There is a spectre that roams my town.

The first time I encountered The Engineer, it was a blistering summer day about six years ago. I was driving down by the old train trestle, where the cement arches leading beneath are often used as backdrops for photo shoots. Every day the trains rumble on overhead, and I rarely glance at people using the covered sidewalk to go beneath. Rarely, that is...until *he* caught my eye.

A thin spindle of a man was walking with a black cane toward the underpass. That in itself would not have captured my attention, but the fact that he was dressed head to toe in what seemed to be 1930's formal attire did. He wore a black bowler derby perched atop beautiful silver hair. A slim neck was encased in a stiff starched collar, a snow white dress shirt in contrast to the black vest he wore over the top, shining like only satin can. His pants were pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle to be seen...and his shoes looked like the wingtips I had seen in old picture albums at my grandmother's house.

I know I slowed down when I went past him, but by that time he had faded into the shadows of the underpass. I saw one brief flash of him through an archway... spying a meticuously groomed mustache, his proud gate with his walking stick grasped firmly.... and a black bowtie to complete the picture.

I drove on, completely dumbfounded by what I had just seen. The temperature that day was in the 90's - the sort of dry heat that the valley is famous for. Surely that slim man, in his 80's? 90's? was going to sweat himself into a puddle before he got to his destination??

Thoughts of The Engineer remained for some days afterward, but soon faded away with the routine of work and life. The year did not pass away though....until I found myself driving down that same stretch of road, and recognizing a familiar figure walking alongside the road.

As I drove by, I craned my head and looked. It was him, dressed in the same dapper suit...with the same handlebar mustache, the same bowtie, and the walking stick still gripped with a firm hand. He didn't look at me... he didn't look at the ground. He looked straight ahead, with an assured purpose in his eyes that most people would envy.

Engulfed in curiosity, I brought the subject up to my husband. He knew immediately who I was speaking of. "The old man in the suit...yes! I've seen him too!! It's like looking at something straight out of a Mark Twain book." And I could do nothing but agree. He went on to tell me he had seen the old man once, down by the park where there was a miniature train set up. Kids in the summer could go for rides on it, but it was small enough that an adult could pull it along with a rope if they wished... and that's where my husband had seen him. Pulling the train along the tiny track, in his formal dress clothes. I remember wishing with all my heart that I had been there with my Nikon, to photograph such a sight.

Glimpses of The Engineer came throughout the following years. The only change brought on by summer was the removal of the black suit jacket, to expose the vest beneath. Winter only brought the jacket back around him, and a pair of black gloves to match. He was always by the railroad... walking along the tracks that cut away from the main line and zag through the industrial section of town. He was always walking along these with that same purposeful step.

One day, however... something new happened. I was driving between two old cold storage buildings, where the train tracks come to an end, and I saw The Engineer hunched over them. It was such a startling sight that I almost stopped to see if he was alright - but then I noticed him lurching. Shoveling. He had a shovel in his hands, and he was digging gravel away from the train tracks. His black suit jacket was slung over one shoulder, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing pale arms. He was digging as if the train was on it's way, and it was up to him alone to keep it from derailing.

I wanted to stop... I wanted to get out of my Jeep and ask him what he was doing. Ask him his name... ask him where he was from. Prove to myself that he was in fact flesh and blood!! But I didn't. I kept driving, looking in my rear view mirror at the figure shoveling and swinging... shoveling and swinging.

The last time I saw the Engineer was this summer. My husband and I were sitting in the park by the river, which parallels the train tracks. As we got up from our impromptu picnic, I glanced down the trail and there...coming up the slope....was the old man. He looked no different from the first day I saw him, all those years ago. He had on his bowler derby, his vest...his pin stripe pants. His walking stick tapped the ground with a steady cadence. I realized for the first time...that he had a pair of very small wire rimmed glasses on. They were so silvery and small, they nearly disappeared into his face. I had never stood so close to him.

He walked past us, never giving even a flicker of a glance. He just stared straight ahead.... walking down the trail with his slim shoulders back, his head held high. The epitome of a very fine butler from a royal household.

I still don't know who he is. But, in a strange coincedence... four months ago I started a new job in one of the old brick buildings in town. It is located directly across the street from the main hub of the train line. My first day on the job, I walked up the steps, and was about to head on into the main hall, when my husband spotted something.

"Hey...take a look at this...." he said. He was pointing to something on the very corner of the building, by the door. I leaned in to look. There, rusted and weathered over years of exposure... a tiny metal sign in the brick, above a doorbell that had seen decades since it's last use. It said; 'Ring bell for Engineer'.

The building is the site of the old trainyard station...

....and I halfway wonder if The Engineer would appear at the door, if I were to press that old, silent bell.

(... and for those who are wondering - this story is true...)

I had yet another grandiose "Aimee" dream last night. A small portion of it went like this:

I was swimming in deep clear water with Beth, and my boss's wife and good friend Kristen. We were bobbing along - somewhat distraught as we gazed out across the large expanse of water to find that industrial plants had been built along the shore. Long docks protruded into the middle of the water, where barges and ships were anchored.

"Well - at least we got to enjoy swimming here for a little while," I said, and they agreed.

We paddled along the shore away from the ship lane, when I saw something peculiar struggling in the water up ahead. Beth swam up to it, and lifted it out of the water... it was a HUGE dragonfly, glittering metallic green. The longer she held it, the bigger it became, until it was nearly five feet. It flicked it's gossamer wings, spraying us with droplets, then took off in the sky. We watched it fly away, very much surprised.

Then Kristen motioned down in the water and came up with this curious little phrase:

"Look at the pirate down below! He has a six-shooter stuck between his toes!"

It made sense at the moment, and I swam right up to the shoreline. What I found there was even more intriguing. Instead of sand and pebbles beneath my feet, it felt like wet fabric. I knelt in the water and stayed very still until the ripples went away...and when I looked at what I was feeling, I realized it *was* fabric on the shoreline.... and there were needlepoint designed stitched into it. People's names, little flowers...everywhere under the water. I motioned for Beth and Kristen to come look, and then I woke up.

I ate too many cookies before I went to sleep, methinks... but if anybody should have any interpretations of what this might mean, have at it!! I'd love to know. *grins*

So I went to work this morning, but only for a couple of hours. After checking my work email, and making sure there were no immediate fires to douse, I scooted out the door and called today an official addendum to Wednesday and Thursday's holiday status.

Hubby had the whole week off, and since his plans for the day fell through - he was pleased to see me bounding through the door around noon. Keep in mind that I, like the foolish imp that I am, hadn't ingested anything at all aside from a 20 ounce triple-shot hazelnut latte at 9:30 this morning. The bad thing about that is it gives me a false sense of fullness, and so...little miss low-blood-sugar thought nothing of heading back out the door with hubby and dog in tow, to go for a winter romp around Blackbird Island in Leavenworth.

Hubby had gone for a walk there a day earlier, and fell in love with the place. It's a haven for cross-country skiers, but it also has a good packed trail for those of us who just want to stroll through a snowy wonderland. Here is an ariel shot (in the summertime obviously) of the island:


So we set out with Griffin pulling hard on the leash as he always does, going buggy eyed at the prospect of getting to go for a walk. We crunched over the hardpack, peering up at the utterly stunning blue sky through the bare limbs of the trees. The December sun kept its silvery light on us the whole time, and we chatted away about how fascinating it is that duck's butts don't freeze in the icy water they swam in. I'm still fascinated by it! I don't care how many science teachers it takes to 'splain it to me, I'll always marvel that those little critters don't become insta-icicles after dipping UNDERNEATH the frigid high-mountain water in search of something to eat. Cripes, someone get those mallards a sweater.

So anyway, we followed the trail, and greeted the families who were tugging their childlings along on sleds behind them. A few dogs were silly enough to come leaping through the snow at Griffin, but were greeted with a mouthful of teeth and a spit-flinging snarl. Griffin's a teddy bear... but not with other dogs. I had to laugh when he continued to walk on, all chuffed at having chased off the 'enemies'. He's a real chest-thumper.

About 3/4 of the way around the park...I started to feel peculiar. A sudden euphoric feeling hit me...slightly woozy, as if someone had just forced three shots of Tequila down my gullet. It was suddenly very difficult to lift one foot in front of the other, and I was swaying a bit... probably looking like I was totally sauced.

"Hon...I feel reallly weird. Really weak...I think I need to get some food...."

Understatement of the year. It was obvious I was having a MAJOR low blood sugar blowout. When asked what I'd eaten that day, I had to fess up about my coffee... and was met with the frustration of a man who knows me all too well.

I managed to plod along the last quarter mile back to the Jeep. Leavenworth was crowded this morning, as bad Christmas Eve - and I knew if we tried to find a parking spot anywhere closer to a restuarant, we'd be searching for ages. I suggested we just leave the Jeep parked in front of Blackbird Island, and walk up the hill to the main street. I knew Hubby was concerned about me, but I insisted I'd be fine...and he took Griffin to the Jeep while I started the climb up the hill.

We got to the top and crossed the street - by which time I could no longer feel my legs... both from the weakness and the cold. It was frigid out today! There's a delicious mexican restaurant called Los Camperos there, and luckily it is on the same block. The funny thing is, the doors are very heavy to open, and I got them ajar just enough to wedge myself between...and duly got myself stuck. I heard the snicker of confusion behind me as Hubby reached over and pulled them open for me, then placed a helping hand on my back to steady me as we walked up the stairs to the restaurant.

When I finally fell into the booth, I was GIDDY... literally giggling with weak exhausted relief to be in a warm place, *not* walking. My whole body tingled. If I had focused long enough on the feeling, I could have easily slipped right into a faint. When the waitress brought our chips and salsa to start us off, I wolfed them down with little finesse. Hubby just chuckled and chided me for being silly and not eating a proper breakfast. I promise...I will try my hardest not to do that again!!

I orded Chicken Carnitas - no refried beans, just extra rice... and a side of sour cream. Flour tortillas. Water with ice. Oh my gosh, when it arrived....it was the best tasting Chicken Carnitas I'd ever had. I'm sure I've had better, but the extreme hunger amplified the flavor tenfold. I hardly talked through the whole meal - quite unlike me. I just ate and ate and ate....and felt my levels all filling back up to normal. Thankfully Hubby has total empathy for this. He's experienced the same thing, numerous times. So, we ate in pretty much silence, just letting our eyes roll back in our heads with the joy of it all. If I were a cat, I would have been all fluffed and fat and purring with happiness.

Once we'd stuffed ourselves, we decided that a wee bit of dessert was in order. So - feeling much lighter on my feet and ready for a walk, we strolled down main street of the Bavarian Village, to the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. They greeted us at the door with a sample of German chocolate cake Fudge - which tasted SO rich and good. I peeked over at my favorite case, the Truffle case...but was dismayed to find they didn't have any amaretto truffles today. So...I ended up with getting an Almond Turtle. A big gooey piece of caramel rolled in whole almonds and smothered in milk chocolate. Hubby got a big coconut haystack in dark chocolate. We stood outside under the dripping eaves and nibbled our confections... it felt like a mini-vacation. Definitely a fun day... low blood sugar attack and all.

Driving home seemed a fete in itself. Full of fantastic food, and high on pure winter oxygen - we wasted no time in climbing the stairs to our living room, throwing off the cushions of the couch to turn it into a sort of day-bed, snuggling up on it with the ottoman pulled close so Griffin could join in on the nap-fest, and pulling a soft wool blanket over the whole tangled mess. We napped for close to two hours, and never budged a muscle the whole time.

Ahh - what a day. :D

We ventured out today with a vauge plan established. We had to drop by my office to pick up my revised paycheck (they'd accidently made it out with my friend's business name at the top...so when I tried to pass that off at the bank, they just snickered at me and told me to come back when I could get my name straight), and then after that we'd come to a tentative decision to go see Return of the King again.

By the time we left the office however, and were on our way to other errands, I realized that by the time we braved the crowds to pick up some last minute groceries... and also went to visit my Dad, that we weren't going to be able to fit in the afternoon matinee of the movie. So...off into the melee we went.

Holy guacamole... people lose their minds on Christmas. People are rushing around like they had been denied their Prozac for a few weeks!!! Ambulances screamed up one side street, and before their sirens were even out of earshot...I notice another ambulance and firetruck right in the middle of the main avenue. Sure enough, two cars had plowed eachother. As we crept by, I glanced over as they hauled an elderly man out of the driver's side of a white sedan, bracing him on a stretcher. His wife was in the passenger's seat still, eyes closed. She probably had a ham roasting in the oven.... maybe even fresh cookies with red and green sprinkles on the top set out to cool. Little did she know they'd be feasting their Eve dinner at the hospital.

We attempted going to a local Safeway supermarket, but there wasn't a parking space to be found. We gingerly made our way through the lot, wholeheartedly agreeing that it was NOT worth fighting the crowds. We'd end up wanting to kill someone by the time we got out of there! So we took off for a favorite Teriyaki place, enjoyed the fact that it was abandoned of all holiday guerillas, and got some take-out.

I wanted to pick up some chocolate covered cherries for Dad (his favorite) before we visited him, so we drove across the river to another market we figured wouldn't be as crowded. I guess the policeman directing traffic in and out of their parking lot was a big hint as to our misguided hopes....but it was the last stop before Retirementville.... so it had to be done. A quick trip up and down the aisles, expertly weaving in and out of dumbfounded holiday shoppers who had waited til the last minute to figure out what they were going to have for dinner.... we nabbed the choco-cherries, some snacks for ourselves, and were back out the door before anybody could say Jingle Bells.

When we arrived at the nursing home, there was an eerie calm to it. Normally we were there around dinner time - and there was always a certain amount of bustling done then. But the dining hall was closed up tight, and only the faint sound of a radio playing Christmas carols bounced off the dull white walls. When we got to Dad's door, it was shut. The first time it was like that since we'd been visiting him there. I glanced over at the nurse's station, and she must have seen my puzzled look. She motioned for me to go in and said "he likes it closed....but go ahead and open it."

I told hubby to wait while I went in to check. I opened the door and slipped inside... and all was dark. Obviously Dad's deaf roomie had been moved elsewhere (no doubt because of Dad's very vocal complaints about the guy's TV blasting at top volume day and night), and in the near-pitch dark...I couldn't even tell if Dad was still there. Not wanting to startle him, I let my eyes adjust and followed the sound of the oxygen machine to the far side of the room. Sure enough, there was someone in that bed...but with the thin light seeping in through the slatted blinds, it was hard to tell if it was really him. He looked so....small...in the bed. He was on his side facing the wall, covers pulled up over his head. He had lost a lot of weight... so much so that I wasn't convinced it was him until I saw the Happy Hand trucker hat I'd brought to him in the hospital. It was on his bedside stand.

I snuck back out to hubby and told him that Dad was sleeping. I got a piece of paper and a pen from the nurse, and scribbled out a note to put with the candies....and I was going to leave them on his dinner tray, but when I started walking back in, I heard the distinct sound of someone rustling up from the bed.

Turns out he'd woken up in the short time it took me to write the note. So - I waited a moment for him to get himself settled, and then got hubby. We sat for an hour chatting with him, watching him savor the chocolate covered cherries with pure joy. He couldn't believe I'd remembered they were his favorite.

With a promise of bringing some homemade food for tomorrow's dinner, we left...having had a good chat, glad to see he was doing even better than last time we'd seen him. I'll be glad when my sister and brother come back up next week though.... I'm desperately needing some backup in dealing with some issues, namely Dad's insurance... and their input is going to be so helpful.

So...we made it back home with a little bit of daylight to spare. I've got a new magazine about the writer's market, and a kettle heating up downstairs, ready for tea at any moment. I think I'm going to cozy up on my Pier One couch (LOVE Pier One!!), pull a blanket up under my chin, and just disappear into the magazine for awhile. I may peek my head up just enough to see if it's still snowing out...but other than that, the rest of the night is all about being content with simple things, like the dog that will be curling up on my feet to keep them warm while I snuggle.

Here's a little glimpse into my village - a webcam from atop the Vale Middle School in Cashmere, where I live. Not much to see except swirls of fog and snow...but still, it's home! A pleasant wintry scene.

The Cashmere Webcam

Once you get to that page, look to the left, and there are other selections for Webcams. The Leavenworth webcams are also very near where I live!

On the ride into work:

Hubby: {singing} Just like the wild wind blows.......

Me: {pausing, recognizing the melody...} what song are you singing?

Hubby: You know, that one Stevie Nicks sings....

Me: {another pause} You mean.... {singing} Just like the white wing dove...sings a song...sounds like she's singin'...

Hubby: {glancing at me} I always thought it was the Wild Wind blowing!!

Me: Nope....

.... silence....

Me: Of course, your version isn't nearly as bad as my first interpretation.

Hubby: What was that?

Me: {fidgets} I used to think she was saying "One Winged Dove..."

Hubby: {dies laughing} Oh...my god. "Just like the One Winged Dove - flips around and flies in circles....Woooot baby Whoooot...I say Whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot!"

The first vinyl LP I ever had that wasn't a Disney story... was Tommy James and the Shondells - Mony Mony. It had a yellow and orange checkerboard label in the middle that would blur like sherbert when the record was spinning at 33. I would play it on an old portable record player, about the same size as my old twin bed it seemed. It was a hard plastic contraption that you opened up like a clam shell. The top half was white, the bottom was sea blue - and it had one tiny speaker in the bottom right hand corner. It sat on my bedroom floor, shoved up against the wall across from my heater...so that even in the winter I could sit there indian-style, and listen to my tunes. Or tune, rather. I didn't really dig the rest of Tommy James' LP - I just liked that one song. HEY Mony mony..... what the hell does that mean anyway? Even Billy Idol couldn't explain it to me.

The true pleasures of childhood were:

Climbing out of the chlorine rich swimming pool, shrivelled like a California raisin, only to plaster one's body on the cement sidewalk...scorched from the mid day sun. From ground level, one could watch the ants detour around the unexpected drops of water.

Grocery stores hadn't implented the 'no shirt/no shoes/no service' policy. Shoes were optional - three months out of the year. Pink feet getting burned on black asphalt, only to delight in the smooth cold tile of the freezer section of the local Mark-N-Pak.

Drinking an Orange Crush in the back of the Jeep truck as it cruised down the highway. Didn't matter where we were going.

Gazing up at the stars from the makeshift bed in the front yard made of an air mattress and sleeping bag.

Here is something I think I need to put on my 'to do' list before I die:
Champagne Glass

Thursday morning, and I'm dreaming of my latte. For the first night in weeks - I slept so good. I don't even think I moved at all once I got all curled up in bed. I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in, with no memory of tossing and turning, and glancing at the clock every hour. I'm sure hubby appreciated it too. I actually feel RESTED this morning! I must remember this feeling.....

We went to see Dad last night at Highline. His TV was on while we were sitting there talking, and the case about the woman in Texas who was arrested for selling a sex toy came on. They were showing rows upon rows of all these devious looking devices...and Dad was getting a little chuckle out of it.

Me: Geez - some of those things look like they'd send a person running for the hills!

Dad: Damn straight...

~news flashes to a picture of the woman with a big toothy smile, her eyes slightly glazed over~

Dad: Looks like she's on some sort of medication....

Me: Looks like she's used one too many of what she's selling!

Needless to say, he got a belly laugh out of that one...

A new song of the day which suits my mood today. Blogging seems so hard when I have so many thoughts in my head...none of which seem to want to leap from my fingers to the keyboard. It snowed all day today....but I didn't go see Dad. I couldn't handle it... I feel fragile. I've been very strong to this point, but had to steal up my reserves tonight. My nerves seem stretched so thin... emotions on the verge.

A whole week of time has flown by, and all I can remember about it is a blur of work, hospital, and sleep.

I am sorry to say that things are not looking as good as originally thought for my father. The doctor now has retracted any 'long term diagnosis', saying that there simply isn't one to be had. We have spent the past few days easing my father into the idea of going into a nursing home therapy unit... something I swore to myself I would never do. But the problems involved are too vast for anyone to really take care of in a home setting.

I go through moments of calm, and moments of tears. Usually those come without warning, in the most inopportune time. At a meeting, driving the car, etc. I had to call the attorney today and see if we can get him to meet us up at the hospital and sign one of us as the Power of Attorney, just in case. Well, just in case of the inevitable...which is really a peculiar way of putting it...but it's the only way we can.

Anyway...there's been so much love and support, I can't thank everyone enough. It has helped tremendously, and it will continue to help through the rest of this storm.

To perk myself up yesterday, while I was at the store getting Dad a duffle bag to put his things in, I grabbed a copy of Pirates of the Carribean to take home with me. :) If a pirate can't cheer me up, who can?? Unfortunately by the time hubby and I got around to watching some of the outtakes last night, we were both so exhausted we ended up just crawling into bed and basically passing out. Sorry Johnny.

This morning I promised myself I would blog just to be able to get something in writing. My writing has sucked lately - and I know why. If I really invest myself in writing about a scene, a moment, a happening.... I can wrench out such details that really - with everything going on - it would be too much of an emotional investment. I have to pull back a bit and just skim over the top as they say.... because everything beneath the surface is broiling and black. It'll come out in time... just not right now.

So...if anybody has any interesting or funny links, post them over there on my tagboard. :) It'll help divert my attention for a little while at least. :) (( And Loup, I agree....I'm really looking forward to reading that book - what a great writing partner for Mercedes!!!! ))

At last, a bit of time to sit down today and catch up on a bit of writing. It seems like things have been rushing past in huge blurs lately, what with the many trips to the hospital and such. Good news though - Dad has stabilized and now just needs to focus on a long road of rehabilitation. On Sunday my Aunt and Uncles, sister and myself are going over to the house to clean things up and prepare it for his return in a week's time. I really don't know how to prepare myself for it emotionally - I know it will be difficult going into this house that hasn't seen much attention in over a year... but it needs to be done.

To escape from the stress of all of this, I have taken to stealing moments in my own personal 'spa', thanks to my best friend Beth who gave me a GORGEOUS basket chock full of bath and spa goodies. Everything from bath crystals, to a sugar scrub, to slippers for my feet... a bath pillow to rest back on, and little white gloves to slide on my hands after slathering them with an intoxicating almond lotion. THANK YOU BETH!! She knows what I love - cause she has the same taste as me. ;) When I indulge in that, I feel like a total pampered princess. It really works in scrubbing away the day and engulfing me in a total cocoon of peace and quiet at least for a little while.

My sister is over for a few days, which is always fun. I had a glass of wine with her and mom last night, and for some reason it really smacked my system like a tsunami!! After half a glass I was feeling all jello-muscled and woozy!!! I'm not sure why it was so potent, but dang...I'm going back for seconds tonight. *grins*

I bought a CD today which is actually on my Amazon Wishlist. It's "Sounds From Middle Earth" by David Arkenstone. I've wanted it for the longest time, and finally broke down and got it. It's beautiful, with all kinds of music that sounds as if it was right out of the movie. It has me inspired to do some sketching, which is something I haven't really shared with any of my online friends. Art was actually my first love, before writing. So - in a few weeks Beth and I are going to convert my grandparent's old home (which is still furnished and used by family when they come to visit) into our art studio for the winter. A couple of times a week we're going to meet there, put on some tea.... fill the rooms with music...and paint & sketch to our heart's delight. The first thing I'm going to do is do some fantasy sketches, and when I finish them I will post them on my website for everyone to see. I'd love to get opinions, and maybe even some requests.

I really love the new theme of my blog. While I like the black background, it doesn't really reflect the kind of person I am. I'm more of a sunny disposition - and now the new look really reflects that I think. Well, without needing sunglasses like my first attempt at a 'brighter' blog turned out. ;) I may be adding a few things in the near future, but for now...it has me pretty pleased.

I may add a feature here as well that would allow people to write full length posts as well - how would that go over? If you like the idea, leave a message on my tagboard. Then I'll know you're ready to venture into the world of blogging too.

It is starting to snow again outside. It's time to heat the teapot up and sip some chai while I cozy up in slippers and fleecies. ;)

Couldn't find the purse, only keys.
Drove too slow, through rain, past the burned down fruit stand.
Went to the house that I don't like, got my car with the keys and no purse.
Sixdollars and a freebie coffee card in the glovebox.
Does anybody keep their gloves there?
Double tall, but no breakfast.
Hunger pangs at 10:00, but photo shoot at 10:15
Wind and rain on the train tracks. Didn't get caught.
Phonecalls and emails, orders filled and a craving for Godiva.
Does anybody else see that old man in the bowler derby?
Lunch in the back, because no tables were clean in the front.
Ate my lipgloss off, and the rest was in the purse I forgot.
Drove home in the dark, careful though -- no license.
Walk home, heavy boots kicked off.
Purse on the bedroom doorknob.
Cat slinks around my ankles, wondering where the other cat is.
Rootbeer for dinner.
Belly laughs for desert.
Time for rain and sleep - but not before that chewable vitamin.

I'm seriously dragging this morning. I went and splurged on a double shot Amaretto latte this morning, but so far it has yet to take effect. There are a couple of reasons why this is.... so sit down and let me spill it, mmkay?

First, today is the day my kitty Buzzbee is being put to sleep. :( He lived a good kitty life, 14 years roaming around the house I grew up in. He's a big ole' black and white splotch kitty, with huge yellow eyes. Unfortunately, he got cancer on his nose....and none of us wanted to see him suffering with it, so...today's the day. I was in somewhat of a foul mood all day yesterday, and didn't even really think about it relating to this... but then when I kneeled down by the chair he was lounging in (by a crackling fire no less!) I couldn't help but cry. Fourteen years is a long time to get to know a little critter...and harder still when you have to leave knowing that's the last time you'll ever see them.

So....hubby and I drove to the place we're house sitting, and I cried pretty much the whole way. But, after awhile, I pulled myself together, and we got ready to call it a night. Well, after we went upstairs to bed....Chiquita, the chihuahua that we're looking after...decided to start barking wildly downstairs, running through the house as if there was a 20' tall beasty trying to get in the door. This was at about 1:30 in the morning! So...hubby goes down and braves the dark to see if there's anything to be concerned of. Chiquita stares at the back sliding glass door, then runs around. Hubby spends a good 15 minutes down there, before he comes back up, not having seen anything. He gets back in bed...and the damned dog does it again. This time we both haul ourselves up and go down, and yes...it's a bit spooky, peering through the windows to the old empty swimming pool out back...

So, we finally decide to just turn on some lights downstairs, take the phone upstairs with us...and chalk it up to a nervous chihuahua (even though she hadn't done this sort of thing the whole first week we'd been there...). Neither of us can get to sleep now...and sure enough, two hours later, the whole thing starts up again. Hubby was so sleepy when he got up at 5:30, and I look like hell today.... and we both decided that we're not staying there overnight anymore. They're coming back Friday - we'll stay there in the evenings, and then we're going home to sleep in our own bed. No more of this getting freaked out in a big old creepy house!!!! I mean, I didn't even mention the glassy eyed dolls that lined the stairway going up to our room. Hubby took them all off the stairway and tucked them away...but when I go to use the computer I can still see the backs of their heads where they're standing, like they were bad little girls and were sent to the corner to be punished. OI! *shiver*

Anyway....I'm sleepy, I'm sad..... oi, what a day.

I was laying in bed at the place we're house sitting...having slept in much longer than usual. I thought to myself 'I'm sleeping as if it's snowing outside....', because normally when the weather changes that dramatically, I sleep very deeply. All the blinds were drawn, and it wasn't until I got up at 9:00 to head downstairs and let the dog out that I realized my intuition proved true. I drew back the sliding glass door that is covered with venetian blinds...and voila! SNOW! I doubt this snowfall will stick, however. It's a light dusting, and it probably won't be for another few weeks that we'll get our heavy, long lasting fall.

Hard to get motivated today. I have so many things that I want to do - so many things that I NEED to do....and yet here I sit. We drive back home during the day and don't return back to housesitting until the evening....so I'm looking around my house and noting that I should do some laundry. I should tidy up. But want I'd love to do is to delve into some writing in my book. I'm inspired after seeing a new book out that was written by Sting. Memoirs of his life up until fame struck with the Police. All the memories prior to that life that made him the man he is today. I wanted to buy it, but didn't want to shell out 26.00 for it. I'll wait to get it used on Amazon I guess. But at any rate, it inspired me.

The reality of my day is that I should really get jamming on the Cheese Factory website!!! Major updates are needed. Total overhaul really. Oi....too little hours in the day. My tummy is full of french toast and even though I just woke up....a nap is calling me. Lazy cat that I am.

The past few days are a complete blur of activity. As I said in my audio blog - I ended up going back into work from 8:30 to 11:30 that night. Me, Toni, Kristen and Todd waited for Verl to arrive in the big 24' U-Haul with the shipment that had finally completed it's journey from Shanghai to Seattle. I was sweating it, because my Bossman had put me in complete and total charge of getting everything arranged to clear it through customs and to be picked up at AEI near Seattle. I was nearly biting a hole through my lip when Verl left in the U-Haul. He had to make it to Seattle by 5:00 sharp... and he didn't leave our offices until 2:00. The mountain pass had snow on it, and any number of things could've held him up. The fact that Bossman forked out money to send Verl on this wild mission....and that it had a chance of failing miserably was too much to bear. I saturated my nervousness with as much caffeine as possible - because then at least I was just manically hyper instead of annoyingly anxious.

At 4:45 a called AEI. No, they had not seen our driver yet...and they could not guarantee that anybody would remain after 5:00 to help him if that's when he showed up. I begged and pleaded for her to hang on while I tried to contact his cell. I pressed the phone reciever to my forehead and closed my eyes, willing this phonecall to be a good one.... and then I dialed the number. It rang...and rang....and suddenly I heard Verl's voice on the other end!!

Me: VERL!! Oh my gosh - where are you??

Verl: Are you getting nervous?

Me: YES! *whimper* we're all nervous!

Verl: Well.... (long pause) I just left Wenatchee.

Me: YOU'RE CRUEL!!!!!!!!!! You're MEAN!!!!

Verl: Heheh - actually, I just walked through the front door at AEI.



So he skimmed in with five minutes to spare, and another guy there helped him hand load 147 big boxes into the U-Haul (because the pallet jack wouldn't fit past the wheel wells on the truck. DOH!)

So.....back at the farm, we busied ourselves until Verl finally came rolling in at 8:30. After lifting him on our shoulders and parading him around the office (okay, maybe not) we formed a chain from the loading dock to the conveyer belt that would carry the boxes down into the basement where we'd be sorting everything. We worked until I thought my back was going to snap...tossing those boxes from person to person, then onto the conveyer. But...at last, the last one was sent down, and we did an exhausted dance of triumph.

All the guys took off at that point, and left us girls to head down into the spooky basement to get everything lined out for the crews that would be coming in the next morning. That took us up to about 11:30, when we finally dusted ourselves off, limped up the stairs and went our seperate ways.

The night went WAY too fast....and before I knew it, I was rolling out of bed (we're housesitting in Wenatchee for the next two weeks...so it wasn't even my own comfortable bed! But that's a story for another blog session) and heading back in to work. That happened next was a total blur of boxes...gloves....unpacking, sorting, counting, repacking....conveyer belting....and limping from standing on a cement floor with sandals on from 8:00 in the morning until 6:00 that night. Oh... my............gawd. By the time I drove over to the place we're house sitting, I could barely walk up the front steps to the door. I must have looked like an 80 year old women!!!! But, the important thing was....we got it all sorted, inventoried...and good to go. HUZZAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! At last.

So....needless to say, after scarfing down some pizza from the place just around the corner from where we are staying, I laid on the couch while hubby rubbed my feet...and found myself dozing off. I roused for a moment, and saw that he was snoozing too....so I suggested we just flop into bed and call it a night. It was 8:30 p.m. *laughs!!!!* But bed sounded so good. I'd taken our two awesome oversized sleeping bags and zipped them together so we'd be more cozy comfy sleeping on the strange bed upstairs. I suppose it could've been two wooden planks for all I cared, I was so tired it wouldn't have mattered - I would have fallen asleep anyway.

So...after 11 hours of pure, blissful sleep....I was laying in bed listening to the sound of cars going by the house. (We live out in the country and rarely hear any traffic, so this was a reminder of when we used to live in the city.) Hubby woke up....and the following conversion ensued:


Him: Man... I can't believe how much traffic goes by this place.

Me: I just pretend it's ocean waves crashing on the shore....it makes it a little better.

(lay there listening to several cars or 'waves' go by.......)

Him: Yeah, I see what you mean. And every now and then there's a wave that sounds like a Volkswagon.

Disco. I've been listening to this internet radio station for the past couple of weeks at work, and now....here at home. It's called "Disco Gold" - and I can't help it. I love it. They play lots of ABBA - which in fact is what's playing right now. I'm boogeying in my chair.....ITS SO FUNK-AY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Diggin' the Dancing Queeeeeeeeeeen! They play lots of Earth Wind & Fire too.... what's wrong with me?? So many years I fought the Disco urge. But for some reason it's taking me over.

Oh no...."Celebration" is on now. I'm remembering when I used to own my very own roller skates with red sparkle laces!!! Oh yes - you didn't realize that the Aimee you've come to know was actually a roller disco queen at one time. Hey, I was like...10 years old - can you blame me??? My mom even took me to roller boogey lessons - where I learned to do the Camel, Shoot the Duck, and Figure 8. Boy, that sounds far worse than it really was. *grins* I remember replacing the plain white laces with glitter red ones, and pulling on my body leotard with the tiny little ballerina skirt to go skating in. Hmmm - I'm positive I have a picture of me in this very outfit. Now I need to go find it.

I loved the way the roller rink would smell like Murphy's Oil Soap and Mr. Clean whenever we walked in. We'd stand in line, pay our money ...and knew that there was no leaving once we were in. There was wall to wall shag carpeting everywhere in the 'lace up' area - so even when you had your roller skates on, you had to do this funky little walk til you got to the smooth wooden skate floor. They always had the best disco lights, with a big disco ball right in the middle of the rink. The fun thing to do if you had a good partner was go in the middle right beneath the disco ball, face eachother....crisscross your hands, then start to skate round and round in a tight circle. The more you pulled 'in' with your arms, the faster you went, until you were almost ready to go out of control and fling halfway across the rink. But, just at the last minute - you'd extend your arms, slow down...and just skate off into the boogey wonderland.

There was a little concession stand next to a line of pinball machines. The floor in the concession stand was at a slight incline, and it was bare cement - so every time you crossed over from the shag carpeting to the cement, you'd go sailing right up against the counter with a BANG! I *always* got a blueberry slushie at least some point in the evening. We'd go scoot into one of the four booths that were up along the window looking out to the roller rink. One wall of the concession stand was one of those big wall murals that was supposed to look like you were gazing out on a beach to a tropical sunset. This was so out of place with everything else that I loved it.

There was a "DJ" booth over in the corner of the rink. If you were really brave, you'd skate up to it, get the DJ's attention, and request a song. It was always a rush when they'd actually play it, ESPECIALLY if it was 'couples only'. Over at the opposite end of the rink, high up on the wall...were these big light-up signs that would tell you if it was "ALL SKATE" - "COUPLES ONLY" - "SPEED SKATE" - "GUYS ONLY" - "GIRLS ONLY" - or "SPECIAL". I look back now and grin at the thought of the 'guys only' skate. It was their chance to really impress the girls...and heck, when you are 10 years old...someone sashaying like John Travolta *is* pretty impressive, especially when they're on wheels.

Wow... I went on a hunt for this song, and finally found it. Chills... just...chills.

So we went swimming in the Tumwater River this weekend. It is so gorgeous up there, I think I need to go take some pictures of it and post them. Imagine high Alpine-like mountains, with a canyon gorged through the middle, the river snaking it's way down...sometimes whitewater, sometimes serene. We found a little sandy cove hidden from view between big boulders, that leads right out into the river, and a nice smooth riverbottom, easy on the feet. Surprising, as most of the river is full of rocks. The water goes to about chest/shoulder high....and when you are there swimming, looking up at the huge granite cliffs and sweeping forest....seeing salmon leaping out of the water, and a family of mud ducks swimming by, you have to think it's a pretty fantastic day.

We got there late yesterday, about 4:30. Me, Larry and Beth braved the initial shock of cold, but soon grew used to the water. The sun was still slicing down through the canyon, and was utterly dazzling on the water. Even Griffin got in on the act, and up toward the bank, pawing at the water and biting at the splashes he made. By the time we were done, we were all craving to climb into our cars and soak in that summer time heat that collects in vehicles. It was there, waiting for us like a big blanket right out of the dryer...and we had to laugh when we got home and shut off the air conditioning in trade for the balmy heat. Felt supreme after being in that cold river.

I'll see about getting some pictures, because verbal descriptions just don't do it justice. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to time it so you can see one of the salmon flailing out of the water. Glad I didn't see one up close! They're big enough to make it sound like someone through a good sized rock in the water when they jump!

There's a story behind my newest 'song of the day', Yellow - by Coldplay. When I went to London in November of 2000, Coldplay was unheard of in the States. I traveled with my headphones, knowing that at some point I would head to the Virgin Superstore in the heart of London, and do a little shopping for some music to be a backdrop to my UK experience. Sure enough, one night we wandered to the music store...which might I add is impressively decorated on the outside by massive, lifesize granite stallions rearing up out of a water fountain! Anyway, I went in and asked someone to direct me towards a really good CD that hadn't been released in the States yet. They ushered me over to "Parachutes" by Coldplay. I bought it, no questions asked. Figured it would be an adventure.

So, once we made our way back to the bed & breakfast to get settled in for the night, I lounged back on the goose-down coverlet, slipped on my headphones, and turned on my new CD. When the music flooded my senses, slightly haunting...with a vocalist who's range borders on fragile at times, and powerfully determined the next.... well, I was in love. Even though I had nearly 20 CD's with me - I didn't play another one after buying Coldplay's. So, my entire UK journey is forever marked with this music. The train rides through the country, the quiet nights tucked away in postcard b&b's...the long flight home. This song in particular was my companion. It observed my dream-come-true trip with me, and always offers up vivid flashes of memories for me every time I listen to it. So.... enjoy. I sit here listening to it, smiling to myself. "Look at the stars, see how they shine for you.....and everything that you do...."

Midweek, and the sun is blazing. This is the kind of day that makes it impossible to walk with bare feet on cement sidewalks. That didn't stop me when I was a kid, though. Back then, it didn't matter if you went into the local grocery barefoot - and I often did. I would bail out of mom's car, and my tender tootsies would touch down on that sizzling blacktop, hopskipping through the doors and onto that smooth, cool tile of the market floor. The frozen food section was my destination, where the tiles were slightly chilled, and a soothing balm to my little feet.

I wear shoes now, but *only* when I have to. For the most part, I'm a naked foot kind of person, who likes to feel the green grass up against my instep. Sure, my toenail polish is almost always chipped, but it's a small price to pay for feeling the ground beneath my feet. Now, my head is another issue.... it's usually up in the clouds. ;)

So, the agenda today? Footloose (no pun intended!) and fancy free. I have some website work to do, but I might blow it off in favor of...roaming.

To all of you who have taken the time to sign my guestbook and guest map, THANK YOU! It's the little things that count, and in this case, it makes me grin to see that someone has visited my website. :)

To any who know me, may have read this before when I shared it with a few close friends. But, I'm thinking it's Blogworthy - so here it goes:

The headphones my brother handed to me were so big
that they seemed to engulf my entire head when I put
them on. Big, black and cushy...they consumed my ears
and sucked me into a void where nothing else existed
except the music he was about to play. I remember
sitting on the edge of the bed anxiously, tugging at
my knee socks and waiting for the snap and crackle of
the needle to strike the edge of the vinyl record. It
would steal my breath away, never failing to kidnap me
into a journey that was better than Alice and
Wonderland. It was like sneaking a peek at the
splatter flick on late night television. It was
getting away with stealing a truck full of cookies.
It was rock and roll.

Introducing Led Zeppelin to an 8 year old's mind is a
pretty dicey thing. I can only imagine how owlish I
looked as John Bonham's meathanded drums began to
pound into my senses. Robert Plant screamed into my
ears about giving me every inch of his love, and I
would sit there with an oblivious gap-toothed grin, my
head bobbing beneath the weight of the headphones.
Stereo sound. Jimmy Page's guitar licks switching
from left to right and back again. How cool was
that?? It was alien and weird, and was so far removed
from playing tag on the playground that I was
convinced my brother had tapped into another universe
with these albums he had.

I didn't realize you could go buy records. I figured
these were the things given to you when you were born,
and that you played over and over to add sound to your
life like the people on TV had. And believe me, my
brother had it covered. I liked his soundtrack better
than mine. Mine consisted of The Sugarbears and, for
some odd reason, Tommy James and the Shondells. I
couldn't imagine why the rest of my life had to have
Mony Mony in it, so I traded that for what was in my
brother's collection.

He didn't explain to me how records were made. He
didn't tell me how bands would come out with new
albums, and that the radio would play their songs and
their sales would skyrocket if something caught the
public's attention. In my mind, these songs had
always existed. Bo Diddly, Fleetwood Mac, The
Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Queen. All these people and
more came from a world where musicians lived
eternally. They weren't born. They didn't have
childhoods and they didn't have to struggle for
airplay. They simply beamed their music from another
planet where everyone came to life all grown up and
ready to rock. They all knew eachother, I was certain
of this. Jim Morrison hung out with Robert Plant,
probably over at John Lennon's house. When they
decided to make music, that little man who lived up in
the Sattelite (there was only one you know) would tell
me who was going to be up next, and then the band
would gather around the microphone and sing to me
through the FM waves.

Albums were sacred. If they weren't, my brother
wouldn't have threatened to kick my ass if I messed
one up. So I'd sit as quiet as I could in his room,
pulling the records out of their covers, looking at
the sleeves...the lyrics...the weird pictures. Elton
John always had the best album covers. I distinctly
remember seeing lots of butts and breasts on one
cover...but they were on birds and animals. Did
monkeys really have asses like that?? I really wanted
to know!! Then I realized...these were creatures that
lived on Rock Star Planet. Birds with huge boobs and
Edgar Winter with lipstick on. That's what they had
at the Rock Star Zoo.

I always liked it when my brother would forget I was
there. He'd be slumped on his bed, checking out
lyrics to a song, and we'd just sit in the big bladder
of sound that threatened to break the windows if he
turned the stereo up much louder. Those were the
times I could feel the music in my body. It thumped
and hummed, and seemed to simmer the blood in my veins.
I'd laugh when Frampton would sing with the
voice-box. It sounded squawky, but my brother said it
rocked. So it was said, so forevermore it would be.
That's how it worked. What he said was gold...and
when it came to music, there wasn't anyone else in the
world who knew more than he did.

So when I'd head
back to my 4th grade class and tell them about Pink
Floyd, they'd scrunch their noses up at me and run
away across the playground with their Barbie dolls.

Alice Cooper scared me. The sound of him calling for
'Steven' would echo in my head as I ate my
Spaghettios, or when I'd be walking home from the bus
stop. It chased me down the dirt path that I'd run on
when I'd cut across the graveyard to get to my
grandma's house. It would tease me when I was in bed,
staring at the glow of my night light. My brother
tried to convince me that Alice was actually very
cool, but between him and Gene Simmons of Kiss...I had
realized that there was a haunted house on Rock Star
Planet, and that's where these two guys lived. Black
Sabbath and The Rolling Stones lived there too, along
with that big robot monster on the front of Queen's
album "News of the World". Seeing Freddy and crew all
crumpled and dead in that robotic hand was just too
much for me to handle. After all, I had a crush on
that big toothed Freddy Mercury. He had huge brown
eyes and he wore bright clothes that made him seem
somewhat like the Pied Piper. It would be a number of
blessed years before I understood exactly why Mr.
Mercury fancied satins, silks and drama. At any rate,
I had a fantasy that the guys of Cheap Trick would
save Queen from the robot monster. Sort of a
Godzilla-esque daydream, where Rick Nielsen would
shoot lazers from his double-necked guitar and save
the day while Mick Jagger sang a battle cry of "Paint
It Black". Why not? The hero sure wasn't going to be
Cheap Trick's drummer, Bun E. Carlos. He was fat and
dumpy, and reminded me of my math teacher...and so he
was sent to the cellar with Keith Richards, where
they'd chainsmoke cigarettes and wait for the threat
to pass. This same scenerio would be played out when
I heard "Live and Let Die" too. The crazy orchestra
playing in that song creeped me out, and I couldn't
listen to it while I was alone. I figured if a song
could sound that powerful, that a rift between my
world and the Rock Star Haunted House would open...and
I'd be left to fight off Gene Simmons and his bloody
tongue. Good god, that thought STILL scares me to
this day.

As for The Beatles; they really confused me. I'd
dance around the living room to "I Wanna Hold Your
Hand" one moment, and then in the next I'd be left
wondering what the hell 'monkey finger' was, and why
anyone would want to sing about someone who had a
toe-jam football. I knew what Coca-Cola was, but why
would you want to shoot it? My dad shot a lot of
things. Groundhogs primarily. We'd be on a family
picnic, and while mom and I were feasting on our
bologna and cheese, Dad would grab the shotgun from
the window rack in the truck and blast the furry
critters off the rocks nearby. I could freakishly
relate to that (didn't everyone's Dad do that??)...but
shooting Coca-Cola? Maybe Paul McCartney meant target
practice with the Coke cans.

Some music didn't fit in the land of my imagination
though. Closing my eyes and listening to Neil Young
for the first time, the music sounded frail and
thin...like old skin revealing too much of the guts
beneath it. It clanked along as if he were sitting
outside on the back porch, picking at my grandma's old
banjo. An 8 year old shouldn't feel nostalgic, but
looking back now... Neil had managed to pluck that
chord within me. Perhaps that's why I'd take the
monstrous headphones off...not wanting to hear him
sing 'old man take a look at my life, I'm a lot like
you were'. It wasn't my time to realize how fleeting
life was.

So, when I'd get too close to discovering the awful
truths about life...I'd slip away from that secret
place in my brother's room and disappear back into the
world of an 8 year old kid. I'd skip past mom's radio
playing The Beach Boys 'Good Vibrations'. The screen
door would slam behind me as my bare feet hit the
sidewalk, and I'd be off into another endless summer
day. I knew it would all be waiting for me when I
returned...like a twisted Dorothy with her Oz. Just a
click of the heels, a tap of needle to vinyl, and
there was no place like home. No place like home.
Just like Aerosmith sang...
"Take me back to a south Tallahassee
Down cross the bridge to my sweet sassafrassy
Can't stand up on my feet in the city
Got to get back to the real nitty gritty.
Hoooome...sweeeeeeeeeeet...hooooooome."