Rain, Rain, Go Away!

After a bit of a rocky start we managed to get going on the staining of our deck this weekend. Err.. maybe I should say Mark got going.

We cleared off all the patio furniture, relegating it to new homes, either on the cement patio outside the basement door or on the front porch. I've been meaning to move a couple of those chairs to the front for a long time now and I have to say it's a great place for them! Nice area to read in the somewhat cooler afternoons and watch the neighbor kids enjoying the last of their summer days.

Then came the task assigned to Mark, the cleaning and bleaching of all the deck surfaces. It looks so good - I woke up Sunday morning and stood at my window looking down in appreciation and joy. What a beautiful deck we have! Now we just have to give it 48 hours before we (Mark) can go back and apply the stain.

So of course today we have rain. Bleh. I had been wanting rain to help distress my paper bundles swinging gently above the porch. You can see them in the photo - paper bundled up and hanging in the outdoor weather to be seasoned and distressed. In a few months I will take it apart and use the weathered papers for other projects. But today I would have skipped the rain in favor of the porch over my bundles.

That staining will have to be postponed just a little bit longer. Hopefully not too long. I guess I need to be careful of what I wish for!

Go Ahead, Make My Day...

This is another story that occurred in the dark ages. No kids in our lives yet, still a dink couple.

Remember that acronym? Double Income No Kids? D.I.N.K.

Mark was driving for Schucks and usually had a late run on Fridays which sort of cut into our weekends. Not to mention it made me a little nervous that he was on the road on a Friday night when the bars were closing and the drunks were hitting the streets. That was another lifetime ago and fortunately, he survived it.

I'm not sure why it happened but Mark informed me that he was off on an upcoming Friday and what would we like to do? OMG, there are so many options when you are dinks and free to go and do whatever you feel like!! We started tossing ideas into the pot and tentatively making plans.

Then "IT" happened. Mark told me that his friend Al had tickets to the Mariners and he was going to spend Friday night with Al. I was so mad I couldn't even speak. I don't recall if we really had an all out fight or if I just went into Silent Mode. I think it was the latter, because I seem to remember Mark continued to putt around with blinders on, not even noticing that I was mad... which of course just added fuel to the fire. He might as well have sprayed me with lighter fluid and got out the marshmallows to roast over the bonfire that was my anger, I was that hot!

Friday morning I went through my usual routine and off to work. Sometime during the morning he gives me a call and asks if I want to have lunch with him. I grudgingly agree to, but know in my heart I am going to do all I can to make that lunch miserable for him. How dare he blow off our weekend for a Mariner game that he's not even taking me to?

How Dare He!

Mark shows up at my job and pops his head into my boss's office and chit chats with him while I am grabbing my purse. I stood outside the door with a sour face plastered on while he makes nice with my boss. GRrrr... Then he asks if I am ready and walks me out to the car. He's such a gentleman and opens the door for me.

Whatever.

Doesn't he get that I am mad? M. A. D. MAD!! Does he have a brick for a brain that he can't even read this level of emotion??

He pulls out of the parking lot and heads to the freeway telling me he knows a great little place to go to lunch. Nice, Dude, whatever. We are on the freeway about 15 minutes and I'm starting to get a little anxious on top of my mad. Mark knows I only have a 45 minute lunch break, what the heck? He's going to take me to some "great little place" at which I'll have to gobble down my meal in three minutes flat to get back to work on time? My husband is not scoring any points with me. So much so that he is way below zero and far into the negative points. He's going to owe me big time by the time this is all behind us and I deign him worthy of speaking to again.

Finally, 20 or 30 minutes into the drive I have to speak to him and I start with as much sarcasm as I can muster.

"You do know I only have 45 minutes for lunch."

He responds with some off hand, perfectly calm, oblivious to my mood answer. He points to the glove box and tells me to open it. Again, What.Ever!

In the glove box is a card, and in this card are three little words:

Are you ready for this? It's not the usual three little words...

You've

Been

Kidnapped!

He tells me my boss is not expecting me back at work this afternoon. He tells me my clothes are all packed in the back of the car. He tells me we are off to the cabin (yes, that cabin!). And he tells me he loves me and wants to spend this rare weekend with me, not Al.

He even packed my cross stitch project and the book I was reading. What a guy!

Cabin Fever

I'm going to share a little story that happened back in the Olden Days, long before kids or even marriage, for that matter. It was not long after my husband and I had started dating. I think I may have met his parents already but not anyone else in his family. We were just kids having a good time dating.

Hubby's parents own a cabin in the north Cascades. He thought it would be nice for us to join them at this cabin for a weekend. It's on a river where we can fish and of course, being in the mountains, there are lots of hikes to do. And it was going to be a sweet little get away for my birthday. The first time we ever celebrated my birthday together.

At that time we both owned mini-pickup trucks. Mine was a Dodge D-50, my steady eddy never-let-me-down pick up. I loved her! His was a Chevy Luv. I didn't know much about his truck, but my little black & gold girl was much prettier. We discussed who's truck we should drive to the cabin and I really thought it should be mine. But he insisted we should take his. We were leaving later in the day and would be arriving at the cabin after dark. The roads up there don't have much traffic and if something should happen to us, or the truck, we'd have a CB radio to call for help.

Remember those? CB radios? I think truckers still use them. There was a time in the 70's & 80's that even normal people thought they were fun to have in your car or truck. Along with lifters, radar detectors and the biggest woofers you can fit in. But I digress...

So, the weekend comes and after work we head out of town and up to the cabin. It takes a couple hours to get there, about half of it freeway driving and the second half on Hwy 2. Hwy 2 is one lane of travel in each direction and the further east you go, the smaller the infrequent towns get. The climb into the mountains is very rural.

Once we have left the freeway behind us and travel about 45 minutes or so east into the mountains, the truck begins to lose power. The little Chevy Luv truck. The little blue truck with the CB radio. Whew, who knew? We're rolling onto the shoulder of the road, coming to a stop, but at least we have a CB radio, right?? Thank goodness!!

Wrong.

I ask the boy, who I don't realize will become my husband some time in the future, to use the CB radio and call for help. And do you know what he said?

"It won't help. We are too far away for anyone to hear us."

I.Kid.You.Not.

So here we are sitting on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere at 10:00pm or later in pitch darkness. Did I mention dark? The kind of dark you have when there are no towns around shining their street lights collectively up into the sky to reflect down from the clouds. The kind of dark that won't even let you see your hand in front of your face. That kind of dark.

One or two cars came by over a period of time, but they didn't stop. I am not sure they even slowed down. I thought we would certainly be sitting there still when morning came. Eventually, a car came zipping by us, slowed, turned around and came back. Finally, an Angel! We were still a good 10 miles from the gate to the park where the cabin is and our good Samaritan was very close to being out of gas. It probably doesn't take much to figure out that in that remote place there are no all night gas stations. We gave the driver some money for gas praying that alone would coax his car along. He told us why no one would stop to help us. It seems it was just a week or so earlier that one of the country people living in that area had picked up a hitchhiker and got mugged. The odds of being helped were against us, save for this kind stranger. I am grateful to him to this day!

So ten miles later we were dropped at the gate to the park. From that gate it's about a mile to the cabin. A long, middle of the night, cold, can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face, walk. When we arrive at the cabin his parents seem a little surprised to see us. Hm, that's odd, I thought they were expecting us! Even odder, there are other people there I don't recognize: my boyfriend's sister, her husband and baby, and my boyfriend's brother. What a lot of people!! And what are all those things that look like **birthday presents**??!!??

Oh.my.heck!!

Future hubby has planned a surprise party for me. And the party guests have been waiting for much much longer than they had anticipated!

And they were still waiting for him to call on the CB and let them know we were about to arrive. Yes, that CB! If it wasn't for that one little detail in their plan, we would have been in my truck and arrived on time!

We had a great weekend. When his entire family showed up to showered me with birthday presents before they'd even met me.... well I guess I should have known how serious he was feeling about me.

"Popular" Sucks (or Pet Peeve #?)

I was never a popular kid. I suppose, like most kids, I wanted to be. It seemed like a good idea to have half the school population clamoring for your attention, wanting your opinion and seeking you out every day of the week for fun & exciting events and outings. Best of all, it would be a sure fire defense against boredom, being kept busy by all your fans and devotees.

I had my group of friends but I dare say I wasn't even one of the more popular within my own group. Despite all the lovely benefits of being popular, one of the most important aspects is something I am not good at - chit chat. Knowing this is a big weakness of mine, I avoid it almost at all costs. I don't start conversations with strangers, I don't initiate phone calls and I hold back, sometimes way back at social events. Those things put me far out of my comfort zone. Even family gatherings, which I don't do much anymore since leaving the west coast, I invariably found myself on the perimeters looking in. Discomfort sometimes feels like my natural state of being.

That may seem very odd if you know me, because I love teaching. But let me tell you, teaching is simply a role I play. Perhaps I just don't know the role of playing myself.

There is one place that I am popular. Within my own little family of four. And there are times I would definitely like to step out of this role. Let's start with the hubby. He works 60-70 hour weeks. When he's home he wants my attention. Even though he may be spending most of his time at home with his laptop working, he still wants me in the room. And if I am on my laptop playing a game or otherwise entertaining myself it displeases him. I do not do well just sitting in front of a TV... I need something else going on, cross stitch, paper crafts, computer, DS... anything. And all those things annoy him. I guess he can "compete" with the TV but anything else is too much. If he wants to "get away" that does not include our offspring. I do understand that we need husband/wife get away time, but I also enjoy our family of four time, too. I also understand that Daughter 1's retail management job and Daughter 2's college career/part time retail job make it very difficult to find time for a family getaway, but I do hate excluding them.

So what about the daughters? Both having retail jobs makes time together difficult to arrange, and adding college classes makes it darn near impossible. Add to that one being over the age of 21 and the other not, adds another dimension. So I spend time with either of them on an "as available" basis. Recently it was running errands with one. With the other we planned a half day trip to a previously unexplored location. You would think dividing up my time like that would work, right?

Wrong.

Each outing with one person seems to bring out the worst in another. I hate this with a passion. Something I tried to overcome way back in the dark ages was the idea that two other people getting together was a bad reflection on me. It's not. So why why why, do I have to hear things like, "you always wait until I am busy to do something" from the person that has to work? Do I have sit and do nothing until every member of my family happens to have a day free at the same time? Because Daughter 1 has to work am I not allowed to spend time with Daughter 2?

What ever happened to phrases like, "that sounds fun, have a blast!" instead of "poor little me, I can't go." I absolutely abhor being put in the position of leaving someone out, and yet every member of my family makes me feel that way, makes me feel like I am responsible for their happiness or unhappiness.

Adulthood means having responsibilities and having responsibilities sometimes sucks. It may mean one can't do or be everywhere they'd like. But all I am asking is to please please please suck it up and be happy for what you get. Being popular apparently comes with a huge serving of guilt. If that's the cost, then I don't want any, thank you very much.

My Shortest Blog Ever

I just wish I'd stop feeling like this.

He Likes/She Likes

Why is it the woman (or maybe just me, Betsy, alone - ?) is always the one to acquiesce?

You know what I mean. It's the "little" things. My hubby likes his pants folded one way, I fold mine another. Years ago, after he mentioned it once or twice, I began folding his pants his way and continued to fold mine my way. Easy enough, right?

However, in "normal" male oblivion, when folding my pants he folds them his way. It annoys me, but I overlook the inconsistency and feel happy he has folded my pants!

When I do things around the house I do them with him in mind. It this the way he would like it? When he does things around the house he does them without consideration - they are the way he would like them.

When I shop I buy the things and brands that he likes.

And so it goes.

One day he decided the house did not need to be so cool.... er- less warm. So the thermostat was turned up and he trots off to his nicely air conditioned office each day and I swelter at home. Once again, I have acquiesced to his desires.

Recently he installed a ceiling fan/light in our bedroom. It was much needed not only for the fan, but we had no overhead light and our room was very dark. I love our new fan/light! Can I also tell you how much I love a gentle breeze washing over me on hot evenings? It's something my husband knows, too.

The fan was installed while I was out of town and upon returning home I was given the tour of its features. Light switch on the wall turns on the upper lights. Not very bright but oh so much better than our former "no lights." With the remote we can control the fan and the lower light from anywhere in the room. Fan: three speeds! Light: dimmer capability!! I am feeling the love.

Then the really big news... Hubby tells me that he set the fan switch to reverse. This means the fan pulls the air up from the floor rather than pushes it down from the ceiling. This matters, why? Because there is no breeze when the air is being sucked up!! Not the same kind of breeze created when it's being pushed down. I seriously doubt he even thought about what I would prefer since it was his opportunity to do what he prefers. Guess I'm still going to need to put a fan on my side of the bed...

This fan also came with a ghost. Or unleashed one. I thought at first it came with the fan since this is a house we built and I thought hadn't seen death. Then I remembered Harriett did indeed die here. And perhaps she's returned to play with (tease) me.

Mark gets up early for work and I sleep peacefully on. One day he asked why I always turn the fan off when he's in the shower. Trust me - if I'm sleeping I am not about to wake up to turn off a fan that I can barely even feel blowing on me. If that fan is off I can assure you it was not me who did it! One evening I was in bed reading and the dimmer light came on. Really? I had no need for it at that particular time. I put down my book, turned off both lights and closed my eyes to sleep. a few minutes later it was on again.

Last night we outright battled it out. I headed to bed around midnight and found that I still needed to put my freshly washed sheets on the bed. I turned the dimmer light full on so I could easily make my way around and .... snap! I was in the dark! I turned it back on and it snapped back off. I turned on the wall switch so I wouldn't be completely in the dark and began a game of lights on/lights off. So I thought I'd change it up a bit and turn the fan off. Fan came back on the lights went off. Grrr... I LIKE a good light when I am making my bed!! My "ghost" finally relented and allowed me some light time and I got the bed put together.

Krissy came into the room shortly after that and I thought I'd entertain her with some ghostly hi-jinx, but apparently the spirit of playfulness had passed. I couldn't tempt that light or fan on or off. Krissy now thinks I am crazy.

Hubby knows better. When he came to bed 20 or so minutes later the light popped on for him. We laughed and he turned it off. I soon fell asleep with air being ever so (too) gently sucked up around me.

The Act of Writing

I've been wanting to visit my Badonkadonk Cafe with some chatter for quite some time now. However, the things that are on my mind are not of the sharing sort. That in itself has put me in a conundrum.

I want to write.

I want to write about what's on my mind.

But I don't want to share these particular thoughts and emotions.

I mentally went through the places I could write. On my computer off the internet. One of my blogs. Facebook notes. MySpace blog. Start a new unpublished anonymous blog?

I really don't like writing on my laptop and saving there. It's a bit silly, but I have this feeling that something would happen to me and my family would read it and I'd be embarrassed, even in death.

Did I say it was silly?

My blogs are all public and that's out of the question when I just want to write to sort my feelings, blow off steam, rank on some innocent person or whatever it is I write about in private. I am well aware that I feel things that are not always logical, right, or fair. My best instincts tell me not to put those thoughts "out there" for just anyone to see or comment on. Although there are those that are allowed to see me without my "make-up," it would be best not to venture out sans "make-up" for the entire world. And I have to believe that even those who are allowed the occasional glimpse of the naked me would prefer I keep my "make-up" in place. Life is so much simpler that way.

A new, private & anonymous blog? Sounds really tempting!!

MySpace blogging. I do miss that one. The ability to write a blog and choose who reads it or not. All in one place. Easy peasy blogging.

I suppose there is the ability to do that here. I see a "save now" button below my text window. Would saving this essay without publishing it accomplish the desired privacy? It appears worth testing.

brb....

Nope, not the solution. A saved Badonkadonk blog is not a formatted blog. To revisit it is to view it in the text box. There may still be a way, but I'll have to explore further.

The Act of Writing

Why do I find it therapeutic? So much so that I often find myself looking for a topic. The frustrating part is that I reject topics that I don't think hold any appeal for the occasional reader who might pop in. Why does it even matter? I am certainly not in the realm of famous bloggers with thousands of readers, shaping public opinions on anything/everything from food, media, politics, travel or whatever. I just have my little everyday life to share. Is it even entertaining?

Writing. Keys of the laptop making soft little clicks in rhythmic spurts below my finger tips. It feels good. Like playing an instrument. The melody is there on the screen for me to see as I play my notes. Certain strains take longer... I play them over after backspacing to erase a melody that didn't ring true in my ears. Yes. It's not just the words that I share, it's the physical act of putting them on the screen, editing as I go, rearranging the thoughts to flow as a tune that pleases me.

This particular piece is a bit disjointed. There is no doubting that. But it's been my therapy, it's the tune I wish to write today. This is the tune I will share publicly while I continue to seek the venue for my more personal music.