I was wrong.

Another foggy day here at the coast.

We had to drive for the second day in a ROW, to Portland. My car is broken again. I feel like my life is like that movie, Groundhog Day, I just keep doing the same thing over and over again and again. I'm not getting any better at it, but at least I know how it is all going to turn out.

Anyway, it is hot in Portland, like 109 degrees! Which is way too hot. Anything over 85 is too hot. But in Seaside, it is foggy. Chilly and foggy. Nice.

So I sit and watch the fog. You can't see the ocean or the town, heck you can't even seen the edge of my property. It is eerie and I really don't like it. One of the things that is amazing living here, is how Lewis and Clark ever found this place. I have never been all that fond of the Lewis and Clark expedition. Maybe because being from the Pacific Northwest it is our one claim to fame. We cut our teeth on this story. I have always kind of pooh-poohed it. Whatever! Enough already.

After living here for a month IN THE SUMMER I have really changed my tune. I am here to tell you that what they did was nothing short of a miracle. In the summer, with heat, electricity, automobiles, drive-thru Starbucks, grocery stores, and the fact that I am not at sea, I can barely hold on. For them to do all they did in the dead of winter, in canoes, and with all the obstacles they found, is extraordinary! I totally think they ROCK the world. Of course, they had some help with Sacagawea, the Indian guide and women extraordinaire and Seaman, the Newfoundland dog.

All that they accomplished is something that I will never understand. I can't even find things in my local Safeway store and there they were, sketching, exploring, discovering, mapping, surviving all in the dead of winter. Living down here even in the summer, it seems like the dead of winter. In the winter this is truly an amazing place. A scary, wild amazing place.

So, Lewis, Clark and Sacagawea you guys were something special. Thank you!

Swallowed a fly

Hey! you know what goes great with my plate of nachos? Watching your dog eat a fly!

I know! lucky, lucky me. Sometimes the sheer luckiness of my life just overwhelms me.

Olive has decided to eat flies. Alive flies. I assume after she catches them they are dead, but they could very well still be alive. That just makes the story that much more disturbing. If you are disturbed, you should try the live floor show I get.

For the time being, my computer is set up in the living room. I reside right next to the living room window and the fly holder of the house. I have no idea why this is so, it just is. Flies fly (haha, that's a funny two words) into the house and park their little bodies right on the window. They fly around buzzing, hitting the window and doing what ever in the hell that flies do. All day. Every day. It is my fault. Since we are having our two and a half days of summer, I leave the doors open. Which is a formal invitation for all living flying disgusting creatures of nature to come on in, the water is fine. At which case, they head right over to the window and annoy the hell out of me.

Last week, it was Olive to the rescue. Super fly! she is. Now when she sleeps, it is the sleep of the dead. Of course it is only 32 seconds of any day but a bomb could go off on her head and she would sleep right through it. Since she can't be away from me for any length of time, she stretches out under the window and snores and passes horrific gas for 32 seconds of the day. Last week, the flies arrived and have taken away the 32 second pause.

Now she stretches out, closes her eyes and I start to feel calmness invade me, only to have her fling herself into the air, attach herself to my window like she has suction cups for paws and snap away. At first, I thought she was having some sort of fit. She waited until the house was quiet, dark and I was relaxing. When all of a sudden pantomime broke out and I thought we were under siege of some wolves gone rabid. Nope, just Olive. She flings herself up, snapping her jaws with rapid force on nothing but air. Over and over again. Snap, Snap, Snap. Air, Air, Air.

Then an amazing thing happened! She channeled Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid and caught a fly. I have no idea who was more amazed, her or the fly. She immediately opened her mouth, the fly flew away and she went back to banging her empty head on the window. Snap, Snap, Snap. I got up and caught the fly and let it loose in the back yard. I figured that was enough excitement for the fly and since he had the most AMAZING story to tell the other flies, he could go free.

Now every second Olive uses her brain, it is in the hope that she will catch a fly. She smacks her mouth a lot, but unless we have a fly epidemic in Seaside, she doesn't catch anything, but I don't really look all that close either.

So now she is like the poem "There was an old lady who swallowed a fly, I don't know why she swallowed a fly, perhaps she'll die. . . ." I don't think that will happen but I am glad she isn't channelling some poem with Frankenstein or snakes.

Just a day.

Another end to a long day. Getting settled is one giant pain in the rear and I believe I will live in this house FOREVER. All I do is move one load of crap to one place and then move another to another place, ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY.

Of course, I also make stupid lazy ass decisions because I am, well, an lazy ass. Today I tried to move the bookshelves with all the stuff still on them. They only needed to go a little ways. No lifting, just sliding. I'm sure you can see where this is going, I sure wish I had. If you own REAL wood shelves, you would be led to believe that the shelf supports are metal. You would be wrong. They are plastic, in which case they give way and the whole kit and caboodle crashes onto the floor. You save no time with this scenario because now you get to clean up broken glass and cry. I unloaded them and they are now residing in their new (oh, lets just hope it is so!) space.

I cleaned up 100 billion bug carcasses. Gross! Washed and vacuumed the floors and shuffled the crap around. Tomorrow is another day and maybe I will actually have something that resembles a room. All my furniture doesn't fit, so the room looks a little (ok, a lot) like a furniture warehouse. Chairs, tables, couches all just pushed together into a furniture orgy. So, so sad.

Now I am going to make popcorn, drink my water and sit in the chair that is closest by the fire. It is a foggy night (again!) here and the tv is calling my name. LOUDLY

Beach

Tonight the kid and I took the two dogs for a walk on the beach.
The rest of the state is having a huge heat wave, but here on the coast it is foggy and chilly. I like the cooler weather but I hate the fog. I don't like the feeling of not seeing anything. Most of the time I can see the ocean and all the lights of the town. During the summer months, in the evening, no ocean and no town. Just gray. For some reason it gives me the willies and I pull the blinds closed and read.Since it is cloudy and chilly, the tourists enjoy the beach from the warmth of their hotel rooms, which leaves it wide open for the locals to walk around on. And to let the dogs run wild and chase tennis balls. Olive chases Herbie. Herbie chases his beloved, the green tennis ball.
Herbie lives for his tennis balls. He knows where they all are at any given moment of the day. If one so much as thinks about moving, he immediately brings it right back to his side. He sleeps with them, sets them by him while he eats and guards them faithfully from Olive. If one rolls under a chair where he cannot retrieve it. He will lay there and cry his little pitiful cry until someone moves the chair. They are a way of life for him. Olive on the other hand, couldn't care less about a tennis ball but she is always up for a game of lets send Herbie head over heals in the sand. She achieves this feat of wonder by just running smack dab into him and a tumblin' he goes. As long as she doesn't make any contact with the beloved, he is fine with taking a sand bath. If she inadvertently touches the beloved, Herbie turns on her like a mama bear defending her cub.

So tonight Herbie ran his little fireplug of a body all over the beach. Olive danced and pranced her way into every crab carcass she could find. Herbie carried his ball with delight. Olive rolled in seaweed. The kid took pictures. I breathed deeply and looked for my inner peace, then Olive stomach punched me and I decided "screw inner peace pay attention before she ruptures a kidney or two."
We walked and ran and caught our kodak moments, then turned and came home as the heavy fog descended upon us. The dogs are tired. The beloved is wet and covered with sand. Now we shall eat guacamole in front of the fire. Perfect!

Sadness

So tonight the ex drove down and dropped off the rest of the remnants of the old life. As usual, he tried to throw in some crap he didn't want but was to lazy to haul to the dump. This time I was on to the plan and hauled it all the way back to his truck and told him to take it back with him. This is not the dump.

He did that "Oh my, are you sure you don't want this priceless artifact of your previous life, that is now broken and of no use to me?" I just walked away.

Still no job. Still the house isn't listed. Though he found time to go to the Seafair Pirates arrival on Alki beach. Good to know he has his priorities straight.

Tonight I'm not so fine. My heart is so broken it is unbelievable that I can still be alive and walking. It isn't so much that I want him back, because I know that I don't, it is just that everything seems wrapped in memories of us. This house, the kid, my life, everything. I go through my days and they are fine. Not awesome, but not bad. But what happens in September when the kid heads off to college? At this age how do I start all over again? Will it come to me piece by piece? Is it something I should already know? How do I make friends? How do I start to build another life? Why is it so easy for him and so hard for me?

Questions upon questions. They flood my mind and my every waking thoughts. I don't mind being alone. I like myself just fine. I have many interests to keep me occupied. It just seems that the world is paired up. Either people already have it, or they are searching for it. What happens to the people who don't want it again? where do they go?

On Monday, my (old) house will be staged and listed for a fast sale. A house I spent 16 years in. A house I remodeled. A house I raised my son in. A house I built for the long run. I tell my self it is just a house, everything that meant anything is where I reside now. All that we are, all that we love, we carry inside with us. I believe that. It's just tonight I think sadness is blocking the view of it.

P.S.: I leave you with some pictures of Olive. The kid found his camera stuff and spent some time outside snapping photos of Olive. They are fantastic. She is a beautiful dog. It is a shame that she is so annoying.

Passing

So today we headed to the HUGE city of Portland for some shopping and a lunch out. In a small town you end up with lists, lists that start "When I am in the big city, I need to buy. . . ." Since the post-it note was filled with what needed buying, we headed out.

It is a fairly nice drive. The summer is better since it is over some mountains and they can by icy/snowy up until July 22 and then they are clear until July 31 when the snow arrives again. Ha Ha! just kidding, sort of. Anyway, it is a pretty straight shot into Portland. Portland has horrendous traffic but the freeways are nicely marked and parking is abundant. The weather was going to be medium warm and they had a bookstore and coffee, ALL IN THE SAME PLACE. Plus, makeup and cut up pineapple chunks. You can't buy those in the same store, I so totally wish, but you get the idea.

First we had the trying to get out the door fiasco. Mostly the kid has to rearrange his clothing options for about a billion times, as if we are heading to meet some royal family not just enjoying some noodles and browsing a used book store. Only when the car is physically backing out the driveway does he fling himself into the car with a huge sigh that this day may or may not suck because he is or isn't wearing the proper attire. The fact that I just have clothes on is good enough for me, so I can be ready in 15 seconds, faster if only flip flops can be worn. I am so the perfect woman.

So driving, which is where this rant is going, it is one lane in each direction, occasionally one or the other will get a passing lane. We have a speed limit of 55, I think so we can actually count the number of bizarre bars that are located in the middle of friggin' no where. We have a new one called "Roadhouse." I really wanted to stop to see if I could pick up either Patrick Swayze or that yummy Sam Elliott but for some strange reason it was not opened at 10:00 in the morning. All the other bars were, I think the Roadhouse was being a bit snooty but I'm sure they will learn a valuable lesson and come down off of their high horse and open at 8:00 like the rest of the bars.

The passing lane . . . so here we are moseying right along, we talk like that in the country, doing a nice 40 miles per hour. All piled up behind the RV/logging truck, etc. We hit the passing lane. In a miracle hardly seen in this neck of the woods, we all increase our speed to just something under the speed of light. It is amazing, we are whipping right along. We could easily be in Portland in about 30 minutes if we kept this up. Alas, it is not to be, the passing lane ends and back down to a snail pace we go. Another passing lane, another warp speed, end of passing line, slug pace. All the way this goes until we hit the four lane road and then it all evens out.

What is up with this? It is like you will be receiving a letter in the mail that you were passed in a passing lane, and therefore have been awarded the nerd of the year medal. People have a huge problem with someone passing them. A huge problem. I don't care, which sends the kid into some sort of fit in the passenger seat. Sighing, small utterances under his breath and then finally the outright saying of OH MY GOD, you are getting passed! PASSED!!!! I tell you, OMG. I turn up the radio and start singing. Maybe it is a guy thing, I don't know, I just know that I didn't end up with the gene.

So, Pass away, people, pass away!

Karma Gods

I have done something in my past to really piss off the karma gods!

I feel like I am in the ring with a heavy weight and I was simply a passerby who got thrown in the mix for fun. I am not having fun while I am getting my ass kicked on a daily basis.

Making a new life is all well and good. I'm enjoying my part of it. What I don't enjoy is the remnants of the old one. Still having to deal with a freak of nature most days almost brings me to my knees. Bills aren't getting paid. The house isn't getting listed with a real estate agency. Though he did find time to have a bbq with people he met on line and someone named Tangerine.

So we are tied together like two rabid dogs. I know it won't be like this forever, eventually the divorce will be final, the decree will show up and I can finally be finished with the biggest moron to walk the earth. But Oh My God, it is a slow process. And a very frustrating one.

The worst part isn't all of the aggravation or bizarre behavior. No, it is the feeling that maybe he was like this from the very beginning and I didn't notice it. Or I somehow caused it. And then I added a kid to the equation. What will be the repercussions for him? I worry the most about this. I try and run a calm, orderly, loving home. Dinners, rules, humor, pets, and a ton of love. All of this I provide in huge quantities in the hope that it will offset some of the negatives. Who knows if it will work. I hope and pray it will.

I hold firm to the belief that I will come out the other side battered and weary but ultimately stronger and taller. None of us know what the future holds for us. Right now mine holds chaos and uncertainty. But it won't always.

I just hope that the change comes a little bit quicker.

The photo says it all

So Olive.

Growing in body but not the mind. Is the hit of the party because she is the girl with the lampshade on her head doing body shots. Has absolutely no standards.

Everyone who meets her loves her. Everyone who has to live with her questions their own will to live on a day to day basis.

She has some attractive sides. Every morning at the crack of dawn she starts doing her cow impressions. Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, emanates from the guest room. It gets louder and louder the longer she feels she is being deprived of your attention. She spins around in her crate, like a car doing donuts, whooing it up. Finally in desperation for the bleeding to stop in our ears, someone (me) goes and gets her. Which of course, rewards her for the bad behavior but at least we will have hearing for another day. She needs to go outside IMMEDIATELY. A moment delay and you will pay a very steep price. Then she eats. Then she needs to go outside IMMEDIATELY. Then she needs to pummel you in the stomach with her giant hairy body until you go and get Herbie. Then you throw him to her in the hope you can scarf down a cup of coffee before you take another body blow to your mid-section.

This goes on ALL day. All day, everyday! Though sometimes she adds in the I ate crap from the garbage can and need to hurl all day long. Or, I found deer poop and either ate it, at which case I hurl, or rolled around in it, at which case I hurl.

We escape from the yard. We dig holes. We eat grass, twigs and moss. We chew up everything that doesn't resemble a dog toy. Dog toys must remain unblemished. She is a collector of pristine dog toys. I am a collector of chewed unmentionables, purses, nylons, and computer cords.

She has to sleep on your feet. Not next to your feet, but on top of your feet. Like a giant muff. She is starting to do away with that one and has now started to sleep in a new position. One that I can't really explain but I'm pretty sure sends a clear signal to the unlady like behavior of Olive.


Yep, the photo says it all.

What I am doing!

Hello!

Did you miss me?

Since we last spoke. I have turned 46 - OH MY GOD! Had a garage sale. Broke a toe nail clean off. Joined facebook. Picked up the garbage from my garbage cans 7 nights in a ROW because the raccoons know how to open cans. Even cans with stupid bungee cords laced around them. Even I can't open my own garbage cans but the coons can. We breed them friggin brilliant down here.

Had 20 arguments with the kid. Bought out all the chicken wire in a 100 mile radius only to discover that Olive can still escape the yard. Watched the does with their fawns, all of them have twins this year and they are so super cute. Met most of Seaside. Gone for lots of walks on the beach. Decided I should have divorced the moron years ago. Came to the conclusion that you can have two many purses and/or shoes. Decided I should have divorced the moron decades ago. Remembered how much I adore sleep. Wish I could adore it while in my bed, as opposed to in my garage setting out crap, I mean beautiful items, for the garage sale.

Yep, I have been busy. Yep, I am moving right along. Yep, this new phase of my life, as hard as it is, TOTALLY 100% kicks ass! I am the luckiest person in the world. Also, the tiredest. But I will take it. It suits me.

See you every day this week!

What have you been doing?

Book 'em Sunday - House & Home

Today for book 'em Sunday we are doing House & Home by Kathleen McCleary.
This book is set in Portland, Oregon and features Ellen Flanagan and her family. Ellen's life has become quite a roller coaster ride of events, running her own business, raising two daughters, selling the home she deeply loves and losing her eighteen year marriage.

I first picked this book up because it is set in Portland. I love Portland. Since I also love homes and houses and coffee, this seemed right up my ally. It is a book that tells about what makes a house a home. How what we think is SO important, turns out not to be after all.

The writing is engaging and the plot is entertaining as well. I also bought the book because I thought it would be about a relationship going south and how a woman can make it on her own. I haven't finished the book yet, but I have a feeling that that is not going to be the case. I guess we shall see. Even if she ends up taking the dude back, it is still a good read.

These are the type of books I enjoy reading in the summer. Books that grab my attention and hold it without breaking the bank. If you are in the mood for an excellent read, with the benefit of some Portland ambiance, definitely give this one a look.
P.S.: The other afternoon Herbie dropped his ball beneath the deck. As he returned from retrieving the ball, he had this lovely fern frond stuck underneath his curly cue tail. We laughed and laughed as he darted around, seemingly oblivious to the foliage he was carrying. Even Olive gave him a glance or two. Finally, I pulled it off or it could still very well be adorning him today. Enjoy!

What is Peace?

Today we walked on the beach. Since I now have a beach, I feel obligated to use it. It is a nice walk to town and then we walk back on the promenade.

Walking on the beach is quite the experience. You need to dart around small children and running parents, watch out for kite strings, make sure you don't enter someones beach photo, and try and keep Olive from eating everything crab related.

Herbie marches down the beach like a soldier heading for the mess tent. He looks neither right nor left and nothing detracts from the experience of getting home as fast as doggie possible.

Olive on the other hand, is deranged. She darts back and forth as if she has ingested speed tablets. Waves, birds, seaweed, sand, clouds, people, all tend to send her into fits. She has no idea what to do, where to go, what to focus on, therefore she sits down and scratches her ear. 100 times a walk. I, being that I am on a mission to actually accomplish the walk in THIS day, do not notice that she has paused yet again, and I promptly drag her down the beach on her side. Once I feel that dragging motion, I immediately stop but it is too late, she is now covered in sand and refuses to get up. I have wounded her feelings and I must be taught a lesson. She will lay there and gaze at me with her big limpid eyes, as if to say "What have I ever done to you? I have showed you love and kindness in all manner. This is how I get repaid, drug down the shore like luggage." Eventually, she rises with a big sigh and continues on her flighty way. Soon the scenario happens again and again and again.

Once we reach the Prom, Herbie continues his march home and Olive dances down the sidewalk. She sticks her head in and out of the concrete barrier and tries to eat garbage. She will gaze adoringly at birds in the hope that one will come close enough to her for her to exclaim how much she loves flying. She considers birds to be the most amazing creatures EVER and occasionally will fling herself off of the backyard knoll in case she can fly and has not realized it yet.

Herbie wants to get home and will put up with none of her foolishness but that does not deter her from trying. She will grab his leash, lick his head, give him the beautiful feather that she has found, he couldn't care less. HOME, HOME, HOME, FOOD, BED, HOME, is all that goes through his mind and everything else can just piss off.

Once home, they have dinner and Herbie jumps on the couch followed by Olive. She will promptly lay on top of him and gnaw his ear. Trying to tell him the wonderful tale of all she has seen at the beach, he growls and she goes to licking his face, he growls louder, she puts his whole head in her mouth. He gets up and moves to a chair. She shoves herself into the chair and pretends this is so comfortable she can hardly believe her luck. He has had enough and a small screaming match breaks out. Olive loses and heads to the kitchen to sleep on the tile floor. Herbie twirls around 27 times and starts to sleep like the dead.

Peace is two tired dogs.

Catch a Wave

Most nights I sit outside on the back deck and enjoy the evening. I watch the waves and bask in the remaining sunshine. The dogs run around and act poorly. I mostly watch the surfers.

I LOVE the surfers. I have no idea what is a good wave or who makes the best board or anything else surfer related. Hell, I can't even tell the girl surfers from the boy surfers. But every day, there they are, surfing away.

Sometimes there are a whole bunch and then a few days we will only have one or two out there. I guess they didn't get the surf memo for the day. We have these goofy ones that stand on the board and have a giant paddle that they use to maneuver themselves around the water. I make fun of them. We will have people in kayaks or canoes and sometimes we have those very loud and annoying jet ski people.

I am convinced that surfers use the ocean much like women use their phones. It is a gab fest. Some days if the wind is blowing just right, I can hear them talking out there and it is not about waves, I can tell you that. Yesterday, someones rack (yep, that is how they talk here, could be about a women or an elk, you decide) was mighty fine. Everyone laughed and about 4 waves drifted by that no one rode. One surfer stuck his foot in the air and everyone looked. I have no idea what exactly was going on with said foot, but another few waves shot by with no one on them.

I can hear them telling their significant others about their need to "catch some waves" or "work on their boards." It is a scam people, they are bobbing around sittin' on those boards comparing stories. Enjoying their "water lunch time." Laughing and joking and totally not catching a wave. Oh sure, one or two will shoot up and stand on their board, ride the wave for a while. The other surfers consider him quite the show off, I'm just thinking he is not in a relationship yet, so he still really likes to surf.

Just wait, once he bags a babe, a bobbin' he will be.

Snapshots

I have found the camera cord! I know I rock. So in honor of that amazing event, I have gathered some snapshots of my life these days. These are in no particular order.

Dinner. Wine and a plain cake donut. Judge away.
My beautiful book room. Or the depository for all the miscellaneous crap I have no idea what to do with.Herbie being a deck dog. This is his look of total disbelief that his life has taken such a horrible turn for the worse. A deck and the OUTSIDE, seriously man, how much abuse can one dog take.
The delightful kid and dogs on the beach for the Fourth of July. This was Olive's first beach walk and Herbie's 900th. Both drank a gallon of sea water, rolled in seaweed and generally acted like major gomers. The dogs, not the kid. Though he was cranky because Olive touched him with her wet paws RIGHT ON HIS NICE CLOTHES. *Sigh* teenagers, such a joy.
Me doing my first BBQ! yep, I was a BBQ virgin. Took a whole bag of those charcoal things and a squeeze bottle of liquid flames but the end result were hot dogs. I need to practice on some other meat products but that will be later in the summer. Thank God! donuts do not need to be grilled.
I'm now going to sit on the back deck, take in the view and enjoy this glass of wine.

Dreaming of cars

Since I can't afford anything these days. I went and looked at new cars today.

When I was younger, I drove a camaro. First a nice vintage one and then a nice new one. Both standard transmissions and Oh! so cool. Then being a parent took over and I switched to an SUV.

Parents, I found out, didn't want their kids riding around in a muscle car. So, I sold out and bought a SUV and I have never looked back. Until today. I'm done with field trips and huge trips to the supermarket. Oh sure, I still have the dogs but surely they can fit in the back seat. I love the feel of an SUV in the winter. The ability to take on everything in my path. It just doesn't have the cool factor.

I think I want the cool factor. The feel of power. The fun of shifting. The feel of the thrill. The feel of being reckless and throwing caution to the wind. An SUV says "Hey! I'm dependable, predictable, safe." I want the car that screams "Fun, witty, lives life on the edge."

I want to do something that doesn't seem like something I would do. That people will shake their heads in disbelief that I have chosen to live my life with such a devil-may-care attitude. I turn 46 next Monday. It will be a hard birthday. Times are tough for me right now and I worry about everything and anything. The adult I am right at this second, is not the adult I want to be long term.

Maybe dreaming of a black car with a manual transmission and the ability to head south for a road trip, is just what an almost 46 year old female needs. That and a lot of horsepower under the hood. I feel the need for speed!

Musings from a small town by the sea

Posting from the small town.

What I love:

1. The garbage men emptied the garbage cans and CARRIED them all the way back down the drive way to put them away by the garage.

2. I missed the fridge repair guy because I overslept. He swung back by on the off chance I was up. I was.

3. The pharmacist apologized for my prescription taking some extra moments to refill.

4. Safeway will special order my delicious wine. Have it here by tomorrow and give me a discount. They will try and make room to carry it full time.

5. The cops wave to me every time they drive past my house. Since my road dead ends at a park, it is a lot. I like that.

6. The neighbors came over and said that they had extra room in their garbage can if we needed it. They explained that moving sure does cause extra garbage and no sense in paying for an extra can, we can just use theirs. They rock!

7. On our walk, people were friendly to both the dogs, not just the cute puppy. Herbie appreciated it.

8. The drive thru's all give dog treats.

9. Our bank has free bagels and coffee in the morning.

10. Almost every house had Fourth of July decorations up.

For right now, this town is da bomb!

Book 'em Sunday - A mixture

For Book 'em Sunday, we are doing books with no pictures.

Why, how boring! - you might say. And you would be right on the money! But this is what happens when you don't write on the outside of your moving boxes what is inside the box. Add in that you make fun of all people who do write on their boxes and you will have me with no camera cords. Let this be a lesson to all.

I have been reading a ton. Lots and lots of summertime books of little to no substance just plain fun.

I am almost finished with Knock Out by Catherine Coulter, which is an FBI thriller. The FBI thrillers feature FBI agents Dillion Savich and Lacey Sherlock. This one is about a madman who can control others simply by looking at them. Ethan Merriweather, the sheriff of Titusville, Virginia, goes searching for a missing 7-year-old girl, Autumn, who is being pursued by the madman. These books are a little on the predictable side, but still a nice summer time read. The writing is nicely done and the plot is easy enough to follow when you have to put it down every five minutes to do something else. Like get Olive from the neighbors yard, yet again.

I have also finished Janet Evanovich "Finger Lickin' Fifteen" which is a Stephanie Plum novel. Stephanie is a bounty hunter, slightly accident prone and caught between two men. As you can guess, there are fourteen more before it, which are in paperback. Janet Evanovich is an excellent writer and the Plum books are her best work. These are super funny, very fast paced, and the cast of characters are just that "characters." Definitely worth checking out.

I have also read a decorating book called "Small Spaces and Cozy Corners" by Janice Easton-Epner. This came out in 2005 and I found it at a used book store. I am trying to find some ideas to redo the laundry room in my basement because frankly, it terrifies me. I think there may be spiders and other disgusting basement creatures down there. I have tried to get the kid to do the laundry but it is a no go. The dogs just yawn at me and give me the look that spiders are in no way a concern of theirs. I'm pretty sure the bird could do a sock load, but putting the jeans into the washer may be a bit much to ask of a parakeet. So it is just me. I have some ideas now but no cash, maybe after my garage sale.

Anyway, I wish I could show pictures, just trust me when I say they all have pretty covers and are playing nicely with my iced latte.

Holiday!

Happy Fourth of July!

Hey, Hey, Hey! Let's be careful out there!

Fun

I finally have a free moment. One of my not-so-nice traits is that chaos makes me crazy. I hate mess. And that is how I live now. A mess!

I decided that before the Fourth, I work SO much better under a deadline, that I would have a room not filled with boxes. Tonight I have such a room. Don't open any cabinet with doors or a closet, you may be killed with falling stuff, but at least from where I sit, no boxes are in my line of vision.

This has been a hard fought war. The kid has no qualms about chaos, bring it on, I'm good to go! So we comprise, he picks up lunch and drives to Home Depot. I putter. He brings me lattes. I put away. He goes to his room to watch tv. I clean. It works.

The dogs have been a giant pain in the butt. The fenced yard, not so tight, both dogs can escape at will. Herbie is the instigator in this endeavor but Olive is right fine with the plan. We have bought a lot of chicken wire. I have no idea if they can still bolt for freedom but I do know we can now raise poultry if we desire.

This morning I had coffee on the back deck. The whales were out and frolicking. The pelicans showed up and for a moment I really thought I was on the nature channel. It was simply wonderful. And I am no nature girl, so you know it was something!

My kind of food is hard to find down here. People drive very SLOW, add in a bicyclist and we were almost at a dead stop. I have not been to a book store in a whole week and the donut shop ran out of donuts. Little quirky things. All in all, fun.

P.S. - I just did spell check and one of my words was misspelled and the only choice I had was "bestiality" the coast, it is changing me.