Made My Toes Warm

Lately the smell of clover hangs in the air and it mixes with that of salt water wafting up from Puget Sound just down the way, lingering heady and inviting. Crickets chirp, frogs croak in a rhythmic symphony and I’m thrilled it’s spring again. Summer nearly! It acts as an offset to the barbaric yelping heard by an overpopulation of teenage hooligans that congregate outside my window these days. A fair trade. Almost (actually not at all, but this shall be the glass half full version). Walking across the lawn to the stairs recently, I spied an old clunker of a car that reminds me …

A few summer’s back, I volunteered to help set up the Sunset Supper event at the Pike Place Market. In celebration of the Market’s birthday, 70-ish first class restaurants/wineries/breweries serve up their best set up buffet style out along the cobblestone for patrons to partake in a late night of al fresco dining and dancing with live music all to the benefit of local charities.

Pike Place Market Sunset

My shot of a most glorious sunset (!) from the walkway into the Market

So, I’d just pulled into a spot to park and was turning off this and that when a short, pudgy man rounded the corner near the front end of my car and proceeded to whip out his ware and water the shrubbery! Glancing at the ever present camera on my dash, I rightly thought better of it. Miffed at the unsolicited show, though, I considered driving away, but not to be shooed from my hard-won parking spot, I instead quickly exited the car, briefly stopping at the trunk to get further situated, before heading on up to the Market. That’s when it happened.

There she was, walking directly towards me in a fuzzy off-the-shoulder hot pink sweater complete with swinging fringe, leopard print mini-skirt and gold lame cowboy boots in the bright sun of the midday afternoon. What did this leggy goddess of sheer oddball delight topped off with a crazy curly red, red bob want with little me, I pondered momentarily?

Spent many an hour the summer between 6th and 7th grade plopped down on the library floor in the aisle containing plays and poetry perusing to my heart’s content.

She began with a large, wonderful, krinkly-eyed smile, asking if the Sea Green big daisy-hooded car was mine. I replied that “Yes, that’s Smitty!” She gave her name, Kelly Lyles, introducing herself in affiliation with Art Cars locally and nationally. I looked over then, to what surely was her very own art car. Leopard Bernstein. She then personally asked if I’d like to join in the Fremont Fair where many an art car congregates to the tune of much fanfare and broohaha. Dream 72, checked it off the list! Made my toes warm. Spent many an hour the summer between 6th and 7th grade plopped down on the library floor in the aisle containing plays and poetry perusing to my heart’s content. There I found a book on “Art Cars”. The taking of a vehicle and adding various knick-knackage and/or paint to create a themed wonder on wheels. The fascination began!

Been totally hankering for a car to tinker with again. One day, someday. Chalkboard! Wanna paint one with chalkboard paint along with attached and usable chalk for the making of many public doodles. Taking something unwanted, unattractive, out of vogue, like a Pinto say, and elevating it to a place worthy of adoration, in which it’s cared for, loved. Paraded! A thing of beauty, albeit questionably. Art cars can be thoroughly tacky, but when done well, kitschy! Where tacky meets nostalgia, its saving grace. Sadly, Smitty met his demise before he was able to attend his first official gathering. Still, he was thoroughly loved around town, receiving many a wave and wild pointing while out and about. Hooray for that! ♦

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Roots II

“Mom”

My mom, cutie-tootie.

“Mom”

My mom, awh.

“Mom”

My mom, that collar, that hair, oh my!

“Mom”

My mom holding a persons known (ME) and showing her gams.

“Dad”

My dad! Cute, round, little head!

“Dad”

My dad with his family at Mt. Rainier.

“Dad”

Dad, at eighteen and enlisted! A daughter of both a sailor AND a longshoreman, and yet, I despise cussing! Maybe that’s why …

“Dad”

Dad after he had all his upper teeth replaced with shiny new false ones on a mission for smile perfection.

“Parents”

The parents, their wedding day! Let the mayhem ensue …

“Parents”

Yay! I’m in this picture. Can you find where?

“Parents”

Dad’s mustache competes with my tricycle for best handlebar. ♦

Painting by Karen Kamenetzky

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… Wonderments

I just pictured all of you in your underwear.
Just thought you should know. In case you were wondering. :)

That shall stand as my topic lead-in. That of wonderment. Silly frivolity with a knack for accumulating and insulating the mind from the true tasks at hand. See also: Involuntary procrastination. The perpetual Googler, I am. Are you? Plugging in countless wonderments throughout the day, I am often rewarded with not only an answer, but relief from that nagging want of knowing. There are some wonderments that Google hasn’t provided an answer for, and those I bring forth for mulling over.

Now, surely Google could provide an explanation of various star rating systems

Take for instance, the star rating system. Many things are rated by stars, be it movies, restaurants, hotels, the spice level of foods, on it goes. Now, surely Google could provide an explanation of various star rating systems, but one (me) would have to know the magic words to feed into said Google to drum up the wanted answer. In the past, I thought 4-star this and 4-star that were considered top-notch, but I sometimes hear of 5-star that and 5-star this. Indian and Thai food at one restaurant have been on a 4-star scale of spiciness, 5-star at another. So clearly, certain topics are not rigidly defined, but restaurants and hotels must be, yes? Can someone clarify, tell me the maximum number of stars in superiority for each? You’ll earn a star. ;)

Wondering how many of you can claim the luxury of an ejection seat feature in your current vehicle. Because I can! I may slow to stop at an intersection. Brake to avoid hitting furry woodland creatures and small cuddly toddlers. Or abruptly tromp on the the pedal to prevent collision with the vehicle of an erratic driver (probably due to their own plague of wonderment). My seat belt slides into action! Dutifully reversing in its track from its snug and appropriate location up near my shoulder, it hauls bum back to a passive location, back to where it resides during car OFF mode. This clears the way for the force built from moving at rapid speed to hurl the driver (gulp) up and out. “Beep, beep, beep!” it proclaims as it goes. Ejector seat! The wonderment lies in the car company (Mazda is most certainly NOT my beloved VW) who provided an Allen wrench toolish thing-a-ma-jig along with printed instructions in a little “care kit” for when “maintenance” of the randomly dysfunctioning seatbelt occurs. Was the matter of potential ejection not deemed worthy enough for a more viable solution? A recall? A non-release of vehicle to market until all seat belts were perfected?

I am happily clueless when it comes to all things Harry Potter save for those delightful Bertie’s Botts Jelly Belly jelly beans. Truly, who’s Bertie? But love those beans! With such horrendous flavors as Vomit, Booger, Ear Wax, Sardine, Rotten Egg, Bacon and Spaghetti, it’s like a super mini version of Fear Factor. A taste, if you will. I’m quite fond of the Black Pepper bean, as I actually feel I must sneeze for a brief moment. Behold! New flavors await! Toothpaste, Moldy Cheese, Baby Wipes and Pencil Shavings. Can’t wait for the Pencil Shavings, as I’m quite familiar with the taste, rather smell of them, due to the abundant use of colored pencils over the years. Skunk Spray, anyone? That’s the one I DREAD. Totally wondering about the taste test process involved in recreating such flavors. Did lab testers have to actually taste a sampling of boogers and ear wax and such to determine the taste to aim for? Were there scores of test audience participants who tasted and unanimously voted that -yep, that’s so the flavor of Sardine?

I’ve relented. I now own an out ‘n’ out coffee maker. Have had an espresso machine for years, but that’s all together different. Thing is, I don’t wanna actually drink coffee. Not on a daily must-consume-caffeine-to-function-kinda level, you know? Yeah, I just want the joys and comfort of the AROMA. Childhood is what did it. The memory of coffee wafting down the hall when first waking, the sound of the percolation, I want it! Dream of it even! The model I’d truly like happens to cost an unjustifiable $999, so I’m making due with an easy, cheap ‘n’ dinky 4-cup model. Sounds a bit like Darth Vader. Wondering if I can feel right about brewing a pot o’ mud every morning just for the satisfaction of a childhood whim. I’m thinking not. I need some friendly coffee drinking neighbors who can use this to their benefit! That, or Bean’s gonna have to start drinking morning coffee!

Wondered how long before she’d have her fill of petting.

In the pursuit of answering a recent wonderment, I visited Sahale, one of the best dogs on the planet! Was at my friend’s house and their Golden Retriever was in want of constant attention and affection as always. Thought it was time to dote on her a bit and see just how much she could take. Wondered how long before she’d have her fill of petting. An hour and 45 minutes later, she stood, stretched and walked to the front door. Triumph! That was nothing. Thought I’d be there for the 3-5 hour range. Not even 5 minutes later though, she circled back for round two!

Restless sleep has been mine for the dealing off and on for months and months now. Back in February though, it’s like something clicked, I could finally, finally sleep well again. Celebrated with foo-foo bedding! Anyone else have particular difficulty with staying put securely in their bed when swathed in satin sheets? Clothing or no, I slip right out. Not like, hit-the-floor out, but precarious dangling is a nightly event. Even tried lotion as a sort of makeshift adhesive, to no avail. Soon enough, it dries, and then extra lotiony soft, the treachery continues. Thinking this one’s a case of “Suck it up, Davis! Super slippery, silky soft bedding is a trouble many would gladly claim.”

Also wondering … what happened here? It’s like a duck exploded, or something. The lawn near my car, covered! Did I leave the car unlocked? Was there an unauthorized use of …

Lawn Covered In White Feathers

… the ejector seat? ♦

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