Full Day, No Pics

I left home without my camera.

Yesterday, all by my lone-self, I drove my car onto the ferry and rode to Anacortes. From there I drove to Seattle, had no small adventure in tears and frustration finding an address on the waterfront, then turned my car over to the shippers. It is on it’s way to Hawaii.

From the shipping office, I rode in a taxi to Kenmore Air on Lake Union in Seattle. I was an hour early for my flight, so I grabbed my novel — packed for just such an instance — and went down the street to Starbucks, were I sipped a latte, exhanged quips with a fellow coffee aficionado, then settled at an umbrella table on the patio to read my novel.

About 40 minutes before flight time I ambled back to Kenmore Air. I had no sooner settled on their waterfront veranda to continue reading, then my cell phone rang. It was my niece, Brooke. We chatted for a bit. After hanging up the phone I headed again for my book — and my flight was called.

I had been looking forward to this trip all day. I was to travel in a DeHavilland 8-seater, propeller driven float plane. I have wanted to fly in a float plane since I was a kid watching them land on, and take off from, Lake Coeur d’Alene.

I was the first one on the plane and I was strapped in a ready to go before the last passenger was seated — and there were only 5 of us. Take off was smooth and uneventful. The sky was blue and clear. Visibility was great and I stared down at tiny houses and villages as we sailed out to — and then over the ocean. We were close enough to the ocean that I could see the bottom from time to time. I was disappointed by the lack of marine life — no whales were spotted on this trip.

However, even without whales, it was a wonderful flight. The pilot put the plane down in Deer Harbor just as smooth as could be, and after dropping off a passenger, took it up again just as smoothly. I was wondering, as we lifted off, how much farther it was to Friday Harbor. I was hoping the flight would never end, but no sooner did the thought formulate then we cleared the top of the island in front of us and I saw Friday Harbor spread out before me. Deer Harbor is pretty much “next door.”

We coasted in to the dock and hopped off the plane. I said good-bye to my fellow passengers and started walking. They had luggage to retrieve. I had only my purse. Immediately I called OC to tell him I was home (on the island) and safe. He told me to wait there and he’d come get me in the row boat — but he was still in the lab and it was about an hour before his usual quitting time. I told him I’d walk home.

The walk took about 40 minutes. It wouldn’t have except one of the passengers from the plane hollered for me to wait for her. I had already climbed the stairs to the top of the cliff and she was still at the bottom. Her bag also slowed her down a bit. When she reached me she asked for directions to her Bed & Breakfast. I realized we’d be walking the same way, so we strolled together and chatted about the island.

When I reached home I joined OC in the lab — mostly melting into a chair and trying not to die of thirst while he finished up — then we covered the last several yards to our apartment and OC made me a lovely, yummy dinner of cashew chicken. After dinner we went to the point and OC played his trumpet until dark, then we climbed the hill to the apartment. Shortly thereafter I crawled into bed and slept like a rock.

Pure Luck

When I arrived at the post office and realized I’d forgotten the package I wanted to post, I wasn’t feeling very lucky.  When I found the grocery store packed and the lines long, I wasn’t feeling very lucky.  When I discovered the guy who parked next to my car pulled so close I dang near couldn’t get in the door I wasn’t feeling very lucky.  I was happy to finally pull into the parking lot at home.

I carried my groceries toward the apartment, walking quickly with my head down to see the rocks and tree limbs in the trail between the parking lot and my door.  A tree limb smacked me in the head.  It didn’t hurt, but a piece of leaf or something stuck to my glasses.  Even though it blocked enough of my view to make seeing difficult, it was so close to my eye I couldn’t tell for certain what it was.

I made it down the trail and struggled through the door. After dropping my grocery sacks on the dining room table, reached up and grabbed the “leaf”.  It was wiggling.

And buzzing.

I looked down and realized I held a bee between my thumb and forefinger.  An angry bee that was struggling like mad, and stabbing at my thumbnail with it’s stinger.  I let out a shriek and tossed it out the door.  It bounced off the patio table and careened away.

I am allergic to bees.  This was truly my lucky day.

Life Without a ‘Net

Well, 36 hours net free, and I have already read three books.  The first one was too easy — a children’s novel, You’re a Brave Man, Julius Zimmerman, by Claudia Mills.  I like to check out books before I add them to my classroom library.  This one has a good story.  It should.  It is the sequel to one of my students’ favorite books, Losers, Inc.

The next two books I read were a bit more emotionally taxing.  A Child Called “It”, by Dave Pilzer, reminded me too much of my own childhood abuse — which was much shorter lived then what Dave suffered, and thankfully, my father did not watch passively while it happened.  The Lost Boy, also by Dave Pilzer, described his life as a ward of the state in the foster care system.  Dave shows the system for what it is, good and bad.  And currently I am reading the final book in the series, A Man Named Dave.  When I finish these I might try a little fiction.

OC has tried to imply that I am over-feeding him because I am net free (see the comments here).  The truth is, I started over-feeding him before my hard drive vaporized.  My last couple of years in Vegas I did not have a kitchen that encouraged much cooking.  The counter space was teaspoon sized, the oven didn’t work, and I never really felt like I could get anything clean enough to suit me.  All food was prepared on cutting boards and cooked in my crockpot or the stove top.  Aside from that, I was seldom ever home!

Here, the oven runs a bit hot, but it works.  There is plenty of counter space, and I have all the time in the world.  I have made baking powder biscuits, homemade chicken noodle (with homemade noodles) soup, beef stroganoff (also with homemade noodles), and chili.  I have cooked a few other, less spectacular meals.  OC made his chicken wing Cacciatore.  We have been eating well. 

Today it is raining.  The sky is gray, and the sea is grayer. A cottony fog is sandwiched between them and after years of desert dwelling, I love this.  Outside the world smells crisp, clear, clean and green.  I think I will toddle home from the computer lab and put together OC’s lunch  – left over chili rolled into corn tortilla shells and baked.  I will sprinkle cheese to melt over the top and serve it with diced onions, cilantro and sour cream.  He will eat seconds and thirds and claim it is my falut he is gaining weight.

I wonder what he’s going to say when this evening he returns to left over cacciatore and hot, chewy, gooey, Nestle Toll House Cookies?  Probably, “more please.”