Darkness falls across the land......

Get yourself a beverage. This is going to be a long one probably. I'm also taking my mother-in-law's advice and enjoying my Widmer Hefeweizen. Knitting will come later. Appropriate post about my very awesome birthday present later.

Yesterday evening, I took myself for a drive. Kevin was out for the evening, and though it was knit night at Border's, I was too antsy to sit and knit, especially in those god awful plastic torture devices they call chairs. I needed to see water, feel the wind on my face. The Delta is just a few miles away, and I often forget that it is easily accessible.

I drove over to the Martinez Marina, and went for a walk. It isn't the walk along the beach that I need, but it was still a comfort hearing the water break on the shore. As with any other wharf or marina, the smell of diesel and decay wasn't completely unpleasant. It reminded me of my trips into San Pedro when I was a child. The salt marsh made me think of Bolsa Chica and the restoration project to restore their wetlands. As the sun was setting, it just seemed wrong. It was setting on the salt water, but there was too much land and not enough sand, too many ducks and not enough Cormorants. I headed back to the car and headed into the hills above the wharf.

I came across the old Alhambra Cemetery. It holds many of the early settlers of the area. The gravestones had dates from the mid-1800's. Oddly enough, I thought of the dead rising from their graves, as in Thriller.

This would be a little spooky at night. It sits at the edge of a residential street. It is surrounded by a chain link fence and barb wire. It seemed so sad. All those buried here walked, lived – here – at some time in the past. Do they have families that think of them today?

This morning we received the news that Farrah Fawcett had passed away. This was sad news, but she was obviously very ill and at least she is now at peace. But it didn’t end there, did it.

I was listening to talk radio, as I do every waking hour at work, and around 2:30 they broke the news that TMZ had reported that Michael Jackson had been taken to UCLA Medical Center, having possibly suffered a heart attack.

As the afternoon progressed, he became the story, as he is even tonight as I write this. On my way home, I thought, “this is the Elvis of my generation”. But as Keith Olbermann has pointed out, he has been part of our cultural lives since 1969. I was four. I don't remember the performances, but I do remember the cartoon from when I was little.

Then there was Thriller.

I graduated from high school in 1983. There was this thing called MTV that I had heard about, but these were still the days of TV antennas, and you just didn’t pay to watch TV, at least we didn’t until I ordered service in 1988.

…they’re showing clips of the Jackson 5. Oh my, the fringe, even for the 70’s…….

These were the days of Freeze It Hair Spray, leggings, big belts and big shoulder pads. I worked at May Department Store at Westminster Mall. I was the Assistant Manager in the Women’s Social Dresses and Fur Department. Yes, we sold fur. We sold a lot of it. We made not one cent commission, and we kicked the ass of our sister store in Costa Mesa. My personal favorite was Afghani Red Fox. Had I lived in a cold climate, one worthy of wearing fur, I would have bought it in a heart beat. Such was not the case.

I worked primarily in the evenings, because, quite frankly, I hate mornings. That is one thing that hasn’t changed in 20+ years. I was taking my dinner break, and headed out of the store into the mall. Next door to May was an audio/visual store and they had a TV set at the entrance. Thriller had just started.

….time for another beverage. Be right back…..

….that’s better……

….now I’m being interrupted by my friend Chris IM’ing me

….jesus, it’s going to 101F on Saturday……

I stood in front of that TV for its entirety. I loved Vincent Price, and I was so thrilled to hear his voice, talking “street”. It was an amazing film. It was more than a video. It became iconic for that time and it changed us. In a word, it was bitchin’.

I bought the Thriller album. I listened to it over and over. My friend Leslie worked in the Junior’s department. It was next to my department. Sometimes we were the only ones on shift for the evening. They played a local radio station in Junior’s – so Leslie and I would dance around – moonwalk on occasion. When Purple Rain was released, and When Doves Cry became a hit, we had our own little stroll that we would do through the department. Another friend I had at work, that I still fondly remember as Koci, because I had one too many Chris’s in my life, worked in Men’s which was across the aisle from my department. I remember when a couple of guys ran out the door with a bunch of Member’s Only jackets (I think) and Koci took off after them.Security was not happy with that.

After work, Koci and I would hang out down at Huntington, have a few beers. His family rescued desert tortoises. I really loved his truck, even that awful minty green color. He was fun and he was a good friend. He was one the last people I saw before I left the states back in 1984. I’ll never forget that day.

May had the first 18 hour sale – I worked it. Somewhere in this house is a letter of commendation issued by the President of May thanking me for participating in retail history. They were the first department store to be open on New Year’s Day – I worked it. The first concert I ever went to was Bruce Springsteen during the first leg of his Born in the USA tour. I went with one of the guys from receiving.

Whenever Chris would come roam the mall, I suddenly got a migraine and had to leave. Chris has ever been a poor influence on my life. I feel safe in writing this since I am fairly confident that he doesn’t ever read this. If he does – just remember – it’s all your fault. Always. (insert sound of throaty chortle here)

I was always running late for work – literally running for the time clock. That hasn’t changed either. A couple of years ago, I went back to Westminster, to walk the mall and see what was the same, and how much had changed. This was before Robinsons-May closed, but the store had been remodeled so many times, it had little resemblance to my store. I’m always disappointed when I take these walks down memory lane. But then we also view the past through rose colored glasses.

Whenever I hear Thriller, or see it, it takes me back to those couple of years that I worked at May, to those last couple of years of my teens. Though Michael went off the rails a while ago, he was amazing back in the day. I want to remember him from that time. In the words of Bob Hope, thanks for the memory, Michael.

If you want to take your own walk down memory lane, here is the link for Thriller. Do a little moon walk. If nothing else, dance like a zombie.

Seven years ago...

... today my father passed away.



Miss you, Pappa.

In the sky

As I have done many nights this summer, I went out to do some star gazing. This is the first summer in years that I haven't driven to Southern California to see my mother. It's usually on these drives that I get to do some star gazing. The one I always look for is Orion. Sadly, it has eluded me all summer, until tonight.

Orion, the Hunter, is the first constellation that my father taught me. Ever since my Dad passed away, oddly, it has been the first constellation that I usually noticed when I would be out at night and the sky was clear. For a while after he passed, it gave me the feeling that Dad was looking down on me and that everything would be ok.

This summer has been a time of change for me. I guess you could say that I've been hunting for answers, and many times the answers eluded me, much like Orion has this summer. Seeing it tonight was almost a relief. For me it was a sign that things are going to get back on track again.

I've also missed Dad quite a bit over the last few months. There are some things that have happened recently that I would have wanted to talk to him about. Questions that will have to go unanswered. Also, for the first time really, there is something that has happened that I really can't be open to talk about, because of the impact, good and bad, it will have on those I love. That bothers me quite a bit.

For those of you that have been stopping by for a while, you know that I am pretty open about my thoughts. I can't be this time. It's placed me in a position to understand how some things are better left unsaid. Overall, the situation has opened some doors for me to explore different aspects of my life, at the same time having to keep other doors closed. I'm not used to that.

I've gotten to know some different people, and I look forward to the prospect of deeper understanding and mutual growth. The unknown can be scary though.

This is part of the reason that my posts have been so sporadic and not very deep. I retract, become introspective, and isolate myself when I'm feeling especially vulnerable. I'm sure many of you do the same. My self imposed hermitage is hopefully coming to an end.

Thanks for stopping by, and thanks to those who have been posting comments. The recognition is much appreciated.

Another long one - better get that beverage

Hello all,

I felt a strong need to sit down and write an entry. After the last few days, and after watching the opening night of the Democratic National Convention, there are many things I need to put to “paper”, so to speak. I hope you’ll bear with me, because I think this will be an entry very reminiscent of the old journal entries that I used to write when I kept such a thing.

Over the last two weekends, I have had the wonderful opportunity to spend time, and in many ways reconnect, with my dearest Christopher. Over the years, because of the distance and our own individual circumstances, we have not spent one-on-one time together. That was at the crux of why I went to So Cal this weekend – to step back in time a little and enjoy something that I have really missed. Oh, and there was the high school reunion thing he wanted to go to. I’ll save that for another time.

I asked him last weekend what he thought was my biggest regret and he encapsulated it so well – risks not taken. He was absolutely right.

We spent this weekend just talking about anything and everything – dredging up feelings and memories that I’m sure will help with healing some wounds, but perhaps, more importantly, trying to put them in perspective and put them to rest. In many ways, that is easier said than done, because it’s hard for us to let go and not obsess. We are very apt to keep saying why, even when there is no immediate answer.

He also said that our lives have been running parallel, with ups and downs, but at opposites. When things have been going well for me, he has struggled, and the same has happened to me in turn. We both would really love being at the same place – satisfied with both our personal and professional lives and being able to share those successes simultaneously. I’ve got work to do in both areas.

I had the opportunity to stop by and see his parents this weekend. They still live in the same home they had when we were in high school. The last time I was there was 3 days before I left for Norway. His mom still has a dog that was bound and determined to trip me up and stay underfoot. His folks are obviously older, and the furniture has changed, but as I sat down at the breakfast counter, it felt as if the last 20 or so years had slipped away and I was 19 again waiting for Chris to get ready. It was very strange, but still comforting. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I needed to get my head back in line. I’ve felt scattered and a little lost the last few months. In many ways struggling to remember who I am, what I can be. As I sat at that counter, I remembered some of the thoughts I had on that weekday afternoon back in May 1985. As scared as I was of the prospect of leaving everything and everyone I knew, I was also excited about the opportunity to get to know my family overseas, understand my heritage and the culture my parents raised me with. Chris remembers that I was very excited. What he failed to realize back then was that I was putting up a fairly good front – I didn’t want to loose those weekday afternoons talking to him about anything and everything, I really didn’t want to leave him. Thankfully, it lasted less than a year. But that trip was full of promise of exploration and education. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t gone home and walked my path alone for awhile.

When we were 19, we were full of expectations and anticipation. The future was ours, and we were going to take full advantage of it. I don’t think either of us could have imagined then where our paths would have taken us, and we probably would have made some drastic changes if we had had a clue. But, then again, we wouldn’t be the people we are today.

As I mentioned, I’ve been watching the convention. I was very moved by Teddy Kennedy’s speech, and the tribute prepared by Ken Burns. You forget what he has done over the years, the tragedies that he has experienced, the strength he gained from those circumstances. Even now, as he battles brain cancer, he still felt the need to be present, to remind those of us listening that the dream still lives. The speech given by Michelle Obama was well prepared and presented. I am thankful that I decided to sit through this first evening, because I did learn something, and oddly enough, was comforted by it.

I haven’t been hesitant about making some politically charged statements on this blog. It is something that I am quite passionate about. However, in the last several presidential elections, I have become disenfranchised and tired of the partisanship. It seems the only way someone can win an election is to tear down the opponent by whatever means necessary, including smear campaigns and lies.

The network pundits think that the Democrats made a mistake by not attacking McCain. I found it refreshing. I used to like McCain, and may have voted for him in 2000. Not anymore. Every time I see McCain it’s all about how Obama is wrong for the job or that McCain was a POW. When Jay Leno jokingly asked McCain how many homes he owned he launched into when he was a POW he didn’t have a house, or a kitchen or a bedroom. Lighten up, John.

This evening restored some faith I had in the political process. I won’t jump on the band wagon yet, because I also want to see what the rest of the week holds, and I will be watching the Republican Convention. I want to hear what each candidate will be proposing. I don’t want to hear how the opponent will be leading us down the rabbit hole to guaranteed disaster. How much worse could it get? Don’t answer that.

So what does my personal journey of rediscovery this weekend have to do with the Democratic Convention? Change. Hope. Promise.

I also took a step this weekend that goes hand in hand with risks not taken. I’m not too old for that. And it’s a change.

After I left Chris, I was passing the exit that would lead back to the old neighborhood. I just kept saying, “you can do this”. I drove by the old house, took in the changes in the neighborhood. I pulled up in front of the house of an old friend, and hoped her parents still lived there. Lo and behold they did.

The last time I saw Becki was my wedding day to my ex – way back in 1988. She was moving to a new home with her husband, and I was a newlywed. I didn’t try to contact her for a while, and I didn’t hear from her. Because my life was being poisoned by a man that wanted to control every thought and action I had (no, I’m not bitter), I assumed I had done something to drive her away. That wasn’t the case, I found out, but because of my own insecurity and obsessing on the negatives in life it took 2 decades to find that out.

Yes, Becki was fine, remarried with two beautiful boys. Just as I did, when her first marriage ended, she left the OC, but she headed south. We talked briefly Sunday afternoon and then again earlier today. I spent a few hours with her mother, trying to catch up on what had happened to us over the years. I also found that she is a preserver of stash as well! She spins! She grows cotton in her backyard! She knits and does needlework and I had no idea.

Our families had shared a back fence from 1978 to 1985. Becki and I would get chased off the phone and it would be too late to go around the corner to the other’s house, so we stood on chairs talking over the fence and star gaze and dream of the future. Becki was one of the first friends I made when we moved to Orange County – even before Chris. Though a year younger, we were still fast friends, and stayed that way through high school and in the years after graduation. When I needed to move away from my parents, she opened her home to me. When I had “boy” problems, she is the one I went to. When we needed a cover story for our parents, we were each others alibi. As Becki’s mom put it, we were thick as thieves.

We’ve taken the first steps in rediscovering each other, which is exciting and scary, but at least I can say that I took the risk and I can move forward with exercising that regret from my life. It’s a change, with hope for the future and potentially the promise of having an old friend back in my life.

So what does this have to do with politics? Hope for the future. A change for the better. An improved economy, that will mean monetary improvement. A better job market and the ability to recover financially. That’s a lot to hope for, but I want to have more things to look forward to instead of looking back and dwell on the things I should have done to put me in a better situation now.

One of my favorite albums when I was in high school was Pat Benatar’s Get Nervous. There was one song on there that I always associated with Chris, and now it seems that it really speaks to how we both have handled things over the years. Bear with me – here are the lyrics:

I heard you say you’re feelin’ like a change now
Maybe, baby this could be arranged now
But I warn you that no exotic scenery
Will solve your problems or make you feel easy
You say you’re happy, but I see apprehension
That little laugh of yours doesn’t hide the tension
The precious book you clutch so tightly in your hands
Won’t help you sleep at night, won’t iron out your plans

You ask advice, then resent my observations
If I didn’t care, then I wouldn’t make them
Can’t change the past, so why let it haunt you
Can paint the future, but first you have to want to

You gotta fight it out with your heart
You got to fight it, though it tears you apart
You got fight it out, my friend
You got to do it for yourself
You got to say when

I can see how much you hurt inside
I know all about the tears you hide

You know that the lonely pay the price for the love in the end.

This was never what I considered “our song”. That’s not something I think most people typically have for a friendship, but in my mind, we had two songs that were, and still are, our songs. The first one was “Shadows of the Night”, also off the Get Nervous album, and “Hard to Say I’m Sorry” by Chicago, the latter being a self-fulfilling prophecy over the years. As to the former, I guess Chris has always been my Midnight Angel. The lyrics above still mean something after all these years, and now reflect back to me and my own struggles. If I want to be happy, and insure that my husband and marriage stay strong, I need to fight my own inner demons and let the past be the past. I also have to have faith in myself again, my strengths and abilities. I will succeed – I will be successful again.

Christ, I’m getting maudlin. I have had but one small glass of Muscato, and it takes more than that to get me “I love you man” drunk.

So back to risks not taken and the promise of the future - I guess I chose a new path to follow over the weekend. I hope it works.

For those of you that managed to stay through this sorry excuse of wool gathering/navel gazing, I promise that I will get back to the knitting soon. I have pictures I need to upload and I want to share!

Thanks for staying in there with me.

Memorable Moments

This is how I celebrated my birthday in 1970 - my main gift was a bike!

See that slide to the right? That was the staging area for my attempts at recreating paratrooper training. My friend from next door and I were jumping off the top of the slide for fun. I didn't want to jump anymore, so she pushed me, causing me to land "awkwardly". Compound fracture to the tibia. That was the first of many visits to the emergency room over the next decade or so. I was neither graceful or athletic, but the injuries were in line with an active and sporty youth.

I don't plan on breaking anything today.

Memorable Moments

While searching for a photo for this week, I came across this one. Though it's a couple of years old, it still is a very special memory. Out of the blue one day I got a package at work. That in itself was not unusual, what was in it certainly was. For no reason other than "because", Kevin sent me flowers. And they were beautiful. Two dozen roses in shades of peach, yellow and white. They survived for two weeks. Every time I looked at them, regardless of what was going on, I had to smile.

He still manages to surprise me, even after 16 years.

Memorable Moments

When we were driving home last summer after our first road trip with the new car, we stopped in American Canyon at a foundry and took a look around. What caught Kevin's eye was a 15 foot tall gorilla. What I thought was funny was this:



I seriously can imagine having something like this is a back yard someday, or greeting guests at the front door. They had a bigger T-Rex glaring at the passing traffic over the fence. It was about 20 feet tall.

If they made one that looked like Godzilla, it would be sold. Godzi holds a special place in our hearts, and not that sorry excuse of a Sony movie with Ferris Buehler a few years ago.

I guess we are just refusing to grow up.

Memorable Moments

There are few times that you get to see this view.



Taken from the Bank of the West building in San Francisco. Pity my reflection popped up. I thought I had adjusted sufficiently. I was waiting for a follow up session after having passed the first stage of interviews and testing with a financial planning company. Seriously, if you had a camera and saw this view, wouldn't you want to take a picture of it?

Memorable Moments

I barely remember making this:



It's a crocheted throw in Red Heart. I probably made it when I was 14-15 years old. I thought most of these "old" throws were long gone. Even Red Heart will eventually give in to my mother's rigorous cleaning rituals. This was found in one of the cabinets in the garage where my mom keeps excess linens. I haven't seen this is in at least 15 years, so imagine my surprise.

Mom said she doesn't use it much, she thinks it's too pretty for regular use and I may want it someday. I asked her if there was anything else that she might have that I thought was long gone. "I'm not sure, dear. What do think I have?"

I wish I could get her out of the house for a few hours so I could snoop. I know my old Barbie's are there somewhere.

Memorable Moments

It seems I'm in a rut here. The only types of pictures I decided to look at were of the dogs.



Heidi and Fen in 1995. Heidi was used to being on her own after 5 years. Then this little, annoying furball showed up.



This look tells me "Look, Mommy - I kilt it!" The novelty of playing with "it" wore off after a week or two, when she realized "it" wasn't going away. The main problem was that he didn't respect 1) her sleep time, 2) her cushion, 3) her special time with Mom and Dad, 4) her toys, 5) her food. He learned over the years, and he paid dearly for his indiscretions. He was completely devoted to her, though.

Every once in a while, I could really use a dog fix.

Memorable Moments

I had some trouble coming up with an item for today, but it seemed simple enough after I listened to my iPod this afternoon while at work. Concerts. I like going to them. Many of my memories have specific songs associated with them, and concerts have played a substantial role in reinforcing some of those memories.

The first concert I ever went to was the Vienna Boys Choir. My Dad thought it would be a good experience for me, as I was learning the violin at that point. In retrospect, it was probably a very good concert, but my stint as a violinist lasted about 6 months and watching a bunch of boys sing was pretty boring. At 11, it's hard to keep interested in anything that keeps one in an uncomfortable seat for over an hour.

The first concert I went to that was of my choosing was Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. Even better, it was the Born in the USA tour, and as a "first concert" experience, there is none better. I saw him twice that tour, first in Los Angles and then in Sweden. We (as in Mom, Dad and I) moved to Norway for a while. I was 19 and felt bereft of country and identity. Oddly enough, that album, that tour, the force that is Springsteen, brought me to a new realization, a different level of self awareness. In truth, an acceptance of who I was. It took me a couple more years to flesh out that new me, but it was the beginning of understanding that I was an American with a long and full Nordic heritage, and that was something to be proud of.

I've seen Springsteen 4 more times since then. He's still my favorite, but U2 and Rush are tied for 2nd place. I've also seen BB King and Ray Charles, both wonderful and enriching experiences. I wish I could have seen Tina Turner before she retired. Cher was amazing - especially all the costume changes. I was close enough to Guns'n Roses to recoil from Slash's ash and sweat spray. Bon Jovi rocked it pretty well. I would love to see Prince again. Iron Maiden was totally awesome, a head bangers ball if there ever was one. I love Stevie Nicks, and I've seen her twice. Others like Aerosmith, Motley Crue and Judas Priest were all good, but not necessarily leaving me clamoring for more. I was amazed how much I have enjoyed artists such as Weird Al, Meatloaf and Cyndi Lauper. I would pay to see them again, and as far as Weird Al in concerned, have repeatedly done so.

There are many that I would like to see, those that are on the "gotta see before they die" list.
Hey, I'm not getting any younger either! I have regrets for those I didn't get to see, like Freddie Mercury with Queen or Steve Perry with Journey. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. At least I still have their music to listen to.

Me & Mickey

Way back when I was 5, I had my first encounter with Mickey. Growing up in Orange County made that a little easier than for most. Disneyland was a place we went probably once a year, sometimes more. By the time I was a teenager, I had enough of it. I would rather go to Knott's or Magic Mountain. They had "thrill" rides.

It wasn't until I was well into my 30's that I became enamored of Disney again. In 2002, we went to Orlando for 10 days. It had been over 10 years since I had been Disneyland. Walt Disney World was amazing and wonderful and tiring. Even with as much as we got to see, something was missing. We were in Orlando in October. For Christmas, we went back to Disneyland.

That was the first Christmas without Dad, so we had to do something different. We spent Christmas Eve at the park. It was beautiful and magical. I don't remember every being there around the holidays. I regained what I had lost so many years before; I became a kid again.

There are those that have a preference for Walt Disney World, but Disneyland has so many wonderful qualities, not least of which is that Walt walked here. Pirates and It's a Small World are so far superior to WDW's version. We still have Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. And we have the sub's again! Last year was the first time since 2002 we hadn't been in the park, but we did go to Downtown Disney, so I got my fix (and my pins).

I wish that I had appreciated it more while I was still living there. It truly can be the Happiest Place on Earth.

Remembrance

Dad loved to play keepaway with me. It obviously started when I was quite young. I eventually got the hat ( photographic evidence), but he would tease me for-ev-er until I got my way. I usually did. Being daddy's little girl had certain perks.

6 years ago tonight that smile left forever, and the laughter with it. Even though the death certificate says March 26th, it was on a Monday night that I came home, went to bed and was awakened a few hours later by the call from my mother. Her words were nearly unintelligible - the gut wrenching sobs enough for me to know that he was gone.

Just a few days before Christmas, he and I had our last "real" conversation. I was in Las Vegas, celebrating Christmas a few days early with the in-laws. It was a Tuesday morning, sitting in a restaurant that no longer exists inside Treasure Island, speaking to Dad on my cell, that I knew something was terribly wrong with him and we needed to go there for Christmas.

It hadn't been in the plans. We hadn't been able to get a house sitter for the dogs. We get home, put in a day at work, pack up the Montero with dogs and luggage and head South. It's my mother's 75th birthday. She had always forbidden animals in the house. They had the run of it, except the master bedroom. We didn't know it at the time, but Dad had started throwing mini-clots. The man that could calculate a shopping cart full of groceries to the penny - for fun - couldn't figure out he had $28 in his wallet.

They would go to the hospital after Christmas - let's just get through the holidays. He hadn't been well, had had the flu. His appetite had been off. He'd be fine. I was in denial - and I should have taken him myself. They had never listened to me before; they weren't going to start now.

We headed home. There wasn't much else we could do. 3 days later, Dad was in the hospital. His idiot doctor told me, when I showed up at his office demanding an explanation, that he had already informed my brother (I'm an only child) that Dad was suffering from Alzheimer's. The doctor that was on call told me that Dad had congestive heart failure, said that because he stopped taking one of his blood thinners that he had been suffering from clotting and mini-strokes and that all we could do was make him comfortable. He probably wouldn't be with us for another 6 months. Dad's cardiologist was furious. He wanted to know why Dad had stopped taking the meds that he had prescribed. You see, 6 months earlier Dad had received an on-demand pace maker. His cardiologist said he would probably live to be 100! His General Practitioner, the one that had spoken to my brother, had removed Dad from some of his meds. Dad wasn't the one suffering from Alzheimer's, it would seem. The doctor retired from practice later that Spring. A lawsuit would have killed Mom.

That last Saturday before he passed, I insisted that my Mom go out for the day with her best friend. I would sit with Dad. I worked on my laptop, had the TV on with a show he would like. I talked to him throughout the day. He responded with nods or shakes of his head to questions I would ask. I made him lunch, that he could barely get down. Swallowing had become very difficult at this point. I spent some time working on a knitted blanket that I had started when he was in the hospital. It covers our bed now in warmer months.

That Monday when I was getting ready to leave, I told him I would be back in a few days. I knew that it wouldn't be much longer. He shook his head. I took it to mean that I shouldn't rush back. I insisted that he would see me again soon. He shook his head again. I kissed his cheek and told him that I loved him. It was at that moment that he uttered the first full sentence to me since that Tuesday morning in Vegas. The first time I knew in my heart that he saw me, that he knew who I was. "I love you too......"

Alone with my thoughts, and my tears, I retraced the path back to Southern California. I arrived back at the house, where less than 24 hours earlier my family was in tact. Like thieves in the night, the people from Hospice Care had seen to it that all traces of his illness, of his death, were removed. It was almost like a terrible dream.

Over the next few days Mom and I did what we had too. I went through papers. We met with the funeral home director. We made the necessary plans. We had the service and then we opened the house to any who wanted to stop by. My friends were wonderful that day, with one in particular who stole some older ladies hearts with his hosting skills. At the end, we toasted Dad with Norwegian Linie Aquavit. It had been a regular cargo on his ships, so it seemed appropriate.
So, tonight, I raise a glass to him in memory. I try not to think of those last few months. I would rather remember him as he was in the picture - laughing and enjoying a game of keepaway.

Favorite's

My honey and I - hope everyone had a great Valentine's Day!

Memories of Long Ago

There is a reason why I use Solslett - it reminds me of this place. This is where my Mom grew up. A little town, hamlet, called Halsa. The farm was called Solslett, loosely translated to Sunny Plain. Mountains on one side, the ocean on the other. This is the place my heart longs for, the place I feel homesick for. The only place the I felt the hand of God. I miss it more than words can describe. And it will never be the place I remember again. So many have passed since I last walked these roads, so much has changed. But it will always be the home of my heart.

The woman in the picture is my Mom, taken the summer of 1982. That was the last time I spent the summer on the family farm. I would visit again, but not spend the long summer days there, being bored out of my mind with my cousins. We never knew how good we had it.

Memories

There are days when I really miss my Dad. And yes - I was Daddy's little girl.

Does this, or does this not, just scream 70's?

Memories

Two years ago on the 26th, my furry shadow went to her final rest. I like to think that she's with my Dad, following him around instead.



I miss you, Boo.

20 years ago today

I have a tendency to hang on to things. Goodwill has been quite the beneficiary of late due to this habit. However, there is one thing I do not regret buying, as it has been an integral part of my life all these years.



Me and Blue, when we were young and full of ourselves. When I first bought her (yes, it's a "her"), there was no such thing as an SUV. It was rated a commercial truck and I had to pay weight fees. I found I loved off-roading, and she's seen her share of mud. This was back in the day when a 4x4 AND a stick shift might be too much for a girl to handle. Well, it was handled very well.

I've driven through urban floods.

I've towed a Cadillac out of Monument Valley.

I've been on the fire roads in the hills above Monterey.

We went face to face with a Buffalo in Yellowstone Valley. The Buffalo was almost as tall as the car.

I've been to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

I've spun out in a down pour on an oil slick off ramp.

I've gone ice skating on black ice in a snow storm.

I've had two blowouts - driver side rear tire in 1992, passenger side rear tire 2006. Both on Interstate 5 going home to Northern California.

I brought my precious girl, Heidi, home in this car. I took her and Fen to their final rest in it as well.

I brought my Dad home after hip replacement surgery. He had an easier time stepping up into the car as opposed to sitting down in his.

I moved all my stuff from South to North, either towing a trailer or filling her to the brim (she can hold a lot).

I have had 2 speeding tickets - 1990 going downhill on I40 on the Navajo Reservation, 1993 on the I5 going home. My top speed has been 90 - and that was quite a few years ago.

I have been rear-ended 6 times - 5 women, 1 man, all sedans, all had damage to their hoods or grills. A trailer hitch can do a lot of damage.

I have hit no one. I did hit a brick post. Parked in that same space for over 2 years and one day I came at it too fast and took a bad bump off the rain water diverter. Had to remove the end cap from the bumper because I couldn't turn the front tire to the left. That happened in 2005.

She has no air conditioning. Didn't need it living in Orange County. Can't say the same for Diablo Valley.

I can still remember the days when I could come out of a store and see the top above all the other cars. Haven't been able to do that for years.

She still has the tightest turning radius of any car I have driven.

There is nothing like taking her down Lombard Street. It feels like you are going to fall out the front window. Scares the crap out of anyone sitting in the front seat!

I guess it just comes down to all that I have seen and done, all the places I have been, all the experiences I have had from the seat of that vehicle. And when people see her, they know it's me, because she is one of a kind. We're one of a kind. I love my Blue. The joke around here is that I'll probably be buried in her!

Happy Anniversary, Blue!

A Simple Note

Last Thursday was my Dad's birthday. He would have been 88. I didn't realize what day it was until much later, many hours after I found the note.



I had grabbed a notebook out of the filing cabinet. Most of the stuff in there was related to a job search I was doing back in 1997. I ripped out those pages and started to make a list I needed. I filled up a few pages, and that's when I notice that something had been written a few pages ahead.

Mom and Dad were here for Dad's birthday in August of 1997. We blew the main breaker when I forgot the air conditioner and the dryer were both running when I turned on the microwave. Kevin had to go to the store to get a replacement - we have glass fuses. I'd taken Mom and Dad up to the Wine Country, which they enjoyed. There is a picture I took of them in front of V. Sattui (my favorite "watering" hole) that Mom has in the her living room. It's one of her favorites.



This is the two of them in front of Sutter Home in May of 1998. I wish Mom would laugh like that again.

Anyway - the note. Kevin had gone off to work, and Dad felt bad about not being able to say goodbye - or thank you. Ever the gentleman, he wanted to leave Kevin a note. And for some reason, it ended up in a drawer, forgotten, for ten years.

To say that I miss my father would be the biggest understatement ever made. The fact that his death could have been averted, makes it even worse. Knowing that a part of my mom died with him, and that she will be forever bitter about being alone, just compounds the whole mess.

So, on my Dad's birthday I find a note from him, a very rare thing. Dad never wrote much of anything, it was important that he say it, so you would know that it was important and that he meant it. Just a silly, little note because it was the right thing to do. And it felt like he had just died all over again.

He wasn't perfect. He had his faults. He always tried to do his best. He was a wonderful, gentle, gracious man. I was very lucky to be his daughter.



I love you, Papa. I always will.

The Redwoods, an Aquarium, and a Requiem for a Car

I like going places on my birthday. It makes me forget that it's my birthday. Birthdays were fun when I was turning 24, not so much now.

This was our second trip to the North Coast in a month. We were up there for Memorial Day, checking out my in-laws soon-to-be new digs. This, however, was an old fashioned Road Trip. To check out an album I created, look here or here.

We managed to fit a lot into three days (6/28-7/2/07). We visited the Avenue of the Giants, who's heyday has passed, but was still fun. Kevin loves these types of places, because they have "nostalgic" tourist attractions, such as the Shrine Drive Thru Tree. As you can see, he had some fun!



We visited several other spots along the way such as the Chimney Tree, the One Log House and the Immortal Tree. I would go back again, someday, to spend more time in some of these places, just so I can appreciate them a little more.

We stopped in Scotia, one of the last lumber company owned towns in the Pacific Northwest. Their museum was quite interesting.

We stopped in Fortuna, and had lunch at Eel River Brewing. Mmm, mmm, good. I had a crab salad sandwich and cheesy garlic fries. I will have that again. We also did tasters of the beer and I have a new favorite - Hazelnut Porter. Brought home a liter of that stuff. It's dark and full of body and tasty as all out. That will definitely be a stop on the trip to visit the in-laws. Did I mention they're organic! The tree hugger in me loves that part.



We went to Ferndale, which needs a power wash. It's still nice in respect to the fact that's it's an historical landmark, but it has a little bit of a neglected look about it. I bought my first souvenir yarn of the trip here at Foggy Bottom. The stash flash took place here. A small haul, but well worth the stop. Also, the Gingerbread Mansion is located here, and it is beautiful.

Since it was getting a little late in the day, we headed towards Crescent City, where we were staying for the next two nights. The drive through the Redwoods is so nice towards the end of the day. We even saw Roosevelt Elk!



The next day, we went to the lighthouse, which was open this time. I got my lighthouse passport stamped and found out that the Postal Service had issued that week first class stamps based on Pacific Lighthouses, and St. George's Reef was representing California. We were able to see that lighthouse from the Battery Point light, and I managed to get a picture of it with the telephoto lens. We went to the post office, where I was able to get a first day cancellation! Yes, I am a geek.



Next stop was A Perfect Yarn, which will be my Mother-In-Law's LYS when she moves. I picked up more souvenir yarns here, both sock yarns, but they are from local dyers! Squee! That was my birthday present for myself. It was in the stash flash mentioned earlier.

We also stopped by the Redwoods National Park office so I could get my National Park Passport stamped. Yes, geekness is my friend. I wanted to get an idea of where we might drive on Sunday on the way home. Next stop - Trees of Mystery in Klamath!

There are so many cool things here - there is a beautiful nature walk, tons of carved sculptures and something called the Sky Trail. These gondolas take you up onto a ridge - the view is beautiful - but you're floating above fern groves and through the tops of the Redwoods. It is so awesome! And when you're done, there's a Native American Museum with some truly wonderful artifacts. OMG - I could spend the whole day there. And we got pictures with Paul Bunyan and Babe. It is so Route 66!

In desperate need of food, we left and headed back to Crescent City. After having a late lunch, we were at a loss for what to do with the rest of our evening. We headed out to an Indian casino that offered free breakfast to those staying at the Curly Redwood Lodge. OMG - the smoke - the smell. A never cleaned ashtray smells better than this place. I could fee the lung cancer gaining hold. I'll pay for breakfast, thank you. If I felt like this, I can't imagine what Kevin's pristine lungs felt like. Yuck.

We decided to see a movie - Die Hard 4! It was fun! I like Bruce Willis in these movies. I especially like his catch phrase - which wasn't used in it's entirety but quite effectively! We had popcorn and soda and it was lovely. The place reminded me a little of the Edwards Cinema at Westminster Mall, but that's a 20+ year old memory.

So, Sunday, we head home. We were able to see another tree with a hole - the Tour Thru Tree. They have emu's. I hate emu's. The sound they make reminds me of veloceraptors from Jurassic Park. Shudder. We stopped at the Loleta Cheese Factory, in Loleta, and picked up some very tasty, very reasonably priced cheese. This will be a stop again in the future. We did a few other things too, stopped for dinner, and arrived home while the sun was still up!

On the 9th, we went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, album here. We haven't been in there since out first vacation together in 1992! That was fun too.

We saw otters


We love otters.

And jellies....


and some more jellies...


and some fishies.....


I love going to the aquarium! Hopefully it won't be another 15 years before we go back. And just because it's cool and I learned how to do it, here's some video.





Then - bad things happened.

On July 12th, as Kevin was coming home from work, a guy made an unsafe lane change in front of him. Kevin didn't have time to break completely, and hit Mr. "I didn't even see you" Highlander. State Farm decided to DNR it - a busted radiator and A/C compressor. Yes - the cosmetics were the issue. Impy still wanted to go on - it started just fine, could even be driven. Granted, parts would have to be salvaged - if found - since some things just aren't made anymore for a 1993 Subaru Impreza. Valiant to the very end, off it goes to the salvage yard with a full tank of gas and 268,192 miles on the original engine, tran-y, paint and interior. Though it was literally a pain in the ass to sit in, the term aching back seems trite, we will miss you. Your 38 miles per gallon will be a mark that your replacement will find hard to match. Your head and leg room were of comfort. Your 0 to 60 was amazing. Your 95 mph on highway 5 will be missed. The fact we could cook an egg on your dashboard won't be missed. Or your bucket seats - did I mention the aching back?

What I will remember is when we drove to Roseville to pick up Fen.



Or the trips we took to Idaho Falls t0 visit the family

Kevin and our youngest nephew, Tyson.

The last day trip we had with Fen and Heidi, before Fen was diagnosed with Cancer.

Kev & Fen at Briones.

Or spending time with friends in Solvang.

Kev, Tammi, Chris and his daughter Autumn enjoying ice cream on a hot summer day.

But, most of all, the trips we took with you all over this state. All the time I spent driving to Mom's. All the time I spent knitting, or stitching, or sleeping. Or the time simply spent with Kevin just being.

Goodbye, old friend. You were a good car.