Huckleberry daiquiri in Grandview (we call it "PGV", or "Pretty Good View") bar...checking out race results from Priest Lake tri, taking a break (sigh!) from the sun and getting an internet fix.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Cheers!
Huckleberry daiquiri in Grandview (we call it "PGV", or "Pretty Good View") bar...checking out race results from Priest Lake tri, taking a break (sigh!) from the sun and getting an internet fix.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Fork.
My dad holds up his fork. We are at dessert, having pie, cake and coffee."Can I please have a fork that's straight?" He asks, noting the strange and significant curve to the handle. It looks as if it's had a bad run in with some telekinesis.
"Are you questioning the fork for its alternative orientation?" I question back. "Just because the fork has an alternative orientation doesn't mean it can't perform it's job just as well as a straight fork," I obstinately declare.
"And what would it's job be?" the Boy jousts back to me.
"Well, forking, of course...are you saying it can't fork just as well as a fork of a different orientation?"
Some questions probably shouldn't be asked, nor answered. And it was probably good that no one pointed out that spooning leads to forking.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Today
What is beautiful today?
...that I have so many people who love me more than I will know, even when I make mistakes (big ones sometimes) and am all the things that frustrate me about me - somehow they love me not just in spite of those things, but BECAUSE of those things.
...that I got to spend two weeks with my dad
...the few moments the sun breaks through the endless Seattle clouds
...the peace that comes from watching piles and piles of laundry get clean
...that I have so many people who love me more than I will know, even when I make mistakes (big ones sometimes) and am all the things that frustrate me about me - somehow they love me not just in spite of those things, but BECAUSE of those things.
...that I got to spend two weeks with my dad
...the few moments the sun breaks through the endless Seattle clouds
...the peace that comes from watching piles and piles of laundry get clean
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Pool
...and when I did sleep, I dreamt of a pool, a beautiful pool - black lanes of tile under aqua blue water, sparkling in the sunshine, stretching out a full olympic distance, wide and empty. Strings of triangular flags stretched above the lanes, moving gently in the nearly indiscernible breeze, begging, inviting me for a swim.
This was not the Y: short half length pool, crowded with other swimmers. This pool was perfect. I went to get my things and go swimming.
By the time I got back, the weather changed. The pool was indoors. It was cloudy. The breeze had picked up. I looked for a way to get into the pool. I had to go through a door. When I got in, the building was dark, the water no longer aqua, had taken on the darkness of the building and reflected the gray of the low light in the building.
The only way into the pool was from the diving board. I put my things down and went to the diving board. As I looked down, the water was stormy - this was not the pool I went to get my things to swim in. This was not the pool that invited me.
I looked around to get off the diving board; the only way off was back. I considered turning around and looked down at the pool. Now, farther down, I was standing on the high dive. The water was churning under me. I had considered jumping anyway, sucking up my fear and trusting that I would survive. Looking down, the water was far below me, rough, and farther now each time I blinked. I could jump, but it would be too far to survive the fall, and the water was now a river, rapids below me.
Panicked, I turned around again to walk back, afraid that I would fall as I backtracked, terrified to move, to choose, to do anything, knowing I could not stay where I was.
I woke up with a start, staring at the ceiling, the doorway, the darkness...thinking about the pool and my fear.
This was not the Y: short half length pool, crowded with other swimmers. This pool was perfect. I went to get my things and go swimming.
By the time I got back, the weather changed. The pool was indoors. It was cloudy. The breeze had picked up. I looked for a way to get into the pool. I had to go through a door. When I got in, the building was dark, the water no longer aqua, had taken on the darkness of the building and reflected the gray of the low light in the building.
The only way into the pool was from the diving board. I put my things down and went to the diving board. As I looked down, the water was stormy - this was not the pool I went to get my things to swim in. This was not the pool that invited me.
I looked around to get off the diving board; the only way off was back. I considered turning around and looked down at the pool. Now, farther down, I was standing on the high dive. The water was churning under me. I had considered jumping anyway, sucking up my fear and trusting that I would survive. Looking down, the water was far below me, rough, and farther now each time I blinked. I could jump, but it would be too far to survive the fall, and the water was now a river, rapids below me.
Panicked, I turned around again to walk back, afraid that I would fall as I backtracked, terrified to move, to choose, to do anything, knowing I could not stay where I was.
I woke up with a start, staring at the ceiling, the doorway, the darkness...thinking about the pool and my fear.
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