EXCUSES, EXCUSES

 

          There hasn’t been a blog post for a few days mainly because I wasn’t feeling very creative as in why would anyone want to read what I’m writing about anyway. My life is all so normal and ordinary, I just don’t see how it would be of interest to many folks at all.

          I’ve also been reading the first book I ever wrote back in the mid-90s. I was taking a class then and came up with the idea of a woman running for president and winning. It was called, THE CRADLE PARTY.

          At the time, I also attended the Pacific Northwest Writer’s Conference every year. The year I began this book, I made an appointment with both an agent and an editor. I put together a one-page synopsis of my book and was absolutely delighted to find the agent wanted to see the whole book which wasn’t finished. Important lesson learned, i.e., never submit a project until it’s completely finished.

          I labored for nine long months to bring this novel to fruition. Along the way I discovered some of my creations had minds, ideas and goals of their own which necessitated my changing mine. Unfortunately, when THE CRADLE PARTY was finished, the agent was no longer interested.

          The novel went to sleep in my bookcase. About ten years later, a group of women with whom I worked and book-clubbed wanted to read my novel. It was passed around and the general consensus was that I should update the novel and shop it around. My friends even went so far as to type my updated chapters for me because my carpel tunnel was so bad.

          Finished once again, I tried shopping it around and found no takers. Once again it went to languish in my bookcase. I've made jokes about how once I'm gone and the kids are cleaning up after me the AJ or Thor will say to the other, "Hey, here's mom's book. Did you ever read it?" This would be followed by the other one saying, "Nope, never did." which in turn would be followed by a "THUNK!!!" as it hit the dumpster.

         A friend who lives east of the mountains asked to read it a while ago. It took me some time, but I finally pulled it out and decided I would re-read it before I sent it off because I wasn’t going to have her send it back. It’s my only copy and what was computerized was on floppy discs which my computer will no longer read, not to mention the fact I think the program is WordPerfect which no longer exists either.

          I’m half-way through those five hundred plus pages and find myself thinking I did a fairly good job when it came to writing that novel. Unfortunately, so many of the “new” things in the book are no longer new but common every-day things like email and cell phones. I’m not sure I could update the entire novel and have it make total sense, besides which, we now have more women in office than ever before plus we’ve even had a woman run for president.

          There is supposedly a way to publish yourself through Amazon. Once my friend returns this book, maybe I’ll give an update a try. I have now written four books and it would be very pleasant to find a way to publish at least one of them. Perhaps I should stop spending hours reading other authors’ work and look to working on my own.

          Meanwhile, tomorrow’s post will be a short story I wrote for a contest. The main requirement was to submit something no longer than than fifteen hundred words. Mine was less than a thousand and I didn’t win. Still, I thought what I wrote, while rather depraved, was still well-written. What will you think tomorrow, I wonder.

DOWN MEMORY LANE

 

          Today, Sunday, was a very good day even though I didn’t get in line and get a Northlake Pizza. When I got there about 11:15, there were already more than fifty people waiting. So, memories will have to suffice.

          Kuma and I left there and drove around Lake Union to Stoneway. I couldn’t believe the traffic or the number of apartment/condo buildings. I thought about stopping at Ivar’s Salmon House and getting fish and chips at the outdoor fish bar, but decided I wasn’t that hungry.

          I went to Lincoln High School and nothing on Stoneway looked anything like it did back when I walked to school…yes, uphill both ways in pouring down rain. Now there are so many new apartment/condo buildings that hardly a single family home remains. We turned left on 45^th and headed east, stopping at Dick’s Drive-In.

          Back when I was in school, the cool kids parked their cars on the rise to the west…you can look down on all the activity below. Today, I was a cool kid because I pulled in and backed myself into the only space available. I didn’t even have to try or correct myself or anything. Nailed it on the first try. Whoa, was that a proud moment. Too bad some of those folks from sixty years ago weren’t on hand to applaud.

          Kuma and I shared two cheeseburgers and fries and when I slurped the last of my diet coke, Kuma knew what was coming and we’d only done it once before. He could hardly wait for me to take off the lid and offer up the ice. Once he’d gotten most of the ice, I added water from my water bottle and had to fill it up a second time.

          I thought it might be difficult to turn left out of Dick’s, but both directions were clear. I followed 45^th all the way through Wallingford and up under Highway 99 and then down the hill into Ballard. Again, nothing looked as it had when I was a kid or even a bit over a decade when I worked at the zoo. So many single family homes replaced by huge apartment/condo buildings with businesses on the bottom level. Where are all these people coming from?

          Kuma and I ended up at Golden Gardens, and again, I hadn’t been there in forever. It’s become this huge park with enough parking for I don’t know how many cars. As a kid, me and the boy next door would ride our bikes to Golden Gardens which wasn't the least bit developed. Yes, the breakwater was there for the marina, but really not much else. I almost always brought home a little crab I found in the sand. Of course, they always died and I'm very sorry now that I know just how good crab tastes. These days, you can access the sandy beach or park in an area that has a walkway on top of the breakwater. I drove through the whole thing and decided Kuma and I would practice his walking on a leash on the pathway…WRONG!!!

          We no more than got out of the car than Kuma began to bark and not in a nice way. He lunged on the leash while barking at the crows, other dogs and people as if he’d give them a new asshole if only I’d let go. I was embarrassed as well as annoyed with him. I don’t understand why he acted that way. When we go to the dog park and he’s off leash, he doesn’t dash about barking and threatening anyone. I’m going to talk to his trainer when we go to class on Wednesday and see if I can get some pointers.

          It was a beautiful Seattle day although a bit cold. I’ve included a couple photos I took at Golden Gardens. I just wish we could have walked for a bit since it was so gorgeous.

          From the park, I headed to my friend’s house. She said Kuma could come inside and like a good boy, he peed on command before we crossed the street and went inside. He was very well behaved although he really wanted to jump on my friend’s husband a lot. He was also very good with my friend’s dog, respectful and kind to the old guy.

          When I talked about Kuma’s behavior at the park, the suggestion was made to get a shock collar. Their daughter got one for her dog and it worked very well. I’m not sure I want to do that. I’m not sure it is humane. I’m sure there’s a way to educate Kuma to be a better doggie than he was today.

          Back home, I walked Kuma around the neighborhood on his leash and he did well…no distractions. Then we played ball until his tongue was hanging out. Now he’s sound asleep, curled up in his chair as I type this.

Since I didn’t get a pizza, I figured I’d order something delivered for my dinner. Instead, I took some barbequed ribs out of the freezer and put them in my convection oven for an hour. Then I added some small potatoes, removed the aluminum foil from the ribs and put it back in the oven for another thirty minutes. What I’m now smelling smells extremely good…hope it tastes that good as well.  The oven just beeped, so I think I'm about to find out.

MAKING NEW PLANS???

 

          Undoubtedly, you’re all waiting to hear how wonderful my Northlake Tavern small combination pizza was…well, wait no longer. As I posted my plan yesterday, I began calling just a bit before 11:00 am, opening time, and all I ever got whenever I gave it try was a, “…sorry, we’re busy….” message. I finally gave up.

          I also sent my friend that had waited three hours to get two medium (the only size being made) pizzas, but haven’t heard back from her either. I’d hoped to get some pointers about the best way to get my pizza. Their website says they open at noon on Sunday, so I’m playing with the idea of driving down there and arriving a bit before noon. If there’s a huge line of folks waiting, I’ll just go visit a friend instead. If there’s no line, I’ll get my pizza. I’m afraid, however, that my memories of the Northlake combination pizza will have to suffice.

          Not exactly sure what’s going on with me or if I’ve just realized how close to ninety seventy-seven is…only 13 years, but I’m using the phrase, “I like that, so why shouldn’t I have and/or do that?” What that means is that I’m looking at spending a bit more money on stuff or experiences for myself. That might not sound like too big a deal unless you know me well.

          As an example, I’ve had the same nighties for I don’t know how long. I’m sure I haven’t bought a new one in all the time I’ve been retired...well, maybe one. So, this past week, I ordered four brand new all cotton nighties in styles and colors that I like. True, there’s nothing really wrong with my old ones except I’ve had them forever and they are looking a bit well-used. They don’t have any rips or tears and none of them have gotten so thin you can see through them…like me, they’re just tired. There is a part of me that will celebrate when I put the clean old nighties in the Goodwill box and another part of me that will be chagrined at my wasteful ways. So far that’s my biggest splurge.

          The other thing I’ve been contemplating is getting out and about. There is so many places in the Northwest I have never been. A friend uses Expedition Tours which is located in Rochester WA for her trips, but most of those are lengthier trips. Right now they don’t have any lengthy trips listed, but they do have one-day trips. Since they’re located in Rochester, I’ve emailed to ask if I could meet them at the day’s location if it would be easier for me to get there from here rather than driving to the pick-up location. We’ll see what they say.

          I’ve also looked into another company that does tours that are more local. They appear to be small tours and go to a wide variety of places. The longest tours are ten to twelve hours and include Mt. Rainier, Mt. St. Helens and Victoria Canada. I’d definitely like to do the one to Mt. Rainier since I’ve never been to Paradise. I have been to Mt. St. Helens twice, but it would be fun to let someone else drive and most likely share information I don’t know. And John and I took the clipper to Victoria years ago, but it was winter, so not too fun. 

          For beginners, I think I’ll go to the Flower and Garden Show at the Convention Center which is mid-February. It’s too cold and potentially wet to do some of the other tours that would be available.

          The goal is, I think, to do something at least once each month that gives me a new experience. Sounds like a fairly simple goal doesn’t it, but we’ll see how I do.  It’s too bad I can’t have the January experience be the Northlake just one more time.

AND ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST

 

          Earlier this week I heard the Northlake Tavern (NT) is closing. Today, it hit home when I saw a post on Facebook. I went online and looked for the NT web site. And, yes, it’s true, January 31^st will be the last day this wonderful place will exist as it now does. I have so many great memories of eating pizza and drinking wine/beer with so many different people.

          I was introduced to the Northlake Tavern in 1969 when I went to work at the Regional Primate Research Center at the University of Washington. Those were the days when staff went out to lunch on Friday. It was also the time when we drank at lunch. It was thanks to these women I learned to drink martinis, but I digress. We didn’t always go to the NT for lunch, but we did often enough to slake our desire for pizza.

          In turn, I introduced John to the NT. We’d go after work or on the weekend and order a LARGE COMBINATION. Somehow, we’d manage to eat the entire thing and when I say LARGE COMBINATION, that pizza had to weigh several pounds. When I left the Primate Center and we moved to Lake Forest Park, we didn’t go as often and actually went years without making a visit.

          I remember the next time we went there for dinner. We placed our usual order and looked at each other in disbelief when we had to ask for a box for more than half that LARGE COMBINATION. This was followed by my occasionally picking up a small combination after work and bringing it home. Even then, the small was more than the two of us could put away at one sitting.

          Then there was the time my Professor came back to town and wanted to take me to lunch. We went to the NT and he ordered an onion pizza. I couldn’t believe an onion pizza would be very good, but amazingly, it was excellent. I’d ordered something different, but he sent his leftover pizza home with me which is how I discovered it was quite tasty.

          This morning I wrote down the phone number and plan to call at exactly 11:00 am when the Northlake opens and order a small combination for pick-up. According to the Facebook poster, she had to wait three hours to get her two medium pizzas. It took two hours to order and an hour for them to be ready for pickup. I’m hoping I don’t have to wait that long, that I can get right through, order, zip down there and have yummy pizza for dinner…and lunch and dinner and maybe lunch again if the small combination is as large as it was in the past. If it is as good as it’s always been, I plan to enjoy every single taste and bite while I think about the people and times now in the past.

          So, another one bites the dust, becoming a strand woven to completion in my life tapestry over years and decades. The Northlake Tavern will join Wilson’s Drive-In on Aurora, the Twin Teepees, Lamont’s in Lake Forest Park, Goofy’s on Ballinger, the Aurora and Sno-King Drive-ins…well, at my age, I could continue elaborating but I’m sure you get the idea. I’m grateful for those past experiences and memories and understand why these places have ceased to exist, but having those particular tapestry strands tied off, so to speak, does make me sad.

WANTS

 

         

          My mom never talked much about her growing up years. She did leave me with a strong impression that she wished she’d been born male. Momma had three older brothers and one younger. I remember her saying it wasn’t fair that the boys got to go swim in the stream when it was really hot and she couldn’t because she was a girl.

          I think there were many other things that weighed on her desire to have been born the other sex. Her family lived in a Tennessee cove and hardscrabble farming was how they survived. I’m sure her chores included hauling water, cooking, cleaning up and in the latter years of my grandfather’s life, helping grandma care for him as if he was a baby, i.e., bedridden and in diapers.

          When the war came along and her brothers went off to fight, she escaped to Baltimore to work in an airplane factory. That was where she met my biological father and ended up going back home with a bun in the oven and a fake story about her poor dead husband.    

          Still, in the old photographs I have of my mom, grandma and me the first year of my life in Tennessee, we all look healthy and happy. When she and grandma left Tennessee for Idaho with me, I’m not sure either one of them realized they’d never return. It was in Idaho mom met the man who became my daddy, and I remember those years as very happy ones.

          There was lots of love and laughter in our little house. I don’t know if mom had been a great baker growing up, but I remember how she baked, I think, almost every single day. I remember pies, cakes, cookies, cinnamon rolls and once, she even tried donuts. I’m also afraid I was a tad bit spoiled because if I didn’t want to eat my breakfast, momma would bribe me with some of whatever had been baked the day before.

          After we moved to Seattle and momma had to go to work, she never baked again, at least not the way she had in Idaho. Grandma took over most of the cooking and she wasn’t a good cook at all. I realize she cooked pork until it was the consistency of dried leather because she’d grown up with pork containing some kind of deadly worm. It was also her custom, and the custom of many I believe, to cook the hell out of whatever came in a can. I was a grown adult before I found fresh vegetables and learned you didn’t have to cook them to mush.

          One item both my mom and grandma could cook that I never ever was able to make were biscuits, and not from any mix either. Without measuring, they’d put flour in the bowl, cut in some lard or Crisco, add a bit of water, mix it all together, and squeeze off pieces to put on the baking sheet. Those biscuits were light and fluffy and flavorful. The closest I’ve come to finding a close facsimile is the McDonald’s biscuit. It’s not quite as good, but it comes close and one of these days I’m going to ask if I could just buy a dozen without any other breakfast goods. Then, I’ll sit down and slather them with butter, jam and possibly honey and eat my fill.

          I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about my mom today. It’s not her birthday or the date of her death and nothing I’ve done has brought her to mind aside from my wanting something really good from the bakery. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to find a bakery that fulfills that desire. All the store bakeries’ baked goods are fairly tasteless. I want something that tastes good and feels wonderful in my mouth, i.e., pie crust, dense chocolate cake, banana pudding made with vanilla wafers.

          When I sit back and really think about this post, I guess what I’d really like is to have momma and grandma sitting at my table sharing coffee and something yummy while they both provide the answers I’ve been wanting to questions I’ve had for a long time. Grandma’s been gone since 1980 and momma since 1998. When I think of them, all I actually really want is to have them hug and comfort me as I hug and comfort them…maybe in the next life (if there is one).

HOT TODDIES AND OTHER BAD HABITS

           

Late yesterday afternoon, I made myself a hot toddy. I was cold and it helped warm me right up. It also made me just a bit dizzy which made me think of my Grandma Ada. She’s the only other person I’ve ever known that drank hot toddies.

My grandma was there when I was born on a cold early morning. She remained a daily part of my life until I was twelve years old. I have many happy memories of her and the contributions she made to my life. Some of the brightest weavings in my life tapestry were by her.

Whenever we were celebrating something or it was a holiday, my daddy would ask grandma if she wanted a drink. She always asked for a hot toddy and that it not be too strong. I remember her getting a little silly by the time she finished her toddy. I also remember snuggling into bed with her and having her laugh because the bed was swirling around the room. It wasn’t swirling for me, but I loved being close and tight and saying I wouldn’t let her fall off the unsteady bed.

Something else my grandma did that I never took up or even came close to wanting to take up was snuff. In the hills of Tennessee, it was a normal thing for women to use snuff. It wasn’t the kind you see men using with a big cud of it in their cheeks. It was soft powdery brown snuff. Grandma only used it after dinner when it was time to relax. Then, she’d use her little silver spoon to put some of that powder in her lower lip in front of her teeth.

Apparently, the caffeine in the snuff relaxed her, but it also made her salivary glands work overtime. As long as she lived with us, she always had her “spit” can. You see, she wouldn’t swallow the brown-tinged saliva, but spit it into her can. We kids were always very careful of her spit can because the last thing we wanted was to knock it over. Even now, just typing this makes my stomach muscles kinda cringe at the very idea.

I don’t remember ever trying or wanting to try grandma’s snuff, unlike wanting to try my parents’ cigarettes. I think that spit can was entirely responsible for my not wanting to indulge. Why my parents’ ashtrays didn’t have the same effect, I’ll never know.

I did find my parents’ cigarettes disgusting as well, but then I wasn’t trying to smoke a virgin one. I tried smoking a couple of the butts left in the ashtray…so very very nasty. Oh, and I didn’t say they were Camel and Lucky Strike straights…even worse.

Even when I began smoking at the age of twenty-three or -four, I didn’t choose one of their brands or even my husband’s brand. I chose Virginia Slims and had no idea how addictive those skinny and oh so very cool cigarettes would become. I don’t think they were all that strong, because eventually I moved on to a stronger filter cigaretteS…never those Marlboroughs though.

It took many years and many attempts to give up cigarettes and even now, I can’t believe I actually smoked those things. Just today I had to walk by a group of people with at least one of them smoking…it STANK a lot. To think my house, car, clothes, body, hair all stank like that at various times in my life seems almost unbelievable now.

These days I’m extremely pure although like my grandma, I do like me a hot toddy now and then.

TAX TIME

 

          I  opened the drawer in which I toss papers to be filed and was instantly reminded tax time is upon me once again. Prior to retirement, I used Turbo Tax (TT) and continued to do so while John was alive. I used TT because I had more than enough deductions to go long form and TT made sure I got what was coming to me.

          For the last couple of years, I have continued to use TT and pay what to me seems like an exorbitant sum to file my taxes electronically, especially since I cannot go long form now because I do not have enough deductions. So, it makes no sense to me to pay TT to do my taxes when I can do them myself…and pay myself.

          So, I’m going to research what it means for me to do my own taxes. I think there’s a form 1040 Easy that only requires you list your income and the income taxes you’ve already paid. It gives you the correct deduction. I’m assuming I’ll get back most of the taxes I paid, but I don’t really know.

          How do you do your taxes? Do you do them yourself?  Do you pay someone to do them? If so, who do you pay?