Tired and feathered

Today was weird. Seattle is smoky from all of the wild fires. It's opaque outside. Opaque! It has the illusion of a cloudy autumn day, only without the crispness. Without the oxygen. But it's 86 degrees. We're suffocating! Make it stop! Stop this madness!

See? Opaque!

Something else that has been unnerving me lately is the fact that my parents' backyard is being littered with crow feathers. My dad tells me he picks "at least 20 to 30 feathers a day" off the lawn. Is this normal?

While I'm on the subject, let's settle a bet. Are feathers filthy, plague-ridden animal parts not to be touched? Or are they fun, tickly adornments for the tops of sand castles? I grew up believing the latter and I think I'm going to keep that opinion no matter how much I'm presented evidence of the contrary.

I gotta go. I'm tired. The haze has me in a weird mood and there's only one cure: cleaning the living room while I listen to a podcast!!!!

Until next time,
Margaret

P.S. Martha can now say "podcast." She is an intellectual.
P.P.S. She can also say "pancake." Sounds the same as "podcast."

Toddler Blues

Today, after a week of single-parenting while Andy is in England, I took Martha to Kelsey Creek Farm in Bellevue. There are sheep, pigs, cows, horses—all of the animals from her books, alive in the flesh. What a fantastic final hurrah to our week of mother-daughter bonding!

Martha sat in the gravel pathway and ate rocks.

A few minutes later, she found a set of steps near the sensory garden and climbed up and down them four times.

One of the horses did manage to hold her attention for a bit. She reached out and offered him a rock. I grabbed her hand away from the beast's giant teeth and she cried.

I have decided to gradually start blogging again, while making no promises and keeping expectations low. I probably shouldn't have even written that sentence.

Over the past month I've fallen back in, and then back out, of love with blue cheese. Throughout July it blanketed my salads, filled my MorningStar Farms® Chik'n Nugget pitas and even replaced cream cheese on my bagels.

Andy and I went out to dinner last weekend and I ordered a cobb salad.

"Instead of the bacon and chicken, can I just get extra blue cheese?" I asked, knowing the answer would be yes, for this is America after all.

Andy, who enjoys foods in moderation, looked at me in disgust.

But sadly, my Stilton love affair is over. I made the mistake of buying Trader Joe's blue cheese and after a few helpings, something switched. The tanginess was too tangy. The closer to the rind, the more disgusting. Even writing this now, I'm on the verge of throwing up.

Worst thing is, I smell blue cheese everywhere I go. I've been washing my hands all afternoon and still can't scour the stench off my fingers. I'm the Lady Macbeth of poor dairy choices, haunted and sick to my stomach.

Barfing emoji!

Sincerely,
Margaret

Dogs, Driving & Potstickers

When people walk their dogs around Green Lake they stop and pause to let the precious pooches sniff other canines passing by. The owners don't talk; they just pause for several seconds as their animals give one another a big ol' sniff.

If you're a dog owner, this isn't interesting. If you aren't, it's a very funny thing to observe.

Speaking of dogs, Andy (haha) drove a car today! First time driving in America as an official resident. A few things:

• We aren't sure why, but it's totally OK for him to drive a Car2Go with a British license. Seems wrong to me, but hey, I'm not questioning it. 

• When people who are used to driving on the left side (Brits, Irish, Bhutanese, etc.) drive on the right side, they always want to hug the shoulder. For whatever reason, they feel like they're about to hit the cars on the left, so they constantly drift into the right lane / shoulder. Without a local barking at them from the passenger seat, they would hit a guardrail 80% of the time. 

• Supervising Andy's US driving is the only time I'm able to nag him and get away with it. I'm LOVING IT. 

Speaking of loving things, I used to go ape for potstickers when I was in junior high. Got two bags of them from PCC for dinner tonight—not as good as I remember. 

Goodnight, 

Margaret

P.S. Was anyone else already sick of Back To The Future Day by about 9:30am this morning? Jeez. Sometimes the Internet can really beat a dead horse. I'm not looking forward to what it makes of Beat a Dead Horse Day (April 15th 2018). 

Shark!

Not much changes here in Seaside. There's the prom and the turnaround. There's Old Tyme Photo. There's the Pig n' Pancake. There's the same ol' lampposts. Same arcade. Same pedophile handing out salt water taffy. Same bumper cars and Tilt a' Whirl that my mom says look exactly like they did when she was a kid.

Even the mixer here at the cabin looks like it was manufactured in 1950.

But you know what's new?

THIS.

OMG, THIS:

 

I'm speechless. Caught somewhere between 'kids these days' and 'I must try it'.

And with that, I must go take a bath. The water pressure here is amazing. I reckon it's because we're so close to the ocean. Plumbers/engineers in the audience, let me know if I'm onto something.

Sweet dreams,
Margaret

Where are they now? Savage Garden edition

The dog across the street is neglected. His name is Radio (we think).

They (Annabelle's daughter and son-in-law) leave him tied up in the front yard all day and night.

I'm not a huge animal person, but COME ON! Take your damn dog for a walk! It's so sad. Don't they know, as Savage Garden once crooned, animals are supposed to be "careless and free"?

 CUE THE MUSIC——



——Hmmm. Apparently that song featured in a 1999 Juliette Lewis rom-com called 'The Other Sister'. That explains the music video.

Speaking of 'Savage Garden' — where are they now? Well, they broke up in 2001 and the vocalist, an Aussie named Darren Hayes, now has a bunch of solo albums. More importantly, he's currently studying at The Groundlings (LA improv school), has a podcast AND has three Twitter followers that I happen to follow:

Quite the ringing endorsement!

If you're not sure who Brendan Jordan is, he's that kid who became famous after this news clip went viral.

Well! That was so exhausting that I don't have time to Google what the other half of Savage Garden is up to. Sorry, whatever your name is. But I suppose you're used to this.

Love y'all,
Margaret

It's a double bunny kind of day

What could be better than having one best friend? Having TWO best friends!

Just ask my nephew Ollie, who welcomed a new bunny to his wolfpack today. Congratulations, Ollie! Although it was a rather unexpected addition, congratulations all the same.

Bunny Sr. on the left, Bunny Jr. on the right.

Photo credit: Anna Gorohoff

I'm back from Seaside tomorrow. Gosh, it feels like I've been away forever. I feel like I live in Seaside now. I've gone from tourist to townie in just one week!

Later, 

Margaret

Worm poop

Today I watched a worm poop.

In all my 28 years, I'd never seen, let alone considered, a worm going number-two.

Until today, that is.

I was gardening and I startled him. There he was, squirming through the dark soil when—SHAZAM—he's scooped up by my trowel, the blinding light of day burning his tiny retinas, his minuscule heart stopping mid-thump. Of course I startled him. And it's only natural to lose control of one's bowels when faced with a fright of that magnitude.

How do I know that I saw what I did?

Brown slime. Out one end.

To the naked eye, worm bottoms are indistinguishable from worm heads. But I can only assume that the brown slime end was the arse. Also, the other end looked embarrassed.

Lowly.

Everybody's favorite worm.

Image by Ape Lad via Flickr

Your vacationing friend,
Margaret

Today's vocab word: "Ravine"

In fourth grade my teacher gave the entire class the same vocabulary word to study for homework. She picked the word out of a book we were reading. The assignment was to go home, look it up, write it into a story and then draw a picture of it to present to the class the next day.

The word was: ravine.

Now, I already knew what a ravine was. I knew the word well.

Beyond our backyard fence happened to be quite a sizeable ravine. My siblings and I would spend hours in the ravine building forts out of branches and moss. My sister Francie even pooped down in the ravine once. It formed a perfect S-shape and we ran back up to the house as fast as we could to tell my mom all about it. I'm sure she was very proud.

Anyway, back to the assignment. When I got home that day I skipped the dictionary and went straight for the crayons. I drew a lovely ravine covered in grass, ivy and blackberry bushes.

Image by Lairich Rig via Geograph.org.uk

The next day, we all stood up one by one and presented our picture and story. Everyone had drawn a very similar scene, as you can only be so creative with the word ravine. In hindsight, not the best choice, Ms. Bowker.

Then, just when I'd seen enough ravine drawings to last me a lifetime, things got interesting.

It was time for the last student to present his story. Kyle H., a towhead who walked on his tiptoes (rumour was he had "short calf muscles") bounced to the front of the classroom and held up his drawing. It was of a bird, very majestic with broad shoulders, black feathers and a bright orange beak. He read off his 3x5 card, "Once there was a large black bird similar to a crow but bigger. He was called a raven..."

OH. MY. GOD. He had written about a raven. And even after seeing his 28 classmates do presentations on a ravine—a narrow gorge with steep sides—he'd gotten up there and told us his bird story anyway. Not only was he not embarrassed, but I suspected was he wasn't even aware of his gaffe.

When he finished his story, the stunned class just clapped as we did for everyone else. He took his seat, beaming with pride (it was a fantastic raven drawing).

Later that year Kyle H. and I would be the only two kids in the class to contract chickenpox. Everyone else had gotten it when they were toddlers. Other than that, the Scandinavian hair, the tiptoe-walking and the legendary raven presentation, I have no idea what became of him. I don't remember ever seeing him after elementary school. Maybe he moved away or perhaps our paths just never crossed in junior high and high school. Regardless, that raven/ravine moment was the highlight of my fourth grade year.

---

In other news, Char, Andy and I watched the 2011 'Best Documentary' Oscar winner this evening. It's called 'Undefeated' and I highly recommend it. Has some heartbreaking moments, but overall it's uplifting. Not too heavy and depressing like so many docs.

Also, rumour has it Prince Harry and Emma Watson are dating. If that's true, I really don't see it working long-term.

Hope y'all are having awesome weekends!

Love,
Margaret

Word association

I don't have anything to say. But that's never stopped me before and it won't stop me now!

How about a game of word association? Yes! Let's do it.

WRITER'S BLOCK

OK, that makes me think of this block of salt I saw once when I was 10 and in Lake Chelan on a family reunion. My mom told me it was called a 'salt lick' and that it was for deer. They like salt a lot, so people put up 'salt licks' as the deer version of a birdfeeder. The thought of a deer coming across a giant block of salt in the woods and thinking "jackpot!" really tickled me. Still does.

SALT

I worry that my diet contains too much salt and that it's raising my blood pressure. High blood pressure is also a common side-effect of my migraine pills. So, this week I bought a blood pressure monitor on Amazon! It already arrived and so far my readings are normal. But I want to test myself after I take down a tray of nachos.

PRESSURE

Here's a good example of the small differences between America and the UK. In America, we would say "the Seahawks are pressuring the Patriot's defence". But in the UK, they would say "the Seahawks are pressurising the Patriot's defence". Pressurising! Same goes for "orientated" instead of "oriented" and lots of other words that I can't think of right now.

SEAHAWKS

I hope the Hawks win this SuperBowl and then become really bad again for the foreseeable future so that I don't have to care or support the NFL or argue with my future son about the danger of concussions. Blasphemy, I know.

Image by Tomasz Przechlewski via Wikimedia Commons

Live it up this weekend!

Margaret

Things I don't really like that much

Yesterday I said I wouldn't talk about myself in tomorrow's post. Tomorrow is now today, so it's time to make good on that promise. Let the great experiment begin!

Wow. This is challenging. I've been sitting here for 30 minutes and all I've managed is a paragraph on Ebola (now deleted and replaced with a funny photo of, who else, ME).

Ebola! Not the light reading people want on a Sunday evening. Well, let's consider it a failed experiment and move on.

And would you look at that. An idea has already popped into my head.

Things I don't really like that much

• 'Awwww look at that cute animal' videos, gifs and memes. You know what I mean. Fluffy kittens tumbling down a staircase. A baby koala bear eating a popsicle. A duck and a dog being friends. Call me blackhearted, but I just can't get into this genre in the same way most people (or at least most people on the Internet) can. 

• Museums. I really want to be someone who likes museums. When the topic comes up, I pretend to love them. "Oh, museums? Yes, I love them," I say. But I don't mean it. The truth is that I can't appreciate art unless it's either really big or really accurate (e.g. a painting of a hand that actually really looks like a hand). And with history museums, I don't have the patience to read the placards. 

• Beer. In my youth, I enjoyed the odd tin of lager. But now, for some odd reason, my tastebuds have regressed. These days, every time I take a sip of beer it's as yucky as the first time I tried it. Not only that, but there's so dang much of it. Unlike a lovely, tasteless vodka soda, beer takes forever to drink and it's warm as urine by time you get to the last sip. 

• The Wolf of Wall Street. Remember that movie? It was all the rage last winter. I was excited to see it, it didn't offend me (I think that's the main reason some people didn't like it) and I am a big Leo fan. Still, I thought it fell short. It claimed to be a black comedy, and yet it relied so heavily on slapstick scenes like Leo trying to get to his car while on drugs and Jonah Hill's schlong. Although I found the part about how he set up the firm really interesting (the bit at the beginning), the story just wasn't that interesting after that. And it was SO LONG. Three bloody hours!

• Rubber gloves. I'd rather my hands get all pruned and dried out from the dish soap than feel a drop of water make its way down an otherwise dry glove. 

• Skirts. They just never work. Long skirts, short skirts, flowy skirts, pencil skirts. Bin the whole lot of 'em! Who knows, maybe you just aren't supposed to cut a 5'4 body in half. For whatever reason, skirts and I just don't get along. However, I did have a skort in 4th grade, and it was awesome.

I'm glad to get those controversial dislikes off my chest, but I feel like this post was a bit negative. To leave you on a high note, watch this:

Cheers,
Margaret

P.S. OK, I kind of take back what I said about museums. Some of them are great. Museums are medium.