HOME!

Headed out for the airport in about 15 minutes. I can't believe I'm finally on my way east again!

Will it seem like home when I get there? It seems like home is wherever my suitcase is!

A sense of balance

It is amazing to me how I slip into familiar patterns with such ease. In my mother's house, the house I moved into when I was four years old, I know where everything is, I know what night is garbage collection night. It is like a comfortable robe of history, wrapped around the seminal events of my young life, my middle life, and now, my older life.

I remember planting the olive tree with my mother and father when it was just a 12 inch stick--now it soars into the sky, as high as the power lines. I remember building the rock retaining walls with my dad, handing him the stones as he set them into the mortar.

I remember the long summer evenings, playing in the cul-de-sac with all the kids in the circle. Our only restraint was that we had to go home for dinner when the street lights came on. Walking to school with my brother, walking home for lunch, walking to the store on Saturdays to spend our allowances on penny candy at the drugstore.

Every part of this place is suffused with good memories. I labored in this house to bring my darling Juli into the world. My husband and I lived here for the first four months of her life. Family and friends now gone meet me in every corner of this place.

And now, to spend time with my brother and mother here, is a precious gift. I am savoring every moment.

I know, I know...

I've taken a breather from the blogging bus. In my mother's house, all I seem to want to do is talk with her and take 6 naps a day. It is so weird being in the house where I grew up, brushing my teeth at my old bathroom sink (with my brother brushing his at his sink right next to me), just like we did 50 (yes, 50!) years ago. But comforting.

I'm just going to enjoy every moment here. I'll catch you up on all the drama when I hermitize on my mountain next week.

I'm finally on vacation, and I'm taking advantage of it!

Back on a Plane!

Seattle has feted my departure today by raining on my parade. We've had uncommonly gorgeous weather for a week, but today, the water is pouring down from the sky. Fine. I'm outta here.

I had breakfast with daughter Juli, son Alex and friend Christy at Pike Place Market yesterday. A wonderful send off. We ended the day with an appointment with Dr. Casabona to go over all the test results. Juli has some decisions to make about medication regimens, but all the problems she presented two months ago seem to be under control now. The doctor was pleased. I always walk out of her office feeling like my head is stuffed full of new information.

Despite the reason for my long visit, I am so glad to have had this time with my babes. Now it's off to Los Angeles to spend two weeks with my mom and brother Jerry (who is living at mom's house while he gets his feet wet with a new job and looks for a place to live). Then, finally and blessedly home to my mountain!

All good stuff.

An Exploring Day

Now that my time here is short, I've decided to spend today in Pioneer Square. I've always wanted to take the Seattle Underground Tour, ever since I saw it on the old Night Stalker television series in the 1970s. Juli also informs me that the world's best toy store and a knit shop are also in the vicinity. Lunch will be at Grand Central Bakery, home of the world's greatest bread outside of Paris.

I can't believe it's almost time to go. Juli is doing so much better (not that we know yet why she gets intermittently, violently sick), working again, back to her cheerful, delightful self. She's put on a little weight, and gotten her confidence back. She has a good doctor, and medical insurance is coming July 1, due to Kerne's new job.

The bathroom is painted, the dishes and laundry are getting done and the bills are getting paid.

The real gift is the time we have had together. We are closer than ever, and I feel as though I have reconnected with my daughter after a long separation of time and distance.

Quick Update!

Once again, my girl comes through with flying colors! A beautiful stomach and colon, no abnormalities! Again, we are thankful for all the awful things that it is NOT!

Telling Time by Traffic

Living in the city has required an adjustment in my noise tolerance. As J & K live above a relatively busy, steep street on Queen Anne hill, the sound of trucks and buses struggling up the slope is pretty much a constant background to conversation or sleep.

Many times I will awake on my spot on the living room couch in the dark of night, and realize that I know what time it is without looking.

Between midnight and 2 am, the background sounds are remarkably the same as during the daytime.

At 2 am, there the buses stop running, but I hear speeding cabs ferrying patrons home from the clubs.

At 3 am, the traffic calms down to a low whoosh of cars passing at a rate of about 2 per minute.

At 4 am, the street is quiet.

At 5 am, the electric buses start running.

At 6 am, the groaning of loaded trucks joins the symphony.

At 7 am, the garbage trucks start their morning rounds.

It makes me wonder if I'll be able to sleep at all when I get home to TN, without the background of constant traffic noise!

Is there such a thing as TOO QUIET?

Happy Birthday! Happy Easter!

I had a nice weekend with Brother Jerry's family. Niece Bonnie had her 21st birthday! How nice it was to have a party of loving family and treasured friends, instead of a drunken bacchanal that wouldn't be remembered.

On Sunday, we dragged ourselves up out of bed and prepared to attend the early service at Jerry and Kellie's church. We were momentarily delayed by a last minute conflagration in the microwave, necessitating extinguishing the flaming slag-heap of what was once a sweet potato, and throwing open all the windows to get the smoke out of the house.

Upon entering the sanctuary however, we noticed (by surreptitiously sniffing each other) that our whole family smelled to high heaven of burning yams! While no one outright asked if our Easter Dinner was burning, you could tell during the Pax that they all suspected something was amiss.

Other than being scent-pariahs, we had a great time. A bonafide orchestra (!) complete with 10 violins, 2 cellos and a bass sawed away with expertise, accompanied by piano, drums, guitar, and several trumpets in the back. The horns had some tortured moments during the fanfares, but everyone played with enthusiasm. The choir was outstanding.

We ended the day by taking Jerry to the airport for his work week in Southern California, and Kellie and I met niece Angela for dinner at the Whole Foods Market. Kellie even gave me a ride back to Queen Anne so I wouldn't have to brave the bus again.

Juli had a good weekend at work, thank heavens. Now that I'm back, we can start getting her ready for her big GI tests on Thursday.

Hieronymus Bus

Take a look at the painting above (Hieronymus Bosch, circa 1500 c.e.) and refer back to it as I relate the saga of Juli and I on the #4 bus to Harborview Medical Center on Wednesday:

I figured out a direct bus route from Queen Anne to Harborview, woke Juli ("we have to catch a bus in 20 minutes!"), and we hoofed up to the Metro Market. We took two seats near the middle of the bus. Imagine my chagrin as we wound around the back side of Queen Anne hill and ended up on 3rd street, about 15 minutes later than if we had taken the usual #2 or #13! I was about to do a major mea culpa to Juli on how stupid I was to have routed us on the #4, when the next passenger came aboard with a fake bus pass. Or was it expired? In any case, the bus driver told him that he couldn't get on, and instead, he blew her off and strode down the aisle to take a seat. It was an omen of greater outrages to come.

At Third & Pine, the unwashed masses crammed aboard, filling the bus to capacity in the aisles, complete with many pieces of luggage, including a man with a bucket of cat litter on a wheeled cart (what?), and a screaming fight broke out between two women in the back.

"Get your @#$%&*! hands off my bag, @#$%&*!"
"Who you callin' a @#$%&*!, @#$%&*! ?"
Etc.

At Third and Seneca, the bus driver had to lower the handicap lift, and started shooing passengers out of their seats to accomodate two wheelchairs coming aboard. There was an ugly, grumbling mood emerging as everyone packed towards the back even tighter. The screaming women-fight continued, and was now joined by a certified crazy, yelling at his dead father:

"Daddy, I know you're up in heaven with Mama now, but even though it's been three weeks since you died, I've got to tell you about the time I set fire to the cat..." Etc.

While this was going on, the wheelchaired passengers were getting on, the bus driver was struggling with the safety straps and yelling for everyone to move back, move further back. This was met with further grumbling, and people in the back started yelling, "No room, no room!"

It was beginning to look like we would be late for Juli's neurology appointment. At the corner of Third and James, eight old Chinese women, chattering loudly at each other in non-stop Mandarin, got on the bus. The bus driver tried to prevent them from getting on board, but they just kept yelling and shoving everyone tighter until the aisles looked like the proverbial sardine can. "Oh good," said Juli, "that was just what this bus was missing!" The bus belched, groaned and turned up the steep hill.

At the next corner, one of the wheelchaired passengers yelled that he needed to alight. The whole bus started chanting "Off, off, off!" The bus driver stopped on the side of the hill, tried to convince the Chinese women that they needed to get off so she could get the wheelchair out, but they refused to budge. The screaming fight was still going on, someone in the back started wailing that there was no air, and everyone squeezed even tighter, while the poor man in the non-motorized wheelchair struggled to roll himself uphill to get to the ramp, sliding backwards several times. No one packed around him thought to give him a helping push, but the man behind me yelled, "Lemme off the bus, you ol' hag!" Several other passengers tittered at this supposed witticism.

The whole bus was in full-fledged revolt by the time we got to Ninth. The man behind me kept yelling imprecations at the bus driver, ending each with "you ol' hag." The titterers continued tittering every time he said it. Up near the front, a woman was yelling at the bus driver while she was trying to drive, "I'm going to get you fired! You don't care about nothin' and as soon as I get off this @#$%&*! bus, I'm going to get your @#$%&*! fired!" The crazy was still calling to his dead father. The odor of Cat Litter Bucket-Man was wafting. The two women in back were still screaming about who had whose hands on the bag.

At last, the ride from hell stopped at Ninth & Jefferson. It was like watching a clown car disgorge an endless parade of passengers. Most stopped to insult or yell at the driver as they debarked, and the most verbal of the rabble kept up the rudeness instead of just getting off the bus. Juli and I could finally stand up from our seats and get off.

"Ack!" said Jules, "I feel like I need to take a shower!"

"I've been rolling my eyes for so long, I can't focus," I complained.

"I thought about what would happen next, " Juli mused, "but all I could think of was that the roof hatches would open and snakes would pour through."

"Well, thank God THAT didn't happen!"

We kept shaking our heads and sighing dismay at the complete lack of civility we had just witnessed. And to be honest, laughing at each individual piece of the nightmare we just experienced.

"The Cat Litter Guy!"
"The eight Chinese!"
"The dead-father man!"
"The bus pass scofflaw!"

When the nurse at the desk told us we were 3 hours early (I had gotten the appointment time wrong), we walked in the sunshine, went to the art museum and had lunch in the cafe. Her appointment was almost anticlimactic.

On the bus home, a couple of drug-dealing teenagers started arguing loudly in incomprehensible ghetto-slang...and then Juli gave a derisive snort and started to laugh. I couldn't help but giggle too. In just a few moments, we were both guffawing uncontrollably, holding our sides, gasping for breath, tears rolling down our cheeks.

The teens stopped their arguing to stare at us. We couldn't stop laughing. They got off disgustedly at the next stop, unwilling to share their space with two crazy-girls.

New rule: Don't EVER take the #4 ANYWHERE!