The Cakester

I was doing good. I really was. I mean, months would go by before I'd cave in and sate my Oreo desires. I could leave them alone... I really could! But then I saw this insidious little ad, with kids whispering about Oreo Cakesters...and I knew it would only be a matter of time before marketing genius coaxed my brain into reaching for the blue packaged goodness.

Today was that day.

I had spent fifteen minutes in the fresh produce aisle, feeling really good about my bags of radishes, lettuce, cilantro and other green healthy things. I even stopped off to pick up more Naked Juice, with it's all natural splendor. But as I tried to bypass the cookie section, there was some otherworldly force that steered my squeeky shopping cart wheels down the aisle. And there they were.... jutting out in a display that almost sang of their delectableness. They were on sale, even. How could I deny their siren song?

I stuffed the box in my cart behind the green onions and bananas, and tried ignore to them. Tried to kid myself that I would actually make it home and perhaps have one with coffee. But as soon as I paid for my groceries and navigated my way through the parking lot, I ripped that box open and plucked one of the packages out to ride up front with me. I swear I heard it call shotgun.

But really, it never even made it that far. I shut the car door, tore open the packaging, and held aloft the vision of sweet delight. A giant, fluffy, creamy Oreo. Almost glistening. What kind of madmen work at Nabisco? Genius men, I'm telling you now...because these Cakesters are destined to be the go-to snack for many, many people. I can hear it now. "Dude... I need some Cakesters like...pronto."

They are evil, I tell you. Evil. Pure wickedness with creme filling and moist cakey layers. Don't even get me started on what kind of milkshake this will make.

Fun With Dentistry

The Ibuprofen has finally kicked in, so my upper right-hand jaw no longer feels like it was lovingly scraped along a cheese grater. I'll take this respite from the pain to tell you about my little visit with the dentist....

The ink had barely dried on my insurance forms when I was sashayed to the exam room by a dark haired young woman in a festive frock. While she was taking the first inital round of x-rays, I spilled my guts as to why I hadn't been to a dentist in soooo long. I guess the low-dose radiation gives off a confessional type vibe or something. At any rate, she nodded, made notes on her chart, and then led me away to another x-ray machine. This time I stood up, bit another plastic thingy... only now I got to hang on to handlebars! The machine clamped down on my skull (I kid you not!) and then did a little waltz around my head. I had the urge to start humming that crazy song Willy Wonka sings on his wonderous boat ride... you know the one...

"There's no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going
There's no knowing where we're rowing
Or which way the river's flowing..."

Anyway, back in the chair I sat - and told the assistant to bring on the laughing gas. She said she'd start off slow, and I just chuckled. I knew I'd have that gas machine at full throttle before the fun began. So she settled that little plastic cup down over my nose, cranked my chair back so my feet were in the air, and I started inhaling like Jacque Cousteau going down for the deep plunge. After about five minutes, I was giving her the thumbs up to crank the gas. I did that two more times... and suddenly.....

..........wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Aimee has liftoff.

"There is nooooo drug I knooooow, to compare with
purest nitrous oxide...breathe it in, you'll be free
if you truly wish to beeeee....."

There is a certain sound that I hadn't heard nor thought of since the last time I was at the dentist a billion years ago... which occurs when I've entered Laughing Gas LaLa Land. It actually has a name! It's called "flanging" [link] - and everything I hear starts to echo and reverberate, or "flange", in my skull. This is when things start to suddenly get very funny.... and even as the dentist's voice drifts in from somewhere far away to tell me he's going to give me a filling in one molar AND carve out the second molar to prepare for a crown for starters.... I simply feel like I'm hovering about five feet out of the chair on the sheer power of the Jack Wagner song that was suddenly invading my entire consciousness.

"Allllllllll Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed....is just a little more time.... to be sure............what I feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel"

Oh man - how appropriate is that?? And suddenly a running commentary of the situation begins in my head. Flashbacks from my dentists visits in the 80's remind me that Jack Wagner has, in effect, been at my side at every dentist visit I've ever been at... even while the needles are poking, and the face is numbing, and the machines are starting to whine...

"Is it all in my mind
Cause it seems so hard to belieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve....
that you're all I need..........."

I don't know how this music seems to be so loud in my head, even as the dentist's drills and grinders are shrieking away doing their job. Maybe my brain just automatically tunes in to some faded 80's FM station that broadcasts on a funky nitrous oxide channel? Air Supply was there, and so was vintage Whitney Houston. All the same people who crooned in my ear all those years ago. And then, just as I was swirling away into the old Stevie Wonder staple "I just called to sayyyyyyyy I looooove youuuuuuu".... I suddenly wondered why there was a midget (little person, dwarf, etc. etc.) standing in my mouth. And this thought was exceedingly funny. It literally felt like one of their little feet was planted right on my face...and I started to laugh outloud. Of course, the sound that I actually heard was more like a muffled gargle, and for half a second all the machines stopped and they asked me if I was okay. I let out a high-pitched giggle and nodded somewhere beneath my nitrous mask/terminator glasses/plastic mouth sheild...and all activity resumed in a sudden squeeling roar that was not unlike a 747 powering up for takeoff.

Everything was in a blur after that. At one point I was actually roller skating with Stevie Wonder...and this too was exceedingly funny, because Stevie was leading. And then as I peered through the dark Terminator glasses they had me wear (to block out the Hollywood Premier spotlights blazing down from overhead, and to keep the tooth chunks from blinding me) I swore the patterns on the dental assistant's blouse were morphing into crazy Brady Bunch paisleys.

My arms started to go tingle, and I was glad I had my hands jammed in my pockets. I could tell that there was a real danger of having one just go into a random flailing seizure, and there was no telling what it would hit, or what havoc it would create there beneath the assortment of gleaming torture instruments and drool-tubes.

I was just barely coherent enough to follow their instructions to 'open wide', 'bite down', 'tap tap tap' (whatever the heck that was! But when it was asked of me... I taptaptapped like a good little soldier), and 'breath through your nose Mrs. Stewart, you are fogging up my glasses." BWaha!! So I did... and then Jack Wagner started singing AGAIN! I honestly don't know if I heard that song over and over like I feel I did, or if it was just on some musical loop whilst tripping on nitrous... but it was all good.

Then, someone said they were turning the gas off... and they moved my chair into the upright position, just like someone flipping up their dinner tray on an airplane. I kept laughing to myself as I cleaned up like a trouper at the tiny chairside sink. They gave me chapstick to take with me, and ushered me down the hallway to pay. They had put a temporary crown on my molar, and scheduled me for next Tuesday for the real deal. And then they'll schedule for all four wisdom teeth to be pulled. YAY!!! More nitrous.... and more Jack Wagner. I'm so thrilled.

So now I'm home, with my new chapstick and $25.00 worth of gourmet potato, minestrone, and chicken soup as well as Tillamook Peanut Butter and Chocolate icecream to keep me happy over the next few days..(try navigating the checkout line at the grocery store with half a frozen face! I think the cash register lady thought I was going to mug her with my Elvis Presley sneer). My tongue keeps snaking over to feel the smooth, plasticy temporary molar that has latched onto my gums. I think I need a nap. I have an overwhelming urge to download some Air Supply as well, which may or may not be worthy of a lawsuit. Time will tell.

Rememberance

(New York - October, 1990. I was 19 years old. Eleven years prior to the day now known as "9/11". The following writing is the story of the day I took this picture.)

The morning light flickered in my eyes as our shuttle crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, allowing me only a staggered view of the skyline. I leaned against the window of the bus and stared at the towers of the World Trade Center. They drew the horizon up above the rising sun itself, as if holding the warmth of the day aloft for all the other buildings below.

We were swallowed into the swarm of the city, and I shifted to the aisle of the bus so I could look straight ahead of us. I was used to canyons and coulees... a way of life when living in Washington State - but this canyon was as alien and beautiful as anything I had ever witnessed in nature. The skyscrapers won the battle between their height and my craned neck. Try as I might, I couldn't see the top of them as our bus slinked through the traffic to the hotel. I suddenly had the feeling of being lost in a labyrinth. Alice, falling right down into the rabbit hole.

Five days blended into one singular rush of color. Giggling with my friends in the back seat of my first taxi ride... my first trip to the subway, all three of us afraid to unlink our arms... my first coffee with cream sipped while sitting at a sidewalk cafe. The pretzel vendor who dropped to his knees as we walked by, begging me to come back and marry him. The tiny heart necklace I bought at Macy's, set with ten tinier rhinestones. My amazement that caviar was an option to put on your hamburger while feasting at Serendipity.. Standing in the glitter of Times Square. Feeling the wind rush through me as I stood atop the Empire State Building. Realizing I was actually looking at the Statue of Liberty with my very own eyes.

But within that rush of color, was a swath of light that cut right through and slowed every heartbeat down into a long held breath. Today it is a pure playback of memory that retains every detail, which has come to be one of the most meloncholy rememberances of the trip.

It was during the proverbial "three hour tour" of Manhattan Island by boat. I was sitting up front on one of the smooth wooden benches, watching the city as we quietly drifted by. I had my camera ready... snapping pictures of the varying skyline - wanting to preserve it all to show everyone when I returned home. It was early in the day, because we wanted to make sure we left plenty of time for other things, and so the sun was hovering above the tops of some of the skyscrapers.

It was then that I saw the Twin Towers.

They were so tall, I realized the sun was going to be just cresting at the top as we passed through their shadows. I lifted my camera, peering through the tiny view finder. I waited a moment as the boat chugged onward, and then I saw it. The sun poised perfectly between the towers, at an apex that joined them together by the rays that were shining down. I snapped the picture...then slowly dropped the camera down. For that brief moment in time, I was caught in the stream of light that was funneled between the towers, and flowing out across the water. It was dazzling... and gone in the next breath.

We finished the boat tour, and disappeared back into the city to live out the rest of our whirlwind trip. Once we were back in Seattle, I stepped off the plane so changed. A love of travel forever rooted in my heart, but a deep appreciation of my quaint home tucked in the middle of a large apple orchard. A balance was struck between the two... a bargain that no matter where my adventures took me, this valley would give me a comfortable shelter to return to. I settled back into life, developed the pictures I had taken... and eventually forgot the picture I had taken that day, in the shadows of the World Trade Center. It would be eleven years before I would realize just how extraordinary that image really was.... as I knelt by my old wooden trunk in the bedroom, tears streaming down my cheeks, the picture taken carefully from it's sleeve and held so tenderly. It was as if that small kindness could transfer across the miles, and into the chaos of that one infamous day.

The lyrics to Elton John's song "Empty Garden" fit so well. Originally a tribute to John Lennon...I think of it now in the light of 9/11....


Empty Garden



What happened here...
As the New York sunset disappeared
I found an empty garden among the flagstones there
Who lived here?
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
And now it all looks strange
It's funny how one insect can damage so much grain

And what's it for
This little empty garden by the brownstone door
And in the cracks along the sidewalk nothing grows no more
Who lived here
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
And we are so amazed we're crippled and we're dazed
A gardener like that one no one can replace...

And I've been knocking but no one answers
And I've been knocking most all the day
Oh and I've been calling... oh hey hey johnny
Can't you come out to play

And through their tears
Some say he farmed his best in younger years
But he'd have said that roots grow stronger if only he could hear
Who lived there
He must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
Now we pray for rain, and with every drop that falls
We hear, we hear your name

Johnny can't you come out to play in your empty garden...

(Here is a link to the song on Youtube, if you wish to listen.
)Empty Garden Link

The Farmhouse Adventure

Last Saturday, hubby, myself, and our good friend Jeremy packed up our camera gear and got ready for a little expedition. With the coolers full of snacks, and a rough idea of where we wanted to go, we took off in the Jeep into the perfect summer day.

We drove across the river towards the high plateau farmlands in the east. There were some old abandoned farmhouses sitting out in the wheat fields that we wanted photos of, and today was the day for getting the pictures. Even though the temperature was going to be in the high 90's, we had on jeans (well...hubby and I did, Jeremy was the brave one with shorts on!) and shoes just in case we had an unplanned encounter with a rattlesnake.

An hour later, we were pulling up to the first homestead. The day was already blazing with a dry heat intense enough to peel skin, but we trudged across the recently toiled field anyway. We all split up and started taking pictures of whatever caught our eye, and I have to say I felt somewhat like a National Geo photographer, going the distance for a picture of a falling down house in the middle of nowhere! Eventually we all ended up inside the house, picking our way carefully across the non-existant floorboards, making sure we weren't going to go crashing through to the scarifying 'cellar' below. Dust motes were swirling softly around us, the silence was thick. All I can hear is the click of shutters as the guys do their thing. I am standing there, eyeballing what I want to take a picture of next, when I notice a dusty lump on the floor, nudged up against the wall on the opposite side of the little room we were all standing in. There was something familiar about the largish lump...and as my eyes travelled up along the curve, to where it turned narrow, I realized I was now looking at a neck. And when I realized that, it took me only a couple of seconds more to understand that I was also looking at a little head, and that I was being looked at in return. My first thought was that this creature had died here, and had basically been mummified in the dry heat. But then it binked.

I remember half strangling, half yelping in surprise - and both guys whipp around to see what I'm spazzing about. I point, finger shaking....at the big dusty peacock staring at us.

A PEACOCK!! All covered in dust, and so still that had he not blinked, I would have thought he was totally stone dead. It's spooky when you think you are totally alone, and you aren't. Even when it's a big ole' feathery bird. So the guys get over it fairly quickly, but I'm totally entranced. Of course, our immediate hunch is that it's sick, and not to touch it (OHMYGAWDAVIANFLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!), but I just can't help leaning in a little to see it closer.

I look at it. It peers at me. I lean a little closer. And all hell breaks loose.

Next thing I know, there is a giant peacock body flailing past me. I know it's happening fast, but I see it's big eyeball move by me in slow motion. I'm shrieking. Of COURSE I'm shrieking...and laughing, and dodging the flotsom and jetsam that is stirred up in it's wake. The peacock bolts out the nearby back door (which actually isn't a door, but just a gaping hole), and I look down at the floor where it had been. Three big peacock eggs lay there in a little cluster. AhhHAAAAA!!!! Yes, Sherlock, the bird was sitting on it's nest. Duh!! Geez, so much for being a National Geo photog. Had this been a Walrus, I would have been gored and filleted by the time I realized what was happening.

So Jeremy asks "Was that the peacock making all that noise???"

Um. No. That was me, thank you very much.

Of course, I can't leave well enough alone. Even though the guys go back to taking pictures, I stalk this poor creature out the back door and into the tall grass outside. It's like some sort of freakish movie. I walk outside, and I catch a glimpse of the peacock fluidly gliding through the grass and around the next corner. So I follow in hot pursuit. By the time I get to the corner and peek around it, Mz. Peacock is standing fifty feet away, craning her neck over the grass to watch me. The minute she sees my beedy little eyes, she goes floating on around the next corner. And yes, this continues on like some sort of cartoon, until Mz. Peacock heads in the front door of the house. I call out to the guys "The peacock's coming back!!!!" and Larry turns to see her craning her neck at him, before disappearing into the bowels of the house somewhere.

So, we end up leaving, and reminscing about our near death experience. Well, okay - MY near death experience. Er... well, my near getting-pecked-to-death-by-a-boat-bodied-bird experience. At any rate, it was fun. And besides getting a bad case of heat exhaustion a little later in the day, I'm quite pleased with the pictures, and the stories of the day.

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Today I'm putting the final touches on the new designs for my website! Hope you like it. You know me, ever changing. And hopefully it won't be 104 degrees here like yesterday, because I was one miserable pup, I'm tellin' you! But the thunder and lightning rolled in at about 3:00 a.m. last night, and I laid there watching it through half slitted eyes, seeing the big pine tree outside my window light up in intervals. It's still storming right now, with thunder rolling in the distance, and the breeze coming in through the window smells like rain and earth and cherry trees.

Travel Journal 5

(Scroll down to the beginning of the September 29th posts, in order read the journals in order. :) )

(my apologies for the weird characters appearing in the text. I cut and paste these entries from my word processor, and apparently Blogger doesn't like that very much. I'll try to edit them.)

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September 3rd, 2005 Balham, London

We visited Cafe Moka again this morning. We’ve nicknamed the young Indian man “Trevor”, because he reminds us so much of our good friend in Wenatchee. We sipped our latte’s and chatted with “Trevor” while we watched people commuting to work through Balham.

‘Trevor’ asked us where we were heading today, and we told him that we were going to check out Portobello Street Market. His eyes widened and he nodded approvingly. “I’ve only been there once, but it was great stuff!!” We couldn’t wait to experience it for ourselves, and so we bid him a good day, and trekked on towards Victoria Station via the train at Balham junction.

I braced Larry for the prospect of riding the Tube today, since we had skirted around doing so for the past two days. But after showing him on the map the distance between Victoria Station, and Notting Hill…he agreed to give it a go. So, purchasing our day Travel Cards, and after sorting out which line we needed to be on… we were off.

Now I can see why everyone grimaces about the Tube during summer. It wasn’t even 9:30, and it was already stifling hot! But, after an achingly long time(and somewhat claustrophic for Larry), we arrived at Notting Hill Gate.

What a great part of the city! We instantly followed the flow of people down to Portobello Road, and were greeted by the sight of a ‘living statue’ on the corner. She was completely dressed in white, draped from head to toe in elegant rags… and was slowly moving in the most graceful poses. We spent awhile snapping pictures of her, before heading down to the stalls set up on either side of Portobello.

Truly the most amazing street market I’ve ever seen! Of course, there was lots of bric-a-brac, and cheap tourists trinkets… but the overwhelming thing was the amount of ancient (to us!) antiques, set out in bargain bins! Hand painted prints from the late 1700’s, on sale for a steal at 20 GBP. Old leather footballs (real American style footballs), baskets of old crooked keys, and rows of first edition books such as Dickens’ “David Copperfield”. Larry drooled over that one for quite a bit, and we struck up a conversation with the old book dealer who was sitting nearby. His eyes lit up as we asked him if we could look at the book, and he told us to help ourselves. Can you imagine?? This book would be under glass, lock and key in America… and here we were, carefully leafing through it’s fragile pages.

Larry and the book dealer talked about Charles Dickens for some time, expounding on his brilliance, and his genius at making money. The book dealer confessed that his ‘second home’ was in New York - and that the moment he hears the taxi drivers honking their horns, he knows he’s home. I had to laugh at this, for that’s exactly how I feel whenever I hear Big Ben chiming the hour in London.

We wandered further down the road, and after a few twists and turns… we realized this market literally went on forever. Since the street was looking like a cattle drive, we decided to call it good, and head out for something to eat… but not before I bought a beautiful scarf, rich in gold and copper threads, with beadwork sewn on in paisleys.

We settled on a noisy café called “Tom’s”, which turned out to be delicious. We both had the “Tom’s Toasty”, which was a toasted panini with ham, cheese, and rocket. We washed that down with iced tea and brewed lemon lime soda, and then we were stuffed, happy, and ready for more exploring. But I had to force myself to bypass the fairy cakes on display up front of the restaurant. Their pink icing was practically screaming my name.

We trudged back towards the Tube station, but were briefly sidetracked by a peculiar yellow car parked in a parking lot. It had one wheel in the front, two in the back, and looked like a hybrid Pinto. Larry snapped pictures of this oddity, and spotted it’s name. “The Super Robin”. Heh! I’d love to see what Ralph Nader would think of one of these.

So, we found our way back to the Tube… this time we boarded the District Line, rather than the Circle Line. Larry decided he preferred the District Line… and the phrase of the day became “Cheer Up, Chicken!” Don’t ask why.

We reached Tower Hill, and were awed by the first views of The Tower of London as we came out of the tunnel from the Tube. We weren’t going to be touring it, as it was in the middle of the afternoon, and the crowds were swarming. But we wanted to just admire it from afar for awhile. The first thing that really caught our attention was the ancient Roman wall that was still preserved out behind the Tower. Originally built around 200 AD, it was astounding to imagine the hands that laid the stones in place to build that wall.

We circled around and ogled the front of the Tower for awhile, taking refuge in the shade. A welcome breeze stirred up, just as we saw an old sailboat heading towards Tower Bridge. It was then that we were treated to the sight of seeing Tower Bridge lifting for the passage of sailboat. Of course, we snapped pictures, and then wandered toward St. Katherine’s Docks afterwards. Yes, we were typical Americans, and went to the Starbucks there… but I have to say, the place was full of people, and they all appeared rather ‘local’.

We rested in front of the Dickens Inn for quite awhile, being amused by the pigeons on the cobblestones, and trying to recover for the trip back home. We walked a little further to the actual locks, full of boats waiting to be let in, and were able to chat with an aged gentlemen who worked as the maintanance manager at the Tower of London. He was very complacent about the fact that he actually lived there, and said he was just waiting for retirement so he could head out of London. I was pretty certain at that point that we weren’t going to score any special passages into the Tower through him!

We finally decided to call it a day, and made our way back to Victoria Station, where we caught our train to Balham. We walked into the courtyard of The Coach House, and found our hosts dining outside with their grown children. Lots of greetings and pleasantries all around, and then we retired to our quarters, where I promptly collapsed on the bed and passed out (cheer up, chicken!). Larry took a shower, and then snoozed awhile, listening to the chatter of our hosts below in the courtyard.

I woke up a couple of hours later, refreshed and ready to head out to dinner. We settled on “Ferarri’s” - an Italian bistro, where I had a penne pasta dish wish savory salami, and a Mandarin Cosmopolatin. Larry had Lasagna Classico, and a ‘Cool Cucumber’, which was a drink that really did have a cucumbery taste.

With a slight buzz going on, and our belly’s full, it was time to head to Sainsbury’s, where we collected our wicked chocolately Mars Delight bars, Sainbury’s miniature lemon pies (YUM!), and other really bad snack food. We certainly have enough to keep us stocked in crap food for the rest of our stay here.

But, I confess I have now developed a nasty addiction to those mini pies. Ohhh yes. Yum.