mark to port) and return to the finish line inside Gig Harbor.
Rules, Protests, and Time Limit: The 2013-2016 ISAF Racing Rules of Sailing and the prescriptions of US Sailing, except as amended by this Notice and the Sailing Instructions will be followed. The 720 rule is in effect. The race committee must receive protests no later than two hours after the time limit for each class. The time limit will be 4.5 hours after the start of each class.
I agree. She says I look naked and fat. Got them 6,7,8 years ago after a storm. Cotton inside, wool outside. Had to wash them a dozen times to soften them. They are only a little softer. Read reviews and they are a love hate thing. Some women say the wool is itchy and scratchy. Some say they are warm and worth it. One lady said she could only wear them for four hours another said never again after one late night trip to the bathroom. I realized that I’ve never actually wore them all night long. Or even under other clothes. If I make it four hours it will be my world’s record. They really are itchy and in spots that aren’t easy to reach like the back of my knees and under bra straps. Dealing with it because I know it will be cold when I change into something else. Giving up slowly, going going gave up, gone. Can’t make myself like them even a little.
a loud morning. no damage to the garage. lucky my car wasn’t parked there, borrowed it to the kids who parked it at the ferry lot. which jon asked me specifically not to do. it was late and he forgot. i was too tired we both were, to go pick it up.
he says it’s just the hood ruined on grandpa’s hoopdi, the windshield didn’t break. it just needs brakes well and the rusted panel might as well be replaced along the with hood. have driven all over the country with my father in law in that car. he bought me a cowboy hat in lincoln, nebraska, giggled and took my picture. after he died i drove across country twice more in it by myself.
late start but with the sun he can finish the dive. he went through one tank late yesterday, out just before dark. it was murky, no wind. one harbor seal. watched clouds dropping and wrapping themselves around trees. stood in rain for a long time until he came up. tons of screaming seagulls, creepy, the dock was full of them. chose to leave the boat nestled in a cornered slip. racing this weekend, hope there isn’t too much wind. yup. too much wind. went to pick up kids and saw waves crashing onto the road. the sunshine long gone. he put off the dive.
Did you hear that tree come down a while ago? No. What tree? Well I don’t know but it sounded like the biggest tree in the forest and the house shook. It made this horrible sound like it was ripped apart and then a long fall and (fake explosion sound). He asked where and I said everywhere.
How could you sleep through that? It must have been right before the alarm clocks. But don’t go out yet, the wind is still too loud. Wait a few minutes until it’s light.
When he came back in I asked if he found it, I heard him move a car. He said the tree was by the wood shed. My face was blank. Did it hit my bike? He said it hit Grandpa’s old hoopdi. He said the tree fell “in an unusual way.” He can say that again. What the hell? It’s like, well, like it was turned around like a big fork in a huge plate of spaghetti. It didn’t just split and fall. It twisted split and fell. If the trunk is split on the south side, one would think that’s where it fell, but no, it fell north. Not only that, when it broke apart it landed in three different pieces, it also hit the garage. Had it just split and fell it could have hit the house in fact very easily where I was sleeping. Even what’s left of the trunk has a twist in it.
The whole house shook. I guess I opened my eyes for a second and listened to see if it actually hit the house and I fell back asleep. Damn, I loved that car.
Picked up 5 kids from the ferry. While driving home I began singing Happy Birthday to my son, then my eyes popped out of my head and I circled around and there were two Happy Birthday mylar balloons in the bushes! My son hopped out and pulled them into the car. One of them popped and I could feel the air coming out so I sucked it up and said, “you know what’s great about this? it’s also MY birthday and there were tewwwwww ballooooons!”
Ok the refrigerator has to move from the kitchen to the pantry. That means we have to remove a door from a door frame and also the doors off the frige. The massage table in the pantry has to move to the mud room off the pantry. It stays as a laundry table. Yes I will fold and put my clothes away. Ok, Buddy’s kennel moves from the mud room back to the porch. That means the summer chairs we pulled from the yard have to be moved off the porch and stored. Now we can move the stove into the kitchen.
It was in a little house that this little old lady lived in. It was the only source of heat. The lady sold. The guy pulled the stove and flipped the house. Last used two years ago. I’m astonished. Both of the kids asked, so we have to light a fire to cook anything? Everything.
Even if built in the 30’s it’s new for this old house. It’s this 30’s electric stove I would like to say goodbye to. Or have rewired.
Have been asking him to just think about it. I think he held off to make sure I’m committed. When I asked him last night I was looking at the door frame between the dining and living room. It has both empty hinges and curtain rod holders.
In 1900 there were actually three woodstoves for the mainfloor. Of course now there’s just one. Like heating a barn with a candle. The one in the kitchen had an elbow pipe that also heated the dining room. Hence the old hinges to the living room.
Today he offered both as an idea. Woodstove with aside electric. The kitchen and I have not ever been friends. Maybe two days a year in the summer. If we were to pull back the linoleum that old man ernisee installed 60 years ago, it would reveal original fir floors painted barn red.
For four years in a row I’ve ordered winter boots from the same place on my birthday and every time my kids liked them. Two times ordered Sorel’s that my kids ended up wearing and they still wear around horses, perfect muck boots.
Twice have passed on Sorel’s and ordered Uggs. Last year adding two pair of house slippers. Both kids liked the slippers so much they kept them. One was a free pair of house slippers, GWP that my daughter still wears. Noticed that her slippers have a tear. The other were Ugg slippers that my son has worn out so much they have become stiff and grungy.
The Ugg boots I got last year have two rips in them and became permanently soggy, the shearling all smushed flat and used up. Tried to seal one of the rips with gorilla glue and it left a big crunchy knob on the inside of the boot that rubbed my pinky toe but I dealt with it.
My new Ugg’s arrived today and when I put them on I sighed. They were worth the wait. They are far more comfortable and warmer than the Sorel’s. Immediately recognized that my kids would love them and that I may not be wearing them tomorrow. 15 minutes later called in another order for both kids, an upgrade from last year. Free two day air shipping. Each of them got the half boot, and that will keep their entire feet and ankles covered in warmth.
Like last year, got another pair of house slippers for my daughter, GWP. This time in pink. Christmas is too far and winter won’t wait. They have other boots to wear outside. These are just for the house. For their bedrooms. The warmest slippers for the coldest floors. Bought all of the boots from the most unlikely place, would never have guessed, Victoria’s Secret. Very happy with them, who knew?
…two hours later the boots were off my feet and as little man tried them on he made the “oooooo” sound. he’s still wearing them. told him he could wear them until his arrive in two days. he said this time he’s going to wear socks with them because he wants them to stay fluffy. he’s sentimental about the other ones. loves them so much, wants to keep them anyway and kicked them under a chair in his room. i was like, i know, i love Ugg’s too.
Last night before sleep Mr asked me to check his eye for foreign objects, ie metal shaving. Got my granny glasses and a strong flashlight and found it. Sat back and together we thought about it. I drew him a picture and then got up to wash my hands with antiseptic soap. When I asked him when it happened he said 3 days ago. Omg, why didn’t he say anything? What I saw in his eye was stuck because of it. He said he was working in the garage and Bam! Hot metal shaving in his eyeball. Not unlike being stung in the eyeball by a gigantic wasp I suppose, because the shaving was much larger than a bee stinger.
We talked and I said there wasn’t anything in the first aid kit for this. Nothing. I doubted even rinsing his eye. Of course the clinic was closed and no urgent care here on the rock. He refused to let me drive him to the ER but said he would go to the Eye Doctor. I said I thought it was way past that and he needed an md and a nurse. He agreed to let me drive him to the doctor in the morning. Then he asked, “What about a magnet?” We went back and forth with toy magnets until I found the smallest and strongest refrigerator magnet and washed it thoroughly.
Passed the magnet as close to the shaving in his eye as possible without touching it. The challenge was keeping his eye open and making him either hold his eye open or hold the flashlight. He was done within a few minutes, he couldn’t tolerate it and asked me to tape his eye shut for the night. So I did and we went to bed. When he woke he asked me to check it again because he thought it was gone. Checked and it indeed was gone. Only a tiny dent like spot remained where the shaving had been. It worked. The magnet worked. He said last night what he was feeling was the shaving moving back and forth and being drawn out like a sliver and he couldn’t stand it, but it was enough to free it.
This for repairing a wheel barrow. Yes he forgot safety glasses and I didn’t have to say anything but couldn’t help shake a finger at him. Now I have to let it go. That’s always how it is. Deal with it and then later shudder over it.
Spoke with him for a long time while he was walking The Trail Of Tears in meditation during the Yankton Hog Farm Protests.
There was a Native who worked in law enforcement who quit because he refused to arrest Natives. Jon and I tried to wire cash and when the man arrived at the bank, he realized he had forgotten his wallet with his ID back at home. We were talking to the teller at the bank while the man was standing right there in front of the teller but the teller refused to give him the cash we were wiring. He was hours away and the bank would close before he was able to drive home and return. Ended up calling Dennis Banks to figure out a way to open an emergency bank account, this was before “crowd funding” or “live streams”. We were not able to set it up but Jon and I did send a check that was never cashed. It was for gas money, Dennis Banks needed gas money to attend the “protest” which really was a call to action gathering of activists from all over. Like I said we did talk for a long time. He exclaimed his surprise that a white woman on an island on the west coast knew what was happening. That gave him hope. He also said that he was ashamed of the casino’s on reservations that weren’t supporting this or similar Native protests.
“Disagreeable” was the preferred word in the era of Kauffman, when Victorian sensibilities still prevailed. The word “spermatic” began to appear with more and more frequency, however, as the 20th Century progressed, and now it is hegemonic. That’s all well and good, I suppose–but the present widely accepted use of the term spermatic may underscore the fact that mycology is still an Old Boys network–and still reveals a Victorian hesitation. Yeah, that one’s going to have to be explained.
The crux of my argument involves Russula xerampelina, the so-called “Shrimp Russula,” which does not smell much like shrimp, to tell the truth, unless you are using “shrimp” as a synonym, a Victorian cover-up, for “vaginal.” Why is it okay to call Inocybe rimosa spermatic, while heads would turn at a corresponding, genital-secretion-based description of Russula xerampelina? The answer is, because women mycologists are few and far between, and the Old Boys have not paused to imagine, for example, what must go through Inocybe expert Cathy Cripps’s mind when she has to type “spermatic,” or what a female graduate student in mycology must feel when she has to discuss the morphology of a species of Phallus with her male professor. If these good ole boys had to conjure up the olfactory memory of what is “vaginal” all the time, things might be different (then again, they might be worse). To be fair, since I brought up the parallel to Phallus, it should be pointed out that Amanita vaginata (as well as any mushroom that has a volva) forces male mycologists to address morphology with female genital terms–so maybe I should limit my argument to the odors.
And anyway, what the hell does sperm smell like? Does anyone know? And are we sure that, for example, one’s diet doesn’t influence the odor? I’m not just kidding around, because Inocybe sororia–to take one of many examples from the genus–is separated from the “spermatic” Inocybe rimosa primarily on the basis of its odor, which is universally proclaimed as the odor of “green corn.” As Inocybe expert D. E. Stuntz wrote in 1947, “[t]he strong green corn odor of I. sororia is especially characteristic, and easily distinguished from the typically spermatic odor of I. fastigiata” (p. 46). It is? Stuntz clearly had an exceptional sniffer, especially in evidence in my personal favorite, his description of the odor of Inocybe picrosma:
[O]dor very characteristic, not strong, but very penetrating, spermatic for an instant when the context is first exposed, but immediately becoming quite complex, predominantly a mixture of raphanoid and resinous with a trace of acetic acid, having a very decided pungency which quickly produces a tingling sensation in the back of the throat” (1950, p. 105).
I hope to God I’m never forced to address this description when identifying an Inocybe, because I have trouble detecting the difference between, say, gasoline and lilacs. Throw in the fact that odors in Inocybe rimosa (the mushroom I’m supposed to be talking about) range from “none” to “mild” to “mealy” to “spermatic” to “strongly spermatic,” depending on the author, and you begin to wonder whether there’s a big, stinky, rotting mushroom in Denmark, and whether you might be better off moving somewhere else.
When Jon came home he said the idea of me with a sawzall in the kitchen was concerning. Nah… we did it all outside. It worked great as a pumpkin peeler. Can’t wait to see what it will look like all lit up.
Not waking up in dreadful pain anymore. It was physical pain. Tried to describe it to Jon. I know I’ve had a fire in the belly since birth. I know it came from somewhere else or I would have caved long before. When I realized he was really gone I felt this pain in my core. It was like taking a cast iron skillet from the fire and holding it under cold water. I felt that hot frying steaming pain until the cold won and all it left was a vacuum. Like a cracked window frame during a winter wind.
It was three years ago yesterday. Mentioned to Jon this morning that really the pain began immediately and got worse from there. The next day and week and month and so on. Didn’t speak of it to anyone yesterday. Still haven’t spoke to any of the kids about him or that yesterday was the anniversary because I’m afraid of them having a depressive relapse.
I remember not wanting to cry in front of my kids so I went out to the old studio and had fits of tears and animal like sobbing until my nose was so stuffed up I couldn’t breathe and I had a head ache from it. Instead they saw me drink and smoke too much.
Today while talking to Jon I didn’t cry and it was to not worry him but I felt the tampening of the emotion in the center of my chest. He asked if it was the left or right side and I said no, not like that, it’s center, a heart chakra ache and I rubbed my chest in circles until it went away.
Thankful for the medications. There is a good reason they are called mood stabilizers. They are working great. I’m breathing deeply and able to walk it off. Milo is with me today sleeping at my feet. Staying calm. More objective and slightly detached from it. Like I folded it up and locked it away in a safety deposit box. Saving it for art therapy.
In February, the Seattle City Council voted to end its relationship with Wells Fargo over the company’s financing of the Dakota Access Pipeline, private prison companies, and the bank’s recent regulatory scandal involving two million unauthorized accounts. As a next step, Mazaska Talks is urging the city to consider a municipal bank, an idea echoed by Seattle City Council Member Kshama Sawant. Last week, Sawant proposed allocating $200,000 to a feasibility study on whether a municipal bank in Seattle could work.
a big cherry tree fell last night missing the house by 4-5 feet. this is the second big cherry tree on that side of the house. the first was several years ago. fell as i was standing near the window by the coffee pot. i watched and didn’t have time to move so i turned my head. looked back and the tree had stopped just shy of coming through the window, only cracking the glass. we still haven’t replaced it.
This Monday, October 23rd, ninety-two of the world’s largest banks will meet in São Paolo, Brazil to discuss policies on the climate and Indigenous People’s rights to Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC).The Indigenous-led coalition of Mazaska (money) Talks and Standing Rock leaders have called on allies everywhere to join them for 3 days of mass global action.
You and other Vashonites with a conscience will join this global call for action on Monday to show the banks that financing climate disaster and the abuse of Indigenous Peoples is not an acceptable business practice.
asked jon if he would march with me. he said it’s not much of a march. i said more like hopscotch. low risk of arrest, lol. we already ran banks out of town for two new credit unions. a credit union took over the old bank of america building. still, standing in solidarity with the world is a good thing.
South end community club met for dinner at the Tahlequah fire station on Saturday October 21st. Featured speakers were Fire Chief Charlie Krimmert and Fire Commissioner Candy McCullough who explained to us that our fire dept is financially in a bad way, and needs this proposed levy to offer the best services possible for our community. It seems proper records only go back to 2013 and 2014. Fire Chief Krimmert has analyzed all the available past finances and offered that records become available to the public on a meeting next Tues. He started in January and it seems the fire dept has been kicking the can down the street for the last eight years. This levy actually is what it was in 1990. In 1990 the levy based on property tax evaluations was $1.50 per $1,000.00 and that’s all they are asking for in the new proposed levy. Our fire trucks are out dated and we need more firefighters and emt’s. It is a miracle that the fire dept is running as efficiently as it is. We also need a new aid car. The tax levy doesn’t solve all the problems facing the fire dept, but it’s a good start. It was a dark and stormy night but there was a full house and the food was wonderful and what great company, a lively discussion ensued! Bottom line is that we all sat down together to have dinner and sort it out. The south end community club meets every 3rd Saturday of the month. They have been doing so since 1930’s, with the building being built in cooperation with the community and fire department in the 60’s. Big Thanks to the new Fire Chief and to Commissioner McCullough who warmly spoke from the heart to catch us up on the fire dept’s needs. Please vote YES on the proposed Levy and YES for Candy’s re-election as Fire Commissioner- Thank You!
(privately over coffee Sunday am… yes i understand that property tax is not income tax. thank amazon for the bubble. )
“My god,” the veteran Macy’s employee said, “how dare you put that idea in my head. I never thought of it.” But after a moment’s thought, the salesperson realized the idea should not have surprised them at all. Nothing should surprise anyone who works in this dying business or for this dying company. “An Amazon Christmas star,” they said, “that will really be the end.”
Due to a plugged roof gutter sending a river of rainfall down inside a wall. Jon ran upstairs and asked if someone left the water in the tub running. Nope. He ran back downstairs and up again to pull back a curtain to reveal water running down the inside of the window. We all ran around doing things. Saving the computer downstairs on the dining room table, just barely. Tarping the table, setting out three pots to catch the water, towels on the leaking window, but finally he had to climb a steel ladder two floors in the dark during a heavy downpour.
That and today the boys and I retarped the roof over the main firewood shed. The front and back of the wood pile is wet. Wondering if it will dry out at all this winter. Some of it was soaked. Most of it was rescued. This is the first year that I’m not so worried about it. The kids are all old enough to dress warmer and set fires in the woodstove by themselves. It’s not like when they were little or in diapers. Back then I slept downstairs to keep the fire going all night so the house would be warm for everyone going to work and school in the morning. Then a pause all day, the chore of restacking a night’s wood on the porch and then resetting the fire after school.
There was that one winter that was just terrible. The power was out for 8-10 days. Our roof was blown off, there were waterfalls in several rooms. We had guys here to help that year and I spent my days and nights cooking for everyone on the woodstove by candle light. The road was blocked from fallen trees and the guys went out and cleared it with all of our neighbors, it took just one afternoon. We heated water on the woodstove for dishwashing and bathing. The roofs were torn off all the firewood sheds and all 6 cords of firewood was soaked and unusable. It was freezing cold but everyone worked together to make it happen, little man was still in diapers. One other year without power we cooked rockfish on boyscout stoves in a snowbank.
Last year the first fire of the winter was set around October 7th. This year the 21st. These first fires take some of the chill from the air in steady downpours. It’s December and January when the chill becomes frosty and the wrens move into the walls of the living room. Still have several trees that fell last year to chop and stack. This rain was our wake up call. Today it was about repairing the wheelbarrow in the garage. Even if we were ready, the wheelbarrow isn’t.
To me, a psychiatrist who avoids suicidal patients is like a surgeon who can’t stand the sight of blood, or an obstetrician who doesn’t like to think about where babies come from. http://blog.stevenreidbordmd.com
(on sea madness) a number of people, us included, in the absence of varied sensory input, will begin to imagine things that are not real. Hearing voices or unexplained noises, seeing land, boats or sea creatures that aren’t there – these are manifestations of the brain’s adaption to a limited sensory environment.