Lobster On My Shoulder …

September 9, 2022 ~ Friday (night/it’s raining and now blissfully COOL!)

Hello Autumn! While this summer was brutal (in so many ways/and notice the PAST tense) … I’m not sure I’m quite ready for Fall. At least not in ONE DAY. What happened to the gradual sliding into the next season? But, with these much/much cooler temps, I think it has arrived. Yesterday was 99° … as were the past 5 days (somewhere between I’m-sick-of-sizzling 97° and bake-your-brains-out 99°). Today we topped out at 72° (maybe) and right now, at nearly 10pm – it’s raining and an unusually cool 52°! What a difference a day makes!

Tomorrow we are to warm up to 54° … tomorrow night we dip to 44°! Crazy. But, I’m not complaining. I’ve roasted this summer and right now I’m not getting a year’s worth of rain in one day – like southern CA. I’m not being evacuated because of a raging wildfire – like in too many places in the West. And, I’m not preparing for a hurricane (on both coasts) to whip off my roof/flood my streets/and make my life miserable.

Instead, I get to wear a sweater!

I tried one on tonight – as I’m pretty sure I haven’t had anything on my arms (but maybe once) since the first week in June. My arms took to it like my last dose of penicillin or if I’d taken a sip of champagne … ITCH-CITY! This is going to take some getting used to! The older I get the more sensitive I get to just about everything … clothes, food, animals, environmental anything. In another 10 years I’m going to have to join a nudist colony … in a bubble!

I’m not sure I’m ready for “sweater weather” (though I love it) … but as I look at the next two weeks’ forecast … we’ll be dropping into the low 80s and high 70s. Today and this weekend are just a jolting reminder that the summer heat will not last (thank god!) – but it’ll come back for a last hurrah and by the end of ten more days, we’ll all be really ready for the cooler temps of autumn.

I’ve been realizing that being back in Denver poses the same issues as whenever I’ve moved before … as in, I need new doctors (dentist/derm/primary/eye). Yesterday I drove to my eye appointment. The dr. is new to me … well, not completely. Her parents were our first neighbors when we moved to Denver in 1979! I knew Amy when she was an infant. And there she was – forty years later with a two year old at home herself – examining my old eyeballs! Full circle.

I loved the drive to her office. I drove up (old) South Broadway which is now known by locals as SoBo. It is a busy 4-laner which goes from one end of the Denver metro area to the other (north/south) and right through downtown. Now that old area houses an eclectic mix of craft breweries, eateries, rooftop patios, antique stores and about a million pot shops (my friend today regarded it as “The Green Mile”). Back in the 1980s and ’90s when I knew it best, it had a much different feel … a bit more run down … mostly antique shops … some old, crappy (don’t you dare go in) taverns … too many vacuum and razor stores. Times are a’changin’ once again … as gypsy Madam LaRue’s shop (complete with crystal ball readings) has been replaced with a Starbucks.

And while I remember some of it from those decades when I lived here before, I wish I could have been in a time machine just to see what that strip of 3-4 blocks looked like some 60-70 years ago … back in the ’50s and ’60s. I imagine the corner shop was a drug store – complete with a soda fountain and a jangly bell on the door. The quaint windowed double store front was possibly a diner with a jukebox. I could just imagine those pink or red booths and a black and white tile floor. The worn down (and now some empty) shops once housed the neighborhood “necessary” shops … block after block of what made a community a community … butchers, bakeries, barber and beauty shops, book stores and cleaners. The shops that the locals walked to … the delis, the shoe stores, the women’s boutiques.

As I drove along I saw an old touristy motel with its large, rotating sign atop a tall pole … the Lucky ‘U’ Motel … complete with a big cloverleaf. I remember going by that place eons ago when they were filling in the parking lot swimming pool. I felt a wave of nostalgia as I passed by. It’s now filled in with tired landscaping and the whole motel is looking like it’s seen (much) better days. Oh how I wished I could have a minute’s glimpse of a hot summer’s day back in 1963 with city visitors laughing, going down the pool’s turquoise curved slide and tossing striped beach balls to one another and splashing around in its cool waters.

A far cry from the tattoo parlors and liquor stores that seem now to be on every corner in that area.

All that made me wish I could pop back to 1968 or so … when I was old enough to go to the shopping center with my girlfriends and walk around by ourselves! Someone’s mom drove us and while she shopped, that gave us a whole hour or so to be on our own! Delightful!!!! So, what did we do with this new-found freedom? We headed straight to Woolworth’s. OMG. I’d love to walk through an old Woolworth’s today! They had EVERYTHING. If you’ve ever been in one, you know what I mean … from fish to aprons to toys to hardware … cosmetics, slips, shoes … and the BEST luncheonette anywhere on the planet.

As I type I can almost smell the greasy burgers frying on the flattop. We girls sat at an aqua booth with the laminate table top that looked like little colored boomerangs were embedded in it. (My brother’s desktop was the same laminate. Lucky him!) We’d order cokes and fries (using as much ketchup as a football team) … and just enjoyed smelling everyone else’s lunches. We didn’t have the money to buy “real” food but those fries and cokes were heavenly. And the freedom was, too!

As an adult, and new in Denver in 1979, I worked at an oil and gas company in the “mailbox building” downtown. It never occurred to me (what an IDIOT I was!) to bring gym shoes to work and slip them on when I ventured out at lunchtime to walk the downtown corridor. Oh no! I was too cute to be sensible! I’d walk from my building to the old Woolworth’s building – roughly 6 blocks. I walked blocks and blocks and BLOCKS (in any weather – snow/rain/sun) in my lilac suede Candies slip ons with the 4″ heels (I called them my “hooker shoes” – for obvious reasons)! I’d walk all the way down to Woolworths, buy a slice of the BEST pizza anywhere in town, and carry it back to my desk/inside a wax paper envelope. By the time I got back to the office and my desk/my feet were sore and the grease from the pizza had saturated the wax paper. It was a glorious lunch break!

I thought of all this in a matter of minutes as I drove along passing all those old shops and places. Good thing I didn’t run a red light while so distracted. It would have been hard to explain to a young cop (but an old one would have enjoyed the memories with me and given me a warning, I’m sure!) There’s nothing like a nice trip down Memory Lane.

September 4, 2022 ~ Sunday (late night/Monday early morning … 95° today though blissfully cool in the house now – finally/for once!)

It’s after midnight … I just turned off my window a/c unit but the three fans are still whirring up the dust in my tiny (now all autumn-decked) home. I should be in bed, waiting for Mr. Sandman to visit, counting sheep and/or luring all things slumber-related to come my way … but, here I am/sitting at my computer needing to get this out.

We all know I’m a “one and done” kind of gal … if I don’t get my thoughts down on paper – (aka my computer) as good/or otherwise as they may be – they are gone – as fleeting as Ethiopian marathon runners, first glances and teenage crushes.

I am organizing my office (still) and realized tonight that I’ve been here 100 days (and then some). Where does the time go? I have asked myself that very question several times tonight as I perused the contents of my files … old copies of this and that and then I came upon my writing folder …

I started a novel one day, long ago, as I sat at my kitchen counter. The words just poured out of me. I wrote for hours. It was a luxury and fabulously freeing and I remember the peace and contentment that washed over me when I stopped that afternoon … and whenever I’d pick up the story and add more to it.

Tonight I found a date on it … farther in the past than I ever expected … April 1993! WHAT???? I wrote that nearly 30 years ago??? How can that possibly be? I was so taken aback that it had been so long ago when I started that story. I dug farther into my file and found another story I wrote back in 2004 … and yet another all the way back in 1977. I was immediately awash in disbelief and a bit of (what I can only describe as) sorrow. How many years have I let go by without doing SOMETHING with these writings? How many stories are still in my head? How many titles and snippets of ideas are written down on scraps of paper/packed into that portfolio? Too many.

What have I been doing all these years?

Life. I’ve been “doing” life. You get busy with the day-to-day … with your marriage and house and kids and all those things that go with all those things. And suddenly, it’s 30 years later and you’re sitting on a loveseat in your living room at midnight wondering where the time went.

And, as I sat on that loveseat, in amazement at how quickly the time has flown and, at the same time, I was equally amazed at how it seems like no time has passed at all – like it was yesterday that those words flowed from my fingers.

Time … it’s elusive. We tend to think we have so much of it … but this year – probably because I’m now carrying a Medicare card – I’m feeling the crunch. That little voice inside me is suddenly not whispering anymore – it’s stronger, louder … telling me to DO SOMETHING!

It’s human nature, I think, to do our chores/make a living/put others and other things before ourselves. At least, I know, on my ever-present to-do list … anything personal is at the bottom and rarely gets done. But why do we do that? That which brings joy to our soul should be on the top of our list … or at least in the top half!

I know someone who wants to quit their job and seek out that which brings them joy and fulfillment. It’s a scary, gutsy and risky decision. But, from personal experience … the time is never right. It’s never the right time to quit your job, have a baby, move. Whatever that “thing” is … there is never a perfect or right time. You just have to do it.

And why not take that leap? That proverbial leap into the unknown … before life passes us by? It, this life/this time, goes by too fast to wait any longer. What am I (we) waiting for?

There’s a quote up on my bulletin board that states, “We can’t become what we desire, while staying who we are.” It’s time. The days are fleeting. Go pursue your joy.

It all started the night of my last blog post. It was late and my sweet tooth was wide awake. I’m not much of a “sweets” person but a hot, gooey, melty chocolate chip cookie from the oven sounded pretty good. And in “a cookie”, I mean FIVE!

I have a tub of Pillsbury cookie dough in my refrigerator. It is the bane of my existence! I am having the same relationship with that damn tub as I have with my computer or my sewing machine or pretty much anything else that doesn’t work when it should … one of love/hate.

So, after baking and eating said yummy delights, I needed to brush my teeth well. I didn’t need any residual cookie (albeit goodness) anywhere attacking my pearly whites. So, there I was getting ready for bed and I pulled out the tube of toothpaste from my cabinet. The last time I was at the grocery store, I grabbed a new box of toothpaste off the shelf and threw it in my cart. I’m a Crest gal and without my reading glasses on – one Crest box’s graphics look like another’s. If it has the name Crest on it – it goes home with me. Well, what I didn’t know – until I squished some out onto my toothbrush and popped it into my unsuspecting mouth – was that I picked up a tube of “Kids Crest” … which is, omg, BUBBLEGUM FLAVORED!

My initial reaction was, “Gadzooks … it’s Bazooka!”

And then … why would anyone buy this? How many tubes are sold a year? (There I go counting things again!) Who came up with this and why did they think this was a good idea? And why, for God’s sake, is the “Kids” part of the logo so tiny that it kind of blends in with the Crest letters, making it all too easy to miss that part and take it home and use it (at least once).

So, there I was with a mouth full of bubblegum toothpaste and instantly I was transported to some Halloween of yore when getting bubblegum – specifically Bazooka – was such a treat. Dubble Bubble was okay … but Bazooka was the best! Not only did you get pliable, somewhat long-lasting, chewy bubblegum (and big bubbles) … but you got a COMIC, too! (Keep in mind that I’m a child of the late 50s and it was a simpler time! So, this was a thrilling inclusion!)

All of this flashed in my brain in a nanosecond of thought while my taste buds were trying to figure out if they were supposed to be delighted or repulsed! Was I to chew this mouthful of toothpaste or spit it out as soon as I was able?

And it all made me wonder about that gum but even before the thought of gum entered my mind … I thought of the downfall of society! Why did we always have to make things so cushy-easy for our kids and future generations? When I was a kid, we didn’t have bubblegum flavored toothpaste and we turned out pretty good! We brushed our teeth with nasty baking soda powder cupped in our hand and mixed with a little water (from a stream or if we were lucky a hand pump at a well). We did so with horse hair bristles that got stuck in our teeth … while walking 5 miles to school every day, after getting up at dawn and doing hours of daily chores … in 2 feet of snow … uphill … both ways … 24/7/365.

Okay – so maybe that’s not believable. I get it. I grew up in Chicago and there were no hills. But also no bubblegum flavored toothpaste.

After I got over the shock of the flavor (and I spit it out) – my mind quickly went to that good ol’ Bazooka bubblegum.

When was the last time I had a piece? Why was there a comic wrapping the piece of gum? Who made up those little blurbs? Why was the guy named Bazooka Joe? And why, for God’s sake was he wearing a turtleneck sweater all the time? Who, besides Waldo (of “Where’s Waldo” fame) and Diane Keaton wears a turtleneck 24/7? And is this yummy bit of chewy goodness still around today? So – I did a little research.

Here are my findings:

We can thank Walter E. Diemer for inventing bubblegum in 1928 (by accident during a work break) while working for the Fleer Gum Company. His original concoction was an unappetizing gray in color so – he added red food dye (the only color he had on hand) and it turned the gum pink. This gum became known as Dubble Bubble and opened the floodgates of bubblegumdom. He was 93 years old when he passed in 1998.

Originally a Topps Chewing Gum Company product, Bazooka bubblegum started production in 1947 but was repackaged with the Bazooka Joe comics (Bazooka Joe and his GANG/as they were referred to … consisting of seven different characters) and new colored wrappers in 1953. I couldn’t find anything that explained why they decided to wrap the gum in a comic or the origination of the name. But it was novel and I imagine it brought in a lot of sales. Woody Gelman and Ben Solomon were the brains behind the first comics and Wesley Morse was the original artist. There are 1535 different comic-strip wrappers … dating from the beginning until sometime in 2013 when they were discontinued. These comics contained silly, childish jokes … ads for “must have” merchandise like pop-guns and Sea Monkeys … and a fortune at the bottom (akin to what is found in fortune cookies). Remarkably, they are now collectibles.

In 2012, due to a decrease in sales, Bazooka Candy Brands (then owner) announced they were discontinuing the comic wrappers. They did however make a new wrapper that would include brain teasers, instructions, and codes that could be used to unlock videos and video games (oh, changing times!). Bazooka Joe and other characters would appear on the new packaging from time to time.

Strauss-Elite took over the brand in the 1980s and Bazooka bubblegum is still in production today. And, as gross as it sounds … there is also Bazooka flavored marshmallows as well as flavored milk! Ew!

So, there you have it. The incomplete history of Bazooka bubblegum! And, what was the most profound bit of info I learned? … that Bazooka Joe was NOT the character in the turtleneck! What??? Joe was the kid with the baseball hat on and an eye patch! What was with that? Was he a ball playing pirate? Why the patch? And all these years I thought Joe was the “other” guy! Huh!

Hopefully you are now enlightened about bubblegum … and all because I grabbed the wrong toothpaste! Chew on!

August 18, 2022 ~ Thursday (night … 11pm … a lovely 68°)

It’s one of those balmy nights that usually don’t happen in this area. Usually, in the summer, the nights turn cool once the sun goes down. We are high desert, after all. But, this summer has been anything but usual.

If anyone knows anything about me – it’s that I’m a numbers gal. I count. I walk and I count steps (I hate it, but I do it). It must be an OCD thing. While other people walk and take in the sights and solve the problems of the world … I count. Like I said I count my steps … but I also count bunnies and deer (or at least I used to on the island) and certain colored cars, etc. I’m a counter.

As of today, I am roughly 23,822 days old. I’ve lived in CO for roughly 12,000 days. My dog, Annie, is roughly 4,213 days old. I walked 7826 steps yesterday. And I was in WA just shy of 2880 days. And so it goes.

I’m also obsessed with all things weather. So, it should come as no shock that I count things weather-related or at least take stock in the numbers pertaining to certain seasons … mainly the temperatures. It all kind of goes hand in hand. I should have been a meteorologist or at least a researcher for the NWS (National Weather Service). I always thought that if I was a TV weather personality, my nightly closing quip would have been, “Darkness … clearing by morning”. I realize now, I probably wouldn’t have had that job very long!

So, tonight I wanted nothing more than to sit outside on the deck, under the Edison bulb lights strung in the tree branches over the table and read. I thought I’d listen to the cricket-song and take in the breezes. But, my neighbor decided on having a pot-fest and the smell of skunk permeated the air so I was forced back inside. The air inside wasn’t much better – the breezes just wafted all that odorous air into my house! And … I had taken a walk earlier in the sun and 88° heat and it kind of melted my brain and fried me (once again) from the inside out. It’s been like living in a giant microwave oven this summer. So, instead of being outside, I found myself cooling off by the fan and counting up these past summer days according to their temperatures. Not including heat indexes … just good ol’ plain temps.

I’ve been here now for 93 days. I arrived on the 20th of May to temps in the 30s and two hours before 7″ of snow. That whole first week we didn’t make it past the mid 60s. The day before my arrival (and all that snow) was 89°. Crazy weather here. Crazy weather everywhere.

Of the remaining 87 days … there were 59 days over 85° … 46 of those days were over 90° … 21 of those 46 were 95° or higher. Two of those days were 100°. No wonder I’ve been feeling like a rotisserie chicken on a spit! For a NW wimp … this was a brutal reacquaintance with the season. For what it’s worth – I put in my order for a summer of high 70s to mid 80s. And … had I stayed in Langley, I would have gotten those days! The island is having fabulously luscious summer weather. All it took was for me to leave!

I left CO back in 2012 … the state’s hottest summer on record. Back-to-back days of 105° were recorded … the hottest ever in Denver. And to have multiple days … well, I’m just glad I was not here. I was sweltering in Chicago … I remember those 3-cold-shower days well! But, that summer in Chicago was nothing compared to the summer of 1934. My parents were five years old and they lived through the hottest day on record – ever – in the Windy City … 109° sizzling degrees!

Just two years ago, in 2020, the summer here was hot … having 75 days of 90° or higher temps. This year, in comparison, with a mere 46 days … I don’t know what I’ve been complaining about! It’s hard to have perspective … to me this summer has been dreadful. But, I’m coming off of eight years of NW island summers where a “hot” day was if we hit 72° and when I had to worry about my neighbors having heatstroke if the temps went any higher! Those mild days are a far cry from the roasty-toasty days of summer we’ve had here.

Tonight I looked at the forecast coming up for the rest of the month and for these last two weeks of August, we will be averaging out at 84°. I am breathing easier … and breathing a sigh of relief. I can do 80s! This lobster won’t need to worry about broiling any longer … but to be on the safe side, I’ll be staying away from melted butter.

In any case … I need to stop looking at the weather forecasts … and counting things up … it’s not going to change how hot it is or where the seasons ahead are headed. Scary as things do keep heating up – which makes me wonder why on Earth, I ever thought I could live in the South?! I’d be a fried sweet potato in no time!

Here’s wishing you cooler temps/wherever you may be … and a good rest of Summer. It’s going to go by in a flash and soon enough we’ll all be counting the days until its arrival once again.

August 9, 2022 ~ Tuesday afternoon (hiding out in the dining room with the window a/c cranked up as it’s a sunny and roasty 95° outside … hotter tomorrow!)

I’m still organizing. Filing. Sorting. Purging. Setting things aside to “look at later”. Funny how big that pile is getting!

In going through my office piles and files, I came upon this story. It is the 1000-word story that I wrote for a short-story challenge last Fall. I advanced to the second round with this and then had to write another story in a 24 hour period. I put off writing the next one til the night it was due (typical) but … that was the night that Annie bit Bea (she/we ended up traumatized but fine) and well, story #2 never materialized before the deadline. Too bad as I love these challenges.

There were four requirements for this challenge: maximum word count of 1000 words … it must include a dam as the location, there must be a lizard in it, and the genre was romance/suspense. Hope you enjoy.

The Honeymoon …

“Damn!” he hissed.

His words sounded more like water escaping a tea kettle than an expletive. Exasperation, expectation, exhaustion were all wrapped up in that one word.

We stood there gawking. We’d come to the end of the road … well, metaphorically speaking. We had been making our way through forest undergrowth and now stood atop a high cliff – the only road in sight was the one we needed to get to. Below us was nothing but pine trees, rocky soil and a huge body of water; to our left was the road and the dam’s concrete structure – gray and foreboding. It reminded me of the witch’s castle in The Wizard of Oz. We’d fended off a wild pig earlier … I was in no mood for flying monkeys.

“You mean DAM!” I quipped, as I pointed at the massive walls. “At least I can take as many dam pictures as I want. Right?” I smiled, hoping to lighten the moment.

I am a Film Studies teacher and had watched so many movies in my lifetime. How many of those had dams in them? Life imitates art and everybody lives happily ever after, right? No jail cells?

I needed to clear my head – so, I did what I thought would help … I pulled on Liam’s shirt and drew him in close and kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek, but a slow, soft, lingering kiss. It didn’t help with my head, but it was good. Damn good. Or should I say … dam good.

“Whatta we do now, Butch?” I asked him when our lips parted.

His name is Liam but I’d been calling him Butch. The name on my birth certificate is Loretta but my folks, being the hippies that they are, have always called me Sundance. His nickname seemed to fit our situation.

You can understand why visions of Redford and Newman were running through my head. Butch and Sundance at the top of a cliff – nowhere to go … I was hoping this pairing didn’t have to resort to jumping.

I checked the small cage I was carrying – the lizard was fine. She had no idea what danger we were in or how important she was. You lucky innocent bitch, I thought.

What were we doing? We had come all this way to get married and somehow got embroiled in an international smuggling scheme that involved, of all things, a rare lizard! Who does this?

Apparently, we do. Or I should say, I do … as I did … but my husband-to-be didn’t. He dumped me at the altar. I needed to get away and so went on what was to be our honeymoon with some guy from the Save the Lizards group. They needed a woman … the pieces fell into place, and here we are.

“We get to the dam, do some acting, and then hand over Sheila.” he looked at me with those big, chocolate pudding eyes. I could get lost in those, I thought. Along the way he had named the contraband reptile, Sheila. She’s a Shelia as much as I’m a Loretta. He, however, fits his names nicely.

He shrugged off his pack – a regular Sherpa. We wanted the officials to think … a crazy, pregnant couple on a hiking babymoon. What wasn’t normal about that? Everything! We weren’t a couple, I wasn’t pregnant, and we were helping smuggle an endangered, highly valuable reptile out of a foreign country … under a specially padded shirt! I just hoped my acting skills were up to feigning labor and that the ambulance would arrive before the police. Our hand-off contact was the delivery doctor at the hospital. I was rather proud of myself for coming up with this part of the plan – after Fools Rush In. If Salma Hayek could go into labor atop a dam – why couldn’t I?

Liam was Macgyvering our ropes for the descent. His given name fit better now. It was more serious. And this was serious.

I secured the cage and we roped together. Rappelling would come back to me, right? Thanks, Mr. T. for the climbing wall and ropes course in PE! I took a deep breath.

Liam went first and I followed. I supposed if I fell then he’d catch me … or I’d knock him over and we’d both go down the mountainside. I pushed off the rocks but there were so many overhangs and tree limbs. For a moment, I felt like we were in the tree in Jurassic Park. Thankfully the lizard we were harboring was a bit smaller than the ones in that film. Stealthily we lowered ourselves adjacent to the dam road.

We sat, going over the plan as we watched the sky turn from blue to pink. I hoped it was a good omen – a cotton candy sky – but what did I know about omens? More than I knew about rare lizards, that was for sure!

I tucked the cage into my shirt as we set off towards the dam wall – rocks skittering under our feet. There was no one around as he pushed me up onto the ledge of the wall; with a slight thud, I landed on the other side. Scaling a wall with a valuable lizard on your belly is no small feat! Liam jumped against the wall and climbed to reach the ledge. Mr. Parkour scrambled up like he’d been doing this all his life. Who was this guy?

We strolled along as tourists would do and then gave an Oscar-worthy performance. The ambulance whisked us to the hospital. As soon as the doctor entered the delivery room, I handed over Sheila. Liam and I stood beaming as if I’d actually given birth to her.

The doctor looked inside the cage and back at us and asked, “What the hell is this?”

August 5, 2022 ~ Friday morning (already too hot at 93° at 10:30 am … )

It’s my first extended summer in CO in ten years … and, to put it mildly, there’s been a LOT to contend with. The first six weeks had me fatigued and feeling a need for more O2 … and the dual ear/sinus infection didn’t help matters, either. The upside was I realized I had no free-floating organs or I certainly would have coughed one up. The heat/sun were furnace-like especially compared to the NW temps I had just left … where a warm summer day hovered around 68°. And I had to find places for things that used to fit into 3000 square feet of house … and fit them into 830 square feet instead. I won’t even mention the difference in traffic from the island to here … and the noise … or the constant bombarding over-stimulation.

I’m feeling MUCH better … have gotten rid of most of the ailments, except the cough (and yes, I tested for Covid = neg all 4x), have gotten used to the thinner air and altitude – I am no longer gasping at night while sleeping, am getting used to using a vat of lip gloss and lotion on a daily basis, have liters of cold water waiting for my needed hydration, have set up the house having unpacked 4 million boxes, and while it still feels like I’m on an extended vacation – I’m settling in.

This morning I let the dogs out and left the back door open so they could come and go and I could flop back down in the bed at 7:03 … too early for me. However, I fell fast asleep again, weird dreams and all, and woke up feeling HOT. I should have corralled the dogs and closed the outer door (early on) as the house was already a whopping 82° – with three fans and the a/c going full blast. This house, built in 1911, holds the heat … or it leaks like a sieve and lets the heat in. I guess I’ll find out this winter … if I’m cozy or freezing!

Anyway, as I was lusciously, lazily laying in bed … I was thinking about “things” as one does when their thoughts aren’t focused on anything and then the brain does a free-fall and goes to places one has been too busy to dwell upon … akin to an in-box with a “tend to later” file.

So, there I was thinking over the last 10 weeks (yes, I’ve been here since late mid-May!) … and I was thinking of how often someone will do something for another and say, “Oh, it was nothing.” … when, actually, that deed, gesture, utterance, connection or assistance of some kind was, indeed, EVERYTHING.

And it’s usually not the BIG things we think of when this comes to mind. It’s the small things that truly are second nature to someone … an open door, a helping hand, a sweet compliment or smile … that hit the core of our being and makes our souls lighter … our hearts soar … our spirits lifted.

I remember back sixteen years ago when my husband, Tim, had just passed. It was the day after. It was the first day in over 27 years that he was not in my life. I felt hollow, shattered, numb. I was pretty sure my heart was going to fall out of my body and break into a million pieces as it felt like it was going to do every day for the 148 days before his passing. It was late morning and I was sitting on the front porch reminding myself to breathe and I noticed a woman walking past the house, along the sidewalk, with a box in her hand. She turned up our driveway and I got up to meet her. She said she was from a neighborhood women’s group – had heard about Tim’s passing – and she handed me the box and said they had put together lunch for us. I don’t remember if we hugged. I have no idea (to this day) who this woman was or who was in that group or how they knew (???). I don’t remember what was in the box. I just remember being so deeply touched by this lovely, out-of-the-blue, simple gesture of neighborliness and empathy. I think of that offering often.

And, not to say that everything else we received during that time wasn’t so profoundly appreciated – because it was … but this was a complete stranger. She couldn’t have blown me away any more than if she sprouted wings and flew up into the clouds. An angel amongst us.

But, I’ve had many angels in my life. I hope, in reflection, that when reading this you realize that you, too, have had those moments of “nothing being everything”.

This past month I lunched with a good friend. We met a million years ago (roughly 33) when my son entered her kindergarten classroom. She is the one who told me I didn’t ‘know what I had’ (meaning: brilliant Ted). Sam was fortunate enough to have her, as well. I’m certain there was no better way to start out their educational journeys than with Miss Linda! We became and stayed friends, through thick and thin (life and bodies), and there I was sitting in the coolness (it was another blazing hot day) of her dining room. The table was set with placemats and cloth napkins and sweet bunny napkin rings of pewter. We had chicken salad and I just remember thinking that it had been a LONG time since anyone made me anything to eat … and that this was just so lovely. I think it also came at a time when I was just DONE with all that I was doing and was tired/hot/finally feeling human again but exhausted and spent. And this sweet outpouring of caring, nurturing, friendship and love filled me up (along with the chicken salad). And maybe that all played into the specialness of that lunch but maybe not … it may have been just a casual “nothing” lunch to her and her husband … but it was everything to me.

And so it goes … it’s the small things. The whipped cream pup cup at Starbucks because the girl saw the dog in the back seat on a horribly hot day when we were coming home from the vet’s office … sitting side by side with my daughter in the movie theater, jumping out of our collective skins when dinosaurs popped out of from their hiding spots in the newest Jurassic Park movie … a random call from my son, late at night, to talk about his recent podcast.

All day-to-day normal things … seemingly nothing … but, at the same time … everything.

July 17, 2022 ~ Sunday afternoon (currently 85° inside the house/99° outside … another scorcher!)

My island friends are probably shaking their heads at me … muttering “be careful what you wish for” and all that. I wanted more heat than the current summer temp of 59° in Langley/on the island for my summer. Well, I certainly got it when I moved! Since my arrival we’ve had two days of 100° … 19 days over 90° and a forecast for six more before the month is over. Yeah – be careful what you wish for. This is ridiculous. It’s just too hot! Global warming/climate change. Yep.

The house and yard, with the exception of a large “What do I do with this stuff?” pile in my office, are done. As in DONE. The sod and bark are in. The flowers have been planted – sometimes twice because they fried in this intense sun and heat. I’ve forgotten what it is like to have to WATER! Oops – sorry plants! The house is put together and sans some reorganizing in my office and a few projects here and there (painting the bath/extending the deck) … I’m done. Yay.

I need a nap!

Actually, yesterday I got one. And after waking up from an apparent Rip Van Winkle slumber where I slept through a wind storm (big branch off the front tree) and torrential rain (for an hour), I was thinking about the value of a good nap. Yesterday’s nap wasn’t the best … I woke up upside down on the chaise/face planted nearly 3″ from the box fan/too warm/too groggy. I think I had been drooling. But … apparently, it was needed.

But a “good” nap is one where you slip between cool, soft sheets and there is a lovely little breeze and upon closing your eyes, and before even realizing it, you are transported to dreamland. Those are invaluable nap times. I need one of those (but won’t get one until it cools down).

But that nap got me thinking about value. And not just the value of a good nap.

Yesterday I participated in a grief workshop. Not thinking the content would be too new/thought-provoking, I did it mostly to support my dear island friend who specializes in grief therapy and sudden loss. I didn’t think I was a workshop therapy type of gal. I was wrong. There was a lot of value in that time spent. The workshop was nothing but eye opening (in a good way) and soothing. I learned more than expected and I liked her approach … not one of “get over it and move on” which is often the course of these programs. Along the way we did a grounding exercise with deep breaths and I think that is what transported me to Comaville and my nap after the class. I was so relaxed! I had not “stopped” doing something … packing, unpacking, organizing, purging, loading, unloading, gardening, tending, moving, driving, decorating, etc etc etc … since early March. I stopped doing yesterday for 3 hours and turned into a pile of mush. Also in a good way. There is value in slowing down/stopping/relaxing. I need to do that more often. Don’t we all?! (And if you or anyone you know is having a hard time with a loss – recent or not – please check out: www.fromgrieftogrowth.com … I know it would be beneficial. Dr. Jennifer Levin’s clients are of all ages/backgrounds/areas and she has a variety of offerings.)

And in taking her workshop, I was reminded of the value of a good friend. I miss my island buds who are still there and those who have also fled the rock for various locations. But, I love that I can now see my good, “old” CO friends … ones that ten years ago I said good-bye to and since then our contact has been mostly online, on the phone, or at rare times as in-person visits. Some friends I lost along the way. Such is life. It happens. But, those that stayed with me … thank you, dear friends. It’s lovely to be back and pick up right where we left off. I just went to lunch with a friend whom I haven’t seen in person for over 3 years … and it was like we’d been doing lunch all that time. I finally saw my beloved sister in law today … not a beat skipped. It has been lovely. I value all my friendships … island or mainland … near or far.

And then there are the other values … the ones where not everyone sees eye to eye about. The contentious ones. The ones that cause friendships and relationships to strain and break. The values or lack of that make many of us question … WTF?!

There is too much political strife going on these days … it seeps into our personal lives and it is exhausting and upsetting and scary. Where do we go from here? If you haven’t read The Handmaid’s Tale, I urge you to do so. In no uncertain terms, it’ll scare the shit out of you. I read it when the candidates were vying for nomination back in 2014. The book was published in 1985 (which is shocking to me) and was so horrifying to me in a “this could be our future, if we’re not careful” sort of way … and well, it’s all starting to look like a too- real possibility.

I value free speech. I value our freedoms. I value life and the right to life … and that also includes 6-year-olds in school classrooms and 10-year old pregnant rape victims. All of a sudden the abortion issue is in our face again and the right to life advocates are in a frenzy. How about the right to live without fear? How about the right to life without being ripped apart and dying by gunfire when you’re a child learning your ABC’s because assault rifles are still okay to obtain? It seems that more people are concerned about protecting a fetus than the elementary child. The dead have more rights to their bodies now than women. How is that possible? What are people thinking? What happened to us? How about some good old, ethics, integrity, common sense, intelligence, morals and values by our politicians who are supposed to represent us? How about the same from each of us? Is that asking too much?

It’s all about values. Who has them. Who does not. Who and what are we aligning ourselves with? Do they share our same values? If we don’t know or haven’t thought about it for a while, it’s probably a good time to take a look and see what and who is of value to each of us. (And then do something about it.)

July 6, 2022 ~ Wednesday afternoon (82 lovely degrees/sun with puffy clouds)

I’ve started this post in my head half a dozen times in the last two weeks. One day it was about something … the next day it was about something else … and today, I can’t remember anything that seemed worthy of writing about.

I’m blaming my frizzled brain cells on the Colorado heat (too many high-90 degree days w/10% humidity)/dust/intense sun … the altitude that fogged my brain … and the antibios that made me feel worse not better.

The 4th was this past weekend … on the upside I watched Yankee Doodle Dandy starring James Cagney. I’ve seen it before but it was fabulous (again) and made me want to get new tap shoes. That guy could dance! Move over Fred and Gene! Movies were movies in 1942! On the downside, my new neighborhood was like a war zone on Saturday night. Why are pop-up firework sellers able to sell illegal fireworks? We all know people will shoot them off! Annie was so terrorized (the dog that hears very little) that she was climbing onto the chaise with me at 11pm and tucking her head under my arm. If there was room in my pajamas for her to climb into, she would have! Poor baby. What are people thinking? Aren’t there enough vets out there with PTSD for others to think that maybe firing off 112 pounds of explosives might not be a good thing?

Don’t get me started on what the people of this country are thinking … banning abortion rights, enacting voter suppression laws, loosening gun regulations. God forbid any 20 year old (or anyone) should have to have a background check before purchasing an AR-15 rifle – a gun whose bullets travel three times faster than a typical hand gun. It is a semi-automatic. Not something you’d go quail hunting with unless you just wanted feathers. This destroys anything it hits – it rips apart flesh and organs rendering whomever/whatever is hit with irreparable damage. This gun’s sole purpose is for shooting PEOPLE. No one needs this gun. And yet, gun regulations are relaxing. And here we are with yet other mass shooting. Highland Park, IL isn’t too far from where I grew up … a beautiful area – north of Chicago/right on the lake, big trees, old homes, a quiet/lovely town. Sickening. There have been 314 mass shootings THIS YEAR … so far. What the hell are we waiting for?

Pro-gun advocates cite and defend the 2nd Amendment. I don’t buy it. Too bad the writers of the constitution were talking about muskets and single shot weapons … about defending their homes and families and not about the abuse and recklessness that is now associated with this ideology. No one at that time could have foretold how far things would go in this country some two hundred plus years later. I can only imagine how dismayed and disgusted they would be that their words were taken at the initial level and not including current-day common sense, intelligent thinking or codas.

SOMETHING has to change. Not much is happening to quell or stop these incidents. It’s time for us to ACT. I don’t know how – but I think voting is a good start.

If that doesn’t work … Portugal is looking better and better.

Every 4th I think I’m going to read the Declaration of Independence. And, except for a handful of years, I have not done so. But, the week isn’t over and I still think I’d like to do that.

I had someone ask me last week, if I could go back in time, what career path would I now choose? Good question. I’m one of those people who could never do just ONE thing for my lifetime … well, except for being a mom. What careers would I have done? Or maybe, what SHOULD I have done? So many options in the Land of the Free.

I always think I haven’t used my brain power as much as I should have. I pretty much messed up my body in a fall in high school – so, anything physical would have been out of the question … but my brain power hasn’t been tapped enough. I love animals … and at one time I wanted to be a vet. But, I don’t do well with body fluids (of any kind) and so, that was not to be. BUT … perhaps some sort of research would have been a good choice. At the time I was in college I didn’t know what my options were.

I would have made a good private eye … again, I have good research skills and am a stickler for detail. I’m a puzzle solver. Maybe one of those Fed code breakers would have been a good option.

For a long time I wanted to work at the UN … not as a translator but as a tour guide. I love museums and tours, old buildings, educating people. Maybe I should have been an historian. (Job options akin to having a degree in Russian poetry.)

I’ve always loved to write … and (yet) I’ve still got all those kid/pug/fairytale books in my head! I also have an eagle-eye and love the editorial process and the written word – perhaps I should have done more editorial work?

I thought journalism would be fun until I realized I wasn’t willing to put in the hours (on call for a fire alarm at 3am) or covering the local Jam Making/Canning Contest – stuff I didn’t care a whiff about.

Had I the talent, perhaps I would have been a stand-up comedienne or a country singer!

I don’t know what I would have done … I just know I loved my oil and gas job and all my years in sales. And I’d do the mom-thing all over again, if given that chance. That was so much fun!

So, yes, a thought-provoking/good question which led me back to the issue of Freedom and the 4th. We are afforded such limitless freedoms (sometimes too much) in this country. Why aren’t people (generally speaking) nicer, better, happier, more helpful, and more educated? I just don’t get it. It is one of those things I find myself pondering when I’m sitting on the porch reading or when in the shower and my mind wanders.

In the wake of recent political and national news and continued Covid infections … I hope you take the time in the next month or so to determine if you are not happy with the direction this country is taking; and if not, that you decide to take some action. That is how we change things … it is one of our basic freedoms.

And, finally … I am feeling better. It’s been six weeks since I arrived here in CO. I’ve been sicker than a dog for almost five of them. Between the air quality/pollen/altitude issues/dust/unpacking/sheer exhaustion/and heat I managed to whip up a good dual ear and sinus infection. So, aside from still not hearing anything – I am (finally) feeling more human and better/good.

Wishing you well and good thinking.

June 6, 2022 … Monday (84 degrees/cloudy/stormy skies in the distance)

And here we are … again.

I left Littleton on a sunny May morning back in 2012 (Chicago-bound) and arrived back again on another May morning … ten years later … with snow in the forecast. The major difference I notice is that the trees are bigger. Oddly, much of everything else has stayed the same.

Over two weeks ago I stuffed a suitcase, a few favorite small plants, some valuables, and the dogs (Annie/12 yr old/93# lab and Bea/19 yr old/8# toothless chihuahua) into Gus the Fiat and was blown off the island, CO bound, by high winds. And, here we are back again … a place that I landed, by all intents as a temporary summer stop-over back in 1979, on yet another May morning. Funny what life holds for you.

My last post was from our hotel room in Ontario, OR after 11 hours in the car and 468 miles under our proverbial belts … the dogs and I were, well, dog-tired. The floor was too slippery for old Annie and she splayed out like Bambi on the ice. Poor baby. Somehow I wrestled her baby walrus body up onto the bed with me and there she stayed – snoring away – until I woke her in the morning. It had been an easy drive – except for the high winds battering the car for at least 8 hours. But we had long stretches of lonely highway (which I love) – just us and all that nature surrounding us. Unfortunately, because of the high winds and the severe dust storms/dust in the air – we didn’t see much of anything distant. Every once in a while I’d get a glimpse of some mountain or formation – but much of the day it was a blur … akin to bad pollution or smoky skies.

We left the little (clean/thankfully) motel on Thursday morning around 9:30 and thinking I’d put in another 500 miles and call it a day – we started out. I didn’t really want to put in any more miles than that since the day before Annie and I were stiff from sitting so long and 10 hours is LONG ENOUGH driving. Bea didn’t seem to mind the crate (as I had worried about) and she slept most of the trip. More winds, more blur and far more traffic accompanied us along our journey. Somewhere before my turn off to I-80 eastward, my sister texted me asking where I was going to stay to wait out the storm.

WHAT? WHAT STORM?

Apparently, the local radio stations (when I could get one) said NOTHING about a storm coming! I was a day ahead of a whopper of a spring storm that would bring 2 feet of snow to the mountains and 7+” to the Denver metro area. Fabulous. Just GREAT! Exactly what this little trip needed … snow!

So, I pulled off for a bit to do a little research on what was coming behind us, and sure enough, my only option was to just DRIVE and hope I got into Denver before the storm. I was NOT going to hole up with two dogs and a moving van awaiting my arrival, waiting out a storm in some flea-bag-no-tell-motel in Podunk, Nowhere unless I really had to!

After a long first day – I wasn’t really cherishing finishing the rest of the drive in one sitting but … I-80 was already closed to smaller/lightweight vehicles (me)/too windy – so, we had to go south to Salt Lake and up and over the mountains (which I did NOT want to do). But, my only option. It added hours to our drive … longer, uglier, and more congested. So fun! And, as it is – I hate that drive! It took us over 3 hours to get through the SLC area … 7 lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic. My creative swearing got a workout! It was seriously heinous!

I was about an hour west of the CO border when night fell (I do NOT do well driving at night) – but followed some truckers (w/their high beams) and was only solo for about 15 minutes of the remaining 6 hours! I felt safer behind them and their additional headlight beams helped a ton! When I lost one/I seemed to get behind another soon enough. I was very thankful for their (unknowing) guidance and help! There was a lot of traffic (storm runners, like me) but I stayed in the right lane and went only as fast as I wanted … a lot of curves along the way, so 45 mph was my max at times. I get nervous driving in the mountains – (PTSD from a really awful drive over the pass one winter) – but in the dark, I couldn’t see the drop-offs and just kept telling myself we were driving flat roads with meadows where sweet cows were sleeping. Nothing like images of sweet, sleeping cows to soothe one’s nerves. (Unless it’s French Bulldogs in pajamas!)

With no rain/no snow and no problems (phew!) … we made it without any worse weather or incidents … but it was 17 hours in the car and more than 1000 miles for Day 2. INSANITY! We drove into the driveway at 3am … to find out that the kids didn’t tell me where they hid the key – so, we were locked out! More creative swearing! I ended up at my sister’s and got a whopping 1.5 hours of sleep before the movers were to arrive.

But, they didn’t! It started spitting at 5:30 am (just as I was falling asleep) … and it was light rain and would have been MUCH better than the heavy/sloggy slush/snow-rain that was falling at 1:30 pm when the guys finally showed up! They didn’t seem to care if ALL of my stuff got wet … I guess being HIGH will do that!

Anyway – everything is here/nothing damaged or broken … and it’ll be all good/fine once I’m all unpacked. The 6 U-Haul pods have been unloaded and are gone from my driveway and the dogs and I are now tucked (quite literally) into the 830 sq foot house in downtown Littleton. It’s a charming 1911 cottage that we purchased almost 19 years ago and renovated to be Tim’s office. Our plan was to keep it for 3 or 4 years and then sell. Again, funny what life holds. It’s gotten plenty of use over the years by this family and it’s now my turn to live in it/love it before the ol’ bulldozer gets at it. It has 2 bedrooms, bath, living, dining, kitchen w/laundry nook and ONE (count ’em 1) closet. All small rooms but it’ll be really darling once I’ve unpacked (and purged) the remaining 138 boxes that have taken over most of the floor space!

I’ve rearranged the furniture about 18x trying to fit things in and I think it’s okay … we’ll see. The yard is cute and fenced … have some plans for it … and there is a nice back deck and front porch. So – it’ll be good. And, bonus – friends and family!

I have seen some friends, some family, and have shared some long-awaited hours with my mom and am slowly settling in. So many boxes to go! I now have TV but no internet/computer service yet so (darn it anyway) I’m at Starbucks (once again) and am enjoying a little A/C and a frapp. It’s warmer than the island ever is (with exceptions) so, along with the altitude (which is kicking this lobster’s butt), the heat (meaning anything over 55 degrees) is taking some time to get used to. But, that’ll happen and it’s good to be here.

And, it’s so nice to sit out in the evenings (and not be cold or wet) … the air feels so good and has been filled with cricket-song and omg … train whistles!

May 18, 2022 ~ Wednesday night (nearly midnight mountain time/468.1 miles under my belt)

Greetings from the road tripping Lobster!

It’s been a while since my last post … I’ve been a little busy.

Yesterday the moving van came to collect what was left of the furniture/things that I had not packed into six U-Haul pods the week before. I hope I have some muscles to show for all my packing/hauling/loading after this is all done! Annie and I spent the night sharing a dog bed … not horrible … but the motel bed we are sharing tonight is much nicer!

I loaded up the car, popped Bea into the crate in the front seat and stuffed Annie into the back seat atop a mountain of pillows … and barely had room for my body and water bottle after everything else was smashed in. The car is SMALL! Rearranging needs to be done before tomorrow’s trek!

But, here we are … in Ontario, Oregon … a mere 468 miles from Langley and the house that was my home for the last (almost) 8 full years. I moved in on July 3, 2014 … and today, May 18, 2022, I moved out.

We (the dogs and I) are on our way back to Colorado … where friends/family/my mom and a cute, little, 1911 house await me. I’m hoping to be back by Friday night. We’ll see. Snow is in the forecast for Colorado and possibly Wyoming – along my route. Of course. Happy Spring in CO!

Today I left the house/drove down – one last time – the road that I walked so many, many times and said goodbye to the deer and the views. I stopped at the gas station by the highway to get some chicken. Yes … chicken, but not just any chicken – the best chicken on the planet. I planned this trip to coincide with my leaving the island. I was looking forward to this chicken. They were closed. Bummer. I then went to the bagel shop. Gluten and yeast be damned … a salt bagel with cream cheese sounded equally appealing and decadent. There were 7 people in line and the shop is notoriously slow. Nope, not waiting and missing a ferry. The winds were whipping the trees around and the Sound waters were choppy and the ferry sailing was rougher than any I’d been on before. The morning rain showed up again as we left the terminal. Seemed like a fitting send off!

I looked back over the island as we closed in on the mainland and the dark clouds over the sea and land could have been out of some movie. Lightning and Poseidon coming out of the waters were the only things missing. The mainland was sunny and dry. And people wonder why I couldn’t wait to get off that rock?!

90 minutes after I left home for the last time I drove off the ferry … I will NOT miss that trip. But there are plenty of things I will miss … like the quiet, serenity, greenness, wildlife, beauty, my guest dogs and their families, and certainly my friends. And yes, also that gas station chicken!

If the winds were blowing from the west/eastward we would have arrived in this far eastern section of Oregon far sooner than 10:30 pm. But, as Mom Nature would have it – the winds seemed to be coming from every direction but from the west and we were buffeted for 8 relentless hours. It wasn’t until we were in the Pendleton area that the winds abated … perhaps it was because of the topography. Very hilly there.

We passed the 45th parallel … had I not zoomed past the sign at 75 mph or had a rather large semi behind me, I would have taken a picture. The 45th parallel is half-way between the equator and the North Pole. Fun trivia.

Around Pendleton, the landscape reminded me of a miniature train-scape. All the hills looked to be made of olive velvet, draped just so … or astro turf mounds with little bottle-brush trees set here and there … a cardboard looking house in the distance … a horse running through a meadow/mane flying behind … it was idyllic. And it would have been just one smidgeon better if the train in the distance had blown its whistle. There are no trains on the island … I’ve missed that.

Driving so far/getting dogs in and out of the car/sleeping on a dog bed have made this little lobster very tired. I’m turning off the lights … but more to come on this journey back “home”.