If You Want to be a Muppet

You could perhaps try this coat on for size:


The maribou feathers, the faux suede body and knitted sleeves....gloriously tacky. How can you resist? And yes, this is an adult size.

In the Boutique, I have to say I just love it, there is a "Tacky" section. It is more politically correctly referred to as the Holiday Section or the Dressy Section but let's face it: It's the "Oh My God I Can't Believe Anyone Would Actually Wear That" section.

When Mass becomes a Liquid

The beautiful Pacific Northwest has switched places with Texas. It is hot enough to make nuns curse, I'm telling you. Today it is supposed to reach 100 degrees. This is the fourth day in the nineties and the millionth day above 80.

I don't know how anyone does this on a regular basis, seriously. Us native Washingtonians are feeling wilted.

I am beginning to hate everyone. Except you, of course. I still like you.

But Holy Mother of God it's hot.

The Next Chapter

The saga of Kevin's ex-wife is nearing an end. It hasn't been hugely melodramatic but it sure has provided for some pretty frank conversations, not only between Kevin & I but with his family as well.

She has been very brave in contacting him, I think. She has also been very up-front concerning her motives. She has asked for permission regarding contacting him further and about posting pictures of them. So I have to give her credit for respecting some boundaries. Not to say that Kevin hasn't had to thrown up a wall here & there.

To our surprise, she apologized and acknowledged her role in their marriage ending. The most difficult part is that she confirmed that she had cheated on him. That was hard on Kevin, he didn't expect it and wasn't prepared for her brutal honesty.

I had forgotten how broken he was when I first met him and for a moment there, I caught a glimpse of that man. It made me feel more affectionate toward him actually. I would have assumed I would be doing the "Sucks to be You" dance to his ex-wife but I don't feel that at all.

I pity her and I don't say that lightly. She has realized finally, after twenty years, how badly she screwed up. That's got to sting a little.

My brother-in-law (who knows her) and my nephew are adamant that she has ulterior motives. I've read her messages and I don't get that vibe from her. She could, of course, surprise us but if she does then we will deal with that when it happens.

I believe that there is a small percentage of her that wants/needs/hopes to be a part of Kevin's family again and I believe that she knows it will never happen. Kevin would never allow it anyway. Holy Hell, I would lose my mind as well.

All in all, Kevin is relieved and while not "happy" that he has reconciled with her, he is content. He was given the gift of an opportunity to say all the things that he didn't get to say in the past. He got the chance to brag about how great his life is now. Finally, he got reassurance that things happen for a reason and Karma does indeed happen.

Moving on, all of us.

The Sound of Silence

Life has been so chaotic lately that I’ve found I’ve been leaving off the radio and television. I really realized this yesterday as I headed to the post office. The window was down and all I could hear was noises you hear in the country and the sound of the truck tires against the concrete. Very soothing, to me at least.

Now just the dryer is going, kind of a comfort sound of it's own. I finally turned off the television after Kevin went outside. Now I can faintly hear Kevin playing in the shop and he’s listening to the Zac Brown Band. (highly recommended CD, by the way. County/Jimmy Buffet/Jack Johnson mix)

Usually I need noise to preoccupy the ADD part of my brain so I can be somewhat productive. I can have the television in the background plus the radio or Kevin or the racetrack or *insert noise here* and I can happily work along. But lately, there's just too much going on in my head.

So like watering the garden each night, I am taking a little more time to slow down & listen.

The Look of Love

I think that when you've been with someone for a long period of time, you stop seeing one another. Really. Sure you might notice a detail here & there but we get so caught up in the day to day effluvia that they get taken for granted.

For instance, when Kevin was sick, people would comment on how thin he was. While I knew this, it was always a jolt when I took a good look at him.

A co-worker hadn't seen a picture of Kevin yet. How this happened I don't know as I have the family portrait on my desk and eleventy pictures of him on my screensaver.

So I showed her a picture of him and she began to laugh. Wait, what?
She explained "It's a good thing you told me he was your husband because I was going to say 'Who's that? He's HOT!"

We forget these things. Sure, we feel attracted to our spouses but we sometimes forget what Attracted them to us in the first place. It's normal, I suppose but sad all the same. So of course I felt a little more affectionate toward him when I got home because I had seen him through someone elses eyes.

Then I showed her another picture...like I said eleventy pictures I have of him...and she sighed. "Oh, that's so sweet."

Along the lines of we forget to look at our loved ones, we also tend to forget how they look at us.

My nephew took this picture in Vegas without our knowledge. It's my all time favorite of us.

Harpers Island

Did anyone watch Harpers Island?

It just finished after a 13 show series arc. It was billed as a “special event” but EW.com said that they weren’t going to continue it, as if it were a series. If you get a chance to Netflix or rent it, I think you should. It’s available online too.

It’s a horror film soap opera. People die in every episode and it sometimes violent, sometimes it lets you use your imagination. I am not a big horror movie or violence fan but this was So Much Soapy Goodness, I didn’t care. It's soapy, horrorible (mis-spell on purpose) FUN.

I'm not implying that it's not predictable in places or has the world's best acting ever. But there are some moments that make you exclaim "Oh No They Didn't!!!" In fact, BFF C and I emailed & text back & forth with a running commentary.

There are a lot of characters to pay attention to, some of which you’ll love and others you’ll hate. This makes it all the more intriguing as they disappear/die one by one. I found that my opinions changed as the show continued.

Random useless trivia: Abby is David Cassidy's daughter, for reals. There are a lot of actors that you'll think "Didn't I see them in....?"

I made a point of watching it only during the afternoon with the sun streaming through the windows and Kevin outside. Otherwise it's a little too Blair Witch Project for me. I watched it once during the night and it freaked me out a little. Oh, perhaps because it’s set on one of the San Juan Islands so it’s basically filmed in my backyard.

I keep thinking about the whole storyline. I think it’s one of those shows that is better after watching it a second time. The second time around you can focus on details instead of not pissing yourself.

Click on the link, If You Dare! *mischievous giggle*

http://www.cbs.com/primetime/harpers_island/video/

pouting

Today was a long day. Not for any reason other than it's hotter than usual and us poor native Washingtonians are starting to whither.

My mom called...always my favorite...to tell me that Dad is checking out of the hospital and "If he's doing good, Dr Mathey will start him on chemo on Monday"

Okay. That's all I can say anymore.

So I threw myself on the bed with a bottle of water because I don't keep alcohol in the house.

I called D to update her and cope through liberal doses of sarcasm.

Then I began to watch Midnight Bayou on Lifetime. I really enjoyed the book and Jerry McConnell is easy to look at even if he married a complete & utter bitch. (listen to his Howard Stern interviews....he borders on being an Ussy-pay)

I'm ordering dinner from the local bar and then I'm going to watch Rescue Me. (dibs on Denis Leary...damaged men are my weakness) then So You Think You Can Dance.

I can't even go to bed "early" and all that it implies as the timing is wrong...adding to my festival of suckiness...

I do have brownies though. So I have that going for me.

I think everyone has different coping strategies...what's yours?

That Just Happened

So, to add to the fun I have two stories to tell. Both of which are horrifying. NICE.

This morning I nearly wrecked the truck AGAIN.
I over-corrected after reaching for something.
IT COULD NOT HAVE BEEN A MORE STUPID THING TO DO.

So that was nice.

But God protects the stupid and for that I am eternally grateful.

And my mocha spilled all over so double-points for me. I effin' bought another one once I arrived safely in town. It was that or a bottle of Jack.

All is well. No one is injured, truck isn't damaged. Just me mentally chastising myself repeatedly for being incredibly stupid.

Story #2:

Kevin called me this morning: "Did you know your dad is in the hospital again?"

"Nope."

"Of course not" he says laughing. "Okay, now you know. Bye!"

I ponder the situation for awhile then call Brother Dear.

"Did you know Dad was in the hospital?"

"No, I'm not surprised though."

And so it goes.

I asked him if I should call out to the house & bust them. He recommended no, just let them be. "This is what they do."

Then he continues:

"The last time, he called me at 11:00 at night, on a Sunday to come get him. Mom had taken him to the hospital and left him to find his own way home."

I've been giggling about that all day long. That's funny, I don't care who you are.

So, a little tragedy & a little comedy all in one post!

Whispers

I attended a wedding on Saturday that was probably the most beautiful wedding I have ever attended. I left my cell phone in the truck and regret it terribly as I'd love to have photos to share. I will ask her if it's okay to post a picture when she has them on her blog.

The lovely bride was my co-worker so I had heard details about the wedding off & on for the past few months. She was determined not to be a bridezilla and she did very well. Nary a pout or tantrum in sight. Considering she was doing a lot of it herself, she had reasons to be one on many occasions. (:-D

The wedding was at an old homestead in a small farming community. The chairs & aisle were set up under a small orchard of trees with an arbor used as the what-would-it-be-called...pulpit for lack of a better word.

Her best friend officiated. It was a non-God wedding and to me the words were even more meaningful and important. Instead of hearing Corinthians and rote prayers, he spoke about the two of them and what it would take to be married.

The couple walked hand in hand down the aisle. Both smiling and steadfast in what they were doing. He in a simple suit and she in a beautiful gown with a hair pretty that she made herself.

But the best part? Oh, the best part was the vows. Her friend announced that they had decided to write their own vows to share and would do so now. I hadn't heard about this part & I am always impressed when people write their own vows.

They Whispered Them. Only to Each Other.

I KNOW!

It was so beautiful. Just perfectly lovely. She standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear and giggling while she did it. Then it was his turn, he cupped her head with his hand and whispered in her ear, occasionally pulling back to look at her then continuing to whisper.

Perfection.

It was exactly how a wedding should be. Beautiful and simple and most importantly, focused solely on the people in love.

Happy Wedding Day J & T. May you live happily ever after.

Hay!

It’s hay season here in the county, in most counties I assume. Everyone here has a story about hay, having grown up in a farm community. Everyone has had a job related to hay in some fashion: bucking hay, hauling hay, shoveling hay, etc.

My father-in-law had a job hauling hay across the mountain pass when he was fourteen years old. Of course, this was way way way before any of the licensing laws that we have now. Rumor has it, he drove a hay truck to the licensing office to get his license when he was sixteen. When the licensor asked him where his vehicle was to take the driving test, he reportedly gestured to the hay truck. The licensor asked him who drove him to the office & my f-i-l replied “I did, I just got back from Ellensburg” (on the Eastern part of the state). The licensor signed off on his license right there.

Then the other day Kevin & were traveling somewhere, I don’t remember where. We were going past hay fields that had been mown. They were the big packaged, circular, hay bales that you see now. Kevin gestured toward them and said: “You know, they’re talking about making those illegal now.” I asked him why and he told me:

“Because the cows aren’t getting three square meals a day anymore…”

A little silliness for relief from my previously pissy posts. (:-D

Cell Phone Trajectory

I rarely lose my temper and thus have never thrown something in anger. I've been tempted, oh, I've so been tempted but so far have resisted any urges. Last night was the acid test of my resistance. I very nearly hucked my cell phone across the property.

Luckily, pragmatism kicks in and the little voice tells me, just in time:
"You'll just have to go find it before the dogs do and if it's broken then you're going to be More Pissed than before so just go imagine snicking kittens and punting baby bunnies instead. And, oh, go call your brother and piss him off too."

What precipitated this, you ask? Pull. Up. A. Chair. This is a whopper. As Kevin says "I can't make this sh*t up."

The Other Brother took my parents to the final oncologist appointment at the University of Washington Cancer Care Hospital. This was the final diagnosis for my dad. For those of you just joining us: my dad has liver, kidney, lung and most likely brain cancer. It began as colon cancer so you can see where this is going.

First off, Brother had the same experience as I did with my parents as I did save my Dad falling in the driveway; the parents weren't ready, bickered, passive-aggressive behavior, etc. So fun was had by all.

Anyway...

The oncologist finally called it. He gave a range of weeks to months left for my dad's life. At the rate of the cancer growth, the liver enzyme level and his white blood cell count, it is simply a matter of time. And little time at that.
They didn't think that pursuing any further treatment is necessary or possible. In fact, they felt that any further treatment would probably kill him. He did mention that Dad could try the low-level chemo pill in attempt to prolong his life but even then the time would be very little.

So sad, yes but not unexpected and frankly a little relieving as his regular oncologist - according to the parents - is all wine and roses and refuses to give any sort of diagnosis or timeline. (thank you litigious lawyers and families)

Brother phoned me and said "This is it. If you have anything to say, anything to resolve now is the time." This clarity is UNHEARD of from the Other Brother (he's usually an ignore it until you can't ignore it anymore kind of guy) so Wow, it's Time.

I phoned Brother Dear and let him know. He was in the same camp as me: partially relieved and kicking into "Okay, here we go" mode.

Neither of us called our parents that day because they never want to talk the day of a doctor's appointment. I think they create their alibi and practice for a full 24 hours before talking to any of us.

Finally I called my mom last night before we left for dinner.

She stage whispers:
The ((PINHEAD, Small Town)) oncologist doesn't agree with the ((Nationally Recognized University of Washington Cutting Edge)) Oncologist and he says Dad has at least a year and it will be six months until "he exhibits symptoms".

Wait, what?


In the same breath she tells me he has a bladder infection, is running a temp, only wants to sleep, and is "coughing stuff up and they don't know what it is. They're running tests and when they know they'll put him on the right medicine. Oh, and they're putting him on Avastin and after they treat all of that, he should be feeling really good again."

I SWEAR TO GOD THIS IS TRUE, SHE ACTUALLY SAID THIS.

Yeah.

The sky is Green in my mother's world.

Brother Dear actually busted out laughing when I told him about our conversation. Because, really, what can you do at this point?

He interjected loudly at the part of "he's coughing up stuff":
"Do you think it might be a TUMOR?"

Black humor = Survival in this family.

At this point of the conversation with my mother I am actually envisioning myself chucking my phone out into the yard as far as I can throw it and hearing my mom's delusions fade into the distance as the phone disappears into the trees. The mental image is enough to keep me from throwing it.

So, I'm sad but then I feel guilty because a part of me just wants this over with and then I get mad at my mom (not that she's aware) because she refuses to even glance in the direction of the truth, let alone make eye contact with it.

I'm sure all of the above is normal though....well, with the exception of the sky being green.

Really?

Yesterday was one of those days where I literally look up at the sky and say "Really?"

Of course there's the constant family drama with my dad and then the reappearance of Kevin's exwife this week.

And Then:

Someone that I once worked with was killed in a car accident and I just heard about it. So that's a bummer.

And Then:

I saw one of my former staff members from the school whom I've always ADORED. She is an angel on earth I'm telling you.

Yeah, she has brain cancer.

Really??

Thank You Y'all

With the illness of my dad, my friends have circled the wagons. For that I am eternally grateful.

I have a handful of close friends. I'm not super popular or outgoing, that's Kevin.

In fact, I can be a total crap friend sometimes. To quote a friend, Tina, "I'll be your friend, I'm just terrible at remembering to BE a friend." I understand what she is saying. I forget to call or call back. I'm lazy about hanging out.

But the friends I have now are friends that I've had for Years.
The accumulation of a lifetime, each of them represents certain time periods or versions of me.

C and I have known each other since grade school. We are still tight after many, many years.

I met K & D through the school over ten years ago. ("Ten! Ten!?!?!? TEN YEARS! Ten!")

CD and I have known each other since middle school. He has become a regular part of my life with the introduction of Facebook. In the past, CD surfaced when something major happened in either of our lives. Now, it's a regular appearance and I am appreciating the friendship more each day.

Now, D and CD have met and OMG, it's ON. They bonded quickly. I'm a little scared, frankly.

K is the friend that I talk to when I have "What do you think about this?" situations. We compare Target shopping and minutiae of the day. K listens.

D is my mischief friend. She is the one who drags me off the couch and says "C'mon We're doing this."

Then there are my blogger-facebook-e-friends. (Hi Bea! Dyn! Jess!) I've found those friendships have become invaluable as well. There such comfort in a one sentence comment, reminding me that we're all connected in this crazy, chaotic life.

My point being, is that all of these wonderful souls fulfill a niche in our friendship. Without even one of them, I would be lost.

So Thank You.

Lost Bowls Found

I brought home two bowls today that are just like bowls I had when I was married to Michael. I loved those bowls but left them behind when we divorced. I left nearly everything behind, as I just wanted the hell out.

Longtime readers will remember this post: keepsakes-memories-or-betrayal

It was triggered by an Everyone Loves Raymond episode where Debra had a bunch of items throughout the house that were from former relationships; a picture frame, an ice chest and something else.

So, I am having a tinge of guilt – albeit misplaced – about bringing these bowls home. However, they are not the style of bowls that Kevin will use so it will just be my little secret. And it's not like I am going to be wistfully thinking about Michael while I eat my Fruit Loops.

And I just freaking love them, always have always will.

Here’s a picture, taken in the setting sunlight through our windows:

I KNOW, right? - continued

So, we friended Kevin's exwife. Of course as soon as we did it, we could browse through her pictures & posts.

Oh
My
God

She has SIX children, possibly seven. She's been married no less than four times and is listed as "Engaged" right now.

I asked Kevin if he would have recognized her if he happened to pass her in the mall. He looked at her pictures and said no way. He had to shift his thinking, she's a middle-aged MOM now whereas he remembers a 24 year old "hottie".

Kevin recognized how brave it was of her to approach him first. He could have ignored her request or said some pretty awful things to her so there was a big risk taken by her. She posted a note late last night stating that she was glad he accepted her friendship, she didn't think he would.

He said it's nice to have it finished. Everything has come full circle now.

But he did have me update his pictures...hahahahaha (:-D

Alls well that ends well

I KNOW, right?

Oh, Facebook, how revolutionary you are, creating moral and ethical situations for every single member of the universe.

Today, Kevin received a friend request…..from his ex-wife.

I KNOW!

We knew this was a chance when we friended two people from our past. They’ve always been friends with his ex-wife and we assumed they would be a conduit for his ex-wife to make a reappearance. And she did.

Kevin hasn’t seen or heard from her since 1991 so plenty of changes have happened. He is very curious to see how her life is going and, of course, what she looks like. He said that he has nothing to hide and there is a part of him that wants to say “Look at this great life I have!”

Kevin also says that at this point in life, it will be a relief to just let it go. "It hurts me more to carry resentment than it does her. She doesn't even realize it."

I completely agree with him on all points. I am not worried about anything getting “rekindled” as I am the one that does the updates and posts on his facebook page. Also, if he feels like there is unfinished business, then he should take care of it.

So let’s see how this goes!

Nope

Last week my mom called in a panic (rightfully) to come pick her up and take her to the doctor in Everett. It's 45 minutes from my work and another 45 minutes south to Everett. My day was shot. Luckily for me, work is super flexible and I could leave. She had an eye infection that had to be treated by the specialist immediately or risk losing sight in that eye so panic was due.

But that didn't stop me from muttering & cursing when I got there and she casually mentions that she needs to go to Seattle rather than Everett. It's another 30 minutes to Seattle AND it would put us coming home in rush hour. *awesome*

So, crisis diverted. We got her to the specialist and subsequently to the ER and they took care of her. Whew.

And then...

A few days later, my Dad called and left a voicemail:
"I need you to take me to the doctor in Seattle, even though you don't want to."

Again: *awesome*

Twice my parents have told me "You get to drive the New Car" in order to keep me from killing them...like that's a prize. But it was better than their Escort that I hated.

On one of the busiest days that work has had since I've been there, I had to be gone. Not Good.

I arrived at The Parents at 8:25 AM and they're not ready. Dad is eating breakfast and isn't dressed. The awesomeness continues....

Dad finally gets ready to leave, goes out to the car and FALLS. This happens often, no need to panic.

Back into the house we go so he can change clothes.

And the Parental Bickering begins.

Finally I walked outside and began dead-heading my mother's rhododendrons.

We eventually got onto the road, Dad evntually slept in the back and my mom rode shotgun. A few barbs were traded and I considering rolling their windows down like a Mom would for bickering children.

Have you ever seen the movie "Forget Paris" with Debra Winger and Billy Crystal? When Billy takes his father-in-law anywhere and he random names businesses, signs, etc. That is so my mom. If it weren't funny, I would have undone her seatbelt and kicked her door open.

We get to UW Cancer Center with nary a glitch. Dad insists on getting out and making his way on his own. Mom alternately worries and badgers him. Off he goes.

The car door shuts and she starts complaining....I tune her out, concentrating on parking.

By sheer dumb luck, we find my dad. We wait to check in, barbs are traded...Mom fusses, Dad resents, rinse and repeat. So awesomely fun.

I abscond his paperwork and complete it because they won't tell the truth on any of the questions. (alcoholism, general health, etc) And they don't bring his meds or a list of them. Sigh.

The doctor calls us back and explains the procedure they want to do...direct injection of nasty chemo into the liver, this will only buy time...I'm irritated that we're even having this conversation and irritation continues when the doctor says "You have to meet with the oncologist in order to get accepted into this program." Really?

Dad is flippant about answering questions and my mom starts "beaking off" as my Canadian friends call it. She's trying to tell the truth but she's being so snarky that I want to smack her. The doctor looks at me occasionally for confirmation or negation of information.

Eventually he does a physical examination. Dad has a untreated hernia that I had heard about but not seen. OMG OMG OMG it looked like the movie Alien. I swear to God the doctor had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming "What the hell is that thing!?!?!?"

My mom thinks that the surgeon is going to fix his hernia and his poor circulation through surgery "once he gets stronger", completely ignoring that Dad is terminal. I think I caught the Doctor eye-rolling at one point.

The doctor begins to talk about Dad's health, the unlikelyhood that this procedure is going to help much and how Dad needs to be proactive. (I nearly LOL'd) Dad interrupts him and says:

"When I graduated high school, my life expectancy was 58 years old."

Um...wait, what?

WTF does that have to do with ANYTHING. We don't know.

The alcoholism is the final discussion. The doctor tells him that it is required that he stops drinking in order to do this procedure. He suggest AA....and the conversation goes downhill from there. My mom tells him that "You Have to Get Off the Sauce". Firstly, I hate that expression with the white hotness of the sun. Secondly, Not Ever Going to Happen.

The doctor excuses himself to get lab paperwork and Mom starts in. I interrupt her and say in a most Forrest Gump kind of way: "We have had this discussion before and I'm tired of it. You have a choice and it's clear. If you're going to drink, FINE, but don't waste time and resources doing treatment if you are. And that's all I have to say about that."

And I walked out the door, imagining kicking baby bunnies and snicking kittens to cool off.

When I return, they are both meek. I rarely lose my temper so they know to duck and cover when it happens.

We go to the lab and they start in again. Mom is hovering and Dad is grouchy. I walked ahead of them until I nearly couldn't see them anymore.

Lab draw goes quickly and we go to the car. As I'm pulling out, Dad suggests taking the scenic route home so he can see the 520 Floating Bridge. "Nope" is all I said as I turned to get on 1-5.

We drive in relative silence home, stop for lunch and both are quieter but still trading barbs.

Again, I'm waiting to turn to get on I-5 and both parents this time suggest that we take the scenic route home via a smaller highway.

"Nope"

I essentially kicked them both to the curb at the house and left. I waited five minutes before calling Brother Dear and shouting:

"I DESERVE COMBAT PAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Go read this!

I've had a total crap day and as I've been taught that if I don't have anything positive to say, to not say anything at all...so I'm hijacking a post.

The lovely Swistle posted this today and It Is Brilliant! If you read Swistle, you've already read this post and if you don't, GO, GO NOW and read her or we can't be friends anymore.

Click here to read: The New Morality

I will return when my attitude doesn't suck. Tomorrow's another day, Scarlett.

Edith's House

I triple-love this story and had to share...enjoy!


http://www.komonews.com/news/local/50177072.html

SEATTLE -- The little old Ballard house that became the symbol of one woman's unyielding principle has changed hands.

Edith Macefield's two-story, two-bedroom house has been sold to a Seattle-based firm Reach Returns, Inc. The sale closed on Tuesday, the firm said.

In recent years Macefield's humble home became a sought-after piece of property, mostly because she wanted to keep it humble and hers.

Amid a grid of high-priced development stood Macefield and her home, where she'd lived since 1966. A wind chime hung in the archway, dancing in the breeze, as kitten figurines sunbathed on the windowsill.

The 86 year old refused to sell her home even when developers surrounded her, literally, shading three of her home's four sides with the walls of a new, high-reaching building.

Even an offer of $1 million wasn't enough to buy out "Ol' Edith," as they called her. Her home had been assessed at $8,000 with the lot valued at $120,000.

"All she cared about was being here long enough for her to die," said Barry Martin, a construction superintendent Macefield befriended in her last days.

Ol' Edith stood until the end, but even she couldn't stand forever. In 2008 she succumbed to pancreatic cancer and died.

Macefield left her home to her new friend and caretaker, Martin, who'd helped her prepare meals, get to her doctor's appointments, do her grocery shopping in her last days. She told him to sell the home and use the money to send his kids to college.

But Martin inherited more than Macefield's home. He also earned the criticism of many who accused of him of manipulating Ol' Edith in order to gain control of her house. But Martin says it wasn't he who charmed Macefield; in fact, it was the other way around.

"There was something about her that kind of grabbed you and just didn't let go, and you wanted more," he said.

It was Martin who sold the home to Reach Returns, Inc. The firm plans to preserve the home's exterior but remodel the interior, then raise the home to the height of the surrounding commercial building.

Underneath the elevated home will be two levels of open space for the public called Credo Square, the firm said, and visitors can pay to etch their credo on to the square's tiles.

"The Edith Macefield story challenged many people to ask themselves the hard questions... what really matters...?, what do you stand for...?, what is your credo?" said Reach Returns co-founder Greg Pinneo in a statement. "The home needs to be elevated literally and philosophically. We believe that the depth of thought that this story initiated should live on."

And here are some more pictures & more story:

http://seattle-daily-photo.blogspot.com/2009/06/edith-little-house.html

Self Portrait

I'm always a little jealous when I see clever profile pictures on Facebook, Blogger, and such.
I am not comfortable in front of a camera at all. Behind one, sure. In front of one, yikes.

I struggled with a profile picture on FB, originally just cropping myself from a group shot.

There are a few challenges with photographing myself.

Firstly, I wear glasses so not having a reflection is an issue. Or have the glasses bent/crooked.

Secondly, I have a nose. No, really. A Nose.

Thirdly, which can actually be listed as "Firstly, Part A" is that my eyes cross if I'm looking at certain angles. ATTRACTIVE.

I was playing with my cell phone camera tonight...I'm easily entertained...and I came up with a picture that makes me LOL.

So, without further ado: Firegirl

Just between Dads

At the family barbecue, I couldn't throw a rock without hitting a parent or parental figure.

My in-laws came to watch the show for the first time in years. At one point, I had three women all at one table that were a mother to me in one form or another. My actual mom, my mother-in-law (also named Donna Lee, like my mom) and Rose, my mother's BFF who raised me the first month of my life and off/on throughout my younger years. I am the daughter that Rose never had.

My dad sat on the deck during dinner and during the fireworks, otherwise he was in the house as he should be. My father-in-law watched the baseball game with him and I overheard them each talking smack about Griffey and A-Rod.

Knowing that it was probably my dad's last fireworks, it felt like a cycle had been completed somehow. Sometime during that night, I became part of the Johnson family instead of the Moore family.

Kevin confirmed it when he told me this story, the next day:

"Before my parents left last night, Dad stood behind your dad. He put his hands on his shoulders, leaned down and said something quietly to your dad. I don't know what he said."

I do.

Probably something along the lines of "She'll be fine, we got her." A final reassurance between fathers.

Lazy Sunday

Last week was the kind of stressful that I don't enjoy. Family drama and general busyness that I find most exhausting. The three day weekend was perfectly timed. Not only did I get to actually enjoy Not Working this holiday (I was still in full-fledged pout mode last year), I had zero plans. Other than the barbecue at my parents, I was untethered. This Never Happens.

It's a lazy, warm, summer Sunday. John Mayer is playing in the background. I just finished reading a book. The dogs are sleeping on the porch and the birds are singing. I've e-spoken to my closest friends all weekend and right this minute: life is good.

Whilst the remainder of July will be stressful and busy, I'm wallowing in the peace that is a lazy Sunday.

A New Way to Spend the Holiday

Tonight was the annual fireworks in my hometown. Longtime readers know that I used to be a pyrotechnician and was usually buried in work this time of year. Tonight was the second anniversary of what I fondly call "When We Blew Up." ( see Post #1 and Post #2) With regret, I am no longer a pyrotechnician. Probably a wise choice but I rarely enjoy wise choices.

I was prepared for pouting on the sidelines tonight. Last year I hated, hated, hated sitting on the sidelines. After years upon years of being in the mix of things, I felt supremely left out watching instead of directing a show.

Another milestone tonight...while I'm being all melodramatic...this is probably the last fireworks show that my dad will see. His prognosis is terminal and we're looking at mostly likely months at this point. He was tired but did manage to see the show tonight.

Dad began the fireworks in 1963 and has ensured that it has continued all these years. It feels like the circle is complete now. He knows now that his tradition will continue while his kids sit safely on the shore.

While I was prepared for SuckFest 2009, I was wrong. Our friends still gathered, the fam was all present & accounted for. This year even my second-longest friend CD was there. CD and Kevin get along remarkably well and now D has met him too. CD was in the mix nearly immediately much to my amusement. (but not surprise)

So, the page has turned. We're now spectators. While this is not what I've chosen, I can appreciate the gift that all of us are safe & healed, sitting on the shore watching the show and enjoying the time we spend together. The tradition, now altered, will be continued.

Bad News Bear

Anyone who has met me knows that I am not the most coordinated person. Sports and me are not in a relationship at any point in time. It's not that I'm simply clumsy. It's more complicated than that.

Firstly, I was a trauma birth. I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around my neck and I was not a pretty color. This in 1968 so I was sent home with a "She'll be fine."
So, I am sure there were/are some long term issues created there.

I am visually impaired. I have had glasses since I was 18 months old and have had two surgeries. I had bifocals when I was 30 years old. I will eventually go blind in one eye.

My hearing is not great as well. Chronic ear infections as a child created scar tissue. Loud activities as an adult has not so much helped the issue.

So, let's recap: bad vision, bad hearing and motor skill issues. Okay.

With that, it is with surprise that my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to play in Little League Baseball.
*awesome idea*

I'm sure I must have wanted to but Really? Did they think this was a good idea? Because on the surface, this doesn't seem like a good idea for my self-esteem.

It wasn't.

Oh, I sucked. I sucked A. LOT. Succcckkkkeeedddd. Sucked to the nth degree.

But it's okay because my parents were there encouraging me, right? Right?
Um, no.

And the other players were supportive because I was the only girl on the team(s) right?
Again, not really no. (1979...Title Nine was a story book chapter title at that point)

I also have to mention that I'm left handed. My dad thought it would be "easier" for me to be right handed so refused to let me use my left hand. (hello, continual motor skills issues, nice to meet you)

And we were poor. So I had a second hand mitt...not so much a big deal but it was a
RIGHT HANDED CATCHERS MITT.

Somewhere, in some universe, my parents equally decided that a vision & hearing impaired child with motor skills issues would be perfect for baseball. Then to make the endeavor more interesting, lets give her the wrong handed glove and the wrong styled glove.

I picture them sending me off to the game, waving "Bye! Good luck with that!"

To my credit, I persevered. Persevered from the way, way, out outfield. Using one hand to catch then dropping the mitt and "throwing" with the left hand. I was a crappy hitter because well, let's see...oh wait, get it? "See"? I couldn't effing SEE the ball.

Can't catch, can't throw, can't bat. What do I do? I was one hell of a benchwarmer.

(it's okay to laugh...I do, now)