Fucking Weather

So, I'm driving behind a bright and shiny new monster pickup truck with a bumper sticker that states: Make Getting Welfare as Difficult as Getting a Building Permit. I have no frame of reference for either, but somehow, that just doesn't seem to be a viable solution. How about addressing the roots of the problems so that neither welfare nor building permits are necessary? For, if we were somehow able to eliminate the idiotic beauracracy and legality inherent in every level of government, we'd surely have enough extra money to feed every hungry person and house every homeless one. Why does it have to be so complicated? Problem: Solution. It could be that easy. This fucking weather sucks. I'm experiencing all the malaise, inertia, and dampness caused by S.A.D., and yet, I'm grateful. I picture the horror that would be my life today if I were still a mail carrier. Today would be the day I'd quit (had I not done so already, snicker). Or, I could be trapped in a cubicle, writing accounting policy and procedure, or medical staff policy and procedure, or marketing materials for a software company that treated me with the respect you would accord a used Kleenex handed to you by a dripping avian-flu sufferer. Today would be the day I left my cursor in the middle of a sentence, walked away from everything, and hitchhiked my way south until it got sunny and warm. Instead, I have the enviable luxury of drowning my sorrows in a cup of Dulce de Leche coffee, boosting my flagging energy with a chocolate covered macaroon, and watching the weather from a large window on the upper floor of a hip coffee house, toasty in a plush armchair. It is truly my decision whether I work hard today, or make the rest of the next six months more difficult by choosing not to work at all. Choice. It's a beautiful thing. A friend of mine is leaving today for New Orleans, to volunteer for this group for a week. I'm proud of her. Although I never act, I often think about how fulfulling it would be to be part of the recovery effort of a devastated place. It appeals greatly to my sense or order, desire to make things better, and sheer purposefulness. OK, one last mindless note. I'm in a coffeehouse named El Diablo, and behind me are young guys talking about how good they feel when they start each day reading the bible. Snort. I need to invent a whole new breed of emoticons that convey the sounds I make when snort-laughing about life's little amusements such as this, which hit me all the time.

Ennui

I love that word. Ennui. It captures so perfectly the feelings I have at the moment. It's not really depression, that word's too loaded with additional implications that may or may not require medication. Ennui is weariness and dissatisfaction, precicely what I am suffering from. A dental appointment this morning; gray skies, wind, and rain; a lack of disposable income; the inability to get going on an exercise and healthy diet program; and doubts about my current book are all to blame. In an attempt to cheer, two great photos my husby took while in San Fran.

This Season's IT Dress

Every woman should have one of these.

Only in America

I'm speechless. More photos at ... & Espresso

Mindless Drivel I'm Thinking About...

...when I should be thinking about my 100-page detailed book outline, due today (it's going to be a long day).

The 5-second rule does not apply in households with dogs. You've got maybe .5 seconds before the four-leggeds are hoovering away.

I wish I'd been savvy enough to know about being an egg donor while I was still young enough to be one. All that money! And here my decaying buggers sit, going to waste.

Coffee with Cream

Omigosh. Some of our bestest friends just got a new puppy. She's so adorable. Her name is Kona, and she looks like her paws and snout were dipped in whipped cream, giving her an early air of sophistication for such a young one. Ah, puppy love.

Sunglasses Theories

I once heard that Seattleites purchase more sunglasses per capita than any other city. I don't know about the veracity of this claim, but I do have some theories as to why it may be true.

1) It's so long between times when we see the sun that we lose our pairs season to season and must purchase new ones.
2) It's so long between times when we see the sun that our eyes are particularly sensitive, and we must have extra protection.
3) We're posers.
4) The passive-agressive light bouncing off all that cloud cover is as bad as the glare that causes snow blindness.

Speaking of sunny days, I spent one of last week's glorious sunny days taking pics of Mt. Baker. See more of them here.

When Human Nature Surprises

Something odd, but good, happened to me today. I was in my car, behind a car with a couple of young kids in it, a guy at the wheel and a gal as passenger. We were stopped at a light. The kid in the driver's seat threw a McDonalds large red french fry box out the window. Usually, I would fume in silence and shake my fist through the windshield and leave it at that. This time, I was peeved enough to tap the horn. Beep. The kid looked in his rearview mirror. I mouthed the words Not Cool. Much to my surprise, instead of flipping me the bird, ignoring me, or going road rage on my ass, he opened his car door, picked up the fry box, and did a little nod in my direction, as if to say, That Better? To which I responded with a mouthed Thank You and a bow with hands in namaste position. We drove our separate ways. It must be the sunshine that's got everybody in a Polyanna mood.

The Hawks Were Robbed

Does it sound too much like sour grapes to say the Seahaws were robbed of their Superbowl win by biased and erroneous officiating? I don't think so. I also don't think a true football fan would use the phrase "biased and erroneous officiating." That's beside the point. My Mom, who lives in Denver, has been a rabid Bronco fan her whole life, and who doesn't know a Seahawk from a Sea Monkey, watched the game with friends as a social occasion. Later, on the phone, it was the first thing she said, "Well, that game was stolen from you." I'm not a huge Seahawk fan. Husby and I wore our Denver Bronco jerseys to the party, we went as Ed Macaffrey and Terrell Davis. Even so, I wanted the Hawks to win, for civic pride and because I don't want to deal with a bunch of depressed Seattleites who haven't seen the sun for 100 days who've now lost the big game as well. At least it's supposed to be sunny this week. Probably the only thing saving us from mass suicide.

What Not to Do in the Middle of Nowhere

Spin out on gravel road. Land in muddy field. Hike out to main road. Get picked up by two ski bums and a photographer on their way to ski in Schweitzer, Idaho. Have no cell service. Wait at Java Bloom (espresso, convenience store, gas, flowers, gifts, groceries, and WSU Cougar wear) in Washtucna for three hours. Use their phone. Have AAA Agent ask you: "That's in Washington?" Hour one: eat a german sausage hot dog with ketchup and onions. Hour two: eat a Mounds bar. Hour three: drink a mocha blended beverage with whip. Have tow guys, two, like, dudes, from Dayton, 50 miles away, take an hour to withdraw vehicle and put on donut in place of back flat. Drive 30 miles to Ritzville. Have sweet man named Adam, of Adams Towing & Repair, 509/659-0545, leave his 9-month old new baby girl to come in after hours and remount and refill back flat, while his two dogs Millie and Tillie observe and eat treats you keep in car. Adam won't charge you, so give him a free copy of your autographed book. He's thrilled. Drive four hours home in rain, sleet, fog, and snow. Arrive at midnight.

Beauty, eh?

I am so tired. My brain is full. May I please be excused? I'm also a lucky girl. The Spokane Convention and Visitors Bureau is putting me up here tonight, in a Davenport Suite on the Penthouse Floor. See lovely new pics at Winter on the Palouse.