no family is safe when I sashay!

I’m up before the children – three, in all – and I have those few minutes after my husband leaves for work, and before anyone else joins me. I shower, and dress. No makeup but a little lipstick – hair back in a slouch cap. Dishes, and laundry, and tidying up some tailoring work as we’ll be expecting company throughout the day.

Now I wake up the children: first, my son, who is frightened over the vaccination he’s set to receive this morning. Then, the girls: my daughter and the kids’ friend C. We’ve got to hit two doctor’s appointments back-to-back. We’ll be doing that before we get a meal out together.

It’s rainy out but I have a little coffee in my Nalgene bottle, and my warm scarf. The kids are cheerful company. Phoenix is a young woman now and would no more skip a morning shower than I. Her hair is wet; her face dear freckled face snubbed with a little powder. At the doctor’s, she finds some women’s magazine – Jane or Marie Claire or something – while the other young girl finds a Highlights.

People in the office, and later running errands – so many seem so unhappy. Irritable at those minor delays that happen everywhere. At the taquería working class men look me up and down as I ferry drinks and napkins and salsa to the table. I eat slowly, checking my phone. Enjoying that first meal of the day. I eat until I’m satisfied. And now: I must get us home. Drop one child off, receive another. Put together a few Christmas gifts.

It’s cold and rainy; my car is giving me fits. Tomorrow is payday so tonight I can write a check for our dinner, and for Christmas Eve dinner. My husband is tired – as tired as I. My knees, my neck ache. My son runs through the house, first acting out every song in “Jesus Christ Superstar” (he’s still quite fixated); later, in a pair of neon green boys’ briefs that match the garish bandaid on his thigh – his vaccination site.

The rain, the curious meow of kitties needing love. Keeps me company as the house falls more and more still.

among interests: kittens, cuddling, creatures, manga

Phoenix opened her own FB account today. You should friend her because she’s a ray of light.

Phoenix at the Mia 1

Phoenix at the Mia 2

Phoenix at the Mia 3

Italian Wedding Soup! Well, my version anyway. (Spinach and parsley):

Spinach, Parsley

Evening. Phoenix intent, playing LOTRO:
Playing LOTR Online

She is just now bathed and wearing a t-shirt of Ralph’s. All four of we Hogabooms suffer dry skin in the winter months. We put lotion on the children after they get out of the bath, then a “daddy shirt”. It keeps the itches at bay.

I finished a testing garment today and got notes sent out and pictures taken before the fading light. I can’t show you pictures – secrets! – but you can at least look at the lovely yardage I used and what is obviously a well-drafted seamline.

Raglan

I also hauled the Wizard sewing machine I picked up at the thrift store ($8) to the local quilt shop. I’m a fool for old vintage machines, having them tuned and refurbished and oiled… oftentimes to give them away to those who want them. The thing is I can’t stand to have someone tempted to buy some POS brand-new plastic thing from Walmart or Sears when there’s so much old vintage goodness – better machines and not nearly as wasteful as buying a new one. And I guess it throws a little scratch to the local OSMG.

Tonight my mom took us to dinner at the local pan-Asian restaurant. Teriyaki chicken, sushi, a bento box, yaki-udon, chicken broccoli, egg flower soup in a clear lovely broth, tea. A lovely hot meal to scare away the rain a bit. When we got home friends were on our porch. The two kiddos stayed until after midnight, laughing and playing with kitties.

Good company.

hard to come back from caveman

This morning at 1:15 AM our power came on. I woke up, lay in bed and thanked God (it had been three full days), then got up to re-arrange my fridge (we’d packed all into the freezer with ice bags and I would now have to re-rescue the food from the other end of the temperature spectrum) and start some laundry. Last night my daughter had kept me up with a croupy cough. With the candlelight and lack, completely, of anything to do when the darkness fell I was starting to feel like we were living a throwback existence.

It took me a while to get to sleep after our lives suddenly were put back to normal in a snap. Life had become very different. We’d started marking off our days in terms of experience (the first day was “Novelty Day”, then we were on “Ice Day” and heading into, “OK, Now I’m Really Cold Day”… Thursday was slated for “Shit-Water Day” and frankly I’m glad we missed out on that).

My parents arrived over about 8:30 for heat and breakfast as their power, like so many others’, has not returned. Their well-insulated house had finally achieved the outdoor temperature. My father is especially sensitive to cold as a side effect from his platinum-based chemo. To his credit, he hasn’t complained once. This morning I cooked honey biscuits and broccoli quiche. In fact we’ve been eating well enough, because there’s not much else to do except think about what to cook and how to cook it. Last night I succeeded in a homemade pizza on top of my gas insert.

Hoquiam’s west side is fully up and running. Minus many fences, pieces of roof, trees, and skipped school and work days. Ralph’s work servers are still down and I know many around the county are still suffering cold and wet and some major property damage.

it was a brilliant, clear, and lovely day today

Today I was blessed with many things. Not just time with my most loved ones, ever – and also fresh air and exercise and good coffee. Most of all: walking home after picking up Sophie it was streaming sun and the sky was laden with puffy, white clouds accompanied by a few glowering dark ones. And predictably out of this rose a rainbow; a brilliant, vibrant presence that inspired its own shallow doppelganger just above it. I listened to my children’s delighted descriptions and a block later we were met by Harris the Fierce Not-So-Kitten; he follows us most of the way to school these days then disappears a block a or so from the final destination. Then on our return he prounces up to us out of whatever yard he took to exploring that day, running ahead and behind and inspiring liquid giggles from the kids.

It must have been a special day because only a few blocks later cross-traffic commenced with the Coleman Mortuary’s hearse (a new one, it looks like) passing by up the hill to the cemetery. A caravan of twenty more cars followed, fresh from rain and transitioning from the service to the burial. The faces in the cars, some are sad, some are happy, some preoccupied, some are tear-stained and devastated. I watched them all as we waited the cars out and I answered the questions the children asked. Harris hid in the tree behind us and then, when we crossed, darted after us on hunter’s paws to skid ahead of us into our front yard.