Gramma,
Happy Halloween. Saturday night's annual Witches Ball was a success. The bike club and some of the Christmas cookie exchange group were in attendance. My floors are covered with leaf litter and footprints. Despite rain much of the day, the guys were able to get a bonfire going with a blow torch.
Blood spurted from a steak stuffed into the neck of the headless guy. I warned him to step away from a quilt that had taken months to make. The flasher's interpretive dance included a stuffed pantyhose appendage, which Freddy Krueger tried to filet. The priest and nun were unsuccessful at saving souls.
Two zombie girls spent hours in the upstairs bathroom doing their makeup. They didn't even take a break to refresh beverages. I checked on them to make sure they weren't locked in. The temperamental door intermittently requires someone from the outside to open it. That can be scary in an unfamiliar house with a haunted reputation. The noise coming from the Halloween village on the main floor drowned out the screaming and door pounding coming from upstairs.
One of the cookie exchange girls showed up late, drunk and disorderly. A big joint was hanging out of her mouth. She is not a big pot smoker, but thought it would be cool to ask people for a light. Her ex-husband-to-be had been a club member, but was kicked out for causing too many mandatory meetings with the Hell's Angels, Girlfriend did not help his cause. It is bad form to criticize another club when you are at a party on their turf.
She decided to kiss all the guys around the fire, claiming it was her birthday and she could do as she pleased. She was also dancing around in dark corners with a member who was there with his girlfriend. This too, is bad form. She will not be invited to anymore events where club members are present. I was glad when her driver dragged her out to the car. I would imagine she is still recovering. Drunkeness and diabetes is not a good combination.
Family drama kept another couple away. The evil drunken mother of two grandchildren threw the family dog out of a moving truck. Then she tried to choke her ex-husband, threatening to kill him and get custody of the kids. This is while he was driving. The kids were screaming. They told the police they never wanted to see her again.
One of the cookie exchange girls and her husband were headed to North Dakota to support the pipeline protest. Otherwise, almost everyone showed up. Two of the dogs were dressed as wieners. Two were sent to their boxes for trying to mark guests as their territory.
As witches arrived, I was just getting out of the shower. There wasn't time to put on some Christmas music. I should have gotten up earlier, but we were out late the night before celebrating at a surprise birthday party.
A friend spent the night and helped put food away. It had taken me all month to prepare for this event. Sunday was spent on the couch watching bad t.v. Then the Packers lost by one point. I shouldn't have chosen to watch NatGeo after that. Seeing the planet destruct from global warming is the stuff of nightmares.
The gates are open for brave trick-or-treaters, It is over fifty degrees here in the northwoods. As I can't keep candy in the house without it disappearing, the kids are getting mardi-gras beads. The grandkids will be here next weekend to help take down the mess. Their next visit will be to install Christmas, much less involved than Halloween.
Monday, October 31, 2016
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Indian Summer
Gramma,
October eighteenth was an amazing Indian summer day in Minnesota. Even the morning was warm enough to pull me outside early. Rain and wind from the night before left a vast carpet of heavy, wet leaves waiting to be mowed. Many of the trees are showing their full skeletons. The oaks hang on longer, some till spring. Vines crawling up the house are crimson. Some flowers are still blooming.
I fed the ducks, the peacocks, and the songbirds, then filled the donkey water tank. There were a few more squash and pumpkins to pick before mowing the garden. The dogs trailed behind as I buzzed around the yard picking up sticks, putting away yard tools and finishing the Halloween decorating. The clowns needed to be blood-splattered with red house paint. I fired up the lights to see if the breaker would blow.
Bicycles, power washed by the storm, leaned against an out-building. Some of them are outgrown and will be sent to the Goodwill. They had collected dust in the lean-to where straw is stacked and animals hang out in a fenced section. The floor is dirt. Firewood was stored here until we installed a gas fireplace. Gone are the days of cutting, splitting, and hauling into the garage and then into the house. After we gave it up, I missed the smell of a crackling fire. I don't miss the mess.
The afternoon sun dried the leaves enough to mince with the tractor mower. The litter is good fertilizer. I mowed for hours, taking several breaks to replenish my beer. Sun, warmth, cold beer--it is a halcyon day. This day sums up why I choose not to chase the almighty dollar at the expense of sheer joy. I have "enough" and I can stretch a dollar until it screams.
I worked at a publishing company in Minneapolis for a brief period. The sky was just lighting up when I left in the morning. While stuck in afternoon traffic, I couldn't wait to get home and be outside. It seemed that as soon as I got my clothes changed, the dark slammed down. While I enjoyed the work, the situation did not give me balance or feed my spirit.
Life is about choices. We are all one decision away from a whole different life. While our financial assets may not be as healthy as some of our friends and relatives, I believe our quality of life is richer.
October eighteenth was an amazing Indian summer day in Minnesota. Even the morning was warm enough to pull me outside early. Rain and wind from the night before left a vast carpet of heavy, wet leaves waiting to be mowed. Many of the trees are showing their full skeletons. The oaks hang on longer, some till spring. Vines crawling up the house are crimson. Some flowers are still blooming.
I fed the ducks, the peacocks, and the songbirds, then filled the donkey water tank. There were a few more squash and pumpkins to pick before mowing the garden. The dogs trailed behind as I buzzed around the yard picking up sticks, putting away yard tools and finishing the Halloween decorating. The clowns needed to be blood-splattered with red house paint. I fired up the lights to see if the breaker would blow.
Bicycles, power washed by the storm, leaned against an out-building. Some of them are outgrown and will be sent to the Goodwill. They had collected dust in the lean-to where straw is stacked and animals hang out in a fenced section. The floor is dirt. Firewood was stored here until we installed a gas fireplace. Gone are the days of cutting, splitting, and hauling into the garage and then into the house. After we gave it up, I missed the smell of a crackling fire. I don't miss the mess.
The afternoon sun dried the leaves enough to mince with the tractor mower. The litter is good fertilizer. I mowed for hours, taking several breaks to replenish my beer. Sun, warmth, cold beer--it is a halcyon day. This day sums up why I choose not to chase the almighty dollar at the expense of sheer joy. I have "enough" and I can stretch a dollar until it screams.
I worked at a publishing company in Minneapolis for a brief period. The sky was just lighting up when I left in the morning. While stuck in afternoon traffic, I couldn't wait to get home and be outside. It seemed that as soon as I got my clothes changed, the dark slammed down. While I enjoyed the work, the situation did not give me balance or feed my spirit.
Life is about choices. We are all one decision away from a whole different life. While our financial assets may not be as healthy as some of our friends and relatives, I believe our quality of life is richer.
Thursday, October 13, 2016
Dream Sequence Outing of Last Night.
Gramma,
My dreams are epic--vivid, detailed, and complex.
Last night there was a gargantuan black horse with this asshole male rider. I wanted to take the horse for a spin, but the asshole said only he could control the dark horse. So I asked if I could ride along to some really cool countryside. He said yes, he would take me later. Then he picks up two of his teen daughters and takes them for an all day ride. He doesn't get around to taking me for a ride and I am put out by this. There is an average, tame brown horse that I could ride. It had been in view when I was looking at the big black guy. I thought maybe I could take it, but we wouldn't go anywhere cool, or very far, or very fast.
While I was waiting for the horse dick to come back, I was again, as in other dreams past, in a too small duplex with my birth family, none of whom I like or want to be with. I was fighting for space to call my own/bedroom. One room had a toilet in it that would overflow when flushed. There was also a washer and dryer in that space. A door to the outside did not have a sturdy lock on it and nobody liked having that room because, God forbid, someone had stolen potato chips, (I do not like chips), and old shoes from the closet. The other rooms available had problems, two of them with non-functioning toilets. I often have dreams with nasty toilets that leak, overflow, are full, and don't work. I need one that works, and none of them do.
Meanwhile, I am on a trip in an interesting foreign country, (which is often a dream theme). The horse and man are there too, but not visible. While I wait for his sorry as to show up, I am making plans to showcase my sister/ friend/daughter-in-law's baby with a party. I have the baby dressed up like a cupcake confection, all ruffled and yummy. One minute she is a newborn, the next she is sitting up. Against the wishes of the baby "owner," I have been sneaking rice baby cereal in her bottle. I try to hide the evidence of this. She is too young yet and having a hard time swallowing it.
A white male with no personality and no friends shows up early for the party. I wholeheartedly welcome him before realizing's he is not the friend/person I thought he was. He tries to get me to commit to coming to a party at his remote mansion on a beach. He wants me to bring all my friends/family/people. I tell him okay, but am really not planning to show up or put my friends through this. The ocean there is cold, the sky will be overcast, and there is something unsavory about it.
I am also hanging out with nuns in this foreign country. We are having a good time, pillaging the massive library for our own use, and talking about life's mysteries. (I often hang out with nuns in my dreams.) There is this mega church under construction in this old country, (pre-indoor plumbing.) The church is amazing, with unique artistic use of large stone blocks. It will never fall down, but it is only about a third of the way finished. The foundation is sturdy, the bones are all there, and one lone guy is working on some small aspect with a trowel. He is high off the ground and smiling.
I want this church to be finished, but there are bad people from a negative political faction that want to halt the progress permanently. They show up on horses. I argue with them until they agree that if the locals can raise the money, it can go forward. They think this is not possible. Along with other people on this trip, we are being detained and fleeced for various infractions. I have taken library materials, two children's books I want to share back home because of the "moral of the story" potential. I write a $150.00 check to then nuns for the church before heading to the airport, (which is incongruous with the era). This is a lot of money for the time. I am not at all wealthy, but am willing to sacrifice for this cause.
I regret not having time to say goodbyes and am afraid I will miss my flight. There are a significant number of people who are also worried they will not get to the plane on time. We are in a very long line, not unlike today's TSA check points. The jerk on the horse did not show up to take me on the fun ride to see a piece of countryside I heard was worth the trip. At this point, it's okay because I am pissed and planned to tell him off for being such an arrogant piece of shit.
End of story.
Anybody want to venture an interpretation. I was raised Catholic. As an adult, I have had good relationships with nuns in a variety of situations. I am sick of dysfunctional toilet dreams. I am sick of this small duplex setting.
My dreams are epic--vivid, detailed, and complex.
Last night there was a gargantuan black horse with this asshole male rider. I wanted to take the horse for a spin, but the asshole said only he could control the dark horse. So I asked if I could ride along to some really cool countryside. He said yes, he would take me later. Then he picks up two of his teen daughters and takes them for an all day ride. He doesn't get around to taking me for a ride and I am put out by this. There is an average, tame brown horse that I could ride. It had been in view when I was looking at the big black guy. I thought maybe I could take it, but we wouldn't go anywhere cool, or very far, or very fast.
While I was waiting for the horse dick to come back, I was again, as in other dreams past, in a too small duplex with my birth family, none of whom I like or want to be with. I was fighting for space to call my own/bedroom. One room had a toilet in it that would overflow when flushed. There was also a washer and dryer in that space. A door to the outside did not have a sturdy lock on it and nobody liked having that room because, God forbid, someone had stolen potato chips, (I do not like chips), and old shoes from the closet. The other rooms available had problems, two of them with non-functioning toilets. I often have dreams with nasty toilets that leak, overflow, are full, and don't work. I need one that works, and none of them do.
Meanwhile, I am on a trip in an interesting foreign country, (which is often a dream theme). The horse and man are there too, but not visible. While I wait for his sorry as to show up, I am making plans to showcase my sister/ friend/daughter-in-law's baby with a party. I have the baby dressed up like a cupcake confection, all ruffled and yummy. One minute she is a newborn, the next she is sitting up. Against the wishes of the baby "owner," I have been sneaking rice baby cereal in her bottle. I try to hide the evidence of this. She is too young yet and having a hard time swallowing it.
A white male with no personality and no friends shows up early for the party. I wholeheartedly welcome him before realizing's he is not the friend/person I thought he was. He tries to get me to commit to coming to a party at his remote mansion on a beach. He wants me to bring all my friends/family/people. I tell him okay, but am really not planning to show up or put my friends through this. The ocean there is cold, the sky will be overcast, and there is something unsavory about it.
I am also hanging out with nuns in this foreign country. We are having a good time, pillaging the massive library for our own use, and talking about life's mysteries. (I often hang out with nuns in my dreams.) There is this mega church under construction in this old country, (pre-indoor plumbing.) The church is amazing, with unique artistic use of large stone blocks. It will never fall down, but it is only about a third of the way finished. The foundation is sturdy, the bones are all there, and one lone guy is working on some small aspect with a trowel. He is high off the ground and smiling.
I want this church to be finished, but there are bad people from a negative political faction that want to halt the progress permanently. They show up on horses. I argue with them until they agree that if the locals can raise the money, it can go forward. They think this is not possible. Along with other people on this trip, we are being detained and fleeced for various infractions. I have taken library materials, two children's books I want to share back home because of the "moral of the story" potential. I write a $150.00 check to then nuns for the church before heading to the airport, (which is incongruous with the era). This is a lot of money for the time. I am not at all wealthy, but am willing to sacrifice for this cause.
I regret not having time to say goodbyes and am afraid I will miss my flight. There are a significant number of people who are also worried they will not get to the plane on time. We are in a very long line, not unlike today's TSA check points. The jerk on the horse did not show up to take me on the fun ride to see a piece of countryside I heard was worth the trip. At this point, it's okay because I am pissed and planned to tell him off for being such an arrogant piece of shit.
End of story.
Anybody want to venture an interpretation. I was raised Catholic. As an adult, I have had good relationships with nuns in a variety of situations. I am sick of dysfunctional toilet dreams. I am sick of this small duplex setting.
Thursday, October 6, 2016
New Lives
Gramma,
The new granddaughter finally arrived. She's a noisy model. Her days and nights are mixed up. Mom gets no sleep. She complains often on Facebook at all hours of the night. Mom wanted to call her Jazzerine. She wanted to call the first one Aquila. Though I do not object, these are not white girl names. The protesters won. She is called Lundon Violet. She is breast fed, so I will not be relieving mom for awhile. Baby formula costs more than alcohol.
Three of the grandkids spent the weekend here. So mom got a break from Bubba acting out because he is no longer the baby. He just started kindergarten. He is always fun to have around. He likes to be very very busy. The other two kids are older and do not want his company. I need to have this set of three at the same time, as otherwise they would not be able to see each other at all. Ollie's dad is not welcome anywhere but the bar these days.
We decorated for Halloween, This is a big tradition. There are menacing, bloodthirsty weapon wielding clowns, complete with dead bloody doll babies and stuffed rabbits. Blood spattered toddler sized zombies colonize outside the iron gates. Anybody trying to invade will be shanked by rose thorns. I do this for the kids who ride the bus. Today, I will zip tie upside down skeletons to very long poles. They will be reminiscent of Cirque de Soleil. These will flank the gates.
Lighted spider webs stretch across the gates. There is a Bates Motel sign. The "vacancy" light flickers. There are caskets in the yard. Skeletons sit on a collection of colored toilets talking on phones, drinking beer, holding their skeleton dogs on leashes. There are witches, signs, pumpkins, tombstones and spiders. The annual Witches Ball is always the last Saturday of the month.
Inside the house, the kids form a chain gang on the stairs to bring up boxes of decorations. Veve helps set up the villages while the other two fight over the I-Pad, making Grampa testy. Purple and green cobwebs are stretched on the chandelier and over pictures. It looks like Halloween threw up all over the house. I am overwhelmed by the mess.
Kids are noisy things. And demanding. Also, they always want something. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. Can I have a donut. Can I have fudge for breakfast. GRAMMA, tell them it's my turn. Bubba spilled his milk. You made me. Ollie won't put away the scooter. He used it last. "Did you fart Bubba." "No, my ass blew you a kiss." Wonder where he got that. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I was just holding him back by the throat. Can I pick some flowers to bring to mom. There is enough racket to give the devil a headache.
And so it is, with great amusement, that girlfriend's partner of thirty-some years is leaving her for a woman with six frequent grandkids. Freeloader has no concept of cute, adorable tiny ninjas of death who are the right height to punch you in the balls. He has no experience with grandchildren, or children period. He does not like them. He does not like noise, or to be interrupted when he is watching re-runs of Jerry Springer. Kids monopolize the tv. It is best to let this happen, as the alternative is more noise.
The new living space is tight. It is likely section 8. There is no garage. Except for his storage unit, Freeloader will have no manspace to call his own. The kids will be in all his shit. No escape. The new girlfriend gets around in a golf cart. Freeloader will be picking up and dropping off kids. He has always been tight with money. He has plenty, he just doesn't want to share it. He contributed $400 a month to live with my friend. This included his own office, bedroom and pole shed. And he was ornery. Had I known, this would not have been happening. She lives paycheck to paycheck.
AND, there is a new grandbaby, freshly hatched. We wish we could see the shit show up close and personal. Freeloader reignited a decades old relationship on Facebook with a woman who had wronged him every which way to Sunday. He is over seventy. He has visions of reclaiming his studly self. She smokes. He hates smoke. Nothing like kissing an ashtray. He snores like a Harley. She talks incessantly. She is on disability. He will be the meal ticket for many.
AND, he is headed for South Carolina with his Indian motorcycle in the back of his pick up truck. He paid cash for these things. The bike is too heavy for him to manage since his back surgery. There is a record-breaking hurricane heading up the coast. His girlfriend has been biting him in the ass for days to get out there and drive her to safety. It is a two day drive and the truck is acting up. The bike will be pelted with hail. A tarp will not help, as it will beat on the bike and rub the paint raw. We think this is funny, because we are shallow that way.
He didn't even say goodbye to his cat. Weed and paraphernalia was left behind. After a lifetime of toking, he is quitting. I am amazed that guys never quit thinking with their dicks. The honeymoon will be short. We figure he will beg to come back in the spring. "You can come back to Minnesota, but not here," she will say. We will laugh and drink and smoke in the hot tub on the deck. Maybe we will take a bike trip to South Carolina to see the devastation. Stay tuned....
The new granddaughter finally arrived. She's a noisy model. Her days and nights are mixed up. Mom gets no sleep. She complains often on Facebook at all hours of the night. Mom wanted to call her Jazzerine. She wanted to call the first one Aquila. Though I do not object, these are not white girl names. The protesters won. She is called Lundon Violet. She is breast fed, so I will not be relieving mom for awhile. Baby formula costs more than alcohol.
Three of the grandkids spent the weekend here. So mom got a break from Bubba acting out because he is no longer the baby. He just started kindergarten. He is always fun to have around. He likes to be very very busy. The other two kids are older and do not want his company. I need to have this set of three at the same time, as otherwise they would not be able to see each other at all. Ollie's dad is not welcome anywhere but the bar these days.
We decorated for Halloween, This is a big tradition. There are menacing, bloodthirsty weapon wielding clowns, complete with dead bloody doll babies and stuffed rabbits. Blood spattered toddler sized zombies colonize outside the iron gates. Anybody trying to invade will be shanked by rose thorns. I do this for the kids who ride the bus. Today, I will zip tie upside down skeletons to very long poles. They will be reminiscent of Cirque de Soleil. These will flank the gates.
Lighted spider webs stretch across the gates. There is a Bates Motel sign. The "vacancy" light flickers. There are caskets in the yard. Skeletons sit on a collection of colored toilets talking on phones, drinking beer, holding their skeleton dogs on leashes. There are witches, signs, pumpkins, tombstones and spiders. The annual Witches Ball is always the last Saturday of the month.
Inside the house, the kids form a chain gang on the stairs to bring up boxes of decorations. Veve helps set up the villages while the other two fight over the I-Pad, making Grampa testy. Purple and green cobwebs are stretched on the chandelier and over pictures. It looks like Halloween threw up all over the house. I am overwhelmed by the mess.
Kids are noisy things. And demanding. Also, they always want something. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. Can I have a donut. Can I have fudge for breakfast. GRAMMA, tell them it's my turn. Bubba spilled his milk. You made me. Ollie won't put away the scooter. He used it last. "Did you fart Bubba." "No, my ass blew you a kiss." Wonder where he got that. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I was just holding him back by the throat. Can I pick some flowers to bring to mom. There is enough racket to give the devil a headache.
And so it is, with great amusement, that girlfriend's partner of thirty-some years is leaving her for a woman with six frequent grandkids. Freeloader has no concept of cute, adorable tiny ninjas of death who are the right height to punch you in the balls. He has no experience with grandchildren, or children period. He does not like them. He does not like noise, or to be interrupted when he is watching re-runs of Jerry Springer. Kids monopolize the tv. It is best to let this happen, as the alternative is more noise.
The new living space is tight. It is likely section 8. There is no garage. Except for his storage unit, Freeloader will have no manspace to call his own. The kids will be in all his shit. No escape. The new girlfriend gets around in a golf cart. Freeloader will be picking up and dropping off kids. He has always been tight with money. He has plenty, he just doesn't want to share it. He contributed $400 a month to live with my friend. This included his own office, bedroom and pole shed. And he was ornery. Had I known, this would not have been happening. She lives paycheck to paycheck.
AND, there is a new grandbaby, freshly hatched. We wish we could see the shit show up close and personal. Freeloader reignited a decades old relationship on Facebook with a woman who had wronged him every which way to Sunday. He is over seventy. He has visions of reclaiming his studly self. She smokes. He hates smoke. Nothing like kissing an ashtray. He snores like a Harley. She talks incessantly. She is on disability. He will be the meal ticket for many.
AND, he is headed for South Carolina with his Indian motorcycle in the back of his pick up truck. He paid cash for these things. The bike is too heavy for him to manage since his back surgery. There is a record-breaking hurricane heading up the coast. His girlfriend has been biting him in the ass for days to get out there and drive her to safety. It is a two day drive and the truck is acting up. The bike will be pelted with hail. A tarp will not help, as it will beat on the bike and rub the paint raw. We think this is funny, because we are shallow that way.
He didn't even say goodbye to his cat. Weed and paraphernalia was left behind. After a lifetime of toking, he is quitting. I am amazed that guys never quit thinking with their dicks. The honeymoon will be short. We figure he will beg to come back in the spring. "You can come back to Minnesota, but not here," she will say. We will laugh and drink and smoke in the hot tub on the deck. Maybe we will take a bike trip to South Carolina to see the devastation. Stay tuned....
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Bikes, Blues and Barbeques
Gramma,
Just returned from a week in Arkansas for the Bikes, Blues and Barbeques rally. The roads are all winding and it is wise not to exceed the suggested speed limits. After all the chaos of summer, I needed this time to hang out with friends, partying and riding. This year, the heat was oppressive. We cut some of our rides in half to avoid the afternoon temperatures. When the heat index was near a hundred, we drank more beer. My foot still hurt from the bike falling on it, The swelling was worse in the heat.
There are still bars in AK that allow smoking. My asthma forced me to stay outside. There were two dogs tied up while their owners sat in the air conditioning. I joined the dogs on the curb. I got my dog fix hanging out with a friendly pit bull and some kind of happy mutt. I always miss my animals when I am away. My cat, who hates everybody, is likely hibernating under my bed. The house sitter will only know there is a cat by the disappearance of food and water from her dishes.
My house sitter lives in the city. She has no car, so commutes using mine on the few days she is working. She will call in sick and take some vacation. When I get home, the car seat will be moved all the way forward. Finding someone who is good with four needy dogs is problematic. Also, there are no house keys, which city people do not embrace. But I have iron gates and you need a code to get in. The dogs can run free, even when no one is home. Kate is happy to drink and toke and use the fire pit. She likes the country sounds of frogs, the wind in the trees, the braying donkeys and screaming peacocks.
I leave her copious notes for everything. "The sound of werewolves will get the dogs barking after midnight. They are coyotes in disguise. She texts me to ask who is Mr. Peepers. "The canary. Feed the canary." Throw dog food out the front door for the loose peacock. Do not allow Clark outside while feeding the penned peacocks. He will streak past you and terrorize the birds. Kate is a slob and I will come home to a mess, but she is worth it in peace of mind.
While in AK, we take my stepdad, his wife and son out to eat. She is a hoarder, so we do not stop in. Why anyone would move to AK from the north is beyond me. As Norm has "summer teeth," he blends in with the locals. (Summer there and summer not.) He is 80ish. I don't think I will see him alive again. When we are taking pictures, I whisper "I love you," in his ear. We have history. We both endured my mother.
The people-watching in AK should be listed on the tourist sites. While listening to music at a concert, two women got into a heated passion play. "You're not from around here are you," Dave said to a guy in the beer line. "How did you know?" he asked. "You have all your teeth."
Our friend, Stick, smokes. At the hotel, he came in from an outdoor smoking session. I yelled at him and the woman he was talking to. "That's my husband. You leave him alone." She mouthed, "I'm sorry" from the elevator. Stick protested that I was not his wife and he didn't even know me. His wife was amused. "You sit your lily white ass down," I ordered. The black bike group in the lobby laughed. Later, I got the desk clerk to text Stick about the nice time she had talking to him, leaving a fictitious room number.
At an overlook, I kept telling Stick to move over a little more, pretending that it would be a better photo op. He didn't realize that someone had spray painted "Dick," along with a graphic, on the cement barrier he was standing behind.
By the end of the week, I had a pretty good beer gut going. We set off for home in the early morning. Stick left two hours before us and the other couple, He Who Dawdles, left after us. Stick warned us of the traffic ahead, where the cops were thick and where the roads were clear. We almost caught up when they stopped for lunch. I couldn't wait to see my pests. Several interesting texts came from the house sitter.
Where are the garbage bags. WE are taking the recycling with us. WHERE is the vacuum cleaner. WTF. In the past, Kate has had parties at the house and not cleaned up. But, AGAIN, my animals are cared for. Except when Titty, the cat, was trapped in the basement where her litter box is, with no food or water, I came home to a somewhat vacuumed house. The attachment hatch on the vacuum was not violated.
Kate was gone when we got home. The mailbox was clogged. Nests of dog hair had accumulated in every corner. It always takes me a week to get back on track. I posted on Facebook that my dogs had a spectacular time when I was gone, as there were only a few shots of vodka left in the half gallon of high end shit in the freezer. "But, I left you a very nice brownie," she said.
"I'm eating it now with ice cream."
"I hope you don't plan on doing anything for the rest of the day."
"Unpacking and relaxing."
"You will mostly be relaxing."
"WTF. Why didn't you leave instructions on portion control."
I slept for twelve hours.
Just returned from a week in Arkansas for the Bikes, Blues and Barbeques rally. The roads are all winding and it is wise not to exceed the suggested speed limits. After all the chaos of summer, I needed this time to hang out with friends, partying and riding. This year, the heat was oppressive. We cut some of our rides in half to avoid the afternoon temperatures. When the heat index was near a hundred, we drank more beer. My foot still hurt from the bike falling on it, The swelling was worse in the heat.
There are still bars in AK that allow smoking. My asthma forced me to stay outside. There were two dogs tied up while their owners sat in the air conditioning. I joined the dogs on the curb. I got my dog fix hanging out with a friendly pit bull and some kind of happy mutt. I always miss my animals when I am away. My cat, who hates everybody, is likely hibernating under my bed. The house sitter will only know there is a cat by the disappearance of food and water from her dishes.
My house sitter lives in the city. She has no car, so commutes using mine on the few days she is working. She will call in sick and take some vacation. When I get home, the car seat will be moved all the way forward. Finding someone who is good with four needy dogs is problematic. Also, there are no house keys, which city people do not embrace. But I have iron gates and you need a code to get in. The dogs can run free, even when no one is home. Kate is happy to drink and toke and use the fire pit. She likes the country sounds of frogs, the wind in the trees, the braying donkeys and screaming peacocks.
I leave her copious notes for everything. "The sound of werewolves will get the dogs barking after midnight. They are coyotes in disguise. She texts me to ask who is Mr. Peepers. "The canary. Feed the canary." Throw dog food out the front door for the loose peacock. Do not allow Clark outside while feeding the penned peacocks. He will streak past you and terrorize the birds. Kate is a slob and I will come home to a mess, but she is worth it in peace of mind.
While in AK, we take my stepdad, his wife and son out to eat. She is a hoarder, so we do not stop in. Why anyone would move to AK from the north is beyond me. As Norm has "summer teeth," he blends in with the locals. (Summer there and summer not.) He is 80ish. I don't think I will see him alive again. When we are taking pictures, I whisper "I love you," in his ear. We have history. We both endured my mother.
The people-watching in AK should be listed on the tourist sites. While listening to music at a concert, two women got into a heated passion play. "You're not from around here are you," Dave said to a guy in the beer line. "How did you know?" he asked. "You have all your teeth."
Our friend, Stick, smokes. At the hotel, he came in from an outdoor smoking session. I yelled at him and the woman he was talking to. "That's my husband. You leave him alone." She mouthed, "I'm sorry" from the elevator. Stick protested that I was not his wife and he didn't even know me. His wife was amused. "You sit your lily white ass down," I ordered. The black bike group in the lobby laughed. Later, I got the desk clerk to text Stick about the nice time she had talking to him, leaving a fictitious room number.
At an overlook, I kept telling Stick to move over a little more, pretending that it would be a better photo op. He didn't realize that someone had spray painted "Dick," along with a graphic, on the cement barrier he was standing behind.
By the end of the week, I had a pretty good beer gut going. We set off for home in the early morning. Stick left two hours before us and the other couple, He Who Dawdles, left after us. Stick warned us of the traffic ahead, where the cops were thick and where the roads were clear. We almost caught up when they stopped for lunch. I couldn't wait to see my pests. Several interesting texts came from the house sitter.
Where are the garbage bags. WE are taking the recycling with us. WHERE is the vacuum cleaner. WTF. In the past, Kate has had parties at the house and not cleaned up. But, AGAIN, my animals are cared for. Except when Titty, the cat, was trapped in the basement where her litter box is, with no food or water, I came home to a somewhat vacuumed house. The attachment hatch on the vacuum was not violated.
Kate was gone when we got home. The mailbox was clogged. Nests of dog hair had accumulated in every corner. It always takes me a week to get back on track. I posted on Facebook that my dogs had a spectacular time when I was gone, as there were only a few shots of vodka left in the half gallon of high end shit in the freezer. "But, I left you a very nice brownie," she said.
"I'm eating it now with ice cream."
"I hope you don't plan on doing anything for the rest of the day."
"Unpacking and relaxing."
"You will mostly be relaxing."
"WTF. Why didn't you leave instructions on portion control."
I slept for twelve hours.
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