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Catalina Noir

11/30/2016

For an indulgent treat yesterday I ate a couple of servings, maybe a few, of Chili Cheese Fritos, which resulted in having heartburn so bad that when I got into bed I couldn’t sleep. As I rolled around uncomfortably, I was reminded of how I shouldn’t eat that kind of stuff, and should be getting more exercise, and maybe lay off the ice tea after 7, but you know, it tasted so good! I finally got up for an antacid, placing the calcium communion disc on my tongue where it began to dissolve, accompanied by the curious echoing sound of dwarves chipping away in the mines – the antacid was clicking loudly against my night guard, apparently of its own accord. Meanwhile, Joe twitched and snored away next to me, content as Old Yeller. I started thinking of calling him Old Silver. (Uncharitably, as I love Joe’s silver hair – he’s a damn handsome man! Which always leads me to that X-files episode where Michael McKean/Fletcher Freaky-Friday’s – I know! I used a movie title as a verb! – Mulder’s body and looks in the mirror and says, “You’re a damn handsome man!”) But just in my head. At night, when I can’t sleep, and he can.

I felt like maybe I’d be slipping into dreamtime soon when the name of a salad dressing that was escaping both of us during a dinnertime discussion of the iceberg lettuce salads our mothers used to make regularly when we were young popped into my head. I rose from bed and tiptoed into the bathroom where I did a slow motion, super sneaky quiet ninja search for the dry erase marker I use to write on the mirror sometimes. I wanted to let Joe know I had remembered the name, and that I had been wrong at my insistence earlier that it was simply French dressing. It was a futile search. I tried several different items at hand, including a peachy lip liner, green eyeliner, and mood-lipstick that changes colors when you put it on that I won as a prize for winning a costume contest at a long-ago spy party, but none was showing up legibly on the mirror. Finally my eyes dropped to the soap in front of me. I scrawled “Catalina” on the mirror at what I guessed was eye-level for Joe. As I donned a robe and headed for the living room to read until I got sufficiently tired, I hope he realizes what I mean when he sees it, and isn’t thinking of a scary movie moment, discordant knife-wielding music soaring as he squints at the ghostly word in his sleepy state, and believes that when he found my spot in bed empty I was abducted and this was my last desperate clue. Because that’s the obvious conclusion I would jump to at 6 in the morning. Oh, what Chili Cheese Fritos will do…

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The Green Lanyard

11/11/2016

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I suited-up Monday morning by tying on a bright orange Home Depot-style apron with a picture of Martin Luther King, Jr. and King County Elections printed on it over my jacket. This was topped off with a huge and boxy one-size-fits-most-but-I’m-swimming-in-this-thing fluorescent green traffic vest, and a green lanyard dangling my name on a badge. I was perhaps overly happy that I had orange tennis shoes and earrings to match my outfit. Suddenly, I was transformed from pasty little desk troll to The Green Lanyard! AKA Customer Service Specialist I, trained to help you with all your voting questions, ready to guide you to the Ballot Box with a friendly non-partisan smile! Step right up, ladies and gents, democracy this way! Thank you, thank you, and have a great day!

Some post voting observations:

-After two grievous gender-identity mishaps I persuaded my ballot-gathering partner to drop his cheerful “Thank you, Lady!” and “Thank you, Sir!” and just go with a simple Thank you!

-The process of democracy would be much speedier if people refrained from taking selfies in front of the ballot box, shoving the ballot through the slot, because simply telling people you voted is not enough proof.

-That said, selfies were totally understandable for the first-time voters. And the woman who came dressed up as Wonder Woman. I should have had my picture taken with her, come to think of it…

-Most of Tuesday I wore a square bag with a ballot slot on top, so I could take ballots from folks driving up. The bag was HUGE! I walked, pranced and danced around like a blue SpongeBob, the weight of the ballots bouncing against my shins. Sometimes I pounded it like a drum. It was a very long day.

-I saw one person kissing their envelope before dropping it in the box, and another praying.

-I developed a little OCD habit of double-tapping the top of my ballot bag after I dropped in someone’s envelope; a little visual reassurance that their vote was cast. “Ballots? Thank you!” (tap tap) After I first started doing it I had to do it every time. Quirky much?

-I was surprised at how many adults asked for “I Voted” stickers. We were not supplied with any to give out, however I improvised and provided hugs if they wanted them. They were well received.

-Best drive-up drop: King County Metro Bus. By the driver.

-There were several people who were skeptical of the safety of their ballot in the (thick steel, locally-made) box: “There’s not a shredder inside, is there?” “What if someone took a hose and filled the box?” “Or shoved ice cream into the slot?” “It’s going to be guarded over night, right?”

-Midday on Tuesday a Sheriff came to join our crew of four and one State Trooper, just in case we needed help with traffic and such. I couldn’t help sauntering up and greeting him with a hearty “Howdy, Sheriff!” I’ve always wanted to do that.

-As we neared 8PM on Tuesday, I was getting a little punch-drunk from smiling and being helpful all day. I asked the Sheriff if I could use his Taser the next time someone asked me if the voting was rigged. I got a nice smile from him, but no Taser. I could tell he admired my initiative and wished he had me on the Force. One can read a lot in a smile.

-The location of our box was within smelling distance of Dick’s, Seattle’s famous burger joint. Their exhaust fans were wafting the alternately tantalizing and nauseous odor of French fries directly our way.

-There was also a pervasive skunky odor in the general neighborhood. Ah, Washington!

-My favorite question? When a twenty-something man came up to me with a puzzled look on his face and asked “What’s going on here?” Since I was wearing that bright orange King County Elections apron, and a giant blue bag that said the same, people were walking by to deposit their envelopes in a clearly marked Ballot Box in several languages, and it was, you know, November 8th, you can perhaps forgive me for pausing a moment while I looked into his face for signs of trickery. I may have squinted my eyes. I may have sniffed him a little for skunky traces.

-Bucket List item fulfilled: When the ballot box was locked up and sealed, and we were all hugging and saying goodbye, I asked Tom the State Trooper if I could give him a hug. He complied and I couldn’t help but say “Is that a pistol, or are you just glad to see me?” It was a pistol.

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Slow Mo Nanowrimo

11/2/2016

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Day 2 of Nanowrimo: National Novel Writing Month.

When I woke up this morning I decided to put aside the fresh new novel I started to write yesterday, and return to one I started a couple of years ago. So after breakfast, coffee mug in hand, full of fresh Writerly Resolve, I go to sit at my desk in the office nook with my laptop and realize the big and bulky computer is taking up too much room, yet I have to decide where to put it. I think the closet in the guest room might be a great place, so I go in and see the pirate costumery from Saturday’s Halloween party piled on the steamer trunk at the end of the bed, which needs to be swept up and taken to the basement, so I do. Then when I dump the pirate items on a bench to be put in with all the costume stuff later (in bins that are stashed too high for me to reach safely) I notice a long-neglected lamp on the floor, that looks so sad – damn that cute animated Pixar lamp! I feel sorry that we have no use for it anymore, and I decide I need to gift it on Buy Nothing Shoreline where it can have new, more loving owners, so I bring it upstairs, clean it up so the brass and marble shine, and take a picture so I can post it later. After all my writing, you know?

I go back into the guest room where I’m still planning to put the old computer, and I notice a decidedly crooked painting on the wall, so I reach to straighten it, whereupon it falls behind the dresser. I realize that the mysterious shifting sound we heard last night when we were in the living room but were too lazy to investigate, buried as we were in pillows and S.H.I.E.L.D, must have been this little painting pulling itself off the sticky-mount on the wall! I pull the dresser out to retrieve the painting and it’s all dusty from its descent, so I get the flashlight and see it's scarier than shit back there, like it’s seriously Shelob’s vacation lair, and now I have to vacuum behind the dresser, holding a small flashlight in my teeth like a detective, trying not to gag and jabbing the long extension in like a weapon.

Next I rearrange the closet so I can drag the chest (that had all the pirate gear on it, remember?) in and see that the foot of the bed is now looking kind of empty and cold, so I move the little sheepskin rug there. Now it looks good in the guestroom except for my son’s sleeping bag I took out of the closet and put on top of the bed. Nicely folded, but still. I go back to the office nook and write a note that I need to call him to see if he wants it. I record some notes on my phone to myself at how ridiculous this morning is going, and I notice the big computer is still sitting there on the desk, mocking me. After all that I decide the computer shouldn't be going into the closet in the guestroom to most likely die, but instead should go to the basement where it can possibly be used. I go back downstairs to ponder location. I scoop the cat box. I come back up, disconnect the computer and place it next to the pirate loot on the bench.

Now some untidy papers and such are visible on the desk, so I sort through and file some, recycle some others. The recycle bin needs emptying so I take it to the big bin outside and on the way back one of the few valiant dahlias that graced us with their presence this year attracts my eye with a flash of red in the gray rain, and I think it would look lovely in the stone vase on my desk, so I come back in and get the snippers. After the flower is in the vase, I decide the crudely-welded cube that holds the Sharpies and fat pens I separated a while ago from the normal pens because I didn’t want them intermingling, is bad Feng shui and search around for a suitable replacement. I drag the step stool out of the pantry and retrieve a beautiful enameled red Chinese mug from above the kitchen cupboards. Now, with everything to my liking I sit upon my velvet cushion in my vintage wooden rocking office chair, turn on my laptop, rock back, and…my stomach growls!

Despite the setbacks of the day I did get some notes organized, re-acquainted myself with my story, did some editing, and used some previously written material for today’s word count. Plus, I wrote a post for the blog. And the house looks great!

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Hi, I'm Lori, a lover of feeding people. Be it with words, whimsy, or some tasty food, I want to warm your belly or your heart. Or at the very least tease out a little smile.

Catalina Noir

The Green Lanyard

Slow Mo Nanowrimo

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Hi, I'm Lori, a lover of feeding people. Be it with words, whimsy, or some tasty food, I want to warm your belly or your heart. Or at the very least tease out a little smile.

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