Kingfisher Cove

Hot Cat

He had his paw hooked through the leg of the fire thingy so the breeze could cool his armpits.

Ahhhhhhhh....Heaven

It's just barely past noon and it's already well into the 80s.  The Harstine deck is shady, though, and that's where I am.  It's been a very beautiful and entertaining morning watching the goldfinches, hummingbirds, grosbeaks, and chipmunks — and hearing a seal barking out in the water.  We couldn't see him because trees were in the way, but he was quite verbose!  I half-wondered if Mojo might be down taunting him.  When JDub got up this morning and came outside, he saw Mojo down on the beach chasing killdeer.  They have his number, but he's a persistent little monster.  (Oh, and he graced us with a dead shrew).

Some scenes (without the shrew!):

The clematis is in full bloom!  It's just lovely!

I live for this!   

Photosynthesis Can Finally Get Its Groove On

I am so tickled that the oppressive clouds that have hung around for days (weeks!) on end have finally dissipated and the sky is blue as far as I can see.  From my dining room table where I park my laptop (and my butt...) I can see Mount Rainier (partially) out one window and sailboats and tankers out the other.  (It's easier to ignore the power lines in real person than in a photo.)  We are in for it, though.  The next couple of days are supposed to come close to hitting the '90s.  That's pretty tough for us Washingtonians to go from so very long in the '50s to suddenly beastly hot without a chance to ease into it. But, it's really hard to complain about it at this point because it's been forever since we've seen the color blue!  Not only that but it will last through the weekend, which is truly amazing.  That just hardly ever happens.  Nice weather tends to hit, oh, on Wednesdays.  And yup, we're heading down to Harstine Island this weekend.

Mmmm, and then after a three-day (godawful) work week, we head back down next Wednesday night for a five-day holiday weekend!  It doesn't have to be 90 deg., but more of that blue color would sure be nice.

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So, do you like that little black & white kitty hanging out in my right sidebar?  (Is he cute or what?)  You can "play" with him with your mouse.  And if you rub his belly (with your sound turned up) you'll hear him purr!  Mojo loves to have his belly rubbed!

I'm a Dork!

This morning when I flew downstairs after getting ready for work (running late) I noticed when I hit the hardwood floors that one of my heels "clacked" and the other one didn't.  I assumed something was stuck to the bottom of the non-clacker, you know, like toilet paper or some such thing, and I figured I'd check it when I got in the car.  But I forgot.

Then I remembered once I got to work and crossed the parking lot and again noticed the walking rhythm of clack-not-clack-not-clack-not all the way to the office door.  I kicked up the foot of the non-clacking shoe and peered at the heel, but no toilet paper (and no dog poop, thank god).  I knew it had been a while since I'd worn these shoes and I tried to recall if I'd had an issue before, but I didn't think so. 

So when I got to my desk, I took them off to take a closer look (maybe a portion of the non-clacker heel had come off?) and lo and behold....I had on two different shoes!

As a tiny bit of back-story, my shoes are pretty much a jumbled mess on my closet floor, and it's dim in there.  But I saw two navy blue shoes tucked in a corner and grabbed them because they went with my outfit.  I'd totally forgotten that I had two pairs of navy blue shoes!  And they're actually quite similar peering down at them, except that one curves inward slightly. But I didn't notice that when I put them on.

 

Even though the heel height is also similar, they are very different heels.  Nobody noticed, and I'm awfully glad I didn't grab a blue shoe and a brown shoe.  But I drove myself nuts today listening to that bizarre clack-not-clack-not rhythm.

 

I am now seriously motivated to tidy up the jumbled mess on my closet floor.  I wonder what other shoes I might find that I didn't know I had?

A Bit of a Heavy Heart

I really don’t want to make a big deal about this or come across as a martyr, but I just have to vent a little bit about my disappointing Mother’s Day. Anticipating that the day was probably going to be a Great Big Nothing, I suggested to JDub that we get out of the house, take a drive, do some shopping.  Which we did, and that was fine. (Bought myself a new silver chain and a new purse, after buying myself a new birdfeeder the day before).

But the bottom line is this: I no longer have a mother, and apparently my son “forgot” that he does.

He had to go to work yesterday afternoon, but he didn’t bother to emerge from his bedroom until it was time to take a shower and then fly out the door without even saying “bye!”, let alone saying “Happy Mother’s Day!” Nothing. Nada. Never saw him again the rest of the day (or night).

So, aside from the little shopping diversion, my day consisted of tidying the kitchen, doing three loads of laundry, filling up pet bowls, loading and unloading the dishwasher, and hauling down garbage. Perhaps that was balanced out by some blogging, twittering, and reading my Kindle (which were good and relaxing things) — but because I really didn’t feel like cooking on Mother’s Day, I had a Hot Pocket for dinner.  (Gag me)

Poor, poor, pitiful me!

There is Nothing Better Than a Best Friend

OMG, what a fun day!  Helen came to visit, and we don't get to do that all that often, since she lives in Oregon and we both have very busy lives.  So when she and I get together, it's an Event. As I've mentioned before, Helen and I have been friends since the 2nd grade.  How amazing is that?  She is Mojo's birth mom.  One of her kitties birthed Mojo (along with 6 littermates, two of which she kept) and I was so excited for her to see Mojo after the one-year mark.  She came bearing gifts!  Mojo was given a box of toys, treats, and SHEBA cat food which is something that he covets in the way that I covet lobster-drenched-in-butter. 

Helen, as a horticulturist and wholesale tree farm manager, also brought along some fresh home-grown catnip.  In other words, Mojo got high.

 

Mojo also got loved.  Or maybe he got r-e-a-l-l-y mellow from being high.

Helen and I went to the nearby bird store and bought STUFF.  I got a ton (well, 60 lbs. total) of various bird seed mixes, plus a new bird feeder.  I also found a Christmas tree ornament of a fabulous kingfisher.  Is that cool or what?  I mean, I was heading out the door with all my already-purchased items and I saw this thing and absolutely had to have it.  My goal is to NOT forget about it  when Christmas comes around. (Remind me, OK?) We also went to Trader Joe's and filled baskets full of more STUFF. 

So, while JDub got new boots (tires) for his Durango, and then napped through the afternoon, Helen and I hung out and caught up and looked at pictures and talked and laughed and munched and drank crantinis. And then later JDub joined us and it was all good.

What a super day!

Ahhhh...It's Friday Night

After work today I had me a pedicure.  (First one since last August!  And that one was my very first).  I actually don't enjoy having pedicures because my feet are hella ticklish, plus I get grief about the condition of my toenails.  (I'm just not one to pamper them myself, which is why I have a pedicure now and then).  But I do love the result.  Feet in general are pretty weird-looking, and mine in particular, so the color and artwork make for a major improvement.  That is, if you look beyond the lily-white and twisty toes.

Today was a sandal-day, but it's not supposed to last.  I'm weary of only having one nice day in a row, once in a blue moon.

We're staying home this weekend and I'm looking forward to seeing my friend Helen, who is up from Oregon to visit her mom for Mother's Day.  She's coming over tomorrow and we'll shoot the breeze, possibly go visit the bird store (I need new feeders, and she's the one who got me all interested in watching the birds at Harstine).  On tap?  Crantinis!!!*

*Crantini: 1-1/2 ounces of vodka (Absolut Citron); half ounce of Grand Marnier; splash of lime juice; 2 ounces of Cranberry juice (I prefer the "light" because it isn't so sicky-sweet) — shake with ice and pour in martini glass.  Num!

Hump Day Happenings

I've been rather lame with blogging lately because of my weird fascination with Twittering.  I saw a good description of what Twittering is:  "Micro-blogging."  It's a way to express those little things throughout the day (in 140 characters or less per post tweet).  There have been times that it's quite therapeutic! 

Some developments on the work front.  Remember that I am currently the "interim lead marketing coordinator" for our office?  And that even though I went through a strange interview a couple of months ago for the permanent position, they determined that I would remain in the interim role and see what happens (i.e., see if any qualified resumes for the position came in)?  Well, after five months of nothing, apparently one did.  It's a previous company employee who was in the marketing department back in the very early 1990s who left because she was moving to Arizona.  She's thinking about moving back to Washington, so she responded to the five-month-long ongoing ad and the company is actually flying her up here for an in-person interview later this month.  Unlike the last time (when the candidate that I was supposedly to interview against bowed out at the last minute), I've been asked to be a participant in this interview, so I had a chance to view her resume.  She's very high-end.  Lots of management experience, "strategic" planning, that sort of thing.  My gut tells me that she won't be much help in the trenches, and it's help in the trenches that we desperately need!  (This company is incredibly top-heavy).  The company seems to be very excited about this prospect, and the fact that they are flying her up here for the interview pretty much smacks as a done deal, in my mind.  Now I have to worry about what kind of a person/manager she is.  If she's a micro-manager, I won't be able to tolerate that.  If she's into wielding power and ladder-climbing (which her resume indicates), I also won't be able to tolerate that.  Quite frankly, I don't have a good feeling, and I also feel quite slighted about this entire situation.  I know I've done a good job, and my boss (Mr. Tall Man) has made it very clear that he thinks so, too (what with the nice raise and the nice bonus).  Will they reduce my raise if they hire her?  I suppose that's likely, since my level of responsibility would be reduced.  Who knows, maybe everything will work out wonderfully.  Either it won't be a "good fit", or she'll be a marvelous person, or any number of potentially positive scenarios.  But I've been feeling heavy-hearted.  I need to think of some excellent questions to ask her in the interview to try to glean what kind of boss/person she is.  "Snakes in Suits" are good at putting on a false front.  And I've had to work under a bewildering number of them.  I love working under Mr. Tall Man.  He's the best boss ever.  For the first time in my life I feel utter respect toward the person I report to, and not a bit of intimidation.  I guess I have too much life experience to feel Pollyanna-ish about this whole thing.

Happy First Birthday, Mojo!

I didn't actually see him "in person" until the end of June last year when Helen brought him to our house, but Mojo and his littermates entered the world a year ago today.  What an amazing cat he is.  We absolutely adore him.  And in his cat-way, he adores us, too.  He doesn't necessarily seek out a lap, but when we pick him up and cuddle him, he goes to mush and turns on his motor full-bore.  Some scenes from his first year:

 

 

  

  

 

  What a handsome man.  We love him like crazy.

It's About Time!

Finally!   A sunny day for morning coffee-drinking on the deck (and blogging on the little table).  It was pretty chilly, though, especially in the shade.  JDub did some survey staking (to determine our building parameters) and I sprayed weeds and new-growth scotch broom with Roundup.  Mojo was quite brazen with the bird habitat — there was a lot of activity and he was just beside himself, so he was hosed a number of times.  Mostly a bunch of little sparrow-type birds, but I did see a very red house finch.  No goldies, though.  Alvin and Theodore (the chipmunks, duh) plus Chipper-the-Red-Squirrel made frequent appearances.  Since I pretty much doubt that my kid will remember Mother's Day (I may be wrong, but probably not), I think I'll get myself a couple of new bird feeders at my favorite little bird store, along with some nice seed mixes.  Our two small feeders are pretty tired.

OK, I admit it, I'm enjoying Twittering.  If you ask me why, I don't think I could tell you!  It's really pretty silly-sounding when I try to describe just what it is and what you do, but it's addicting!  Hey, even Obama Twitters!  I'm on his "follow" list and he's on mine!  (That term "follow" sort of seems like "stalk").  I'm a little disappointed in that I was hoping to be able to search for people who have similar interests as I do, but I haven't had much success so far.  I did find Grace, though!  She's such a hoot.  She replies to me: "TONYA!  My woman! Kingfisher Cove Queen herself! Ruler of doxies! Harstine Island hussy! Good to see you here, Twittering's fun."  And it is.  And I can't exactly tell you why.  And I love being known as "Harstine Island Hussy!" 

I've added my "Twitter Updates" to my right sidebar so that you can see the answer to the quintessential Twitter Question at any given time:  What Are You Doing?

Twitterpated? (Maybe...)

I've been spending way too much time today trying to get my arms wrapped around Twitter.  The jury is still out, but there is something rather addicting compelling mildly interesting about it.  Just when I get frustrated and decide to fuggedaboudit  because I can't figure out something (or because my lame internet connection takes the FAQ page 20 minutes to upload or times-out altogether...), I find myself migrating back to Twitter.  Why?  Maybe because I'm a dork.

This is one of the ways I pass time when I'm trapped inside the camping trailer here at Harstine on yet another rainy day.

We slipped out of Dodge a little early yesterday and arrived here with plenty of daylight remaining, and it was quite pleasant then.  Not sunny, but warmish and dry — so JDub, me, the weenies, and Mojo took a beach walk.  (How nice not to have to worry about snarling beach trolls). It was bizarre!  A couple of killdeer (sandpipers) were protecting their eggs that they nest in grasses along the beach.  They use a "broken-wing act" to distract predators that involves the bird scampering away from the nesting area and holding its wing in a way that simulates an injury and then flapping around on the ground emitting a distress call.  The predators — namely a black & white cat named MOJO and a couple of silly weenie dogs — are fooled into thinking they have easy prey from an injured bird, but it's just a distraction to keep them away from the nest.  Believe me, Mojo and the weenie dogs were 100% fooled.  Those killdeer gave them a run for their money!  It was a little disturbing to me because the killdeer truly do sound very distressed, and also Mojo is a helluva hunter.  I just kept hoping the killdeer were alert enough to recognize that. 

Since the birds were successful, I can look back at it and chuckle about how ridiculous Mojo looked crouching and slinking and stalking along the beach what he thought were easy fixin's. 

I've Actually Worked With People Who Have Never Heard of Dilbert

Our company's CEO is retiring and after an "exhaustive" process that involved rigorous psychological testing, a brutal battery of interviews, and lengthy closed-door sessions over many months, they finally selected a new CEO from within the firm.  Let's just say that I swear Scott Adams secretly has a hidey-hole tucked somewhere in one of our offices:  (click for a larger and sharper image)

Whenever I attend our quarterly all-marketing meetings, I'm constantly subjected to this kind of — jargon?  corporate-speak? idiocy? — and I have to physically clutch my fingers to my eyes to keep them from rolling out of my head.  Such as the customary wrap-up:  "Are there any more talking points for the good of the group?" Gag me!  (I've always been cynical that way).  The good news?  My immediate boss (Mr. Tall Man) has the same kind of cynicism as I do and he isn't afraid to use it.  When people get anal about one thing or another, he calls them "pointy-headed."  Now there's a term I can love and live with! 

...And Sometimes There is Remarkable Humanity

I read this article today and got all teary for completely opposite reasons than I did regarding my previous post.  The title of the article really caught my eye (otherwise I probably wouldn't have read it):  'Unbelievable' Moment Stuns Crowd at Softball Game.

In a nutshell (in case you don't want to read the entire article), a gal on a college softball team who had a pretty poor batting average and hadn't hit a homerun in four years, hit a three-run blast out of the park that pretty much sealed the win for her team.  She was so giddy with excitement that she didn't touch first base, so she turned back to do so and badly twisted her knee and collapsed.  The 1st base coach, nor any of her team mates, could touch her because she would have then been "out", so she had to crawl back to 1st base in pain.  Then the ump determined by the rules as he understood them that a substitute could take her place but that it would only count as a single and null the homer and the three runs!  So two players from the opposing team carried her around the diamond where she touched her good leg to each base so that the homer counted!  I'll repeat that:  Players from the opposing team carried her around the diamond, even at the expense of failing to make the playoffs.  When they reached home plate, people from both sides were in tears at this amazing display of sportsmanship.  Even revisiting this story makes me all sobby. 

Turns out the ump was wrong; a substitute could have run the bases for her and it would have still counted.  But jeeze.  Gives me goosebumps.  In such a good way.

I wish there was more stuff like this reported in the news.  (I guess what makes it "news" is that it's so uncommon...)

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It's Hump Day.  Work is slow right now, but as you'll notice I'm not complaining.  I've been in this biz long enough to know that we are in the calm between storms.  Before I know it, it'll be stormy all over again.  Right now I'm having a pretty darned good time writing articles for the company-wide newsletter (which is different from the office newsletter that I am in charge of).  I spent some time today conducting interviews, which is something I used to hate to do ('cuz I'm pretty shy), but I've come to love.  Isn't that weird how that happens?  You do something that gives you angst enough times and you at least become comfortable with it, and maybe even discover joy!  (But don't ever ask me to do public speaking, and I mean it!) 

JDub's parents returned today after spending two weeks in Germany and JDub picked them up at the airport and took them home (about 75 miles away — he's on his way back now).  I'll bet they are exhausted!  I'm looking forward to hearing all about their trip.  We received a couple of emails while they were gone from his mom's German cousin (whom she'd never met before) to let us know that they had arrived safely, and also that she'd taken them to the airport in Hannover and that all was well.  She writes English very well, but it's like you can "hear" her German accent and it's very charming!  A few days after JDub's folks arrived to Germany, she wrote this message:  "Your father had some problems with his stomach, not because of the eating in Germany, but on the flight." 

There Will Be Assholes

For going on 60 years, the beach property on Camano Island where my dad lives has been a family gem.  My maternal grandparents bought it back in the early 1950s, and I've heard the stories over the years of how Grandma had a hissy fit when Grandpa bought it (without her blessing, and men could do such things then without including their wives) because it was so remote and expensive for that time.  But she did grow to love it.  She and Grandpa would do very much the same thing as what JDub and I do now with our Harstine property — head there for the weekends to stay in their 1940s-style camping trailer.  Behind the trailer there was a wooded hill with an old chicken coop that my parents, as a young married couple with baby me, totally cleaned up and and painted and installed linoleum and that was our sleeping cabin.  Throughout my and my younger brother's entire childhoods, we spent weekends and vacations there and sprayed a ton's worth of bug spray in that cabin to kill the humongous spiders and moths.  Bathroom facilities were always primitive and unpleasant, but aside from that, it was a heavenly place.  I learned to row a boat when I was 4.  We caught smelt as they boiled up on the beach at high tide; we caught Dungeness crab in pots; we'd have evening fires on the bulkhead just above the beach and watch the surf while we roasted hotdogs.   

And there was always that beach.  We'd walk the beach to the Little Store by the Bay and get a quarter's worth of penny candy.  One land point was closer than the other and we'd walk to it quite often, and when we felt especially adventurous we'd walk to the very, very far point and back, totally exhausted (and  needing to pee desperately!)  Then my parents inherited the property and they replaced the old 1940s trailer with a 1970s model and they would head up for the weekends just as JDub and I do at Harstine and just as Grandma and  Grandpa used to do there at Camano.  Nate was one month old his first visit to the island, and we spent many summer   weekends and holidays staying in a tent on the grassy bulkhead just above the beach, falling asleep to the surf.  With retirement just a few short years away, my parents had a nice but modest house built and said goodbye to the camping trailers — and the chicken coop/cabin (and primitive bathroom facilities).  That was 16 years ago!

It was in my young adulthood that I discovered the joy of hunting for agates, and over the years we found hundreds if not thousands of them during all our beach walks.  My feet know that beach.  I've walked it with husbands, walked it with my child (taught him how to find  agates when he was very young), and walked it with weenie dogs — Bambi as a child, Mandy as a younger adult, and now Peanut and Bailey.  I've walked it with my mom, my dad, my aunt and uncle, my friends.  The people sitting out in their yards and decks along the way would wave and we'd  wave back.  Many of them would ask, "Have you found any treasures?" and we'd show them the agates or beach glass or special shells we'd collected on our walk.  It was a community of  folks who shared a particular thing: the love of that gravelly saltwater beach, the salt spray, the awesome  beauty of that expanse of blue water under the plugged-in beam of Mt. Baker.

It was remote, and that was Grandma's complaint.  But the properties were all pretty narrow (mostly 50 ft. of water frontage) and there were a number of quaint cabins and small houses along the bay.  Everyone was respectful of others' properties — you would never consider digging clams in front of somebody else's place, or placing your boat buoy anywhere else besides out front of your own property, and we all placed our crab pots out in line from our trailers, cabins, tents, or houses.  When the smelt hit, the closer neighbors would walk up and down each others' beaches and share the onslaught together.  It was camaraderie and fun times.

It's not remote anymore.  There are multi-million dollar MacMansions up and down the bay these days.  Godawful obscene things.  There are traffic lights on the island!  (My grandmother would spin in her grave, because ultimately she would have far preferred the remoteness).  There are people everywhere.  And when  there are lots of people, you are going to encounter an asshole now and then.

We spent the day there yesterday, and even though the weather wasn't nearly as nice as Saturday, it was dry most of the day.  So JDub and I, along with the weenies, took a beach walk, of course!   We stroll pretty slowly with our eyes glued to the beach, scoping out agates and beach glass.  The dogs probably make 10,000 strides to one of ours, snooping every nook and cranny of the beach, and they love walking logs and bulkheads.  As we passed one bulkhead I peered around a little warily remembering an altercation with a nasty fellow five summers ago that was so unpleasant that it cemented in my heart that it was time for JDub and I to seriously look for beach property of our own and that I would no longer feel like I was "betraying" Camano Island by doing so.  But there was nobody around and we continued on and filled our pockets.  On the way back, we joined up with my dad's lady friend, my sister-in-law, and my niece.  And then I heard the Voice:

"GET YOUR DAMNED DOGS OFF MY BEACH!"

It was the same asshole who had threatened JDub and I five years ago with calling the police because we were walking on his beach.  It had come "this" close to fisticuffs between my gentleman-JDub and this jerk.

"YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON MY PROPERTY!!!" 

I absolutely lost it.  This scum-of-the-earth knuckle-dragger has lived there possibly six years at the most, and I just could not wrap my head around his venom and hatred and snarling asshat-ness. 

"Who do you think you are?" I yelled at him.  "We've walked this beach for decades!  You're the only person along this entire bay [which is huge] who feels that way!  It's a BEACH!  It's a BEACH!"  Like, duh.  People who live on beaches walk beaches!

"IT'S MY BEACH, AND YOU ARE TRESPASSING AND I'M CALLING THE POLICE!"

I laughed.  Loudly.  Snidely.  I said, "You. Go. Right. Ahead."  (I'd heard that one before).  The police would laugh their asses off!  Can you imagine?  "So, what are they doing on your property, sir?"  "They're walking on my beach!"  But the guy ran up his steps like a rabid dog, apparently to make good on his promise.  (Never saw a cop, though).

I know damned well that if the weenie dogs had just happened to venture up on this guy's bulkhead, that they would be dead right now.  He would have kicked them to death.  I am utterly convinced of that.

I have to say, that my heart is broken.  Never again will I ever feel comfortable taking a beach walk at Camano — something that has given me absolute joy since as far back as I can remember.  As my brother (or maybe it was my dad) said, it's like having an evil troll lurking down the way.  One single asshole troll who has ruined a simple and pleasurable — but huge — part of our lives.  

Marvelous!

First, it was a warm day.  Not overly so — in fact it was perfect.  But us Washington creatures (whether furry or not so much) are so unaccustomed to warmth that even a perfect amount of it calls for seeking a bit of coolness.

And then.... (drum roll).... Margaret and I met for dinner at this most incredible little Italian restaurant (located in a house!) in the university district near to where we would afterward attend the Alexander McCall Smith presentation.  The food was amazing.  It's obvious that their chef has exceptional talent.  I had the Bowtie Pasta with Sage Cream with pan-seared chicken and shiitake mushrooms.  It came with a nice salad with a creamy basil dressing.  Oh yum.  Margaret had the Tortellini Aurora with rich cream sauce with oven-roasted tomatoes, prosciutto, mushrooms, and basil over cheese tortellini. Then we shared a tiramisu that absolutely knocked our socks off.  I'm not much of a dessert person, but this literally made me moan.  (And not from uber-richness, just from flavor and texture and, well, orgasmic goodness).

The presentation by Alexander McCall Smith was delightful!  Get this:  There were 2,000 people there!  The place was packed!  And this funny looking man adorned in a kilt and a bad comb-over (who was preceded by a bagpipe performance), is a natural standup comedian.  He had all 2,000 of us roaring in laughter throughout his talk.  He's an eloquent and brilliant man (he's a law professor and helped set up a new law school at the University of Botswana, and he was a professor of medical law at the University of Edinburgh.  PLUS, he's been the vice-chairman of the Human Genetics Commission of the UK, the chairman of the British Medical Journal Ethics Committee, and a member of the International Bioethics Commission of UNESCO!  Where has he possibly found the time to write 60 books?  Yes, 60!)  He was such a lot of fun to listen to, and of course his Scottish brogue was charming.  I loved it when he'd crack himself up; his face would scrunch up all boyish-like and he looked positively merry!

Unfortunately, I didn't get my book signed.  He was there to sign all 2,000 books people either brought along with them (or purchased there) and I don't have the patience anymore to stand in long lines for hours on end.  I loathe crowds (and lines) and I just won't go there. 

But what a marvelous evening!  It was so nice to chat with Margaret, to meet a couple of her teacher friends who sat next to us at the presentation, and to experience the wit and wisdom of this most amazing author.

Ear I Am

I kept thinking this ear thing would resolve itself on its own, but by today I'd had enough so I finally called the doctor.  (I expected to be told:  "We can see you on July 19th.")  But I got in today!  The water is apparently trapped inside my ear (on the other side of my eardrum) and I've developed an infection, although I haven't experienced pain with it -- JUST NON-HEARING.  So I'm on an antibiotic and an OTC decongestant (that I had to sign my life away to purchase because our state requires strict monitoring of those kinds of drugs because people make meth from the ingredients).  Doc said it could take a while to see results as that fluid in there can be mighty stubborn.  Gah!

My doctor is close to where we live, and I saw no need to head all the way back to the office afterward.  I'm available via email and VPN, but things are pretty quiet at work right now.  Might as well enjoy a rare sunny afternoon!  I even stopped to get the oil changed in my car.  (Question:  Why is synthetic oil so much more expensive than REAL oil?  That just doesn't seem logical to me these days.  Oh, and BTW?  Gas is currently $3.76/gallon here....)

On another subject, this is so fun as a typing skill builder time-waster!  Karen over at Verbatim pointed me to it and I think it's just a ball.  Love those little VW Bugs!  I've gotten 1st place a few times! 

I Can't Hear You!

The last time we were at Harstine Island (a week-and-a-half ago), I took a shower and ended up with water in my left ear.  It hasn't gone away!  I'm going nuts with this.  There is no pain (like from an infection), but I do have occasional flashes of dizziness.  Mostly, I can't HEAR!  I guess it's time to call the doctor.  Grrr.

~~~~~~~~~~

Otherwise....life is kind of blah now that the "excitement" of that crazy snow has blown by.  It's just cloudy and cool and sometimes-rainy — in other words, blah.  I haven't yet had the occasion to wear anything "springy" to work.  Still wearing my winter clothes! 

I do have the Alexander McCall Smith presentation/book-signing with Margaret to look forward to this Saturday, and then on Sunday we're driving up to Camano Island to visit my dad.  Hope it's dry enough to take a beach walk.

I am happy to report that this month of April has been rather pleasant at work.  I realize that I'm still quite burned out from the utter madness that was February and March (and also January).  I really don't know how we managed.

I'm also reading an excellent book (so far...).  It's by Jesse Kellerman (Jonathan and Faye's son) and I almost didn't buy it because I just didn't care for his previous book, Trouble.  (It was written OK, but his main protagonist kept making idiotic decisions so he was difficult to connect with).  But the description and the reviews for The Genius sucked me in, and once I downloaded a free sample of the first couple of chapters to my Kindle, I was a goner.  I haven't finished it yet, though, so the jury is still out!

Pathetic (Wet) Dogs

They refused to make eye-contact with me after their baths.  (Well, until I gave them each a doggie biscuit).  Peanut was pretty much dry as soon as I toweled her off, but Bailey takes a while with all her long hair.  Me too, after all that!  (And yes, that really is sunshine pouring through the window — not particularly accompanied by warmth, however).

Three Days of Snow is a Rarity in WINTER!

From my favorite local weather guy:

"We thought it was pretty amazing when it snowed on April 18th. We were astonished when it snowed on April 19th. And now (searching thesaurus) we are completely astounded that it snowed on April 20th!"

From our vantage point 10-15 miles south of Seattle, we haven't seen a flake.  Hail pellets now and then, but no snow.  So this isn't wide-spread, but the northern environs are really getting hit!  Some places got 7-10 inches!  And even without snow, it's been butt cold and we are all sick of it. It's hard to believe it got up to 80 deg. a week ago...

On tap for today:

• Shower (it's been a lazy morning...)
• Finish up the mountain of laundry
• Wash the weenie dogs in the sink
• Pick up groceries for dinner
• Finish my book!

An Example of "Unstable Air Mass"

(Taken through the dining room window).  Areas did get snow around here today, but where I was we were only pelted with hail off and on. It was cold and it certainly did not feel like beyond mid-April. 

Snow continues to be a possibility throughout the weekend.  Wouldn't you know that we turned off all the heat in the camping trailer at Harstine Island last weekend, figuring we were safe from this?  And we won't be down there for the next two weeks...