Today a rather cold, dismal rain sneezes on us and my children and I miss a deadline because I invite them to participate in cleaning the living room - while I relax with a book. Some days it's just not in me to come home to an overly untidy house. I can always rely on the wee ones to do the chores when I've got a good carrot in front of them (as opposed to the lash behind them). Today's carrot: a field trip to the Fire Department and a book event at the Library.

Those who watch my family interactions know that I am more patient with my son Nels than my daughter Sophie. I chalk this up to wisdom regarding my secondborn and folly on the part of my first. Try as I might I find myself expecting far more out of Sophie, her lot in life to sport the unfortunate trifecta of firstborn / girl child / less dominant personality, my son seeming younger, more of a known quantity, easier to feel relaxed about raising. The last few days my son has severely tested even my reserves of patience for him, however. If I wasn't his primary ally (in contrast to Ralph and my mother, who tend to scold and shame) I'd be doing far worse in applying compassionate care.

Today's field trip was a pleasant one, despite a long slog in the rain to get there. Since I'd spent a few days out of the classroom setting I was struck by the extremely well-intentioned series of commands, reprimands, and seemingly unnecessary restraints vested in the manners requirements of our small group of preschoolers ("Say thank you, Johnny!" "What do you say, Johnny" - at one point my son duly reciting with a smile, "thankyouthankyouthankyou" like the most winsome parrot). The nine or so kids are allowed to look but basically herded in a don't-touch-hardly-anything walkthrough that seems to me not so much cruel as baffling. I sat back and watched because, really, everyone was having a good time. Internally I found myself laughing at the thought that these massive, extremely rugged fire trucks would be treated like china glass - to hear the words of the accompanying adults. Perhaps I wouldn't have been struck by this if I hadn't been on far more hands-on and lengthy fire station tours. The fireman leading us through was an attractive, doe-eyed gentleman obliging the many questions of the children (half of them flat statements, like my son's brilliant "Um. Hospital bed." contribution) and a few of the parents (volunteering a younger man to slide down the pole for our edification).

My son and daughter had a spry attention span and asked many questions. Besides my son's flat statement above he also found it necessary to revisit the concept of the paramedic's oxygen - "The air that blows, it's to help you breathe and put energy in your body." At this I quietly wiped away tears as I knew his two comments had everything to do with what he watched his grandfather go through late August (as likely did, now that I think about it, Sophie's answer to the query, "What does an ambulance do?" "It carries dead people." - prompting a jolly laugh from the group).

Some of the events I've always loved about the life of children - especially when I was one - were trips like these, being taken out into the community to see how bells whistled and levers clanked. I truly feel blessed that my life allows not only for me to send my own children off on these adventures, or bring them to them, but a re-appreciation for the simple wonders of the daily existence.

Labels: Aberdeen, municipalities, on foot, rain, school, weather

Today heading back on Cherry against fierce headwinds I would have given up and turned the corner for the nearest bus stop if I could have - that is, if I'd practiced popping off the front wheel to load the bike on the bus.* It wasn't just the run-of-the-mill tiredness after working a school shift and biking with Nels against the wind, it was that I'd been running late this morning and Nels and I got absolutely dumped on (rain the likes I've never experienced before) which led to the compromise of even our winter-prepared gear and ultimately Nels spent his birthday - the last day in his 3 /4 preschool class - wearing tight Barbie jeans and a babydoll fluffy sweater (spare clothes of the preschool's - and don't think the wardrobe wasn't his dream come true) and I never felt I got dry before I had to head back home.

Even worse for me was a pesky creepy Ju-on rattle emanating from the back of the bike: somehow the child's seat is sitting lower than the 1/4" clearance off the snap deck. Not only does this unsettle me (a potential safety concern), I also am not interested in my seat or snap deck being marred. It's hard for me when something just eats away at me and I can't fix it anytime soon.

I finally got home after dropping Nels off at my mother's. I cleaned and sorted and emailed and filled out acres of paperwork for tomorrow's pediatric dentist appointments, then picked up Sophie for some one on one time. My mother ended up taking Nels on a birthday shopping trip: a soccer ball, dump truck (for hauling dirt in the garden), socks, shoes, underwear, shorts, shirt, and hat. At four PM he swaggered out of her van all decked out and directing her to carry his parcels (reminded of: "Big mistake," Julia Roberts sasses while toting huge shopping bags in Pretty Woman).

Tonight we dragged ourselves to Casa Mia (my foursome, my parents, and friend Jasmine) for our dinner and Nels managed to stay awake, although looking very sleepy (his second wind set in: he's awake behind me as I type this). We had a magical moment as another table serenaded a sixty-something member with a happy birthday, erupting in operatic vocalizations and ending in a round of hearty applause. My husband took Nels over to introduce himself as another birthday and after making acquaintance the group sang even louder to Nels, the entire restaurant joining in as one - it was like listening to a choir performance. I wish I would have asked them who they were or how they came to sing so well. I was trying not to collapse into my dinner with some kind of exhaustion, but that didn't prevent me from smiling like a fool and feeling the sting of tears.

The evening eventually wound to a close at my parents' after birthday cake and gifts. Nels received four presents, two of them additional Lego sets which he has not stopped fixating on since two and a half hours ago. He tells me, "I'm happy on my birthday."

Yes indeedy.

* Last week the children and I rode out to the bus barn on the Aberdeen / Hoquiam border to practice my hand at quick loading of the bike on the front of a transit bus. After a few minutes waiting in the lobby a supervisor came out and told me she was sorry but due to insurance concerns the public were not allowed in the bus yard. She went on to tell me it was easy to put a bike on the front of the bus. I stopped her then and explained that no, it wasn't - I had a special, extra-long bike I needed to take the front wheel off of to proceed. When it started to dawn on her I'd ridden my two children out the barn for the sole purpose of this practice run, she flushed and, from the looks of it, felt rather taken aback at her legalistic refusal. However, I'm not usually in the mood to ask someone to bend the rules. The handful of employees craned their necks out at the bike as I whisked us out and away. Nothing like leaving someone with that, boy do I feel like a douche feeling.

Labels: bike, birthday, Nels, rain, weather, X

3/28/08 2:15 PM: date and time that my precious, precious X joined the family. I feel superstitious and odd about it though because, A. it isn't fully paid off (but will be soon!); B. heck, even when it's paid off it was a lot of money!; C. I haven't put it on the front of the bus yet (have to try that out at the bus barn and hopefully while it's not snowing); and D. I'm still getting used to the very different handling of this new vehicle.

Sophie was still at school when I loaded Nels up and went off on the inaugural run to get groceries. It was literally hailing, I was in the lowest gear (I didn't realize this at first) and wobbling, and I could hear Terry (Bike Shop Guy) behind me making nervous, doubtful sounds as I rounded the corner. Once I sorted the gears things went better. The bike felt long and strange - even though I'm used to a much longer tail (vis-a-vis trailer - but obviously there is a "bend" in the trailer set-up). Nels up behind me instead of on two wheels on the ground felt odd but he seemed to really enjoy it. We hit Swansons and I kind of wondered around the place getting groceries, still excited about the bike (we bought Ralph some Jones Soda and the rest of tonight's repast).

From there we headed home, briefly warmed up inside and went off to get Sophie. The hail had subsided but the wind and cold were fierce. Adding another kid to the bike felt very wobbly and odd but the little monkey mounted, dismounted, and held on perfectly. The little kiddos will need gloves for sure as the elements were very, very rough.

This morning Nels took a tomato start to his teacher (actually his substitute teacher who was filling in during maternity leave; today was her last day) and I sent two to a couple AmeriCorp students Ralph knows at GHC.

The weather may not have tuned into this fact - but Spring is indeed here!

Labels: bike, garden, Nels, newness, rain, school, Sophie, weather, X

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

It wasn't for eco-smugness or personal virtue that I biked to Aberdeen and back today; it was simply because my mind has been over-active and I thought some intense physical exercise might help alleviate that (it did). Only a small part of the reason I was keyed up was an invitation to the Hoquiam Business Association meeting to speak on the zine; it was a short and pleasant meeting as well as extremely informative. Everyone was dressed nice (suits and pumps); my "nice" was a flannel shirt covering the skull t-shirt underneath. Whoops!

8.7 miles and counting; the distance I biked today. I had Nels in the trailer about half that time. On the highway I got a wave from M. and J. (I later found out they'd gone around the block to re-wave so's I'd see them) and was treated nicely by not one but two log trucks; it kind of made my day. Getting off the bike at Swansons for groceries (tofu, carrots, broccoli with my dwindling week's cash allowance) the post-physical afterglow made me feel like smiling and making conversations at everyone; many shuffled out of their cars in sweats and did not make eye contact going into the store.

From there I hit our idiosyncratic bike shop to negotiate the ordering and installation of my longtail bike mod and to get Nels' helmet refitted. The rain finally started coming down and the last leg of the trip was a little damp. Home to cats waiting for the fire to be turned up.

Labels: bike, geekery, rain

My trip to Port Townsend, taken almost a year after we moved to HQX, has come and gone. I enjoyed myself doing what I like to do; taking a leisurely schedule and breaking bread with a handful of dear friends. I was oddly relieved to see that very little felt different; the town was just as it was, warts and loveliness both. Business owners will still doing their thing and restaurant menus and offerings remained the same. The weather competed for Grays Harbor in terms of winter blah (although my logical mind knows this was only a kindness bestowed on me by the weathergods to soften the soaked mossy reality of my new home). My friends' lives hadn't suddenly taken wing without me. The children I'd so missed hadn't changed so much as inserted about 6" in their middle somewhere. Port Townsend itself did not evoke wistfulness or sadness so much as seemed a comfortable, parallel dimension of home.

There were cosmetic differences. Ladies seem to have traded in their Danskos for Merrells. An acquaintance's art shop had moved downtown and Swain's checkout counter had moved up in the store. On Saturday I went to a yoga class and re-connected with that aspect of the community, which I discovered I'd missed very much. In both Friday and Saturday night's gatherings I was inspired by the community I'd known with their impulsive creativity, a bubble that expects, experiences, and serves itself a high quality of life indeed.

I spent almost no time alone this weekend which was highlighted by a little incident on Sunday afternoon. Two o'clock found me outside the Model T Pub and Eatery in Hoodsport with my vinyl green suitcase and my sock knitting (Nels' Christmas socks, still unfinished). It's cold - very cold, but brilliant and sunny. I don't want to go inside the pub (a pleasant place) because I want to see my family when they arrive. As I knit away, yarn ball tucked in my pocket, a man emerges from the restaurant and into the sunshine to smoke. He looks like Grays Harbor stock - handsome but weathered, black jeans, cowboy hat, and biker jacket. "Knitting!" he drawls, surprised. "You making gloves or socks? Whyn'tcha make me a pair?" I show him my son's socks and he replies, "Well, I can't wear wool. And I can't wear colored clothes, you know, dye. If I wear dye, it soaks into my skin and makes me sick. Of course, I'm sixty-five now, so maybe something's changed..." He goes on to talk about his truck - a Mazda like mine that's just had repairs - and his son who happens to be a mechanic in Port Townsend. He talks about himself and his life as if I'd been standing there waiting to hear, which in a way I had.

Our discussion is interrupted by the arrival of my family. By the time I've put my suitcase in the car he's stepped back inside for another beer or coffee. I wish I would have said, "Nice talking to you!" because I like those interactions. I like having a break from thinking about my own life's plans and experiencing the realities of others, of strangers.

On the drive home my husband queries me about my trip; he asks after our friends, what the surprises were. My kids insist I reach back and hold their hands. They've missed me. When we get home Nels, still feverish and strange from his Saturday illness, directs me under the covers of my bed to "cuttle" as he calls it - folds his hot little arms around my neck and kisses, kisses, kisses me. I can wrap my hand almost all the way around his upper arm. The house is messy and tomorrow we have to travel again but for the moment I feel great being home.

Labels: bad habits, friends, Nels, rain, roadtrip, vacation

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

This morning at 1:15 AM our power came on. I woke up, lay in bed and thanked God (it had been three full days), then got up to re-arrange my fridge (we'd packed all into the freezer with ice bags and I would now have to re-rescue the food from the other end of the temperature spectrum) and start some laundry. Last night my daughter had kept me up with a croupy cough. With the candlelight and lack, completely, of anything to do when the darkness fell I was starting to feel like we were living a throwback existence.

It took me a while to get to sleep after our lives suddenly were put back to normal in a snap. Life had become very different. We'd started marking off our days in terms of experience (the first day was "Novelty Day", then we were on "Ice Day" and heading into, "OK, Now I'm Really Cold Day"... Thursday was slated for "Shit-Water Day" and frankly I'm glad we missed out on that).

My parents arrived over about 8:30 for heat and breakfast as their power, like so many others', has not returned. Their well-insulated house had finally achieved the outdoor temperature. My father is especially sensitive to cold as a side effect from his platinum-based chemo. To his credit, he hasn't complained once. This morning I cooked honey biscuits and broccoli quiche. In fact we've been eating well enough, because there's not much else to do except think about what to cook and how to cook it. Last night I succeeded in a homemade pizza on top of my gas insert.

Hoquiam's west side is fully up and running. Minus many fences, pieces of roof, trees, and skipped school and work days. Ralph's work servers are still down and I know many around the county are still suffering cold and wet and some major property damage.

Labels: family life, rain, weather

Today I found myself at 11:15 leaving my daughter's school (where I do volunteer work every Monday) and on my way to pick up Nels when: problem? I forgot bus fare. Luckily it was only very, very, freezing-nuts-off cold as opposed to the torrential rain that descended at 2:45 that day when - again, on foot - I needed to go pick up my daughter. At 11:15, realizing my error, I tied my hat earflaps down and walked super-fast to my parents' house to ask for their van or 50 cents and the use of the phone. As I walked I thought about what it is like for families who really DON'T have a car or people who RELY on public transportation regularly. There is simply no room for, "Oh whoops, I forgot such-and-such," or "Oops, running a little late!" when you're catching a bus in order to get somewhere.

As of two yesterday our van battery is dead. Luckily nothing phases me when it comes to getting around; it's a good life skill if you ask me. Today at 3:22 as I pulled the kids along to our bus stop (uncovered and right by a crosswalk; people slow down and glare at me, waiting for me to cross. I point and point to the sign we're next to but no one registers it is indeed a bus stop. It's weird.) my children asked me why we have to walk so fast in the pouring rain. I said, "OK. Let me tell you a story about what's happening. When our car breaks down, we don't have money to fix it right away. So we take the bus. You know some people don't have cars at all. Some people have money to fix their cars right away," and a bunch of other things. It was a good conversation. They really listened as we slogged through the wet. My three year old son valiantly hiked his coat up and kept a jog for four blocks. Yes, we made the bus. They are pros at it. Nels rang the bell when we got to the Y.

Despite being on foot, on bus, and bumming the use of my parents' van once I still managed to arrange school for the kids, take homebaked cookies to Suse's school, deliver a hat to a friend, and get the kids to the Y for my workout (very sluggish today) and the kids' first night of Short Sports (tonight's workshop: basketball skills). Arriving home at 7:30 and my body doesn't yet know it's time to rest (in fact, the dirty dishes and piles of laundry encourage my body to keep going). But it really is time to rest. And give the family the SNUGGLING OF THEIR LIFE! Does that sound threatening? Because it's meant to.

Labels: bus, Nels, on foot, rain, YMCA

Today I was blessed with many things. Not just time with my most loved ones, ever - and also fresh air and exercise and good coffee. Most of all: walking home after picking up Sophie it was streaming sun and the sky was laden with puffy, white clouds accompanied by a few glowering dark ones. And predictably out of this rose a rainbow; a brilliant, vibrant presence that inspired its own shallow doppelganger just above it. I listened to my children's delighted descriptions and a block later we were met by Harris the Fierce Not-So-Kitten; he follows us most of the way to school these days then disappears a block a or so from the final destination. Then on our return he prounces up to us out of whatever yard he took to exploring that day, running ahead and behind and inspiring liquid giggles from the kids.

It must have been a special day because only a few blocks later cross-traffic commenced with the Coleman Mortuary's hearse (a new one, it looks like) passing by up the hill to the cemetery. A caravan of twenty more cars followed, fresh from rain and transitioning from the service to the burial. The faces in the cars, some are sad, some are happy, some preoccupied, some are tear-stained and devastated. I watched them all as we waited the cars out and I answered the questions the children asked. Harris hid in the tree behind us and then, when we crossed, darted after us on hunter's paws to skid ahead of us into our front yard.

Labels: Harris, rain, walking

Since late last night our internet connection has been down. I have always known that email, IM, and blogging keeps me from focussing on other household duties but this morning really proved it. By 11 AM I had roused, fed, and dressed each child, taken Sophie to school via bike, done two loads of laundry, made beds, finished the dishes and cleaned the refrigerator, made homemade pizza sauce for tonight's dinner and brownies for dessert, and finished the machine-sewing for Nels' latest pair of pants (there's a story to these pants I will sew-blog later). The efficiency and pleasantness of the morning is almost enough to make me forgo Inter-Tron during my morning hours. Almost.

One reason I am a badass is that I biked Sophie to school in not only rain but gale-force winds (with the help of The Stills on iPod - thanks J. for the suggestion!). I suspect this will be my life for a while until I can figure out how to come up with $793 for my van and it's fubar'd fuel pump. P.S. I just got the estimate yesterday by phone and tried to hold off telling Ralph who's having mental and emotional problems with the realities of our financial situation. It's too bad we couldn't be down to one car during the lovely summer months we just spent.

Due to the storm I wasn't feeling as excited about my normal modes of getting around (biking, walking, bussing). So this morning I'd called to ask my mom if she'd give Nels and I a ride to the library (my current locale as I type here). She was headed to a funeral today - my lifelong next-door neighbor died last week. So I asked for my dad and he agreed to pick us up.

My father is an intelligent, laconic, grumpy person who likes to rudely tease his three nuclear family members in some sort of twisted way to relate to them (example, "Got a job yet?" in a snotty tone to my brother who is currently living below poverty-level - albeit in a nice home with at least one month's rent paid - while he searches for one and daily grows more anxious and sad). I have decided to choose to believe my father loves me, because his behavior towards me could / does indicate a lack of respect - often. I love him and will always love him. And yes, he can be helpful. When he took me out to my van last Friday he assited me in trying to get a jump and evaluating the problem to be needing a tow, or not (it did. Shit. P.S. I surmised fuel pump and was correct as it turns out. Perhaps I should try to hone my auto-psychic skills to make a quick buck). After we left my van to drive into town he not-so-helpfully treated me to a deriding monologue about how this van is a piece of shit and has been giving us problems from Day 1. When it comes to looking for advice and guidance this kind of meanness / weirdness really clouds my judgment at whether to look to him for assistance and mentorship, or not.

So today when he dropped me off as I packed my son out of the van he abruptly grunted, "What are you doing?" (which meant, "Dear daughter, I am concerned at how you will get home in the storm. Would you like me to pick you up and take you back home when you're done?"). I said, "I'm just going to use their computer and pick up a hold." He said, "You're not coming over later?" I said, "No... I've got to get home and do some chores." He said, "I could drive you back," in his patented half-offer, half-belligerant delivery that is so uniquely Dave Fisher. I told him we'd bus home, I thanked him, and said I'd see him at 5 when they came over for dinner.

I love my father and that's one of the major, and I mean major reasons we moved here - to be near my family while my father was facing the last days - or months, or years; whatever his cancer affords him - of his life. But sometimes he and my mother tire me out. His grumpiness, and even more so her excuses for it (for her own personal settling and to encourage my brother and I to settle for it as well). I still love them both and more than ever. I don't feel victimized by them in any way; I am fully aware that I can bring my desire for different behavior to them at any time, and I have in the past. I am proud of Ralph and I for giving them the kindness of moving my family close to them. I am glad for their help, strings-attached as it sometimes seems. Today, I was glad for a trip to the library out of the wind and rain. That, and the bus-fare I stole out of their van for the trip back home.

Labels: bike, financial panther, FOO, iBeak, inter-tron, library, rain, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

Yesterday afternoon I found myself in Aberdeen in the van while it was pouring rain, I had our kitty Harris in the passenger seat, and we'd just escaped the a shop after being hijacked by two separate store employees who were lonely and we'd been in there so long I'd had to timeout Nels (watching the van through the window) and by the time I got out to him he'd been crying and holding his pee and had to go and I wouldn't go back inside (both b/c of the employees' overtalking tendencies and Nels' immediate need) and I said, "Sophie, give me that cup!" and like a well-trained pit crew member she knew what I was doing and got the cup and took off the lid and I got Nels out of his carseat and pulled down his pants and he peed and RAPIDLY began to fill the cup, stopping 1/4" before the top.

As it was happening I was thinking how all of it made sense on some level (except the kitten but he was really lonely and is a good car rider) but I'm pretty sure no one else would have thought it made sense to watch how it all went down.

Afterwards, I poured the fresh hot cup of steaming urine into the gutter. I'm sure that's not the first time anyone's leaned out of a car in downtown Aberdeen and done the same.

Tonight I finished "Freaks and Geeks". I've never seen a show before like it and I see why it's rated so high on IMDB. The funny thing is, it started out decently enough for the first ten or so episodes (there are 18 total). But by the end I was in tears just about each chapter. I've also never experienced high school all over again, but I sure did during that show in the most amazing way - in a good way. Thanks Chris, for the recommendation. I got through them all eventually.

Tonight also marks the first five inches of my first sock! Yes, I'm knitting socks. I'm told it's addictive although it seems to be more like: knit knit knit knit for hours and hours and hours - here's a wristband!

And finally: newness in our household as Nels gave the kitty a bath. Using the toilet. Yes, it really happened. I can't really talk much more about it.

Labels: Aberdeen, family life, Harris, knitting, Nels, pets, rain, random

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

It's only 7:10 in the morning but already a few things have happened.

First, the cat stepped on my face this morning. Precisely and gently, in an attempt to get mornin' lovin', and I felt every pad in her cold little foot. Have I mentioned nothing grosses me out more than the thought of a bottom of a cat's foot? Have you ever wondered why when you get a cat scratch it takes forever to heal? Fucken germs, man.

Second, Ralph and Nels left this morning for Port Townsend and the annual Rhody Run which takes place at 11 this morning - 7.46 miles, w00t! And a few hills thrown in and Ralph runs with Nels in the stroller. While my boys were up this morning (Nels seamlessly adjusting happily to being up two hours earlier than the norm) my son came and got in bed with me not once but twice. Speaking of mornin' lovin', how nice that was! It seemed like mere moments after I acknowledged I was having trouble with my son's behavior, he and I started getting along a lot better. The second time he came and snuggled with me was post-breakfast, and he put his cold hands and feet right up against me. And I love him so much I let him.

It is raining and shite today - putting a damper on my plans to take Sophie out with the bike (we've been biking daily with the good weather). Plus I just noticed Ralph seems to have hijacked the fry bread which I'd planned on eating - black bean tacos for breakfast. You heard.

Now: second cup of coffee, heck maybe even a morning half-cig. Why not.

Labels: Nels, poison, rain, Ralph, roadtrip

Today we attempt the 3/4 mile walk from our house to my parents'. Sophie has, snuggled under her quilted coat, a book we need to return to Grandma. I call ahead, of course; I plan to call ahead before every visit, Lord help me make it happen.

Nels refuses to put his hood on. I cajole, he doesn't want it. Halfway through the walk and he is soaked. His hair is wet and water runs down his face. "My eye," he mourns, wiping his fist across his forehead. I put his hood up and his hand grasps mine. For the duration of the walk he is silent, shuffling and snuffling along. He is not crying but I know he is cold and sad. He makes it through. We arrive at my parents' house and he instantly strips down, takes off his "meatballs" (overalls) and his voice is back; he sings and hums along to me.

Moving in is going slowly. But that's because I'm being picky about it. I have decided not to have things squirreled away in attics and shop spaces, things that then when you have to move you are totally pissed and humiliated you still are hanging on to them. So my closets are still empty and lots is in the laundry area / garage awaiting my yea or nay. My sewing room is in some kind of half-assed tearapart as I take this opportunity to winnow out some fabric stash I no longer need.

Today: Sophie to school, Nels home for a nap, Kelly to her sewing room happy as a clam.

Labels: Nels, rain, Sophie