5/31/2010 Not My Cousin Steve, God

*Shuffles in and flops on the couch
and blows nose*
Well Mr. Blog,
seeing Tom and Aimee last night helped my little heart.
I started feeling poorly again
from scrubbing gravestones in the drizzle
and missing mom and Lyle.
Ugh, Mr. Blog.
I was barely coping with my feelings
and getting all stuffed up all over again
and we got home at nine and I played the messages back
and was so distraught.
My cousin Debbie said her older brother,
my cousin Steve, passed away April 30th.
He was only sixty-three.
I felt like the floor
opened and swallowed me up.
We were all supposed to get old together Mr. Blog.
I mean, really old, like seventy.
He was so wonderful to all us bratty
little girl cousins when we were little.
All our Christmases in Auntie Ann and Uncle Dick's
huge hillside home in Laurelhurst
were wild, exciting fun times.
He and Larry were strapping, strong boys.
Steve wasten years older than me and starting
when we were four,
they would lay on their backs in the living room
in front of the Christmas tree
next to the warm fire
and they would balance us on the top
of their feet for hours!
They called it "The airplane ride
for the little bleeps."
They'd hold onto our hands for a bit and then
start swaying us wildly and eject us onto the rug.
My mom and aunties would all be in the kitchen
cooking and gabbing and Uncle Dick and Uncle Frank
would be in the arm chairs cracking nuts
at the other end of the living room.
Steve married a lovely girl, Bobbette DeButts
in a beautiful wedding at her parents
mansion above Lake Washington
and they moved off to Aniak Alaska
for three decades.
They had a son, Dillon and daughter Deidre.
We'd see them for weddings or the occasional
reunion and he was always the same tall,
handsome, warm and friend cousin
that I had known my entire life.

5/30/2010 The Scrubbing of the Gravestones

*Walks in tiredly and lies down*
Bleh Mr. Blog.
Good thing I feel better or I could have never
made it through today.
I felt pretty cheery to go to church
after missing the last two weeks.
I got to sit by Mary and my other
home girls, Char, Fran, Carol and the rest.
I can't believe I missed Pentacost last Sunday but I did.
Today was still Pentacost kick-off season
and they had extra music and singers and a band
and Steve Tarr and Laura Bolger did a great job.
It was good I felt cheery
because when I picked up my next-door neighbor,
Mabel, she was looking pretty sad.
We started at her daughter Donna's grave
in the Acacia children's section.
She lived from 1953 to 1957
and we both cried over her grave.
Mabel always likes to talk to her
and I don't mind.
Mabel was glad I brought SOS pads
because the marker was pretty dirty.
She had Leukemia before they invented treatments.
Then we moved on to Arky's parents
and his brother and wife Pauline's.
Arky was in the Coast Guard and got buried
at sea in a military service.
Mabel's mom had died when she was a girl
of fifteen still living on the farm in
Minnesota and her dad is buried back there too.
I scrubbed up all the Barmuta gravestones
while she fixed up all the flowers.
Mabel and I are such a good team.
We just kept working and
remembering everyone
and talking about them.
I asked one of the grounds men if
my Auntie Ann was there yet with
Uncle Dick and he said she was
still in the waiting room.
I was very sad because my Cousin Susie
has been very ill and I can't get her
or cousin Debbie on the phone.
We need to get Susie better before we
can have Auntie's service.
It just makes me so sad.
I loved my auntie.
Our last stop was Mom and Lyle's
grave up against the laurel hedge
at the top of the Birch garden.
I scrubbed and polished it up and was happy to see
that the people had finally put in their
in-ground flower vase after I reminded
them politely the last three years I visited.
Well, it was horrible Mr. Blog.
After four years of waiting for the vase,
It was jammed and wouldn't unscrew and pull out.
I tried to loosen it with my garden scissors for
ten minutes until my hands were red and aching.
Finally I squatted down and pulled with
all my strength and the vase didn't budge
but the entire earth around it gave way
and the holder that is supposed to stay
in the ground popped out and I staggered
and almost fell over backwards!
Thank goodness no one was around.
A grounds man came over and looked
at me questioningly and I just held it up
and said I was sorry.
He said I could just leave the flowers on the grass
and they'd take care of everything for me.
So, for the forth year in a row
I didn't get to put mummy's flowers
in her vase.
I can't tell you how relieved I was go get home
Mr. Blog! I told Terry what we did
and he said it was too sad to hear about.
I saw Tom Lambert had called and I was worried
someone had died, cause that's all I could think
about.
I called him and asked him if someone died and he said,
"Yes, but I don't know who, they do it all the time!"
Well he is right Mr. Blog and he got me laughing
and invited us down for a bar-b-q later.
Seeing my old friends Tom and Aimee always
cheers me up considerably
so I'll just take a nap
and try to recover a bit
and go get some,
"Friendship therapy."

5/29/2010 The Thing She Saw Before She Died

*Shuffles in stooped over holding back*
Ugh, Mr. Blog.
I hurt myself.
Climbed up in the giant recycle thing
and was holding the stair railing and jumping
up and down and felt my lower back go pop.
Mabel called at ten and said it was too cold
to go down to Acacia to visit all our dead relatives.
So I decided to work on the basement some more
and I was making good headway until I saw
the thing she saw before she died.
Oh Mr. Blog!
It was awful.
I made it myself for her wall in the nursing home.
I forgot all about it.
Every time sissy and I found mom a better place
I would carefully wrap it up.
It was a two by three foot piece of pink construction paper
and I had taped pictures of all our family trips
with her and Lyle
and me and Terry and the kids
all over it.
I had pictures of when I took the kids
to Disneyland with Strawberry on it.
I had taken red marking pens and drawn what
looked like conversation hearts all around the edges
with things like, "Be Sweet" and "I Love You"
inside them.
Ugh Mr Blog.
It was awful.
So when mummy was in hospice care up in
Maywood Hills, I put it on the wall of the
yellow death room in the basement.
I went that morning and
she was all doped up on morphine.
She looked pretty of all things.
Her eyes opened and she feebly raised her
arms.
I lay my head on her chest and said,
"I love you mummy."
And she said,
"I love you baby."
She patted my head and drifted off.
The lady called around two o'clock
and said she was gone.
Died in her sleep.

5/28/2010 I LOVE My New Tumblers!

*Walks in cheerfully and lies down*
Ahhhh Mr. Blog,
Nothing like feeling better after a cold.
I had the best time with Molly today!
I told you how I reconnected with her last summer.
Remember? Molly McLean? She was Val's best friend?
So she is up from Oregon and staying with her brother Marty
that lives over the hill from me in Kirkland
and I asked her yesterday if she might keep me
company shopping today.
Marty and his kids had to work today so she
came with me to Lake City Fred Meyers.
She is so funny and nice.
What we used to call, "Up front"
in the seventies.
The tumblers I saw with Patty last month were 30% off!!!
I had bought nine for Terry's party last weekend
and I told the man that it figured they'd go on sale right
after I bought them and he said to bring in the receipt
for a rebate. But you know what Mr. Blog?
I just don't care about that few dollars because
I LOVE LOVE LOVE my new tumblers!
Look. *pulls tumbler from tote bag and holds it up*
Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen in your life???
Think fast! *tosses it to him and it lands on the floor*
Sorry, that was mean.
I know you egg-head types aren't very coordinated.
I'm not either but look at that!
*Mr. Blog picks it up with a puzzled expression
and wonders how anyone can be so excited over a tumbler*
They are Kapoho blue!
God I love my new tumblers.
They really look like glass don't they?
The last time I bought new tumblers was in 1982
at JoAnn's Tupperware party.
I loved those tumblers but I only had one left
so it was time to move on.
I had been looking for the last five years
for new tumblers and
I just couldn't find what I wanted.
I like glass better and I always
say I can't have glass because of the kids
but I'm really the one that breaks everything
around here
because I hate housework
and I'm always
in a hurry.

5/29/2010 Jobitis or Joblessitis?

*Walks in and lies down on couch*
Well Mr. Blog,
I'm starting to perk up.
I don't ache all over anymore. Just stuffed up.
So I have been thinking all week about which is worse:
Jobitis or joblessitis?
When you have jobitis, you hate the job you have.
When you have joblessitis, you hate not having a job.
When I carried mail for the post office I had jobitis in a bad way.
I loved the actual work of carrying mail but I
hate, hate, hated getting up at five AM
to hit the time clock at six AM.
People would try to talk to me in the time clock line
and the best I could do was a soft grunt of hello.
Scott Erwin always called me Grouchen.
Most of my coworkers there were nice but the managers were awful.
The price of stamps could go down to a dime if they
removed the managers.
I was so close to going postal after a decade
of harassment you wouldn't believe it!
Every clerk and carrier at the post office
knows exactly what to do.
The mail comes in
the mail goes out.
They need to remove all the managers and save billions!
But anyway, I loved my route in Holly Hills and all my customers.
I always stood the mail up at an angle at the
FRONT of the mailbox so my customers
didn't have to brave the spiderwebs
to pull it out from the back.
Most men carriers are too lazy to do that.
They have long arms and just want the cash.
They just fling it in the box and drag-race on.
They don't even HAVE the empathy to know that the little
old ladies can barely reach to the back of the mailbox!
JoAnn and I were the fastest casers in the office
but it didn't matter because I talked too much.
I was always in the back office getting
scolded for talking too much.
Turns out men can't sort mail
and talk at the same time.
So they harrassed me half to death!
Well, when I was a flight attendant I
loved, loved, LOVED, serving people.
After a decade of listening to people whine
about their bills and junk mail
it was pretty darn heavenly
giving people drinks and snacks and food.
They loved that.
A few times I'd be with crews that liked to do
plane wide trivia games.
God that was fun!
We'd give out bottles of wine from first class
to the winners.
So, you know how bad I have joblessitis.
I was just used to feeling
like a productive member of society.
You know, I'm probably the only person in America
that LIKES to pay taxes.
I love America.
I love my freedom.
I love our roads and sewers and clean water.
I can go, right now, to my kitchen
and turn the spigot and get clean water!
How cool is that Mr. Blog?!
BUT, I don't like overpaying taxes and I
CAN'T STAND GOVERNMENT WASTE!
Like this new Kenmore Square plan.
The city could easily manage the retailers
and keep the leases down.
My friend, John the Jeweler, at
the Treasure Box told me last week
that the leases will go up when the remodel is
done and he'll have to leave!
I'm so hopping mad over that I could spit.
I would so grab a bunch of Z-Bricks
at Home Depot and spruce up those buildings
to match the new fancy-pants city hall myself
for free! I'd hire all the local
out of work contractors to toss up that Z-Brick
lickety-split and
save the taxpayers of Kenmore millions in taxes.
Well, Mr. Blog, what do you think is worse?
Having a job you hate or not having any job?
*Stares at him expectantly*

5/27/2010 The Miracle of Me

*Shuffles in blowing nose*
Ugh Mr. Blog.
Stupid spring cold.
Someone down the hall was saying yesterday that she thought
spring colds are the worst.
I think she is right. After careful consideration this is what I think.
In the spring, when you catch cold you feel miserable.
Then all the pollen is everywhere under the sun
and it makes you even more stuffed up.
Then it might be warmer so you do go outside and get in that pollen.
When the sun comes out you WANT to be outside so bad,
but you feel too poopy to even dress yourself.
So when I woke up, I was thinking about myself and how
I'll get over this cold.
I don't know much about white and red blood cells or
the immune system,
but I do know I'll get over this cold!
How amazing is that Mr. Blog?!
Sometimes I get mad that the pharmaceutical companies would
research a drug like Viagra
or a cure for weak bladder syndrome
instead of finding a cure for the common cold.
I could go on and on about that for hours.
But I don't want you to fall asleep.
I want you to know that I think the human body is
an amazing system.
I want you to know I think that God
helped design us
and that our bodies
are nothing short of a miracle.

5/26 The People Zoo The 41st U District Street Fair

*Slogs in and lies down*
Ugh Mr. Blog. Sick again. Five kids were sick
over at Green Pond elementary Monday.
They were hacking up all over the place. Bleh.
I can only describe the Street Fair as a people zoo.
I was stunned on arrival to park under my old church
to see the back walls of it covered with graffiti
and four homeless people sleeping there.
When our family joined UCC in the 1920s it was fairly new.
When my mom started taking me in 1956,
there was still a strong code of decency in the country.
Young people in the fifties were taught to respect their elders
and love their country.
I moved out of Seattle to Bothell in 1980, when Seattle
got too full and scary for me.
So I hadn't been to the street fair since 1972 when I was fourteen.
It was only one block long then and pretty crowded.
Now it is a bajillion blocks long but you would not
believe the fantastic infrastructure they have designed to
make it work!
It is like each block is its own street fair with staff.
So once I unloaded my stuff and parked I got to my booth
and being sick with the flu made everything seen awful.
The young drunk hanging around my booth was the epitome
of life in much of America.
Healthy, handsome and a waste of life.
Booze should so be eliminated Mr. Blog.
There is not one instance in my fifty-three years
where I have seen booze improve anyone,
especially myself.
If everyone could stop after one or two drinks it would be fine
but that is rarely the case.
So a staffer ran off my drunk
and I got set up
but I had such a headache
I should have just stayed home.
You know how when you don't feel good
everything irritates you?
Right as I finish setting up
I hear a loud, high-pitch warbling of
Yellow Submarine next to my booth.
The pretty thirtyish lady was draped in lovely
hippie drapes including a mesh veil from head to waist.
I would have gladly paid her twenty dollars to NOT SING.
It was like fingers grating on a chalkboard to my ears.
Normally I would have loved that and talked to her
but I was sick as a dog and could barely just sit there.
I also wouldn't have minded the zillion poop machines
that people led around on leashes for two days.
One tiny bug-eyed Boston Terrier did his job
next to my booth and the man
just walked away leaving me to clean up.
The mess was as big as the dog! UGH.
There was very little interest in my driving game
Mr. Blog and a dozen people said they would
buy it but they were jobless and broke, like me.
I notice half of those ladies went to Amy's booth
next door and bought earrings and peacock feather
hair decorations. Amy was honey on feet Mr. Blog.
She was vending solo too so we watched each other's booths
for restroom dashes. I was happy she had lots of sales
and was too sick to even muster jealousy Saturday.
But you know what Mr. Blog?
I saw someone I had been wishing to see since 1967.
I saw a lady my age walking past and she turned at an angle
and I automatically whispered, "Carol."
I thought NO WAY could it be her after all these years Mr. Blog.
She turned and I said, "It's me Carol. Gretchen Lehde."
She ran over and hugged me and it was like we were eleven again.
Right there on that sidewalk in the middle of a million
people, time stood still.
Then it spun backwards.
We were in her basement and we had on our long dresses
and all the little neighborhood kids were sitting
in rows in front of our little stage.
Her sister put the needle to the record
and flipped on the light switch
and we came up singing strong:
"Stop, in the name of love, before you break my heart..."
We WERE the Supremes Mr. Blog!
When we did, "Respect" you should have seen our dance moves.
We had synchronized steps and arm and hand movements
that would have got us on the Ed Sullivan show if
we had ever been discovered. *Smiles at the thought.*
We took a short intermission at the end of our Supremes
set and changed from gowns to polo t-shirts and cut-offs
for a few Beach Boys songs.
We sang all the greatest hits that summer in 1967
and closed every time with what we thought
was a song to inspire little kids by Three Dog Night called,
"One is the Loneliest Number."
Man we poured our little hearts out on that song!
The kids paid two bits each and we wanted repeat
business so we'd constantly work on new dance routines.
We made enough cash to walk to the corner store
on 27th and 65th NE to buy licorice and ice cream bars.
You know what Mr. Blog?
I made $80.00 in two days selling at that fair.
My booth fee was $250.00.
But I would have paid hundreds of dollars to find
Carol Greathouse!
She was as bubbly and effervescent as ever.
When they invented the internet a few years ago
and then Google, I tried to find her.
But I didn't know her married name.
Carol Greathouse Smith.
So now, when I feel better, I can't wait
to go to Everett and find out what the heck she
has been doing since 1967!
Marcia Proctor had warned me to be careful at the fair
and I did see some slightly unsavory-looking characters.
But I like people Mr. Blog.
I really do.
As long as they are nice to me.
Even the tattooed, pierced, mohawked people were
nice to me because I acknowledged them.
That is all most people want Mr. Blog.
To be acknowledged that you think they are valuable
because they are living, breathing people with hearts and souls.
On Sunday I felt a tiny bit better despite the vomit
I had to clean off the back of my tent
and I was SO DELIGHTED
to see Meagan Colella and her sons Chris and Michael.
We had one hundred and one fun scouting adventures together
with our sons. Meagan and I shared an evening of star-gazing
up at Camp Brinkly in 2006 after the little rascals went to sleep
that was one of those priceless moments in time
you wish you could just bottle up
to open when you are blue.
Sean Lettic wanted to hike to the top of the hill
and didn't want to go alone, so we went with him.
It was a warm summer night in July
and the meadow where the boys had field games daily
was deserted.
We laid down right smack dab in the middle of the field
on our backs.
The moon and stars were so bright you could see the
outline of the fir trees surrounding our sloped field.
All of a sudden there was a meteor shower!
We squealed like piglets at a trough with delight.
Well, Sean couldn't squeal because he is a man,
but Meagan and I sure did.
Then, after the meteor shower, there were
random shooting stars and satellites.
It was like the sky had lowered to
right above our faces.
And that was not all that lowered to our faces!
BATS! Huge bats woke up and started dive-bombing
the mosquitoes that were hungrily smelling us!
Meagan and I started screaming our heads off
and we grabbed Sean and yelled,
"Help! Help! Save Us!"
Then he started laughing really really hard
and we all jumped up and ran up to the road.
We ran into some people on the road and something funny happened
but I don't remember what. I'll find out.
So back to the fair Mr. Blog.
I was happy to see Stan Tappe, who was
a young clerk at the Bothell Post Office
when I transferred into there in 1980.
I wanted to say hi to his new wife but he couldn't find her.
I was saved by another scout mom, Joan Hardy,
who went and go me a cup of coffee that made it
possible to get through the last four hours of the fair.
She is like the nicest person in Kenmore.
I have never heard her say one bad word about anyone ever.
Good role model for me.
Then some brothers I knew from subbing at Arrowhead stopped
and recognized me and visited for a bit. That was nice.
So, despite feeling horrible Saturday,
and merely awful Sunday,
I stayed in my cage at the people zoo.
Thousands of people went past
and some looked at me
and others poked me and tried to get me to talk
and others threw peanuts at me.
And I smiled
and gawked back
and talked
and gave them their money's worth
to the best of my ability.