Monday, December 29, 2003

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...)

Sunday, December 28, 2003


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*

Friday, December 26, 2003

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

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

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!

Monday, December 22, 2003

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!"

Thursday, December 18, 2003

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...

Wednesday, December 10, 2003

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.

Friday, December 05, 2003

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!!!! ))