Tag Archives: Shane

This, That, and the Other

It’s Shane’s birthday tomorrow- he enjoys Kevin Bacon tremendously, but I’ve restrained myself from gifting him a Friday the 13th Bacon tie-in of some sort.


Speaking of hockey, went to my first game last year, and this pic pretty much captures my favorite thing about the experience: the green lit strips embedded into the pavement at the entrance to the ShoWare Center. Blame it on the mindless oaf in front of me whose violent fanaticism left me struggling to not act out a bout of fanatical violence. Would’ve been fine except for the fact that his seven-to-eightish year old son sat right next to him taking it all in. Plus, our guys- the Thunderbirds- played sloppily, and a little dirty, but not in a fun way. I much admired the other team (which team was it again…) for their grace and ability to actually execute an orchestrated play versus scrappily act on the defense and crudely attempt a helter-skelter grab at the puck. I’m talking out of my bum a bit, having not followed hockey ever, I just know how their abilities compared visually, at least at that particular game.


While watching the Academy Awards this year, I teared up during the memoriam when I saw that Joseph Bologna passed away in 2017. He was a face (more than) from childhood. I was ah, nuts over his show Rags to Riches. ♦

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It’s Been a Quick Journey From There to Here …

It was the afternoon of Button’s baby shower, and over two dozen attendees decided to alight upon my front door at the same time. Were they all sitting out in their vehicles, only to see one person head in and then- stampede! I believe so, more or less. I only wish I’d had everyone pause for a quick pic as I opened the door- all huddled on the porch flowing down the stairs and spilling onto the landing below. Quite the sight!

Had a small hiccup to start- nothing big, just a standard power outage. Or two, *cough*, three. Yeah, two new coffee urns, I’m lookin’ at YOU. I had most every light and appliance on in the place (my usual, when entertaining), and had just hit “start” on the coffee and hot water before opening the door to guests. When one aunt immediately ran for the bathroom and a (not Bean) pregnant lady nabbed the other, their combined light switching caused all the power to promptly cut out.

Thank goodness Bean went to town on the switch box to correct the problem, but not before it continued to trip as no one, i.e., me, had addressed the urn snafu just yet. I’d quickly returned to the kitchen where I was practically up to my elbows in meat, having roasted and shredded a near ton of pork to marinate for mini sliders aplenty and had grossly underestimated the time to build them all despite having a nifty assembly line process in place. Drat to you, NOT pre-sliced rolls. Next time I’ll read the package better, AND not fail to test any new coffee urns and the like. All of course, after I’ve grown two more arms and can transcend the need for sleep. Used to be really good at that last one, but I currently try for midnight (heavy on the ish) to 7 a.m. (more ish).

There was much, much more where this came from

Shower Invitations” border=
In keeping with the wedding theme, style and colors

So some twenty minute hullabaloo passed by in completing the buffet prep while people got to mingling about with beverages in hand. Got the whole thing back on track and great fun was had! The group games were especially hilarious, one pitting three teams of people against each other in a relay to diaper a dolly blindfolded. At one point, my Dad was neck and neck with my Mom (my parents have made amends and we spend our holidays together in recent years with no animosity, because God is good) and good-natured jokes flew out about ex-spouses this and older folks that and they gave as good as they got, but both still caused their teams to lose big time! (This portion of the tale brought to you by team 1, the winners.)

Because Cadbury tastes like chocolate and Hershey’s doesn’t so sayeth our Brits

Chew on this

Would anyone like a peanut?

It being a coed shindig, a few wussy men chose to stay home, while the majority attended with their counterparts, totally missing out because they were hung up on the term “shower” rather than viewing it as a party, as it was.

Game On



a few of many more details

And at parties, there’s cake, of which I’d ordered two- a chocolate one and a good one – white with double lemon filling. I have a thing with cakes for some reason- it doesn’t matter if I order it early or late, in person or on the phone, at a chez fou bakery or a grocery- THEY GET IT WRONG. Always. For years. It’s both comical and disappointing at the same time. This cake ordering task is usually passed to someone else because of this now fact, not just common cowinky. So I shoulda known. There was a big ol’ mix up at the bakery with one of the cakes, but they managed a work around that was actually better than the original order and >>> FREE <<< on top of it because of the mistake. I KNOW to look under the hood and the pizza box aaand the cake box when picking up an order, but I believed the manager when she said she’d checked the replacement cake in the back before bringing it out.

I got home around 11 p.m. and was set to add all sorts of candy buttons I’d bought to customize it. I open the box and the lavender accosts my eyes. One, I’m happy it’s a cake! Coulda been a pie. Perhaps a cream puff. But that’s not the color we’d discussed, they’re now closed and there’s no time nor other person to drive back the next day to fix this no matter how I reason it out. I decide to scrape all the buttercream off, recolor it, refrost, button it up and call it a night. So I did. Thought I’d get around to a follow up photo the next day when the full spread was out, but as shared, time and power had other things in mind.



Naturally, in the journey from there to here, this brings me to Africa. Met for dinner with a friend several weeks back and she shared a story about their eldest preteen daughter discovering ways she can help the parts of the world in need, by volunteering in her immediate community as well as outside of it. This discovery led her family to decide on a trip to Africa for two weeks at the end of Mayish to help put a roof on a church and to work with the youth there on the coast of Kenya where ISIS attempts to recruit from the younger population.

Later that night, I received a text from her following up on this, that and the other that had been discussed over dinner. She ends the message with an “Oh, BTW” kinda thing, stating that I’m welcome to join them on the trip if I’d like. I stopped reading- I’m immediately ponderous, joyous, conflicted, and torn. I reread the message and see that I hadn’t even finished it- she had written on to say that she’d found a ticket online and she’d pay half for me. Because of course she would, that’s how she is. But I know that I won’t go, so I write back how very much I’d like, no, absolutely love to go, and the reason for not.

That precious perfectly perfect reason was born this last Saturday night, May 28th, around 10 p.m. just shy of her mommy’s birthday- my Bean, of course- on Sunday, May 29th.


These two people in a photo from many years ago now, are the proud and exhausted parents of Edie. Edith Quinn, that is, intended to be called Edie, the newest “It” girl in town. Edith, a harsh unforgiving name, to my ears at least, is balanced so nicely by the succinct “Quinn.” Named for a number of characters in recent films and such, including Despicable Me, Downton Abbey and Crimson Peak. Now I must rewatch Grey Gardens again. Bean and Shane shared a short list of name possibilities months ago and intended for the name to be announced at her birth, but …

We were out late ordering breakfast at an ungodly hour after a trek to Grapeview, WA for my Dad’s brother’s 50th wedding anniversary. Tired, Bean calls Button by her actual name in mentioning the crib construction to Shane. He gives her a look and I pretend I didn’t hear anything, trying to determine if this is her way of telling me early. She says the name again and Shane’s face tells me this wasn’t intended. It takes her a moment to clue in, but when she does, she admonishes her brain on baby repeatedly, not believing she’s slipped. We kept right on calling her Button though, and still do!

Bean’s birth experience, the overview:

1 Hours go by, contractions occur, dilation proceeds and Bean barely talks, breathing, breathing, breathing, tense and rigid focusing on the ceiling.

2 Reaches magical dilation number and receives epidural. Continually wonders aloud how women manage a birth without an epidural having had a taste of the pain.

3 Births her daughter and then proceeds to brag like a warrior queen about how well she did. And she did! Did it quite fast when it came time to push and that epidural didn’t seem to be doing much considering the noises she made (though I’m sure it staved off a whole heap’s worth of more pain). Her incentive was to keep their birthdays separate.

In new daddyhood, Shane only left the hospital room to grab the occasional cuppa tea. He remains in awe of the female body to power through all it does in producing a most lovely munchkin. A lightweight when it comes to blood or maybe just grisly situations- he left the movie theatre and puked when we saw the arm cutting scene in 127 Hours– he relayed the story of cutting the umbilical cord and watching the entire birthing process rather than just standing up near Bean’s side as planned originally.

A birthing room favorite- just in case anyone’s clueless about why everyone’s there, the sound of the baby’s heartbeat is broadcast prominently from a monitoring machine, chugging away in a white noise of underwater warbliness.

Felt it flood in and expand filling with a sense of warmth, culminating in incredulous wonder.

I’ve been concerned as of late wondering when love would take up residence in my heart for the new little life on the way. I was surprised to find that it had not, having expected that it’d be that “just built-in love” with family that I’ve always known. When not built in, I always feel care build whether gradually or quickly, and boom!- one day I wake up and I love another person. It’s just there, and took only my recognizing it for it to be so. As I held Edie this past weekend though, I actually felt love grow. In the moment! Felt it flood in and expand filling with a sense of warmth, culminating in incredulous wonder.

Button has gobs of dark hair much like Bean did as a baby, and is in fact, much cuter than any old button. I like to give voice to her little baby movements- a twitch here, a small flail there- like the folks from Mystery Science Theater 3000 with a running commentary, but making Bean laugh is a no-no at present as she’s on the mend and laughing hurts. Hurts! So not fair, how can I control myself … I’ve had some wonderments, like why the heck don’t see-thru diapers exist? It’s been a number of years since I’ve had diaper duty, and a helpful little plastic window placed just so as to ascertain whether a deposit’s been made seems doable. (If a diaper is the lone wardrobe selection for some munchkins, please purchase the windowless kind.)


Lastly, in arriving here from there, a reminder of Grandpa found its way to the hospital room in the form of a rubber pillow meant for spacing the legs. The staff call it a Minion, but no sir, that, is a peanut. ♦

She’s not yellow like a Simpson, just super glowy lighting

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Fried Gold





One must be prepared in all things when growing their family, so thought I’d help Shane out in protecting the home front with a gift this past Christmas. Found these gorgeous cricket bats etched with the plan from Shaun of the Dead. The designer acquired a number of them from the UK ranging in age anywhere between the 1930s to the 1970s. It arrived wrapped in burlap and smelled so ding-dang good. ♦

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But Don’t Call Him Shirley.


Impromptu dinner.
It’s kinda ugly.
(I like it.)
Runny yolk? Please.
Turkey bacon doing its best (visual) impersonation of the real deal.
Yep, I regret store-bought pesto every. single. TIME! Usually make my own- easy enough and- heaven. A green food that tastes like anything but green, if ya know what I mean.


Bought the latest Brandon Flowers album, The Desired Effect, a while back and am only now giving it a decent listen. Loving the varied layers of instrumentation, the thrumming beat of this song and the poppish anthem of that one. The reviewers that begged to differ are welcome to the leftovers of that afore mentioned store-bought pesto. Cheers! This album in fact, helps make up for his last attempt, Flamingo, which hasn’t received much play past the initial one frankly. Save for one song, that is- Crossfire– its accompanying music video features Charlize Theron fending off a copious number of ninjas- entirely plausible- all to save Flowers who finds himself bound and incapacitated not twice, but thrice.


The look he gives her? It’s nice to be fought for.


I don’t currently enjoy the wait at red intersection lights while driving, as I feel certain that I receive more than my fair share. The wait at this particular intersection happens to be an exception however. Mere feet from the log river ride at the adjacent amusement park makes for a gorgeous sight at times depending on the position of the sun when I happen to be driving by, most usually on the shortish ride home from the toy company (I love saying that). Spent many weekends there growing up. At the amusement park, not the toy company. (Knew that was coming, didn’t ya?)


Amusement- got myself locked in an overnight garage several months back. Well, my car, rather. Was enjoying the likes of the Rat City Brass, a Tijuana Brass tribute band, with coworkerly friends in celebration of the new gig. Downtown Seattle in the near pouring rain at 2 a.m. is always welcome (hey, it feels iconic), yet knowing I fully read the sign that stated the garage would close at midnight when I knew I’d be out past that and still choosing to park there? Makes me wonder about the firing rate of the synapses in the grey matter above. Thankfully, a call to the garage attendant and a $35 fee set my beloved car free sooner rather than later. Oddly, a new coworker experienced the very same thing at the very same garage after attending the same venue within weeks of my debacle. Same musical escapade? I imagine not.

This debuted last week and it’s pretty epic. Macklemore & Ryan Lewis’s Downtown music video. There are too many points of like to list without breaking out the bullet points what with its mishly mashed cluster funk of audio and visual variety. And it’s filmed in Spokane, WA which has been more or less surrounded in a pretty epic ring of fire as of late due to rampant and massive forest fires the likes of which have not been seen in the Northwest.

Aside: Thrilled to learn that my friend Shannon’s parent’s farm (with sheepies) will survive the surrounding fires largely due to the (at last!) rainfall over the weekend. They stowed their kitties away in a trailer atop a grassy notgreen hill the past week, with daily visits ensuing. The internal interactions of that trailer- the stuff of Youtube videos, me thinks.


Shane and Bean just returned from Spokane actually, along with a new children’s book for my collection procured from Boo Radley’s, a novelty shop I’d like to enjoy some day. I snapped a recent pic of them at the park as we hung out with Julian, surely a munchkin composed partially of silly putty. ♦

*I may have to rethink this spork thing. Till then, they remain evil.

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Mind Your Manor

You Know How

Thought I’d cleaned the place well and good for this year’s previously mentioned Easter celebration. But then there was a hiccup in the egg hunt. Shane couldn’t find his last blue egg. Helped most everyone else find some of theirs and ended up coming in last place because of this little guy sitting on my bedroom window ledge. Kingfisher Blue. The ledge, not the egg. Don’t know if blue’s his favorite for a reason or because he’s colorblind and counts it among colors he can see. Perhaps both. More importantly, look! A cobweb belied the big Easter clean. And happily so what with my odd take on cobwebs. Alas, the wide open window of weeks past has up and blown it away. ♦

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Toulouse Petit


Shane took one for the team, what with his deep affection for the French and all.

We were at Teatro ZinZanni.
Part circus, part dinner theatre.
Bean had booked us the table where all the action happens.
The show was under way and the emcee was on the prowl for a love interest from the audience.
He locked eyes with my sister.
He was rather on the short side, a dwarf who wasn’t afraid to use his stature for a laugh.
He began to woo Bean by creating a “silent film” for her before our very eyes.
He built an Empire State Building from cardboard.
He shimmy-shook down to his boxers in traditional striptease fashion.
Hold the hubba.
He then climbed the “building” and proceeded to pound his chest and roar silently as if the great King of Kong with accompanying music sounding on in the background.
Shane sat fairly comfortably taking it all in until the next segment.
Amazing acrobatic feats awaited!
A pole was produced and inserted into the center of our table that ran to the ceiling above.
A French mime scaled the pole dressed in classic stripes and ballet tights.
Mere inches above our very heads, this man flexed and strained every defined muscle to cling to that pole, twisting and turning, climbing and flipping.
We were in appreciation and admiration of the sheer strength required to stay bound in the air in such a way and for such a duration.
A Frenchman’s well clad nether regions so near his wife’s face weren’t exactly how Shane had expected the night to unfold.

Soon after, he began attending Krav Maga classes and has so ever since. Coincidence?

But that was my dad’s birthday a few years back.
So, come my most recent birthday, a French (Creole) restaurant it was!
Bean’s selection, thinking I’d enjoy it. Right-o!

Jumbo ‘Barbecued’ Shrimp New Orleans over Creamy Corn Grits- lemon, paprika, cayenne, garlic, and Dixie lager. Uh-may-zing! Heavy on the zing. These dared rival Gino’s Wicked Prawns.

The restaurant’s menu boasts some curious stats:

250: about how many votive candles we light each night
712: separate panes of glass set into our windows and doors
85,000: about how many two inch by two inch Italian mosaic tiles are in the main body of our floor
40,000: about how many glass tiles are on our booth platforms
5,000: about how many pounds of plaster were mixed and hand applied to our walls, one bucket at a time
10,000: about how many board-feet of fine hardwood lumber we used to construct Toulouse

A lot of the things didn’t work out the first time we tried them …

Looks like they eventually got it right. ♦

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