August 2011

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The hubster and I ventured to our cute and very walkable farmer’s market this past weekend at Cafe au Play.  It’s a coffee shop that had once been a super creepy market that was shut down by the Feds on drug charges, if I recall correctly.  It was bought by a community non-profit and slowly turned into this sweet, family friendly place with lots of great landscaping (instead of an ugly blacktop) and now, a Farmer’s Market.  We moseyed over on Saturday, buying some wine, beans, tomatoes, lettuce, fingerling potatoes, and blackberries (Martha – the season has arrived!).  They had a raffle going, and with every purchase from a vendor, a ticket.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I got the call I had won!   I have to say that I made out quite well.  The green fabric bag contained doggie treats, which I gave to one of our favorite pooches in the world, Reggie (he gives them the paws-up!).  The box was some kind of awesome chocolate hazelnut cake soaked in a bit of booze.  The brown bag a scone mix.  I also won a 30-minute massage, a wine tasting for four, and $5 off a pie-making class.  Hoot and holler!

The bouquet looks lovely on the dining room table; we’ve already eaten all the berries; the corn will be dinner tonight; and the squash turned into bread  some time soon.  Thanks so much Cafe au Play!

And in the losing category – I had a complaint because I wrote someone had a big butt.  I changed it for about a minute before deciding against it.  I wrote what I saw.  That was the gist of the post.  If she had skinny legs, I would have written that, but she didn’t, so I didn’t, and offended someone.  It’s okay if you don’t come back, Susie.  I’ll understand.

 

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Do you want to be a power in the world?  Then be yourself.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

p.s. It’s also a great song by De La Soul…

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Transported

Over wrought

Built square

Keeping in, keeping out

Shaded

Medicated

Well read

Wet

Stone

And a new season

Of chutes and ladders

Big butts and bridges

Cold feet and smiles.

The Fork in the road

Fork the man

Fork the condiments.

Are we just rats

With no escape

Conned into luxury

Dreaming of beauty

Dreaming of what might be

Or just looking, playing, spinning silly yarns?

 

 

 

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Back when I got home from my Shiva Rea yoga retreat, and I nearly drove the hubster nutty singing the praises of Bellingham and all its treasures, we scheduled a trip to prove I wasn’t hallucinating or a liar (tee hee), in what seemed a very far away time, at the height of summer.  That far away date came in the blink of an eye, like so much in life, this past weekend, and I couldn’t be more pleased at the timing.  Who knew in April that we’d be tearing our hair out at the comings and goings of plumbers, tile layers, and contractors and in dire need of a break from the house?  Who also knew that it would be very Portland hot while we continued on our Goldilocks streak of weather in Bellingham?  Someone very very kind, I should think, and to whom I extend my sincerest thanks.

We left in the pre-dawn light Friday, the hubster sleeping a little while I mastered the cruise control and softly sang Radiohead tunes (Not just once, not just twice…) and enjoyed the exquisite beauty of the Pacific Northwest.  I love this place: the light, the trees, the smell.  It’s home.  We arrived first at Mount Vernon, a cute town  about a half hour south of Bellingham and to the aforementioned Goldilocks weather after some heavy fog had me waxing poetic and slightly panicked, “If only you could see how beautiful it is right here Buddy.  Mountains almost like Switzerland and sweet farms and the bluest sky!”

The shots down to the Telephone are the very Mayberry feeling Mount Vernon.  This is the train station, probably the most modern building we saw.

You look mahvelous considering you’re nearly 130 years old.  Hardly any wrinkles!

I love neon, even in daylight.

This place looks very quaint and sleepy but is actually quite large inside and packed with people eating delicious smelling food and the biggest cinnamon rolls we’ve ever seen.

The photo does not do it justice.  It was tasty, but not as good as our favorite Grand Central Bakery variety.  Since it was also very sticky, and I was dumb and didn’t request napkins, I washed my hands PWT style in a nearby fountain.  No shame or class!

A sweet statue on one of the main streets, First Avenue, I think.

I love sights like this, old school and simple in their beauty.

Welcome to Big Rock Garden in Bellingham.

A small park , tucked in a residential neighborhood, it has a wide variety of sculptures of varying styles and material – a gem of a place.

It’s not terribly easy to find, unless you take the one sign quite literally, which we didn’t and had a bit of a ramble next to Lake Whatcom.

I don’t know why, but this makes me think of Aldous Huxley.  Take your soma!

This was the hubster’s favorite.  My sci-fi guy.

We were the only people at the garden and felt as though we were trespassing in some sacred place.

One of the many beautiful buildings I didn’t photograph last time.

Our next album cover: Encumbered Tracks

The G-Man enjoying the window seat at The Chrysalis.

No matter the hour, the view is lovely.

Wouldn’t you agree?

These views, though not from our window, were also quite nice, and just steps away.

Lovely!

 

 

 

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I asked my friend Michael (Hello!  Are you there?) once, “How long have you been married?” And lightning quick, he replied, in a very deadpan voice, I might add, “One day longer than forever.”  Whatever feeling Michael may have had about his marriage, I’m still not sure, but I can tell you, for certain, where my bathroom is concerned, this is not an expression of joy or exultation.  No siree Bob.

Thanks be to the plumbing gods that we have a second bathroom, or I would be one very unhappy camper.  Which reminds me, have you watched the Jim Gaffigan yet?  In one of the videos he talks about camping (watch here), or rather his distaste for it.  Bellyache funny.  I love him.  He’s weird.

Anyhoo, back to my bathroom woes.  It’s taking one day longer than forever.  We are at the almost phase.  Almosts hinging upon each other.  I’ll bet you didn’t even know this was possible.  I sure didn’t, but here goes:

The cabinets are almost finished – one more layer of paint.  The counter top is almost finished – they just need the cabinets to be done.  The window trim is almost installed – they just need the guys working on the cabinets and counter top to finish.  The tile is almost finished – they just need the windows and counter top to be done.

After they’re done, I’ll have some peace and a very long, skin pruning bath, and won’t have to worry if someone is going to drop by the house while I’m nekkid or in the middle of a yoga posture to do something I forgot, or something they forgot, at least until the new windows arrive in five weeks.

In the mean time, here’s what it looks like now.  Ghostly, yet pretty, too.

Have a marvelous weekend!

 

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