The last couple weeks we here in HQX have been blessed with thrillingly sunny late autumn days. Today, even though my husband and I are both suffering from a head cold, we simply can't stay off the bikes. Our destination: the bakery (previously blogged by a local) new to downtown Aberdeen.

Our children seem to fare better, behavior-wise, when we go off on road trips and even more: bike trips. They are genial, their appetite is good, and their conversation entertaining. Ralph and I can usually get more uninterrupted conversation time, which keeps us from loathing one another too much. Today I tell him my novel synopsis; he tells me he plans a celebration for the family on Tuesday (the day, God willing, he gets his new guitar). We talk about our friends, our future plans. From the bakery to the grocery store for cat food and a few dinner items. Sophie pushes the cart, Nels rides underneath.

Have I mentioned how much I love, love, love biking for the opportunity to meet new people? As we leave the store we see a man jaywalking across the main thoroughfare (which is actually, regrettably, a highway) sporting a large beard, wearing an open coat, no shirt, huge gold chains, and talking to two big friendly-looking dogs connected not to him but to one another via fifteen feet of some kind of industrial cable tied around their necks. The dogs join us; the kids and I pet them. The man is cursing (gently) at them, trying to untangle their bi-leash. He compliments the bike. He looks unclean and cheerful, his chest beneath his coat smooth and muscled but also tragically scarred. The dogs look happy. We part ways for the now.

A few minutes later at Finch Park and the kids are gamboling on the playground while Ralph and I talk. As we sit huddled on the picnic table two teenagers enter the grounds, alike as two peas in a pod with hair in their faces, half-cocked hats, screenprinted hoodies, and jeans that hug low and tight on the hips and loose on the legs. Ralph points out he sees kids like this at the parks often, carrying themselves with a self-conscious stoop to their walk and remote body language; but who do, in fact, play on the playground equipment. "It's a commentary on childhood, and how we don't provide for kids this age," he says (or something like that, it sounded smart to me). Sure enough, the two boys effortlessly climb up to the top of the rope-coned merry-go-round and swing on it a bit, clearly wanting velocity. I heckle Ralph to go offer a push and, given his refusal, finally do it myself. The boys bray laughter like it's a joke but they concede happily. I push as much as I can, my daughter joining and clambering up along with the little pirates.

I return back to Ralph and as we continue our conversation I observe the youths have now freed themselves up to play on the large swings, the teeter-totter, goofing off. They are as joyful and full of mischief as the younger kids, and no one begrudges them their company. I often think of teenagers and young adults and how little some people trust or support them, especially if they have a cigarette in or bad language coming out of their mouths.

It's nice to just watch them play.

Labels: bike, family life, HQX, Nels, Ralph, Sophie, weather, X

A few days ago I asked my mother for a loan to buy my children raingear for the winter. This year, rather than being huddled in the zippered confines of the bike trailer, they'll be out in the elements with me on the Xtracycle.

I'm sort of dreading the rain and wind, but nevertheless committed to our non-car dependent lifestyle.

Now I need to get myself updated, too.

Labels: bike, HQX, weather, X

Tonight's chosen destination for National Night Out was the potluck at our Community Garden. I cooked up a panful of cornbread and large batch of vegetarian chili (made quite flavorful by the addition of my homemade berbere sauce) and carted this bounty down the path to join friends and acquaintances. People came, stayed, ate. The Crime Watch floated by. I talked with friends and my children laughed at river's edge blowing large bubbles with a couple policemen - adorable! Robin took photos. I hope she posts them. I like it when policemen do stuff.

I fell in love, absolutely in love, with Hoquiam's K-9 dog, a German Shepherd by the name of Enno. Of course, if I tried to abscond with that dog (and I briefly considered it) I would get bit badly by both dog and partner; it was clear this officer loved his canine companion very, very much. And my husband would probably demand I choose between himself and the dog. Honestly, though, it might be a hard choice. That dog was amazing.

My parents were there. My mother brought a beautiful batch of fresh-squeezed lemonade. We all watered our plots. My mom and I talked food and joked about flashing the Coast Guard boat that motored by. She is great company. My dad coughed and coughed and coughed. While my mom flitted about and tried to fetch things my father would eat I sat with him on a bench overlooking our muddy, lush riverfront. We talked for a while, then we didn't talk that much. I try to live in the moment. When I do, I feel the most acute sadness that our ways will be parted. This sadness is always fresh, always deeply felt. I don't want him to go. But I also feel so deeply satisfied he's here now. Even if we're not saying anything.

We left just before nine o'clock. My kids had spent a good solid half hour playing in a dirt pile so they were filthy. Horribly, horribly dirty. The bathroom, bathtub was muddy, I mean even the walls.

It was actually quite impressive.

Labels: community, geekery, HQX

I love to shop. I love to buy things. Being a one-income family of four I've had to adjust a bit. Mostly, I focus this pleasure of mine on the acquisition of groceries and food. I enjoy immensely learning to cook something new; to find something different to pursue, to go on a hunt for a rare item, to try a new restaurant (although mostly I limit my restaurants to our favorite deli and our local Latino fare). I enjoy buying a big or little thing for the house (last week it was two $1 prisms and fishing line to hang in our small living room windows), to clean or meagerly furnish my "nest". I've always been this way.

Our local garage sales are excellent for spending frugally, and 'tis the season indeed. Some of my best Fridays and Saturdays lately have been spent biking around Hoquiam and Aberdeen with kids in tow, hopping off at various yard sales and going though piles of clothes in hunt for our wardrobe (my children especially do not benefit from newly-purchased clothes). This weekend's garage sale expedition was largely funded by my lettuce sales at our local Public Market (oddly, while visiting my family before I left, my dad first made fun of how little money my lettuce raised, then insisted I wasted it all by driving to the Market. But in reality I haven't driven to that Farmer's Market once in my produce-selling escapades and in fact had just disembarked from my bike to share my excitement).

This Saturday for $11 I purchased the following: an evening scarf (Kelly), 2 t-shirts (Kelly), 2 t-shirts and a dress shirt (Ralph), dress pants (Nels), a pair of herringbone cotton pants (to refashion for kids), denim jacket (Kelly), hoodie (Nels), ls tee shirt (Sophie), and 2 vinyl albums ("South Pacific" for me, "If I Could Only Remember My Name", hippie David Crosby for my parents).

Labels: Aberdeen, consumerism, FOO, garden, HQX, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

I'm a member of ten Yahoo groups (three I really need to leave), but this one sends a precious little bit of cargo my way every now and then:



My family has enjoyed the original - The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra - watching it a couple times a year for a few years now.





In other news, I have been given the honor of distributing an excellent publication, The Practical Pedal. It is one of my goals to spread the love of practical cycling (that is, cycling for everyone) in my little nook of Grays Harbor.

Labels: bike, film, GH, hilarity, HQX

Today we didn't do much outside the house, at first. I caught up on many emails. At 2 PM we went to the official opening of the HQX Community Garden:


I love taking my kids to the garden site. Did you know that the very existence of train tracks means kids can entertain themselves - for hours at a time?


My mom has been painting garden plot signs for anyone who asks. She does something custom according to what the "customer" wants and what she feels like doing. It adds a lot to the congenial atmosphere of the place.

We had coffee and cookies and people fussed over my bike. It is re-invigorating shopper's lust within me to trick it out further (DLG and Wide-Loaders, anyone?). Yes Laura, I realize I need to get pictures of the damn bike. And my car, come to think of it.

Afterwards I biked to the Silver Pony, an antique store in Hoquiam, with the intention of doing an interview and feature in my next zine. This is a really great shop, and I browse there often and buy there every now and then.

Labels: garden, HQX, SNF

Today I had one of those delightful days - a full schedule, just a skosh shy of being too full. Nels and I were off at 9:55 this morning - hauling two rakes, a hoe, a shovel, three small digging tools and two watering cans on the bike - for our end-of-year picnic and inaugural garden installation for Nels' preschool. From there we journied to my favorite diner where it was packed and I ended up doing dishes for about an hour and a half. Then to Sophie's school for my Monday slot of classroom helper. Nels attended and worked all these events; I forget sometimes how well-behaved my children can be. (Relatively; at my last shift at Sophie's school Nels urinated on the playground in full view of say, five thousand people).

Tomorrow: babysitting in the morning, movie night with the girls in the evening, a secret shipment of strawberries, cream, and pound cake to Sophie's teachers and who knows - maybe even a minute or two sewing!

Labels: bike, garden, HQX, school, X

Today I spent most the day on my bike and on the beach. I know this sounds nice and all, but it was very hot for me (HQX reached 93 and considering last week we still had winter chill I guess I just wasn't ready). On top of this the bike trip with my mom was harder than I'd thought it would be. In my tube-top dress and bright red face under a bike helmet I wasn't exactly getting wolf whistles, in fact I'm sure I made a few lads puke in their mouth a little bit.

Our beach trip was lovely. Friends Mikey and John picked Sophie and I up at 3:30 and we hit two separate beaches toting water and sunscreen as backup in the van. On the shore John repeatedly braved the waves while I watched my daughter over and over running into and out of the surf. After dinner and ice cream we journied home and hit the barely-cool house just prior to 9 PM. Quite a day for both Sophie and I and I count it up to my Good Mommy my daughter's skin remained entirely free from sunburn.

Labels: beach, friends, HQX, roadtrip, Sophie, weather

Last night we attended my daughter's kindergarten concert at the HQX high school's theater. It was glum and cold-ish at 6 PM when we biked up and then down a huge, steep awful hill to get there. I had to walk the bike both up and down - the "down" was at such an incline I didn't feel I could safely mount the bike and have Sophie do the same. And in my tippy Danskos at that with middle school students gawking. I don't think so.

The school concert was like being slammed into my own childhood, only I was a Mommy now. It was a familiar experience in some ways but alien in others. Parents, grandparents, siblings, friends, teenagers on chaperoned pseudo-dates filled the seats to overflowing. When the kindergarteners filed onstage parents a sweetness filled the room as parents began rising out of their seats to joyfully signal their own children (whom they'd just dropped off minutes before in the band room). With the hum in the air the rising and falling of parents in their seats reminded me of butterflies lifting and falling out of a swaying meadow. My daughter was in the first group out and the only child to, as she walked, turn and throw her head up to wave with confidence; they were all there to see her.

My son sat in rapt silence, bundled in his coat with his hair falling in his eyes, his gaze fixed on his sister and her big moment. Ralph got there late and snuck out after her performance to meet a friend. And a mere forty five minutes after we took our seats I was biking the kids home in the wet spring evening. We made pizza together in the kitchen and I hung Sophie's dress back up in her closet. Finis.

Labels: bike, family life, HQX, music, Sophie, weather

This weekend was a busy one - coming off a dinner party (of sorts) on Thursday we took in the school carnival at Lincoln elementary, the bridge opening celebration at the HQX Farmer's Market, the Shorebird Festival, and a private rollerskating birthday party (where I discovered I could still skate reasonably well). All traveled to by foot or by bike and on a shoestring grocery budget. Ralph also worked most of Saturday in the yard mowing, weed-eating, and finishing our "greenhouse" (which Nels calls a "pinkhouse" for absolutely no reason - the truth is it's kind of this DIY recycled materials shanty). I joined him to hang laundry and put out the starts I'd been working up: lettuces, cucumbers, peas, bush beans, cilantro, sunflowers, love in a mist, snapdragons, amaranth, sweet peas, and calendula. Now if only the cats would stop using our lovely large bed as a lovely large litterbox. In fact today I had a very, very sad cat crap experience I won't elaborate on. Yeah, it was really, really bad. Just know this and be glad it didn't happen to you. P.S. I'll be telling Billy every detail.

Yesterday's daytime activities were a very sweet affair: the kids and I played "homeschool" in part inspired by the old-fashioned child's desk we found at the Public Market's associated garage sale (where I also made a new friend, an RN who works up on the Quinault Reservation). The children loved the school play - and I mean loved it. Sophie would call Harris "the school cat" with the most pleased expression of eye and tooth. During the subject of "bath time" I made up report cards in categories Science & Discovery, Art & Creative Play, Exercise & Pet Care, Food Preparation, Personal Hygiene & Clean Up, and Conduct. I wrote things like, "Very good at washing dishes," and "B- : forgot to flush toilet" and, "Was the catcher during 'Parachute Toy Science Experiment'." Smart Mommy and Daddy readers will immediately see this enabled me to also get the entire house clean with their help. Maybe I'll graduate up to Coffee Making and Foot Rubbing extra credit projects.

Tomorrow finds me back to the "normal" school routine and I already miss our weekend together. We had a lot of sunny, easy hours together.

Labels: garden, homesteading, HQX, Nels, school, Sophie

One of the things I like about living "back home" (that is to say, the hometown of my formative years) are the many, many memories I have when I bike, walk, or drive around the neighborhoods. It seems like I'd run out of old memories but I just don't and they pop up unbidden: I remember going to a party at that house and this guy answered without his shirt on and I felt weirdly uncomfortable; hey, we watched The Texas Chainsaw Massacre there and it scared me out of my wits; I was once invited to a pool date at the house of a higher social status peer - only once invited; oh, we smoked pot in that house; I once got sick doing Robitussin in the driveway of that house; I used to climb out of my bedroom window to see a boy there; I was friends briefly with a preacher's daughter that lived there. Memories all reduced to just that, memory - in most cases not a single tenant remains, the houses have changed or atrophied; nor is there necessarily anyone else who thinks on these things at all.

Last night I helped a young mother during our weekly sewing date (she's sewing pajamas for her oldest as a learning project) and she told me she always thought of her grandmother when she snipped and threw out threads, because her grandmother saved them all. I asked why, wondering if there was a seamstress' trick in there and my friend answered, "Oh, she had heard that when you die, if you go to Hell, the Devil ties your wasted threads to you and sets fire to them."

Yeesh.

Labels: HQX, navelgazing, sewing

We had an outdoorsy day today: from taking a 9 mile roundtrip to get Nels from school straight to the bike shop where Terry and I (mostly Terry, although the kids and I were there for a lot of it and I even helped and learned parts of my bike, yay!) Franken-biked my Giant into an Xtracycle! Since my bike was torn apart before my eyes this involved me finding a way in poor weather to Sophie's school and back home without wheels - in horizontal rain for part of it. Bitar's Bike Shop is also slightly colder than the outdoors, and the outdoors were cold. Short story, it's almost 9 PM and I'm still not warmed up.

The bike conversion is - so far - as lovely as I'd hoped. As in, I might have trouble sleeping tonight. In Bitars as I removed parts from the box I gazed upon them and fondled these parts (Oh, sleek Snap Deck!) as if they were so much excellent and rare porn, finally delivered into my hands after a seeming lifetime of waiting. The Xtracycle was fun; the g-d euro child's bikeseat (I shall not name specifically and therefore print libel here about the annoying setup instructions) ended up taking us past 6:30 PM and Terry's departure time so my S.U.B. will not be street-ready until tomorrow (pictures later; I'm kind of exhausted). I'm hoping dearly for a better day than today's offerings (of which I had to bike, walk, bus with children) but I will test-ride that thing come rain or shine.

Oh, and Monday I was interviewed on by a college student (with his ladyfriend taking photos) for some coursework that involves Sure Nail & Fire. My zine is being featured as a small-town effort extolling the virtues of Harbor life; I listened to my interview today. I was really impressed with the editing job, especially after the NPR experience and how much coaching that entailed for just a short blurb; and considering Monday's relatively low-fi recording device. For the record both interviewer E. and his girlfriend (photographer) K. were the most charming, sweet visitors we've had in a while. Smart and easy to talk to as well as cute as if kittens could be made into people (I bite my tongue to not refer wistfully to their youth).

Labels: bike, GH, HQX, rain, SNF, weather, writing, zine

The HQX bike shop isn't somewhere you'd want to be in the case of an earthquake. Or maybe even someone closing the door ungently. I can see pieces of lath and rafter through many holes in the ceiling. Funnily enough even though the business in the rest of the building - one that's been here for 96 years - is closing shop, the bike shop owner is hoping to not move. I guess he's more confident in century-old, rain-soaked and barely-maintained Harbor structural integrity than I am.

After an hour and a half slot - about what I budget for this bike shop for even the most simple repair - I leave with my new bike hooked up to my old trailer, a setup I had heretofore not managed due to the old hitch on the trailer and the new disc brakes being incompatible. I've also learned a bit about bike pieces and a bit more about T., the shop owner. Putting my kids in the trailer I see they are almost bursting the seams - leggy Sophie looks like she's in a frank breech. I am also dismayed to discover just how much drag the little pot-lickers put on the bike, even on a flat thoroughfare in sunny, clear riding conditions. Also: I've spent a total of $59 (gift money) on two new hitches (my bike and Ralph's) and a cable lock (when the bike costs money I tell myself: one car family, one car family...). The ride is nice, despite the new drag factor.

Our internet was not-so-mysteriously connected and the library remains my spot to scavenge time on gmail. I say adieu!

Labels: bike, HQX, library

Today I sustained my first new bike injury. While attempting to strap a cardboard box on my rack (taking a moment to giggle immaturely) the bungee I was using, too short, snapped back and whacked my left index fingernail. I was kind of impressed with how badly this hurt. I now have a nasty bruise under the fingernail and I hope something gross and infected doesn't result. Meanwhile I have Ralph put to work with a Stud Finder (another giggle) to put a hook inside the house for bike storage. Because yes, my bike will be living inside with me.

The local bike shop, I could see myself hanging out there - if I was someone who knew anything about bikes or had more money to spend on them. I have a hard time describing the shop owner T. Firstly, he is a very knowledgeable bike technician and a total pleasure to talk bikes with. Secondly, he is a little bit... different. Personally, I think he's kind of cute but maybe that's because I get inexplicable crushes on focussed mechanical savants who look like they don't have girlfriends. At my parents' last night while I talked about my new bike my husband asked why all bike shop owners are a little odd (he said "weirdo", okay) and I said, "No wait, what about..." and then stopped. Because, well. He was right. I guess there was one bike shop owner in PT that wasn't so much weird as arrogant. But the other two shop owners - woooo! And I had a crush on one of them, too.

Tonight we continued our pleasant weekend experience by a babysitting gift from our friend A. When Ralph and I arrived to pick our children up - after a lovely, lovely dinner at home including uninterrupted conversation - the children were in various states of costumery / undress and watching Ghostbusters (only one of the best family movies ever). On our way out with our two reluctantly-departing children we travelled out the back way to visit A.'s baby goats but the little creatures were apparently sleeping. I didn't know goats took time off like that especially when there was the off chance we were delivering late-night alfalfa.

Then while home Ralph bathes the children and I start come chocolate rye coffee cake (for tomorrow's breakfast - I'd love to make this a Saturday night / Sunday morning tradition) and mix up a batch of laundry soap. Sophie mistakes my grating Fels Naptha soap as a cheese operation and asks for a taste, which I oblige and we laugh at her nose-scrunching reaction.

I love weekends. We sleep in, I make Ralph do stuff, I clean the house, I cook for my family and we cuddle late into the night. Good times.

Labels: babysitting, bike, homesteading, HQX, Sophie

Today.... well, a bit overwhelming in bits and pieces.

On the way to Aberdeen along with my mom she let me stop by the brand spankin' new business of a local blogger, Etsyan, and young mother for a mystery package. After touring their office (the pride in their hard work really shone through) I accepted a gift package and well-wishes for the family. When I got in the van I found in the packet coloring books, crayons, and other little bits for my children as well as a Visa gift card with the following message:

"Sometimes things can be tight - regardless there's always someone looking out for you! Go buy some cheese for those pizzas! [heart] & hugs - [signed] Amazing Family"

I sat there a minute and swallowed hard while my mom asked me what my brief visit was all about. It's hard for me at times because I work so hard to make sure my writing here is never a specific communication to anyone or a plea for any kind of help or consideration (as my friend Cyn says, "can I tell you how I feel without you feeling like you need to solve me"). I always want the freedom to write what I want to write even if that might make others uncomfortable (or maybe, on the other hand, colossally bored, whatever). On the other hand, all the rest of you reading this, you are nowhere near as cool as this woman for how kind she was to me today.

I kid, I kid. No really. I am totally kidding. And yes, I am going to buy us some excellent cheese.

Three minutes after this visit I set my bag of goodies on the floor of the van, get out, and hoist Nels into the parking lot for our all-too-familiar trip to my father's biweekly poisoning session. When we arrive in the new chemo ward (fancy!) I realize I know three of the seven patients there. My own father and two fathers of friends I grew up with. You know, I never get angry at Cancer. But today I was really struck by seeing these men and I felt like there was some cruel joke being played on all of us. Why are these men being stricken, weakened, and yes, taken from us while they still have so much to offer?

The second part of my day I am on foot with my two children through the rain and wind. This is because I had no gas in the van and had piggybacked on my mom's errands (hanging posters for our theatre's upcoming showing of Mary Poppins among other things) so when she suddenly found herself caught short she dumped us in West-ass Hoquiam to take her meeting. Luckily my children are seasoned winter travelers.

"You really need to learn how to play that game," I tell my son as we walk. Nels has this remedial, caveman-like concept of Paper Rock Scissors, the game I've adopted to help the kids choose who gets to ring the bell on the bus, or pick the ice cream flavor to split with one another. He thinks Rock should beat everything else (I swear, this makes sense to me). Depending on Sophie's mood she will either take advantage of this to win, or deliberately Scissors so he gets the prize. When she wins, and we don't do a rematch, he howls with anger.

Spending so much time on foot, bus, and bike (I have $134 left to pay off my new bike's layaway... I am just so excited for it!) is a real blessing. I experience my children, my community, and my world so much more viscerally. Things slow down. I am grateful for my alpaca mittens and I think ahead about packing snacks in my pockets for the kids. I rarely see anyone out with their kids in this town. I see dads walking fast with a kid in a stroller, smoking. That's about it. Everyone else is in cars.

Labels: bus, gratitude, Grazdma, HQX, Nels, on foot, rain

Have there ever been a more connected brother / sister duo than Sophie and Nels? First there's the sleep thing. Wherever the kids start out at night, they end up in our bed by early morning (Nels usually joins us between 2 and 4 AM). So today as I am going about my early-morning shower and washing dishes they are in a pile deep in my bed. After our morning guest E. arrives Nels takes time off playing with her to care for his sister (who started feeling better gradually through the day) by getting her water and feeding her hot cereal. Then, at the tail end of the playdate with E. they show her how to play flashcards: my children both sitting, crossed legs and hands in laps, while Sophie goes through the dual-alphabet cards as "teacher" and Nels models "student". Now as I type this we are at the library, my two taking turns playing on the computer while keeping their voices down. All this in response to my request they not take every board game toy out of the boxes today.

Motherhood has made me superstitious: the moment I give thanks for my children's good health I ahve doomed one of them to fall ill; here I think aloud on their synchronicity and likely they will embark on a catty fighting phase. Maybe the trick is to make sure one avoids gloating and sticks to praise and thanks. I am really grateful for my children and the way they relate to one another. I count on it most days; today I want to take a moment to be glad for it.

In other events: one thing that's not so fun is to be hit with cripping, painful Lady Day cramps in the middle of the day when you're out of home without Midol nor hot water bottle or trashy TV to crash on. What makes it even less fun is for this to happen while bundled up winter-style on a walkabout in HQX, with two young children in tow, needing to do errands then eventually get home and get lunch then dinner (thank you 5 lb. bag of flour!). How I sometimes miss the days where one's emergencies and illnesses really could be focussed on, rather than the background symphony of larger, sometimes stressful dependent-care duties that no one else can or will do for you.

Library time is about over; time to bundle two coats apiece, hats, and off to a visit to my father.

Labels: babysitting, HQX, library, lurve, Nels, paying gig, Sophie

Now seems as good a time as any to reveal that for ten months now I have been really, really timid regarding writing about my new life here - and by my "new life" I specifically mean my friends and peers. I find that I just don't want to write about school (which takes up a lot of my time and thought) and upset my kids' teacher(s), or offend a schoolmate's parents, or write about my friends and upset the three ladies who have taken me under their wing since we moved (I know they don't think of it that way as everyone seems to think of me as an Alpha Bitch who needs no help nor coddling). Yes, surely, I am being paranoid: none of these people read my blog so let it fly, eh? But in fact I have learned over the last four years that I really don't know who's reading the blog, sometimes not until I get an email either offended (once) or, more likely, having followed me for a couple years and heretofore remaining silent.

Today is the day that I throw off caution and decide to just be me and quit writing about the safer subjects of my father's illness, or cuddling the kids, or whatever, and write about who I see during the day and what I do. Yeah, HQX is a small town; but so was PT. Yeah, I don't have enough friends to spare but I'm willing to work my ass off to keep them. Yeah, I'm not really "established" here but c'mon - when am I going to feel like I am, anyway?

Oh and in case you thought the last couple paragraphs were preludes to some great dirt: they weren't. I'm just officially acknowledging yes, I've been letting you down, dear reader. And as of today I'm going to grow a pair and write on.

Last night I was joined by eight local ladyfriends for a gift exchange and holiday party. I had a great time and I was honored to host. Because it was a group of women, we had plenty of food and a comical amount of beer stacked in my kitchen (I think a few guests left with more booze than they brought). Because it was me, the food was overly coordinated and excellent (I ate one hundred thousand servings of Jasmine's asparagus appetizer) and included an Aztec sherry cake - both delicious and hilarious. Because it was a group that doesn't see one another all that often, we only got about twenty minutes into the 80s movie before we stopped due to a lack of interest (not me! But I'm a dork like that). With the exception of two gals, I'd known all of them for 20 or so years. Isn't that just incredible? I felt so fortunate to have my girlhood friends, and my own mom - dressed like a rockstar BTW - all under my roof to share our lives together. And no, Ralph, we did not strip down to panties and have a pillow fight, although I hope you're envisioning that with my mom and all.

After a night staying over at my parents' (I joined my family there after my last guest left) my family returned home and centered our schedule around wrapping presents for our 4 PM delivery to our adopted Christmas gift family (pictures and details pending post-holiday). Dinner tonight was at Shannon's with her lovely family of five and after a lovely homecooked meal we stayed until 10 PM. It's like last night kicked off the final couple days until Christmas. Tomorrow morning: no school for the kids. Sleep-in for three of us as Ralph heads in to one day of work before the Big Night.

I am not as ready as Bonesaw, but I am pretty ready for Christmas. How 'bout you?

Labels: film, food, friends, holidays, HQX, party animal

When I ride or walk around my hometown a forgotten house, a sight of a neighborhood tree or the feel of the air, some small synapse gets triggered and I am suddenly reminded of someone I knew or something that happened I had completely forgot about until the moment it hits me. Today it was a surfaced memory of my brother and I. I think I was in ninth grade and going to go to a dance. I found this electric blue, fitted (but not whorish)* lace-overlayed dress. It was perfect for the semi-formal I was attending and my mom bought it for me from - what was the name of the shop? Jay Jacobs? It was just a bunch of shitily-made clothes for teens and young women but exciting to browse in the preoccupation of liberating oneself from kid-hood into female-ness.

So at home I put this dress on and was looking at myself in the mirror, my under-average-height 130-lb body and new perfect boobs and feeling very pretty and different. And my brother came into the room and I said, "What do you think?" and he said, "Oh..." and I said, "I feel kind of self-conscious because, you know," and I gestured to what must have been the world's least-significant slight potbelly (a "flaw" I sensed, rather than felt, would be a detriment). And my brother, Hades fuck him, said, "Well, yeah."

I didn't wear the dress; I returned it. Whatever burgeoning confidence I felt evaporated - maybe not because of what my brother says, who knows - and I remember what it felt like to hate my uncooperative and vaguely displeasing body. I of course excuse my brother who was as much a victim and participant in the gauntlet formed against young females as I was. What mostly I think is, I will kick my son's ass if he ever says anything less than worshipful for his sister's beautiful body (no worries so far; he loves her fully and completely). And of course, I remember how much I loved the blue of the frock, which I have never seen anywhere else (thank you, Taiwanese textile factory!).

Today I discovered my father is super-excited about Popular Science's DIY messenger-bag-cum-solar-cell-phone-charger. I don't even know where he got the idea (it's too bad the link doesn't show a picture; it is kind of cute). Not only does he want to make one (with my husband's help in choosing electronics), he thinks we should make them and sell them (WTF? I think maybe he was smoking some of his medicine). However despite the fact it is semi-strange for him to be soooo excited, Ralph and are actually so happy he has a project that involves us. I said, "You can show it to Ralph when he comes over tonight," and he snorted, "What, time to borrow the lawnmower again?" (actually a software install for mi madre).

* Here's another nice tidbit from dinner at my FOO's the other night: totally unrelated to this story of the dress my mom, telling my husband how much she was glad I didn't dress provocatively as a young woman. "I know, I know," she crowed, "You'd think by her personality she'd be ... you know ... [a slut!] but she was actually very modest." O-kay.

Labels: billy, FOO, Grazdma, HQX, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

Today after a memorably annoying lunch date (kids were not on best behavior) Sophie and I rode the bus back from Aberdeen while Ralph and Nels took to Top Foods for groceries. Sophie and I waited a long time for our bus into Hoquiam, and it was cold even in the bus shelter. Then there was a twenty-five minute wait at the HQX station - Saturdays and Sundays the bus routes are nearly dead - and by then the cold was in our bones so we took my last $2 to the 7th Street Sweet Shoppe to split a cocoa. Here's what's funny: the proprietors of this little cafe ply my children with more sweets and extra helpings than a grandma on love-crack. Today I didn't escape without double cocoa portions, extra whip cream, and a giant cake mix cookie to take home to give my kids after dinner (this last excuse was used when I claimed my children had had enough sweets for the afternoon). Jennifer, the patroness of the shop, especially wanted my son to get his part of the decadent cookie. He is her biggest fan in an almost stalky way, which by the way is kind of cute on a three year old.

The leg of bus route that gets us closest to our house runs through the more run-down or low income area of town known as North Hoquiam - my girlfriend who grew up there affectionately calls it "the hood". This is also the most active part of the Hoquiam bus route since those that take the bus in Hoquiam and Aberdeen are usually poor, carless, or both. Today as we passed the Lincoln Commons we let out a man and he winked and smiled sexily at the driver as he crossed behind the bus. He was one of those men that retains a certain handsomeness and dangerousness - a Daniel Desario or Danny Zuko - keeping his lothario charm despite years of bars, pulltabs, smoking cheap non-brand cigarettes and living a life of, well, low-income apartments I guess. In any case I got a kick out of his optimism as the driver in question was a big-boned toothsome woman with Barbie highlights at least fifteen years his junior. She didn't look interested in flirting in any way, her kohl-rimmed eyes weary and irritable from working on a Saturday in the rain.

We passed by the apartments again on my way back from the Perry Ave. loop and I found myself wondering about the families and citizens in my [hometown] / new burg. Who where these people and what were their lives like? How does it feel if you ride the bus because it's your only way to get around? Why do some people live with their family, even a large family, stacked up in these tiny apartments on the edge of town? Why do those who can and do own a spacious home all to themselves pretend these others don't exist or flat out decide they don't exist for all practical purposes? Why am I hearing so much about "the hills" and "the flats" these days - more than I ever heard of the haves and have-nots when I was growing up? Why am I puzzling over remedial "injustice of the world" questions as if I was a thirteen year old just discovering them?

Hey, you know what's awesome? People that let their dogs crap on our sidewalks and yards and lawns without cleaning it up. Today was really great because just a few minutes ago I was helping Sophie remove her boots when my hand, gripping the heel, came into contact with the slimy, rancid horrible backend vomit of some neighborhood pooch. Although this is the first time I have mashed my hand into dogshit, the weird thing is my body had a preternatural awareness of what this substance was, right upon contact. After my revulsion and anger I washed her boot and scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed my hands and I can still smell shit. You know, there's almost no point to this tirade - I don't really feel any differently on the subject than I did almost two years ago.

My brother is moving to Portland in two days. Wish him luck! We've been feeding him a lot. I think he is kind of lonely yet overworked and stressed lately.

Labels: bus, HQX, i'm a hater, rain, shit

OK.

So, today was weird.

Today was Nels' first day at preschool. This represents the first time since becoming a parent, ever, I have had both children at school and time to myself. That alone - and saying goodbye to my littlest one with him barely acknowledging I was leaving and knowing it was the first of many goodbyes for the two of us - was disconcerting enough. It was on the drive home in my very, very quiet truck that I thought, simply, "I miss my children," and finally a few tears materialized.

But today was so busy (making a pie, running flyers off and delivering them, fielding calls from the school Board president with school-commencement stuff, grocery-shopping, sewing something for my brother and working on my own project, making breakfast lunch and dinner and orchestrating coffee and cookies for my sewing group, collecting supplies for my sewing group, dropping school supplies for Suse, picking up both kids, biking biking biking, taking them out for ice cream then home and making food for my family while cleaning the kitchen and Nels fell asleep and I had to call my brother to do a coffee pickup and put a sleeping Boy back in the bike trailer and bike some more...), so anyway, it was busy in that I'm-going-to-forget-something-important way. As far as I know, I didn't forget anything. But I also didn't get any time to process any of my feelings.

At a little after 5 PM, mere moments after Ralph burst in from his bike ride home to take our children, I checked in a the library where my sewing night was scheduled. And as I expected, no one was there. After all I had put only a single, solitary flyer up. And even as I felt sadness for a low attendance, I felt distinctly stupid for not bothering to advertise (that's just who I am). My time to myself (ironing fabric and laying out a pair of pants for Nels) was short-lived; my friend Jennifer showed right on the money. And we proceeded to talk, catch up on the day (she's running for HQX mayor and there's always something to hear!), have a snack, and finally start working on her machine. At about the point she and I were getting into good sewing theory, it started to go a little crazy.

First off, a young woman came downstairs to see us and started talking to me with some degree of familiarity. I didn't know her and was confused she had nothing to sew with; but when she introduced herself as M. - a fellow Hoquiamite blogger, artisan, and zine contributor - I was immediately flung into that good 15 minute experience of disorientation common when you meet someone you've exchanged many emails with and have prematurely formed a mental picture of. Despite my disorientation and quick pleasure at having an IRL meeting, the three of us fell into conversation, comparing notes on Hoquiam, Hoquiamites, and homesickness for previous climes. M. handed me a present: a brilliant little tutorial book on making sock creatures. Her boyfriend joined us and we talked a bit about local sewing machine shops (not many).

Just when I'd gotten over meeting someone new (yet known) it got a bit stranger - a full hour after my sewing tutorial was to begin, some boisterous women started trickling into the room. They had sewing machines but I could sense they weren't there for me. They were all talking at once, mostly to each other, but one of the ringleaders finally made it clear to my tiny, overworked birdbrain that they were a group of Pagans who met regularly to sew together. They had mistakenly showed up a day earlier than their scheduled library slot. It was very odd for me to have thought I would be teaching a subject only to have it first interrupted and then discussed amongst people who had no use for me. However, I was glad to meet these women, I learned their names, I told them I'd be interested in helping them sew if they needed it tonight or in any future iteration, and I gave myself up to the increasing surrealism of the evening.

Ralph and the kids showed up at 8 o'clock to pick me up and I felt my first pang of regret. I knew my husband would be pleased to see these half dozen students of mine sewing away at full swing. Indeed, he sported a satisfied little grin as he entered the room to ask if I wanted to stay longer. Since the ladies didn't seem very interested in my help, I asked Ralph to load up my sewing materials and invited Jen over for peach pie and despite her busy schedule and state of minor sleep deprivation she agreed.

As Jen and I laughed in the car ride to my house, I felt such gladness that I'd moved back. As with a few other friends here I was finding my relationship with familiars from my childhood would not be formed solely of fond memories and anecdotal brief get-togethers but instead a full continuum of life experience as it unfolds in the present. Jen and I had just spoken on the phone days earlier and before that, only a few days before; our children were playing together these days, and our lives were starting to know of one another with the ease and fellowship of a comfortable reunion.

We got to my house and my children enfolded Jen in greetings and hugs (she is the only person besides Ralph and I who can understand every word Nels utters) and then, finally, the coup de grace - the largest spider I have ever seen in my life, clutching itself menacingly on my kitchen floor and throwing long shadows (I am not shitting you how big this thing is; my brother is currently on his way over to bear witness). My daughter made instant and expert capture, a few of us shook off our revulsion, I served the pie, and we laughed some more.

And with the evening drawing to a close and a very full day spent, I say goodnight.

Labels: birlo, friends, HQX, Ralph, sewing

Our kitty (se llama Harris).

Today my friend Jen and I carpooled our kids and went for lunch in the park. We tried to converse while being besieged by each of the four children, alternatively needing attention, lunch, water, help with clothes, advocacy with other children: the subjects Jen and I attempted ranged from marriage, her political campaign (mayor of HQX!), parenting, our own upbringing, parents' illnesses, employment, counseling. Later in her backyard the children strip down and play together mostly nicely and Nels, with a runny nose and feeling down today, wants me to hold him. I put my arms around him and Pearl Jam's "Yellow Ledbetter" comes on over the stereo. The song is such a nostalgic one for me. My friend I'm with today we've known one another since we were eight years old and now our own children approach that age. I think we have an understanding that has only strengthened now that a few years of family are behind us and our second childhood looms.

Today finds me with a sick child, a tooth-dangerously-loose child, a diarrhetic kitten, and a busted checking account. A few minutes before I take my kids home from our playdate and I'm wiping the nose of one and the blood off another (Sophie scraped her foot playing in the pool) and it feels like I'm a magnet and things just snap to me. Children and pets and husband hang off me when they can. It isn't at all uncomfortable for the most part, it still surprises me though. Motherhood, should you choose to take it on in any involved way, is endless, relentless, it never stops. It's beautiful, though, and my favorite thing to do so far (well, the favorite thing I can share publicly). Even our little kitty gravitates towards Mama; last night as I drowsed in the middle of the night I realized that in between in the blanket hammock formed between my legs in the figure 4 position - the little kitty slept and purred, a tiny, insignificant engine. In the morning then: homemade bread toasted, eggs, ripe pear for the children; milk for our grown Blackie kitty (pissed off about little Harris); fresh water and food for the animals. Clean up the breakfast dishes - "Kids, go wash your hands and brush your teeth!" and set clothes out and pack a lunch and then after the lunch and driving and playing and pulling off clothes and nursing sad children home to clean up kids and wash their clothes because they got muddy.

(update 3:56 PM: Sophie just lost her second tooth; she reaches symmetry again for a brief period).

Labels: family life, friends, Harris, HQX, kitty, milestones

The tag on my mom's bike handlebar claims, "6/30/07 - 1 week". It had a bad tube and (possible) wheel burr. So after ample repair time two weeks ago I went into the (shall remain nameless) bike shop to check on the bike; not yet. OK. So last week I called to ask if the bike was ready; it was not - but, "I'll have it done tomorrow. It's probably a ten minute job." OK.

This morning my parents, their dog, my children and I walked the family down to the shop, towing the bike trailer behind us and anticipating our first ride together in over a month, yay! (This neighborhood mongrel followed us half the way which really enraged my dad for some reason). We get to the shop and the bike is Still. Not. Done. This time the Goofy Bike Guy (I really need a good nickname for him) is very apologetic - he winces as he hears what bike I'm here for, because he knows it's overdue twice over. Meanwhile I notice the bike shop - a truly amazing building with more clutter than you can imagine including a 15 foot tall pair of functional display Lee overalls - has filled up with lots, and I mean lots of bikes. More than half the bikes are ones waiting for repair. There are only two employees in the shop, including GBG, and they both seem (understandably) busy.

GBG asks me to come back in a couple hours (that would be 3 PM); I tell him I'll be in at 4. I leave my trailer inside the shop and we haul our asses home. You know where this story is going, don't you? Because at 4 PM I once again walk the kids down and we ring in and guess what? The bike isn't done. Meanwhile, GBG is hurriedly doing a job for a customer who'd come in and said they had "immediate" needs. I have now officially noticed that to get your bike done you have to tell GBG you need it right now and literally stand in his shop while he does it - thereby arseing over the many people who were willing to wait a week or month (but in reality, will wait forever or until they themselves come inside the shop and stand there).

That's what ends up happening. The kids and I hang out in the shop for the (as promised) 10-minute job. It's taken up so much of my time today (not to mention the other trips), that by the time he's done I'm just kind of sad and not even pissed. The total is just $10. Somehow I would have liked to be charged more, maybe because it would have energized me in some way.

Anecdotally: after the first trip to the shop today my mom, kids and I left the shop to immediately encounter a HQX panhandler of sorts (rare here; more common in Aberdeen) who told us the buses weren't running and she needed gas money for a ride to Olympia to catch a train. "I don't have any money," I said (truthfully) and my mom demurred as well. The woman yelled abruptly, "NO! I mean I give YOU gas money and you give me a ride to Olympia!" "Oh," I said, "No, sorry." The woman half-stomped, half wandered into the street to flag down cars. Mom and I headed to the sandwich shop and my mom said, "She really did say it confusing," in almost a hurt tone of voice. We go inside the Sweet Shoppe, sit down. Have to move tables because the top of the table wobbles fiercely. "What's with this town?" I ask my mom and she laughs. I make a "root toot" farting clown sound with my mouth and jog my elbows up and down.

HQX was not in fine form today.

Labels: bike, Grazdma, HQX, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

Today, with two clicks on my Google Calendar, my life suddenly freed up as the three days a week of Sophie's preschool vanished. Some people look forward to school time so their own grownup schedules may take precedence. I can understand this. I however can say I'm looking forward to the summer break just as I enjoyed it last year. With the Siamese-twin-like psychic synchronicity my two children have (desiring to spend every waking, sleeping, and bathing moment together with an astonishing low proportionality of fighting, considering) taking the two of them out - especially now, as they can dress themselves, walk long distances, take care of their bodily functions, and are joyous to take almost any outing - is actually slightly easier than having one of them along.

I haven't set foot in a car since Friday. I continue my no-driving experiment and today my goals were modest: get to downtown Aberdeen, take the kids thrifting (I'm looking for a sheet to sew pajamas for myself; also clothes for Ralph and a pair of pants for re-vamp), hit the taqueria (sauce a la diabla!), go home. (all of this, after I'd planned out our budget and assigned various bill paying and errands for Ralph and I - also feed, clean, help dress the kids, etc, blah blah).

So at about 10:45 we walk the eight blocks to the station, first stopping at the ATM and then purchasing a monthly pass (cheap - only $18). The good news about our bus system is that people actually put it to use here. The bad news is they aren't PT-ecocute - most of them are dirty, half-crazy, and / or poor (or any combo) and a few of them are smelly. Actually - this isn't bad news at all since my children and I are pretty OK in new situations (and the situation won't be 'new' for very much longer as we use the transit regularly). But our bus riding today underscored a truth for me: it's hard here to ride the bus and walk. People here use their cars to insulate themselves from the harsher neighborhoods of Aberdeen and, to a lesser extent, Hoquiam; insulating themselves also from the poverty and hard-living so many do here. I get off and on the bus and don't see anyone "like me". Those "like me" are driving by in their cars listening to XM radio. Those I sit with on the bus go to and from sub-standard apartments and sometimes run-down hotels and their teeth are bad and faces hard-worn.

Heck, it's kind of hard to bike around here too. There are no bike lanes in either Hoquiam or Aberdeen. None. People drive aggressively as well. Not everyone thinks biking is a good thing: Ralph was heckled as a "loser" and "faggot" the other day - merely for being on his unremarkable Schwinn. He was also wearing a dress and holding a sign that said, "I like balls in my face" but I still don't get it.

And now: diving into the 39 cent Stretch N Sew pattern I purchased today at the Salvation Army.

Labels: Aberdeen, bus, HQX, Nels, other haters, Ralph, Sophie

Today on IM a friend writes,

"8:49 i dress like a total whore."
"8:49 a homeless one."

Which reminded me of today's clip:


As I type this, a guy across the street jumps down his front steps. He's wearing tight black jeans (w/belt), poofy white sneakers, and is shirtless with a respectable amount of back hair.

I truly love living here, and I'm not being ironic or sarcastic one bit.

Labels: hilarity, HQX, random

Last night for about forty minutes I had the odd circumstance of having "the neighbor girl" over. Where we lived before there were very few children in our neighborhood and even fewer children our own children's ages. Having Sophie invite our next-door neighbor's child, and having the kids run around in our fenced yard and the childrens' bedrooms, with little interaction between the actual adults of the two households... honestly, it was pretty cool.

Also:
HAWT.

"Macaroni - let me finish - salad."

Labels: geekery, HQX

This evening we took a drive to Aberdeen for dinner. It was a beautiful day, all day.


Ralph likes to take the logging / industrial route. Believing it faster, or perhaps motivated by all the different places that service different kinds of burly equipment and engines? Here is an example of the "new" transit bus. I don't remember when I last saw the old ass-'n'-piss colored versions I used to ride on.


I was idly trying to get a picture of a speeding motorcyclist when Ralph burst out laughing at the "b'goyl" (his term for a creature that's sex cannot easily be determined). I'd wager my photograph proves, or at least indicates, female-ness.


In the car Nels sings a song from The Little Mermaid, which he loves (mermaids in general, and yes this includes the Disney version).


I wish to bring you here, dear reader - no, not to this humble dwelling but to the greenness and richness of the air. It's green green green everywhere.


Aberdeen "boasts" one Thai restuarant and it's got great service and decent grub. They give you free refills even on the heavenly (and sugary, and fatty) Thai iced tea! My kids fucked with their food and tried to eat just the crispy shell off the spring rolls! You suck, kids!


Ralph demonstrates to Nels how to do a "Pepsi shooter" with a straw.


As we return three movies to three different movie rental joints, evening starts to fall. My favorite time of the day. WAL-MART!


Ralph catches a nice little picture involving the curious little popcorn / coffee shop. "I want popcorn!" yells one of the little ones, having dined primarily on peanut sauce and little else. Nope.


While taking above photo Ralph is accosted by street youths who lead us to "Tag Alley", an designation in downtown Aberdeen specifically sequestered for legal grafitti work. There were some lovely and free-spirited, colorful works he shot photos of. I'll let him tell you more.


Outside Swansons ("your neighborhood grocery store") we read the flyers. Some things are pretty gut-damned important. What is he / she wearing around the neck right now, I wonder?


An attempt by Swansons to compete with Walmart's assy, obnoxious signs and banners. I think it's working well, don't you? P.S. very decent selection, as it turns out. No more driving to Top Food & Drug twice a week.


Once home Ralph does the day's dishes while I blog. Kids continue to give us the balls. And tomorrow is Monday, whee!

Labels: family life, food, HQX, PNw

Today dawns with the type of lovely, sunny, still clear weather that is only recognizable for what it is if you've been away from it long enough to acclimatize to something else.

In a few hours my husband and I meet to sign a lease for our new place. Finally. A preview:


The front bedroom, for the kids. Sophie has tried to negotiate for a room of her own. Sorry. Mama's sewing machine babies get their room, at the expense of my actual children.


Finally, a bedroom with some color to it! P.S. - the blinds actually work in this house! I checked them all.


Sophie goofs off in the living room. No, I did not take Nels on a walk-through - there was a maintenance dude there doing work with sharp tools and such. I shudder to think.


Random, peeling / scrappy paint, here and there and everywhere.


Ralph hates the tile job in the laundry room. Meanwhile I think holy shit, I have a laundry room again, in two days!


On our way out - purple house across the street! Note Ass-tros, facing off.


During our wait for celebratory hot chocolate, Sophie has a meltdown. All-told she was a fabulous house-inspector, engaging Maintenance Man Tom with small talk about Port Townsend and at every drawer opened and closet discovered, enthusing, "This is great!"

Only a couple more days. A microcosm to myself - well, almost to myself - again.

Labels: gratitude, HQX, newness, Sophie

Already we are as busy here as we were in Port Townsend. Mornings my mom and I go workout at the Y while the kids cavort in "Busy Town" (the childcare facilities there). Monday, Wednesday, and Friday Sophie goes to preschool; Thursday, Nels does. Tuesday and Thursday are Sophie's swim lessons. Every night I go to bed early, exhausted (from working out and living at my parents) and annoyed because I can't really nest the way I want to. Anyway, forget I wrote that. It's a tired story. I am lucky, I repeat goddamned lucky, to have such a great family to shore us up while we try to find a place to hang our hats.


My mom and Sophie, just before church last Sunday. Sophie has a secret. Can you guess what it is? She is not wearing panties. Before she went to church, I told my mom, "Make sure she's wearing panties." Guess when my mom found out she wasn't? During church service.


For me, to chase the blues away: a little materialism goes a long way. In this case, abovementioned DC hoodie and:


A pair of Keen shoes. The shoes are not yet broken in but soon, I will wear practically nothing else. On my feet, I mean. (hoodie and shoes courtesy of zappos.com - the closest online thing to instant gratification).


Mom and