"December Storm" 2008 is underway, and just like every year our fair city can't handle the flakes and shuts down almost completely. Lack of snow removal equipment, a surplus of steep hills and drivers who, frankly, just aren't used to driving in inclement conditions result in a dysfunctional city when the snow arrives.
This year schools decided to mitigate damages by cancelling school on Wednesday because it might snow. It didn't. By Wednesday night the storm (second one in a week) came through and blanketed the region with a few inches resulting in school closures on Thursday and offices being closed.
I was downtown finishing up some errands and shopping for my trip and, although there were a few people walking around, it was sparse enough to be a bit eerie. As if the retailers weren't suffering enough, now we have a snow storm that keeps people housebound. I walked through Pike Place Market and the few vendors who did make it in to open their stall, looked very maudlin. The looks on their faces said "please, buy something- anything."
Personally, I love the snow and even the cold doesn't bother me much. I find this weather so much more inspiring than the usual torrential rains we get this time of year. It's, of course, easy for me since I don't actually need to be anywhere and my business isn't losing money. So, sure, I can have my Polly Anna positive outlook while others are suffering.
The complaint I can't buy, however, is how after one day at home several people have moaned about being a shut-in. C'mon, it's been a day. One day. You mean to tell me you can't just enjoy one day at home alone? You can't find things to keep you busy if you're a Type A individual? You can't just take the opportunity to hunker down with some tea and read that book you never seem to have time for? I could stay home for a week alone and never get bored. Walking in the snow is invigorating and if bundled properly, very safe. I've got a Dr. Seuss stack of books to read. That pile of movies the Lacey man sent me is still unwatched. Plus, Christmas is approaching. Bake cookies, get creative with your Christmas wrapping, make your New Year's plans. I don't know. Just embrace the situation and stop complaining. It's what is so, so enjoy it!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
The Current Job Sitch
The opportunity for picking up the odd temp job here and there has decreased drastically this month. With the sudden surge of unemployed workers in the area, there are a lot more of us out there vying for the same crap paying jobs that are available. Plus, with my pending Viet Nam trip lasting almost three weeks, I'm not exactly the ideal candidate for employment. Employers want someone to start immediately and work through the holidays. Imagine that. Personally, I thought working three weeks, taking three weeks off and then returning to work was the perfect scenario. Not so.
Last week, I had an interview as a sales associate at the top bridal shop in the area. That would have been entertaining. During the interview while talking about my own 1980's wedding, I caught the interviewer's eyes go straight for my left ring finger. "Oh, you won't find anything there," I said with a laugh. Aside from the fact that I might come off as a cynical old divorce amongst a room full of tittering young brides and bridesmaids, we really hit it off. She showed me a photo of a relative's 1986 wedding and we commiserated over the classic 80's gowns and big hair.
She gave me a tour of the facility which included individual full sized bridal rooms complete with everything the bride-to-be would need to accessorize her try-on experience, a daylight room, and a runway! As she walked me through the hundreds of gowns, she was dropping names faster than I could pick them up, Alvina Valenta, Sally Crew, Paloma Blanca. While I tried to appear knowledgeable in the area of wedding fashion designers, I'm sure my face said "who are these people?"
In the end, she told me she would have loved to have hired me, but she needed someone here through the holidays. Understood. Clearly that wasn't the most ideal job for me regardless. Me, assisting rich, young brides in buying something that I now know is the most ridiculous expense in a girl's life? My own gown is still in my closet mocking me - and taking up valuable space. But I could have faked it and it would have provided so much fodder for my blog!
Next experiment- "Mystery Shopping." I'd heard of it and wondered how it worked. I register on the site (this in itself is a time consuming process) and sign up for my first shop. It's a Greyhound Bus assignment. All I need to do is call Greyhound, find out when the bus to Vancouver or Spokane leaves, go down to the station with a large piece of packed check-in luggage (full enough to be believable) and buy the ticket for either city. I must arrive at least 30 minutes before the departure time, but no earlier than an hour prior. While there I'm to check out the station, the restroom, count customers, take certain mental notes and leave. Come back to the house and complete their report. Simple, this ought to take an hour of my time and it pays $22.
I pack my luggage, haul it to the #8 Metro bus stop two blocks from my house, walk five more blocks to the Greyhound station, stand in a very long line (40 minutes so far). Time is ticking and the agent calls out "anyone waiting for the bus to Vancouver, BC?" BC? Crap, I'm suddenly not sure if I need to buy the ticket to Vancouver, BC or Vancouver, WA. The instructions didn't say. But they did say, "You must follow the instructions exactly or you will not get paid or reimbursed for your ticket." Oh dear. I'm panicked now. What do I do? It's finally my turn and I ask the agent what time the next bus leaves for Spokane. Not until 5.30 p.m. I'm four hours too early. That isn't part of the instructions either! Crap crap crap. I can't think. I buy the ticket to Spokane.
I have to inspect the restroom and where is it? UP a flight of stairs! I haul my believably heavy luggage up the flight of stairs and do the inspection. I leave the bus depot and head back to catch my #8 bus home. While I'm waiting, I'm also stewing about this ticket I bought. I'm just certain they are going to claim my shop invalid and deny me payment or reimbursement. I can't afford a bloody $42 unused bus ticket! I march back to the bus depot, my believably heavy luggage in tow, gave the agent some story and asked for a refund. It was a convincing tale, so she didn't suspect a thing. I finally got home THREE hours later, unpacked my bag, completed my report explaining the discrepancy between the two Vancouver's. They actually paid me.
I decided not to sign up for any more shops that required me to actually purchase anything I didn't want. My next shop was to pose as a wealthy homeowner planning a bathroom remodel job. I was told to, dress up a bit, and have the name of a made up architect or designer to appear more believable. I had to make an appointment with a sales associate at a high end tile store and spend 20-30 minutes discussing my plans and wait for the associate to write up an estimate. This shop did take about an hour and it paid $15. But the guilt of wasting the woman's time ate at my conscience. And I now have a bag full of sample tiles.
The following three shops required me to assess the Green Peace guys on various street corners downtown. I was to spy on them from afar first and note how they approached different people, then walk past and let them snag me, listen to their entire spiel paying attention to all the details, and then leave them stranded without signing up (actually, signing up was an option, but I opted out.). Again, I felt a bit bad about wasting their time, but I'm getting used to this gig by now. These shops were also $10 each and each took about an hour plus my walk downtown (30 minutes).
My final shop last week required me to inquire about and then purchase an eggnog latte at Peet's Coffee & Tea on Upper Queen Anne. Why the eggnog? Blech. Any other holiday latte, but the eggnog, please! I did the shop, bought the latte, and it was actually drinkable. I had a nasty cold and couldn't really taste much, so that probably helped. Again, that shop was fairly easy and painless and also paid $10.
Final consensus? It was a lot of running around town for a total of $77. I'm sure there is an easier way. Like maybe actually working at Peet's Coffee Shop for minimum wage. I'll re-visit that thought after my three week vacation.
Last week, I had an interview as a sales associate at the top bridal shop in the area. That would have been entertaining. During the interview while talking about my own 1980's wedding, I caught the interviewer's eyes go straight for my left ring finger. "Oh, you won't find anything there," I said with a laugh. Aside from the fact that I might come off as a cynical old divorce amongst a room full of tittering young brides and bridesmaids, we really hit it off. She showed me a photo of a relative's 1986 wedding and we commiserated over the classic 80's gowns and big hair.
She gave me a tour of the facility which included individual full sized bridal rooms complete with everything the bride-to-be would need to accessorize her try-on experience, a daylight room, and a runway! As she walked me through the hundreds of gowns, she was dropping names faster than I could pick them up, Alvina Valenta, Sally Crew, Paloma Blanca. While I tried to appear knowledgeable in the area of wedding fashion designers, I'm sure my face said "who are these people?"
In the end, she told me she would have loved to have hired me, but she needed someone here through the holidays. Understood. Clearly that wasn't the most ideal job for me regardless. Me, assisting rich, young brides in buying something that I now know is the most ridiculous expense in a girl's life? My own gown is still in my closet mocking me - and taking up valuable space. But I could have faked it and it would have provided so much fodder for my blog!
Next experiment- "Mystery Shopping." I'd heard of it and wondered how it worked. I register on the site (this in itself is a time consuming process) and sign up for my first shop. It's a Greyhound Bus assignment. All I need to do is call Greyhound, find out when the bus to Vancouver or Spokane leaves, go down to the station with a large piece of packed check-in luggage (full enough to be believable) and buy the ticket for either city. I must arrive at least 30 minutes before the departure time, but no earlier than an hour prior. While there I'm to check out the station, the restroom, count customers, take certain mental notes and leave. Come back to the house and complete their report. Simple, this ought to take an hour of my time and it pays $22.
I pack my luggage, haul it to the #8 Metro bus stop two blocks from my house, walk five more blocks to the Greyhound station, stand in a very long line (40 minutes so far). Time is ticking and the agent calls out "anyone waiting for the bus to Vancouver, BC?" BC? Crap, I'm suddenly not sure if I need to buy the ticket to Vancouver, BC or Vancouver, WA. The instructions didn't say. But they did say, "You must follow the instructions exactly or you will not get paid or reimbursed for your ticket." Oh dear. I'm panicked now. What do I do? It's finally my turn and I ask the agent what time the next bus leaves for Spokane. Not until 5.30 p.m. I'm four hours too early. That isn't part of the instructions either! Crap crap crap. I can't think. I buy the ticket to Spokane.
I have to inspect the restroom and where is it? UP a flight of stairs! I haul my believably heavy luggage up the flight of stairs and do the inspection. I leave the bus depot and head back to catch my #8 bus home. While I'm waiting, I'm also stewing about this ticket I bought. I'm just certain they are going to claim my shop invalid and deny me payment or reimbursement. I can't afford a bloody $42 unused bus ticket! I march back to the bus depot, my believably heavy luggage in tow, gave the agent some story and asked for a refund. It was a convincing tale, so she didn't suspect a thing. I finally got home THREE hours later, unpacked my bag, completed my report explaining the discrepancy between the two Vancouver's. They actually paid me.
I decided not to sign up for any more shops that required me to actually purchase anything I didn't want. My next shop was to pose as a wealthy homeowner planning a bathroom remodel job. I was told to, dress up a bit, and have the name of a made up architect or designer to appear more believable. I had to make an appointment with a sales associate at a high end tile store and spend 20-30 minutes discussing my plans and wait for the associate to write up an estimate. This shop did take about an hour and it paid $15. But the guilt of wasting the woman's time ate at my conscience. And I now have a bag full of sample tiles.
The following three shops required me to assess the Green Peace guys on various street corners downtown. I was to spy on them from afar first and note how they approached different people, then walk past and let them snag me, listen to their entire spiel paying attention to all the details, and then leave them stranded without signing up (actually, signing up was an option, but I opted out.). Again, I felt a bit bad about wasting their time, but I'm getting used to this gig by now. These shops were also $10 each and each took about an hour plus my walk downtown (30 minutes).
My final shop last week required me to inquire about and then purchase an eggnog latte at Peet's Coffee & Tea on Upper Queen Anne. Why the eggnog? Blech. Any other holiday latte, but the eggnog, please! I did the shop, bought the latte, and it was actually drinkable. I had a nasty cold and couldn't really taste much, so that probably helped. Again, that shop was fairly easy and painless and also paid $10.
Final consensus? It was a lot of running around town for a total of $77. I'm sure there is an easier way. Like maybe actually working at Peet's Coffee Shop for minimum wage. I'll re-visit that thought after my three week vacation.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Dating in Seattle- Or Not
I've pulled up my line from the 'Barrel of Fish' and put it away for the season. Internet dating just isn't my thing. I'm not sure how I'll meet my mate, but there's got to be a better way. I will say, however, that one of my man pals met a woman from the POF site. She lives in Vermont, he in Seattle. She flew out to meet him face to face this weekend to see if they are 'a match.' I'm dying for the consensus. I love hearing success stories.
'Tis the season. My friend, the Culinary Queen, met her man in school at the start of spring quarter and they announced their engagement just before Thanksgiving. My San Diego pal is jetting off to Jamaica for the holidays and plans to pop the question- or at least broach the subject - to her fella. I'm secretly suspecting at least one or two more announcements by the time 2009 rolls around.
I was telling an old high school friend, who is married, about my lack of dating luck and she says to me "do you text?" I don't and apparently that's my problem. "All the single people I know text to date," she said.
She's right. Singles aren't asking each other out on proper dates. It's a text message "are you going to be out tonight? You want to hook up later?" or the ever famous, yet irritating and grammatically incorrect, "where u at?" That's exactly right! Remember the POF guy who sent me a 'spontaneous' text message at 4.45 p.m. asking me to dinner right then? If I'm going to date, I might have to put my old fashion ways aside or be stuck dating geezers. Even using the word "text" as a verb drives me insane. My hairs go up especially fast when someone says "he texted me..." "Texted?" You've got to be kidding.
On Friday I had dinner with my friend whose husband died suddenly a year ago August. Her five year old son asked her recently when they were going to get a new daddy. Heartbreaking as that is, my friend keeps her sense of humor. Her son even came up with a list of criteria:
1. He must not be married
2. He must not be related
3. He must not be in jail
Hmmm....smart kid. Maybe I need to keep my criteria as simple as that.
Nah. I'll stick to the list that's as long as my arm. I enjoy a challenge.
'Tis the season. My friend, the Culinary Queen, met her man in school at the start of spring quarter and they announced their engagement just before Thanksgiving. My San Diego pal is jetting off to Jamaica for the holidays and plans to pop the question- or at least broach the subject - to her fella. I'm secretly suspecting at least one or two more announcements by the time 2009 rolls around.
I was telling an old high school friend, who is married, about my lack of dating luck and she says to me "do you text?" I don't and apparently that's my problem. "All the single people I know text to date," she said.
She's right. Singles aren't asking each other out on proper dates. It's a text message "are you going to be out tonight? You want to hook up later?" or the ever famous, yet irritating and grammatically incorrect, "where u at?" That's exactly right! Remember the POF guy who sent me a 'spontaneous' text message at 4.45 p.m. asking me to dinner right then? If I'm going to date, I might have to put my old fashion ways aside or be stuck dating geezers. Even using the word "text" as a verb drives me insane. My hairs go up especially fast when someone says "he texted me..." "Texted?" You've got to be kidding.
On Friday I had dinner with my friend whose husband died suddenly a year ago August. Her five year old son asked her recently when they were going to get a new daddy. Heartbreaking as that is, my friend keeps her sense of humor. Her son even came up with a list of criteria:
1. He must not be married
2. He must not be related
3. He must not be in jail
Hmmm....smart kid. Maybe I need to keep my criteria as simple as that.
Nah. I'll stick to the list that's as long as my arm. I enjoy a challenge.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Home Stretch
Here we are two days in. Into December, that is- the home stretch of 2008. Suddenly we are reminded of those New Years resolutions set way back in January. What were they? Simplify life. Have a plan by fall. Ummm, I think that is all I could muster up at the time (http://wandrwoman.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-super-new-year.html) and even that was pretty undoable as it turns out. Well, if by 'simpler life' I meant work less and have less, I guess I have accomplished that much. And if by 'have a plan by fall' I meant come up with an outline of a variety of possibilities, then, okay, I've got that covered too. Can't totally beat myself up, now can I?
Besides entering the month of holiday hub bub, which I could simply do without, we're also entering the month of too much spending, family stress, overbooked social calendars, head colds, and an overload on Christmas music, Christmas related foods and Christmas decorations. I know I know, I sound like Eb Scrooge. I'm not really a Scrooge (well, maybe a tiny bit), but I just think so much of the season is lost on us as human beings during this month. I witnessed one interviewee tell a news reporter that things are so tight this year she is going to have to reduce the gift to her sister from $200 to $100. Okay, 'Sister McCain,' get a grip. I realize everybody has different spending habits, different incomes and different expectations, but wow. No offense, Friends and Family, but I'm not sure even if I had the money, I'd spend $200 on each of you. Sorry, not a Scrooge, just reasonable.
I so enjoyed the holidays when I lived abroad. For one thing, I never heard the phrase "Happy Holidays" until about three days before Christmas. Although there were holiday decorations sparkling throughout the major cities' squares, people put their Christmas trees up a few days before Christmas, not four weeks prior. Our trees are practically dead by the time Christmas rolls around. "Johnny, don't bump the tree or the needles will drop!" Hell, the needles will drop if you just walk past it too quickly.
Although the Christmas frenzy and commercialism give me a bit of angst, there are a few holiday traditions I do actually enjoy and embrace. Last Sunday some friends invited me to join them for the "Festival of Trees" at the Fairmont Hotel and the Gingerbread House Exhibit at the Sheraton. These are free exhibits open to the public and truly amazing and inspirational.
I also enjoy homemade Christmas cookies...a lot. Not a lot of cookies, I just enjoy them immensely. And most of all, I love the classic holiday movies "White Christmas," "Gift of the Magi," "It's a Wonderful Life, "Home for the Holidays," and, of course, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
So even though this Grinchy Scrooge is flying away for the holidays to avoid the whole routine, she does have a special place in her heart for the Space Needle all lit up-a beautiful scene!
Friday, November 21, 2008
On the Road Again
I spent the last three days driving a woman's car from Seattle to Denver. She's relocating to Vale, CO but didn't want to drive there, so she hired me to transport her car. Being the somewhat adventurous woman that I am, I figured it'd be a bit of a gas. I'd see some parts of the country I hadn't seen before and it'd be an interesting experience. I didn't plan how many miles I'd drive each day exactly, or where I'd stay each night. I barely plan my life, why would I plan a three day car trip. I knew I needed to be at the Denver airport at 11.00 a.m. on Friday. What more did I need to plan?
Somewhere between Pendelton, OR and Ogdan, UT I began to realize there was a reason I hadn't been to this neck of the woods til now. After half a day driving through the desolate sage brush country of Eastern Washington, I landed in Pendelton ready for a comfortable bed, a hot meal and some exploration. It was nearing on 7.00 when I rode into town and the entire place was buttoned up tight as a drum by then. I found a cheap, yet comfortable motel, "America's Best Value Inn," and wandered out to find that hot meal. After a satisfying Mexican meal I asked the waitress if there was a grocery or drug store nearby I could walk to. She explained that her town only had a Safeway and a Walmart and they were both very far. I could not walk there. I decided to take a meander around myself. I needed the exercise after all day driving and the Mexican food needed a chance to settle. It wasn't all that far before I ran into an Albertson's.
The next day I headed out in good weather toward La Grande, pronouncing it in my head with a Mexican accent, trilling the 'r' a bit and emphasising the 'e'. I hit some serious fog going over "Dead Man's Pass". The truckers and I were creeping along gripping the steering wheel. Well, I was gripping mine, I can't speak for the experienced truckers. I caught a glimpse of a sign that read "View Point" and had a tinge of annoyance. Sure, I finally come across something worth viewing and I can't even see the hood of my car. The creeping went on for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only about 45 minutes or so. When we get out of the fog and back into daylight, I drive into La Grande for refueling and a latte. I'm actually in search of a Starbucks which I find a bit humorous considering the size of these towns. Unlike good 'ol Seattle with a Starbucks, Tully's or Seattle's Best on every corner, the rest of the country pretty much serves coffee from a pot that's been on the burner far too long.
While entering the town, I switch the radio station to an audible one and hear the announcer talking about La Grande and he's pronouncing it like, well...a hill billy. La Grand- with a real emphasize on the AND. I laugh a little at my assumption of how the town would be called. And I laugh a little more when I find a Starbucks. Yes, inside the Safeway store. Yea! Pumpkin Spice Latte and hit the road.
Approximately five hundred miles of brown sage brush and rolling lifeless hills of McCain Country later, I land in Ogdan, UT. For some reason I had the idea this would be an actual town. It was a suburb at best with a couple of four lane roads lined with fast food joints and chain restaurants. My slumber choices were Motel 6 or The Royal Inn. Believe it or not the Motel 6 looked the least seedy. I was starving by now and wanted a hot sit down meal before crashing for the night. Clearly there was to be no nightlife or exploration in this town. My sit down dining choices consisted of Chili's or Applebee's. I flipped a mental coin and chose Applebee's. I'd never actually eaten at either. It was about how I'd expected. Dark green carpet, chairs with wheels on them, those hanging stained glass lamps over every table and a lot of poor food choices. I ordered off the "Weight Watcher's" menu and had a grilled chicken, roasted potatoes and broccoli. It was hot and filled me up. Except for the satisfying part, mission accomplished.
I then headed on to my Motel 6 experience. The last time I stayed at a Motel 6 I think I was about 18 when I snuck off with my boyfriend. Not much has changed except the price. Instead of $13.99 the room rate was $43.99 plus tax. I paid the extra $2.99 for internet, but then it didn't work, so got a refund. Upon taking stock of the room, I realized what I got at the "Value Inn" for an extra $20.00- shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, coffee, microwave, refrigerator, king sized bed, hair dryer, and internet connection. It was my feeling that Motel 6 prided themselves on a clean sparse environment for which to sleep, shower and leave promptly in the a.m. No problem since that was my plan anyway. I actually slept quite well. But then after 9 hours in the car anyone should sleep well.
Next day consisted of 8-9 hours of ...you guessed it, more sage brush, more brown fields of nothing as far as the eye could see. By now I'm hoping my 'employer' doesn't have an Obama sticker on the back bumper or I'm going to get shot for sure. I'm starting to get a bit rummy by this point. Other than my one proper meal per day at dinner time, I've been sustaining on a diet of car snacks: cheese and crackers, trail mix, a couple of apples and some supposedly healthy fruit snack moms guiltlessly feed their children that are really nothing more than candy. I've listened to more country music and Christian stations than I ever knew existed. I think we might have one of each in Seattle. I heard young country, fresh country, old country, best country. It was getting to the point where I actually knew the words to some of the songs by this point and was singing along. I was also making up stories about my fellow drivers. Each day you'd get into a clump and drive with the same people all day long. I'd pass Ms. Florida, then stop at a rest stop, get back on the freeway and Ms. Florida would soon pass me. It would go on like this all day. Where is Ms. Florida headed? She has a mattress in the backseat. Is she moving back to Florida? Oh, there goes Mr. and Mrs. Utah for the third time today. They are going east. For Thanksgiving maybe? See the grand kids? Then, of course, there are the truckers hauling who knows what in those trailers. More stories to invent. Oh, here's my favorite country song, yet again.
I arrived in Golden, outside of Denver Thursday night and stayed at my cousin's house before meeting my car's owner at the airport in the a.m. It was a good drive. The roads were clear, the weather optimal and I got here safely. Would I do it again? You betcha.
Somewhere between Pendelton, OR and Ogdan, UT I began to realize there was a reason I hadn't been to this neck of the woods til now. After half a day driving through the desolate sage brush country of Eastern Washington, I landed in Pendelton ready for a comfortable bed, a hot meal and some exploration. It was nearing on 7.00 when I rode into town and the entire place was buttoned up tight as a drum by then. I found a cheap, yet comfortable motel, "America's Best Value Inn," and wandered out to find that hot meal. After a satisfying Mexican meal I asked the waitress if there was a grocery or drug store nearby I could walk to. She explained that her town only had a Safeway and a Walmart and they were both very far. I could not walk there. I decided to take a meander around myself. I needed the exercise after all day driving and the Mexican food needed a chance to settle. It wasn't all that far before I ran into an Albertson's.
The next day I headed out in good weather toward La Grande, pronouncing it in my head with a Mexican accent, trilling the 'r' a bit and emphasising the 'e'. I hit some serious fog going over "Dead Man's Pass". The truckers and I were creeping along gripping the steering wheel. Well, I was gripping mine, I can't speak for the experienced truckers. I caught a glimpse of a sign that read "View Point" and had a tinge of annoyance. Sure, I finally come across something worth viewing and I can't even see the hood of my car. The creeping went on for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only about 45 minutes or so. When we get out of the fog and back into daylight, I drive into La Grande for refueling and a latte. I'm actually in search of a Starbucks which I find a bit humorous considering the size of these towns. Unlike good 'ol Seattle with a Starbucks, Tully's or Seattle's Best on every corner, the rest of the country pretty much serves coffee from a pot that's been on the burner far too long.
While entering the town, I switch the radio station to an audible one and hear the announcer talking about La Grande and he's pronouncing it like, well...a hill billy. La Grand- with a real emphasize on the AND. I laugh a little at my assumption of how the town would be called. And I laugh a little more when I find a Starbucks. Yes, inside the Safeway store. Yea! Pumpkin Spice Latte and hit the road.
Approximately five hundred miles of brown sage brush and rolling lifeless hills of McCain Country later, I land in Ogdan, UT. For some reason I had the idea this would be an actual town. It was a suburb at best with a couple of four lane roads lined with fast food joints and chain restaurants. My slumber choices were Motel 6 or The Royal Inn. Believe it or not the Motel 6 looked the least seedy. I was starving by now and wanted a hot sit down meal before crashing for the night. Clearly there was to be no nightlife or exploration in this town. My sit down dining choices consisted of Chili's or Applebee's. I flipped a mental coin and chose Applebee's. I'd never actually eaten at either. It was about how I'd expected. Dark green carpet, chairs with wheels on them, those hanging stained glass lamps over every table and a lot of poor food choices. I ordered off the "Weight Watcher's" menu and had a grilled chicken, roasted potatoes and broccoli. It was hot and filled me up. Except for the satisfying part, mission accomplished.
I then headed on to my Motel 6 experience. The last time I stayed at a Motel 6 I think I was about 18 when I snuck off with my boyfriend. Not much has changed except the price. Instead of $13.99 the room rate was $43.99 plus tax. I paid the extra $2.99 for internet, but then it didn't work, so got a refund. Upon taking stock of the room, I realized what I got at the "Value Inn" for an extra $20.00- shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, coffee, microwave, refrigerator, king sized bed, hair dryer, and internet connection. It was my feeling that Motel 6 prided themselves on a clean sparse environment for which to sleep, shower and leave promptly in the a.m. No problem since that was my plan anyway. I actually slept quite well. But then after 9 hours in the car anyone should sleep well.
Next day consisted of 8-9 hours of ...you guessed it, more sage brush, more brown fields of nothing as far as the eye could see. By now I'm hoping my 'employer' doesn't have an Obama sticker on the back bumper or I'm going to get shot for sure. I'm starting to get a bit rummy by this point. Other than my one proper meal per day at dinner time, I've been sustaining on a diet of car snacks: cheese and crackers, trail mix, a couple of apples and some supposedly healthy fruit snack moms guiltlessly feed their children that are really nothing more than candy. I've listened to more country music and Christian stations than I ever knew existed. I think we might have one of each in Seattle. I heard young country, fresh country, old country, best country. It was getting to the point where I actually knew the words to some of the songs by this point and was singing along. I was also making up stories about my fellow drivers. Each day you'd get into a clump and drive with the same people all day long. I'd pass Ms. Florida, then stop at a rest stop, get back on the freeway and Ms. Florida would soon pass me. It would go on like this all day. Where is Ms. Florida headed? She has a mattress in the backseat. Is she moving back to Florida? Oh, there goes Mr. and Mrs. Utah for the third time today. They are going east. For Thanksgiving maybe? See the grand kids? Then, of course, there are the truckers hauling who knows what in those trailers. More stories to invent. Oh, here's my favorite country song, yet again.
I arrived in Golden, outside of Denver Thursday night and stayed at my cousin's house before meeting my car's owner at the airport in the a.m. It was a good drive. The roads were clear, the weather optimal and I got here safely. Would I do it again? You betcha.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Forget Paris
And Prague, Amsterdam, Lisbon, Athens. I don't actually need to forget Paris, or any of my other favorite travel destinations, but I need to find another way to remember them.
I seem to have lost track of time. I'll be telling a story of my six month sabbatical when I traipsed off to Europe after my divorce in 2002. The six months that turned into three plus years. Someone will ask me "when did you return to Seattle?" Ummm, errr, eh hem...two and a half years ago. Two and a half years ago? Already? How did that happen? It seems like only yesterday (or maybe a year ago) I landed back in Seattle, set up a "temporary" apartment where minimal wall hangings have been hung, and told friends and family I'd be out of this city in six months. Bags would be packed and I'd be off to explore new territories, delving into another adventure. Or at the very least, setting up camp in a new city.
I'm reminded daily of my past European days and how long ago they actually were. The pajama bottoms I bought in Prague in a very cold 2002 winter are beginning to fray around the waistband. These flannels got me through some horrifically cold nights abroad. My well loved bikini from the Greek Island of Skiathos purchased the summer of 2003 has faded from its vibrant royal to a dull sea soaked drab, blotchy, bluish tone. The funky stylish shoes I bought in Amsterdam for New Years Eve 2004 have walked equal distance from the Netherlands to Seattle. I'm still wearing them, but they really should retire. To be honest, I'll probably squeak one more season out of them, though. The red Haviannas (Lisbon, Spring 2004) are still some of the most comfortable flip flops in my collection - and I do have quite the collection. However, they are beginning to show some serious signs of wear and tear. The lining of the winter coat bought in Turkey November 2005 has long since torn and I've lost my keys or other precious objects through the holes in the pockets more times than I can count. The zipper finally broke altogether last season and I was forced to bid it a farewell.
And my most coveted item, the jean jacket given to me in Prague by my favorite travel buddy the spring of 2003, is held together by mere threads. The pockets boast flag pins of the places I lived during that wonderful and memorable period of my life. I can't wash the jacket or it will disintegrate completely. However, if I wear it any longer, my Seattle friends will pick it off my body like a vulture picking at a weak crow. I'm sure they can hardly stand to see me donning that garment at this stage. I try not to wear it, but sometimes it's the only thing that seems to suit my mood. The fabric is so soft at this point, the comfort is warming and the memories it brings are soothing.
I guess it's time to bid ado to many of these old European garments and look ahead to the future. It's okay to keep the stories of my life abroad, tell a tale or two now and then when appropriate. But clinging to the scraps of threadbare fabric can't be healthy for a woman trying to move into the next phase of her wonderful life and stop re-living the last episode via her clothes.
I seem to have lost track of time. I'll be telling a story of my six month sabbatical when I traipsed off to Europe after my divorce in 2002. The six months that turned into three plus years. Someone will ask me "when did you return to Seattle?" Ummm, errr, eh hem...two and a half years ago. Two and a half years ago? Already? How did that happen? It seems like only yesterday (or maybe a year ago) I landed back in Seattle, set up a "temporary" apartment where minimal wall hangings have been hung, and told friends and family I'd be out of this city in six months. Bags would be packed and I'd be off to explore new territories, delving into another adventure. Or at the very least, setting up camp in a new city.
I'm reminded daily of my past European days and how long ago they actually were. The pajama bottoms I bought in Prague in a very cold 2002 winter are beginning to fray around the waistband. These flannels got me through some horrifically cold nights abroad. My well loved bikini from the Greek Island of Skiathos purchased the summer of 2003 has faded from its vibrant royal to a dull sea soaked drab, blotchy, bluish tone. The funky stylish shoes I bought in Amsterdam for New Years Eve 2004 have walked equal distance from the Netherlands to Seattle. I'm still wearing them, but they really should retire. To be honest, I'll probably squeak one more season out of them, though. The red Haviannas (Lisbon, Spring 2004) are still some of the most comfortable flip flops in my collection - and I do have quite the collection. However, they are beginning to show some serious signs of wear and tear. The lining of the winter coat bought in Turkey November 2005 has long since torn and I've lost my keys or other precious objects through the holes in the pockets more times than I can count. The zipper finally broke altogether last season and I was forced to bid it a farewell.
And my most coveted item, the jean jacket given to me in Prague by my favorite travel buddy the spring of 2003, is held together by mere threads. The pockets boast flag pins of the places I lived during that wonderful and memorable period of my life. I can't wash the jacket or it will disintegrate completely. However, if I wear it any longer, my Seattle friends will pick it off my body like a vulture picking at a weak crow. I'm sure they can hardly stand to see me donning that garment at this stage. I try not to wear it, but sometimes it's the only thing that seems to suit my mood. The fabric is so soft at this point, the comfort is warming and the memories it brings are soothing.
I guess it's time to bid ado to many of these old European garments and look ahead to the future. It's okay to keep the stories of my life abroad, tell a tale or two now and then when appropriate. But clinging to the scraps of threadbare fabric can't be healthy for a woman trying to move into the next phase of her wonderful life and stop re-living the last episode via her clothes.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Plenty Off Ish
As much as there has been a certain amount of synergy happening in my life, it hasn't been in the area of romance, that's for sure.
I had my first date with a guy from Plenty of Fish (a.k.a. Plenty Off Ish) last night. This guy contacted me first. Then he suggested we meet. This was about a month ago. Due to a variety of circumstances we haven't been able to actually hook up since our first interaction on the internet.
Last night at nearly Five Oh Oh, I get a text message...yeah a text message...asking if I'd like to join him for dinner. I didn't actually see the message until a little after five and I didn't reply right away. I had to hem and haw and stew about it for a few moments. 1. a text message? 2. at five o'clock in the evening? 3. a last minute invitation for dinner? 4. how soon can I be ready? I was sort of in the middle of something 5. I was planning to go to yoga. Do I want to forfeit my yoga? 6. OK, we've been trying to meet, let's just go with this and be spontaneous!
So I call him back, not text. He doesn't answer. I leave a voice message. He calls me back and asks me where would be good for dinner. He asks me to dinner and then doesn't have anything in mind? I get really tired of always having to do the work when it comes to dating.
We were discussing a good meeting spot when I almost said "wherever is convenient for you" and stopped myself short. No, no, no. There I go being all accommodating. I'm the one without a car. He asked me. Let him come to me. And he did come to my neighborhood. I suggested a variety of restaurants, he picked one and we met there. Perfect.
The man was pleasant enough. Isn't that just how you'd want a date to describe you, "pleasant enough?" At the end of the meal (which he paid for), he asked if I wanted to go for a coffee, so we did. He nodded to his car parked across the street obviously making a point to work it into the conversation somehow. I glanced over and said it was nice. However, honestly, I had no idea what it was, but it did look nice. I was looking at it from the side and had no clue of the make or model. I'm not into cars anymore. I used to be years ago. Now I don't even own a car, so I'm really not into them. If they have wheels and an engine, I think they're fantastic. So I fessed up and asked him what it was. He laughed at me and told me it was a Mercedes. He also said it was a very rare model. So I committed the ultimate faux pas by not knowing what the car was and failing to show just how impressed I was. I forgot about men and their cars. Oh well. I think by that point, we knew we were not a match anyway. Yup, that's dating. I'll keep at it.
I had my first date with a guy from Plenty of Fish (a.k.a. Plenty Off Ish) last night. This guy contacted me first. Then he suggested we meet. This was about a month ago. Due to a variety of circumstances we haven't been able to actually hook up since our first interaction on the internet.
Last night at nearly Five Oh Oh, I get a text message...yeah a text message...asking if I'd like to join him for dinner. I didn't actually see the message until a little after five and I didn't reply right away. I had to hem and haw and stew about it for a few moments. 1. a text message? 2. at five o'clock in the evening? 3. a last minute invitation for dinner? 4. how soon can I be ready? I was sort of in the middle of something 5. I was planning to go to yoga. Do I want to forfeit my yoga? 6. OK, we've been trying to meet, let's just go with this and be spontaneous!
So I call him back, not text. He doesn't answer. I leave a voice message. He calls me back and asks me where would be good for dinner. He asks me to dinner and then doesn't have anything in mind? I get really tired of always having to do the work when it comes to dating.
We were discussing a good meeting spot when I almost said "wherever is convenient for you" and stopped myself short. No, no, no. There I go being all accommodating. I'm the one without a car. He asked me. Let him come to me. And he did come to my neighborhood. I suggested a variety of restaurants, he picked one and we met there. Perfect.
The man was pleasant enough. Isn't that just how you'd want a date to describe you, "pleasant enough?" At the end of the meal (which he paid for), he asked if I wanted to go for a coffee, so we did. He nodded to his car parked across the street obviously making a point to work it into the conversation somehow. I glanced over and said it was nice. However, honestly, I had no idea what it was, but it did look nice. I was looking at it from the side and had no clue of the make or model. I'm not into cars anymore. I used to be years ago. Now I don't even own a car, so I'm really not into them. If they have wheels and an engine, I think they're fantastic. So I fessed up and asked him what it was. He laughed at me and told me it was a Mercedes. He also said it was a very rare model. So I committed the ultimate faux pas by not knowing what the car was and failing to show just how impressed I was. I forgot about men and their cars. Oh well. I think by that point, we knew we were not a match anyway. Yup, that's dating. I'll keep at it.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Day After
There's nothing left to say. It's all been said. It's all been filmed, photographed, recorded and U-Tubed.
All I can add at this point is a big 'ol "Whoooo Hoooo!"
All I can add at this point is a big 'ol "Whoooo Hoooo!"
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Serendipity, Synchronicity, Serenity Now!
Lately my life has taken on a state of synchronization. I began my life coaching seminar with Landmark Education a few weeks ago. The first session was all about "getting in the game." The Sunday following that session, I attended church at the invitation of an old friend I recently reconnected with. The topic of the sermon was also all about getting in the game. Huh. That's curious, I thought.
The next week the Landmark session focused more on 'creating possibilities' for ourselves. I went to church with my friend again the following Sunday and what do you suppose was the topic of the day's sermon? Absolutely. Creating dreams, setting goals and going for them in life.
By now I'm wondering if the preachers are somehow affiliated with the Landmark Education organization?
I've also been re-reading The Secret, which focuses on creating the life you want. Again, a reiteration of the Landmark Education mission.
AND I was already in the process of applying for grad school at Seattle Pacific University (a Christian university) when my friend invited me to her church, a church that seems to genuinely resonate with me. No, I'm not a member yet...I'm just being open and checking it out. Trying it on...seeing if this is for me or not.
As if that isn't enough serendipity to make me aware of what might be going on here, it turns out that the friend I've been going to church with, has the same business idea as I've been discussing with several people the last few weeks. A discussion of our dreams over coffee Sunday evening revealed we are a match! We are exploring a partnership. Yea for us. Now for the serenity of feeling like I know where I'm headed...or, the chaos of starting up something new, yet again.
The next week the Landmark session focused more on 'creating possibilities' for ourselves. I went to church with my friend again the following Sunday and what do you suppose was the topic of the day's sermon? Absolutely. Creating dreams, setting goals and going for them in life.
By now I'm wondering if the preachers are somehow affiliated with the Landmark Education organization?
I've also been re-reading The Secret, which focuses on creating the life you want. Again, a reiteration of the Landmark Education mission.
AND I was already in the process of applying for grad school at Seattle Pacific University (a Christian university) when my friend invited me to her church, a church that seems to genuinely resonate with me. No, I'm not a member yet...I'm just being open and checking it out. Trying it on...seeing if this is for me or not.
As if that isn't enough serendipity to make me aware of what might be going on here, it turns out that the friend I've been going to church with, has the same business idea as I've been discussing with several people the last few weeks. A discussion of our dreams over coffee Sunday evening revealed we are a match! We are exploring a partnership. Yea for us. Now for the serenity of feeling like I know where I'm headed...or, the chaos of starting up something new, yet again.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy
Halloween is such a great holiday. A day to dress ourselves up in our alter-egos. No one else can really convince you of a costume you should wear. It has to resonate with you somehow. Someone will say "hey, you should be a (fill-in here)" and even if it's a great idea for someone, it may not be a great idea for you. The costume has to speak to you.
The Halloween pre-func is some of the best part of the whole night. I went to my friend's house where we had dinner, drank wine and passed out candy to trick or treaters, while we helped each other into our getups before heading out to the parties. I opted for the Sugar Plum Fairy and my pal was a jilted murdered bride back from the grave. Her makeup consisted of the ghoulish sort while mine was glitter and sparkles. We were definitely the odd couple.
The number one costume this season was Sarah Palin and we ran across a few. The best one was the host of our first party. His interpretation was quite humorous given his size 14 shoes. Another fellow was John McCain with a Sarah blow up doll strapped on in classic BJ form. Disgusting? Sure. Creative and funny? Absolutely.
Our second stop was a bit quieter. It was nearly 1.00 by then so maybe it was slowing down. We didn't stay long before heading out to party #3 where there was a live band, dancing in the living room and a lively crowd.
All the usual suspects were out, pirate, astronaut, Elvis, skeleton, Santa Claus, Kermit and Miss Piggy, cowgirls and goblins. One thing I realized, Halloween is not a good man meeting holiday. Everyone is so into character you really have no idea who you're talking to. But it was a fun night, we partied til the cows came home. Or, until we came home anyway. Didn't actually see any cows come to think of it.
The Halloween pre-func is some of the best part of the whole night. I went to my friend's house where we had dinner, drank wine and passed out candy to trick or treaters, while we helped each other into our getups before heading out to the parties. I opted for the Sugar Plum Fairy and my pal was a jilted murdered bride back from the grave. Her makeup consisted of the ghoulish sort while mine was glitter and sparkles. We were definitely the odd couple.
The number one costume this season was Sarah Palin and we ran across a few. The best one was the host of our first party. His interpretation was quite humorous given his size 14 shoes. Another fellow was John McCain with a Sarah blow up doll strapped on in classic BJ form. Disgusting? Sure. Creative and funny? Absolutely.
Our second stop was a bit quieter. It was nearly 1.00 by then so maybe it was slowing down. We didn't stay long before heading out to party #3 where there was a live band, dancing in the living room and a lively crowd.
All the usual suspects were out, pirate, astronaut, Elvis, skeleton, Santa Claus, Kermit and Miss Piggy, cowgirls and goblins. One thing I realized, Halloween is not a good man meeting holiday. Everyone is so into character you really have no idea who you're talking to. But it was a fun night, we partied til the cows came home. Or, until we came home anyway. Didn't actually see any cows come to think of it.
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