East Coast and ... Alaska?

Back just before we left Vancouver, Washington, I wrote about my dislike of the culture in the Pacific Northwest. Go on, click on the link and read it if you don't remember. It's a short post. And it boils down to the people in the west just weren't as nice as the people in the east.


Alaska, though...wow. Alaska feels like home. Feels far more like the culture I'm used to. The car battery died a few days ago, while Lithus was in Europe. I trudged back into the apartment building, asked if anyone had a recommendation for a garage. That wouldn't do.


Suddenly, two people who work for the apartments and another woman who doesn't but whose business rents space here were determined to find someone here in the building who could give me a jump. Twenty minutes later, a man I'd never met before was using the jumper cables from a woman whose name I never got to start my car again.


But it's cold here and whatever caused the battery to die initially didn't get addressed so by the time Lithus was home, it was dead again. Saturday night was the Company's holiday party. It was being held at the hotel directly across the street from our apartment. Lithus asked his boss if Boss would mind giving us a jump, since he was going to be in the area. That wouldn't do.


Sunday morning, Boss and Mrs. Boss showed up, drove us all to breakfast, and then jumped the car. When it was obvious what was wrong, there was no way we were (okay, Lithus was) going to be allowed to work on the car in the cold parking lot. We drove over to their house, parked the car in their garage "to warm up and thaw out" as the four of us went for a drive up to Big Lake. Once we got back, the guys tinkered with the car while Mrs. Boss and I went upstairs, ordered pizza, and drank lemon drops. By the time Lithus drove us home (did I mention the lemon drops?), it had been decided that we would take over the garage again today.


Last night, our friend, Nicki, called. He had today off as well and wanted to know if we could all get together. Lithus told him that, sorry, we were working on the car this afternoon. This wouldn't do.


At 2:00, Nicki showed up at Boss's house and spent the next two hours working on the car with Lithus.


No, we won't let anyone, even a stranger, pay for a jump.
Of course, we'll stop by. And feed you pizza and booze.
You will use our garage.
I will help you work on your car.


This is what I'm used to, yes, even from stoic, aloof New Englanders. This is what home is supposed to feel like. This is what good people do for each other. This is the east coast...and Alaska.



Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

It's Not All About You

A couple years ago, a decisive blow was struck in the great War On Christmas ~ which can be seen at every mall, grocery store, craft market and parade in the country, by the way ~ at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. A rabbi was walking through, on his way out of town, and happened to mention that, given the plethora of Christmas decorations, it might be nice to see a menorah along with the rest. In typical over-reactive style, instead of just adding a menorah, the wise folks at Sea-Tac took down every single decoration that was identifiable as Christmas-y. Because, after all, why be inclusive when you can martyr yourself to political correctness and scream about the War On Christmas?


So Happy Hanukkah.



Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Wassail = Drunken Joyous Party!

Wassail! wassail! all over the town,
Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;
With the wassailing bowl , we'll drink to thee.

Now, maybe it's just me, but any song that starts off like this should be a racuous one. Lots of toasting and laughing and enjoying oneselves.

Somewhere along the line, however, this has become sung like a dirge. I could find instrumental versions of it that sounded as if the carolers were actually having fun, but I couldn't find any vocal versions where they sounded either bored out of their minds (the best option) or suicidal (the worst). So, here we have an instrumental version ~ and the lyrics below. Read them; you'll see what I mean. These people knew how to party.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.






Wassail! wassail! all over the town,
Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;
With the wassailing bowl , we'll drink to thee.

Here's to our horse, and to his right ear,
God send our master a happy new year:
A happy new year as e'er he did see,
With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.

So here is to Cherry and to his right cheek
Pray God send our master a good piece of beef
And a good piece of beef that may we all see
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee.

Here's to our mare, and to her right eye,
God send our mistress a good Christmas pie;
A good Christmas pie as e'er I did see,
With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.

So here is to Broad Mary and to her broad horn
May God send our master a good crop of corn
And a good crop of corn that may we all see
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee.

And here is to Fillpail and to her left ear
Pray God send our master a happy New Year
And a happy New Year as e'er he did see
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee.

Here's to our cow , and to her long tail,
God send our master us never may fail
Of a cup of good beer : I pray you draw near,
And our jolly wassail it's then you shall hear.

Come butler, come fill us a bowl of the best
Then we hope that your soul in heaven may rest
But if you do draw us a bowl of the small
Then down shall go butler, bowl and all.

Be here any maids? I suppose here be some;
Sure they will not let young men stand on the cold stone!
Sing hey O, maids! come trole back the pin,
And the fairest maid in the house let us all in.

Then here's to the maid in the lily white smock
Who tripped to the door and slipped back the lock
Who tripped to the door and pulled back the pin
For to let these jolly wassailers in.

Moose

One of the things I have wanted since arriving in Alaska is to just wander up on a moose. Everybody assured me it would happen. There are something like 1500 moose within the Anchorage city limits. Lithus has come and picked me up and driven me to where he'd seen a moose but, alas, I had yet to spy an unsolicited moose. Until last night.


The other night, we were driving home from the airport ~ because Lithus has finally returned from Europe ~ when the car in front of us came to a complete stop on the highway. Our cabbie changed lanes and slowed dramatically, too, coming to a complete stop...directly in front of the moose, standing in the middle of the road. And we all just hung out and waited until she had moseyed on across the highway. Her friend stayed on the side of the road, watching, until she decided to head off the other way.


I am told she was a yearling, or maybe two, but still very young. Dear Lord, she was huge. And beauitful. And moosey.


Which helps make today's music choice quite easy...



Those are moosey Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Growing Up Musical

I do not remember a time in my life when music wasn't a part of it. My father was a singer and musician. My grandmother was an opera singer. My mother played piano. Growing up, Crow and I were always involved in something musical. While it never felt forced, I remember looking at Daddy at one point in my late teens and knowing it had been intentional that we had grown up musical.


For ten or so months out of the year, the music that floated through and around the house was usually classical and showtunes, with some 1970s protest folk thrown in for good measure. But from the Friday after Thanksgiving to shortly after Epiphany, it was all Christmas music, all the time. The Canadian Brass. The Philadelphia Brass. The Kingston Trio. Later, Manheim Steamroller and George Winston were added into the mix. And, of course, Handel's Messiah.


After my dad died, we were quieter for a while, but I knew I was healing when music started making its way back into my world. In light of all this, we're going to try something: musical posts. Just for the season. If I actually remember to do it everyday.


We'll start here because, while Daddy had already died by the time flash mobs came into being, I think he would've approved. Especially of this one.


Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you an eggnog latte.

The First Christmas Post of the Year

Because this really never gets old...



Enjoy!

Those are Pobble Thoughts and the musical stylings of Straight, No Chaser. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Thanksgiving: A Perspective*

Well, it happened. I have landed on my butt on the snow. It was my own damn fault. I was not wearing particularly aggressively soled boots and I was pissed, so I was striding along as if I wasn't on icy, snowy slickery-ness.

Now, let me give you a little background information. Lithus and I live right on the edge of "the good part of downtown" and "the bad part of downtown." What this means is, if you look out the east windows of our building, you see modern, sparkly buildings. Downtown shopping. Businesses. Parks. Starbucks. If you look out the west buildings, you see older, lower buildings. The soup kitchen. The halfway house. The drag clubs. The by-the-week flophouse "hotel." You're never quite sure who you're going to meet. It's part of what we love about the area.

Which brings us back to our story... First, I slipped and the man coming down the parking lot behind me called out for me to be careful. Being pissed already, I managed a grimace and a wave. But I didn't slow down. Another fifty steps and down I went. By that time, the man had closed the distance. Not in a scary way, or anything. Just in a he was walking faster than I was, even with my angry stride, way.

He bent down and offered me a hand. I, not being the least bit angry at him, accepted it with a grateful if ego-bruised smile. He held onto my arm long enough for me to get good and stable and before we started to move again. We were right at a place where our paths diverged so I said another quick thank you and started toward my apartment building. He stopped and said "Thank you for letting me help you."

...
...
...

Did I notice he wasn't very clean? Or that he didn't have all his teeth? That he was probably a resident of one of the establishments around me, if he was a resident anywhere? Of course I did. I am a city girl and I am a people watcher. Either of those things means you always know who is around you, behind you, approaching you. Put them together and trust me, I see everything. But I'm also good at threat assessement. This guy just wanted to help me get back up on my feet and stable. And trying to get my feet back under me, his cleanliness and oral hygeine were the least of my concerns.

I want to be surprised at the thought that perhaps someone ~ okay, a woman alone ~ wouldn't have accepted his help. I'm not. It makes me sad to not be surprised. And it makes me sad that he had to thank me for letting him help me. Not sad for him, though. He's not the one who's lost his humanity, after all.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

* with thanks to Lori for the title

Mini-Blogs

These are thoughts that have been full-blown blog posts in my head in the shower or while I'm doing dishes or whatever but that haven't made it here. Until now. In mini-form.

The ravens ride the drafts by the building. I can't help but think they are playing and having a grand old time.

Friday night, I went to the tree lighting in Town Square (yes, that's actually what it's called: Town Square Park). It was wonderfully, Christmas-y awful and I had a blast. Plus, as I texted Crow, in Alaska, when Santa shows up, he has a real sled and all the reindeer. And they are huge. HUGE.

A friend (hi Denny) has had to change the settings on his blog to no longer allow anonymous comments because people have been showing their tails. Another friend (hi Lori) had to do that a couple years ago, as well. I realize I'm preaching to the choir here, but folks? Is it really that hard to be polite, even if you are anonymous? Isn't it more important to be polite when you're anonymous and aren't able to take responsibility for what you say, what you write, how you impact people? Yeah, I know...the choir.

And yet I do understand the freedom that comes with anonymity. I don't blog nearly as often or as freely as I once did because this blog isn't as anonymous as it once was. In the first 3 years of this blog, I remember editing myself all of twice. Once each for Dreamer and AppsRUs. And those edits were word choice, rather than content. In the last 3 years of this blog, there have been more edits and in the last 3 months...wow. Lots of edits. Edits that have turned into "fuck it, this is too hard to even try to write" content edits, rather than word choice. I'm not nearly as interesting edited, though. Anonymity is quite freeing ~ although it still doesn't give us permission to be mean to each other. In case you were wondering.

I've found a new doctor. This is exciting because I really haven't been in a place to have a doctor since moving from Massachusetts. That's not to say I haven't been to a doctor in that long. I just have gone to walk-in clinics or made single appointments with a friend's doctor or whatever. To have a doctor, that I can build a relationship with, that I can explain my heart-thingy and my Vasal Vegal Vaclav Havel Viva Vegas thingy to...well...it's nice. Especially since I am incredibly picky about my doctors. A string of bad ones when I was a teenager and young adult have made me wary. I think, however, I like my new one. I know I like the clinic itself, which is always a good start.

It's going to be a weepy holiday season this year. It already is and we're not even into December yet. There are years when I am so overcome by the beauty of the season, by the words of the carols, the expressions of love, that I tear up. Yeah...this is going to be one of those years. It always starts with the coffee commercials. Damn Folgers, anyway.

My all time favorite celebrity crush has been Brian Dennehy. Since I was about twelve. Seriously. Fine, I admit it, I have...unusual...tastes. My top three have been pretty solid for a very long time: Brian Dennehy; Morgan Freeman; Chow Yun Fat. So who the hell do I throw out to add Tim DeKay to that list? (Curiously, I have lost interest in all the "young ones" from that original post. I like a man with some miles on him, apparently. I'm infinitely okay with this.)

Speaking of celebrity crushes, I still really Tim Russert. The political climate is such that we need him, his quiet, if insistant, dignity and intelligence.

And those are Pobble Thoughts, in mini form. That and a buck fifty will get you a demitasse.

Releasing Anger

For awhile now, I have been aware of being so fucking angry. I've been angry at politicians; at the people around me; at the left; at the right. I've been angry about money. I've been angry about security pat-downs that don't make us safer and people who claim to want the Constitution upheld on one hand, while shredding it on the other. I've been angry at people who hate and I've been angry at people who are apathetic. I've been...you get the idea.

Talking to friends and acquaintences, I've learned there is a lot of anger going around right now. You can't turn on the news or open a website without hearing someone yelling about something. And you know what happened? About a month or so ago, I got angry with myself.

See, this anger isn't me. I'm the one who has been accused of being, dare I say it, Polly-Anna about life. And I miss that. So I'm choosing to not be angry about ... everything ... any longer. Honestly, I think the world could use a little more peace right now, anyway.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

For the Record #1

When I receive an email that is intentionally emotionally manipulative and contributes Absolutely Fucking Nothing to the world except more self-righteous crap that doesn't accomplish anything, it makes me the view the sender differently.

If that same email ends with
You now have 2 choices. You can either foward this on to everyone you love or you can delete it as if it has never touched your heart, thus making you an evil, puppy stomping bitch who single handedly let the terrorists win and makes baby Jesus cry. Your choice! :)

or any of the myraid of variations therein, I will opt to be an evil, puppy stomping, terrorist abetting, baby Jesus tormenting bitch every time.

Just for the record.

It doesn't seem this week is starting out any less weird.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Ps ~ No, that last clause about stomping puppies and letting the terrorists win wasn't really at the end of the email I just received ... but good Lord, it could've been.

Weird Week

Yeah...that pretty much sums it up. Nothing earthshatteringly bad. Nothing announcement inducingly good. Just...weirdness.

* My mom had her hip replaced. I could only be so involved. Alaska is a long way away from Nevada.
* Snow. Before Thanksgiving. Hell, before Veteran's Day. And sun that doesn't come up until almost 10:00 a.m. It's all taking some getting used to.
* My first book has been remaindered (going to be taken out of print due to low sales). Very sad.
* Christmas music is already ... everywhere. I'm a not-no-way-no-how-never-before-Thanksgiving-type o'gal. This is proving to be more jarring than I ever would've imagined.
* Lithus has only been home for about 4 of the last 14 days. He is, as I write this, in flight on the way to Spain. Yes, Spain.
* I've discovered Wii boxing. Love it. Although I tried to "box" in a ring with a cartoon character opponent and hated it. Didn't like the look of hitting a person ~ even an animated one. Totally ruined that workout. Have learned to go around that part of the game.
* I've reached out to my local Romance Writers chapter. They have responded more warmly in emails than my previous group did after months of my attending.
* In spite of the above bullet, I find I am missing my old group.

In writing this all out, it seems so...mundane. Reading it over, I'm thinking Dude, Pobble, what the hell is weird about any of this???? Yet living it, it was weird. Again, not dramatic. Not painful. Weird. In spite of how it translates. *shrugs*

Hoping today resets a bunch of stuff and tomorrow changes things up.

Those are weird Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Oh, To Be In New York...

This is a signal boost. But it's not just a signal boost. It's also a request to allow me to live vicariously through you if you live anywhere near NYC. Or live vicariously through your friends who live anywhere near NYC, who you might tell about this event. Because I Want To Be There!!!!  But I can't be. Anchorage is no where near close enough. Sigh...

But, if you are, or if your friends are, you should go to this:

A Staged Reading of Tupla, or Anne&Me
Friday, November 12th
8:00 pm
WOW Cafe Theatre, 59 E. 4th Street, New York, NY
(be sure to click on the link up there because I suck at embedding things but the RSVP/donation button can be found in that link, so you have to go there if you, well, want to go there)

So...why should you go? Let me count the ways...

1. It's new theatre. This is important for SO MANY reasons. Revivals are great. Sequels and prequels have their place. But new theatre is vital.
2. It's a new theatre. Venues that are willing to take chances, present works that aren't found in every high school theatre class, that challenge us, are vital.
3. The play itself is thought-provoking, beautifully written, and actually took my breath away on more than one occasion.
4. The playwright (who, no, I do not know personally) has a voice that needs to be heard. I also truly believe she has a voice that will be heard. Wouldn't you love to be able to say you attended one of her first????
5. It's ten dollars. Good grief, when was the last time a night out only cost ten bucks? Let alone live theatre.
6. According to the web site, there will be cake. Hmmm...perhaps I should make this number 1. Cake is always a good thing.

So what are you still doing here? Go click on that link. If you're in the city, buy a ticket. If you're not, foward the link to someone who is. Trust me, you'll thank me ~ and they'll thank you.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ but $10 will get you live theatre.

Halloween and Samhain

Blessed Be! It's Halloween. It's Samhain. It's All Hallow's Eve. It's a beautiful, wonderful day.

Lithus got weather grounded in Valdez last night ~ and again this morning ~ so it's not quite the celebration we'd planned or expected. Still, it's Samhain and that's never a bad thing.

Tonight, the jack o'latern will get carved and put in the window. The feast will be made from seasonal foods and thanks will be given. And, of course, those who have gone before us will be honored. Well honored and well loved.

Enjoy your spooks and goblins and heeby-jeebies. It's the witching hour after all.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Going Out

Going out isn't my strong suit. I am always about three large steps away from agoraphobia, which is odd when you consider how much I adore doing. Doing, as in going for coffee. Doing, as in wandering around my favorite places. Doing, as in anything that gets me out and about and in the world. But first, before I can begin doing, I have to go out. Which isn't my strong suit.

It's part of what makes being a writer an appopriate career choice, because I can quite happily stay home for days on end. It's also part of why I prefer to live in downtown, because when I can just walk out my door and be there, going out is easier.

Today, I finally decide I should go out. I had been out with Lithus several times. I'm not a complete hermit. But, in terms of just walking out and discovering the world, I hadn't really done it since my birthday. Until today.

Downtown Anchorage is wonderful. Autumn is wonderful. The sounds and smells and feelings of being out were exactly what I needed today.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Unabashedly Not Working

But glued to the television watching the rescue of the Chilean miners.

No Earthquakes!

Commercial Break (with Happy Tears)

My deadline is *gulp* Friday. I'm going to more than make it. I'm calm and cool and pleased. I am, also, still very focused on writing that, not Pobble Thoughts.

But for various reasons, I was recently reminded of these two commercials, found myself swallowing back happy tears as I watched them, and decided to post them. Just 'cause.

This is one I've posted before but still love. The chickens look a little freaked out but the penguin is the happiest looking penguin ever.

And this one is one my dear Lithus sent me early in our relationship. He and I were still trying to figure out how to live with each other, how to love one another, how to fit the pieces of two very disparate lives together. While this commercial certainly didn't solve all our problems, it undoubtedly made making up from that particular argument a lot easier. And now, it's hard to remember we ever needed it. That doesn't make it any less special to me, though.

Those are Pobble Thoughts until Friday. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and a smile.

The Apex of Everything (Well, Maybe Not But Still Damn Cool)

Because if it gets better than this, I don't know how.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Forty-One

A year ago tonight, I had the best night of my life. Period, bar none. The Lovely Cats and Lithus, with more than a little help from Seven, threw me the birthday bash to end all birthday bashes. It was a family reunion of people who aren't family to each other but all are to me. It was seriously, the best night of my life. And that says something considering how really fucking cool my life is.

My birthdays have always been good, actually. 

* A pinata in the backyard when I was eight. Beezy came over and helped my dad host, because my mom was in Europe. 

* Turning nine and having a Barbapapa themed birthday where it was just my mom, dad, and Crow because we hadn't lived in Lynchburg long enough for me to have friends yet. It was a far better time than it should have been, given that description. We played Keep Away from the Barbapapa and ran through the house, laughing like loons. 

* Twelve, I got my cat Trilby. 

* Thirteen was the year we took several families to Lynchburg's nicest restaurant and then back to the house for the chocolate bombe my mother had made from scratch. And yes, all of that was at my request. People kept looking at me, asking if I really wanted to do this. But I did. 

* 18 was my surprise party. We were doing Uninvited and the cast and crew showed up after I did because they all had to wait for me to leave the theatre first. I kissed far too many guys that night ~ only one of whom was my actual boyfriend ~ but I was legal and that had been an issue for some. 

* 22 was the year Jules and I got lost in the Combat Zone, driving a jeep, dressed for clubbing, asked directions from a gang, and lived to tell the tale. TTG she was driving.

* 30 was in DisneyWorld and mom gave me my grandmother's pearls. 

* I've been told I had a good time at my 35th (waves to Cam Pike), but 36 is my favorite one from the Boston years, because we all just sat around the Library and enjoyed each other's company. 

The only truly bad one was 16 because Gail died on my 16th birthday ~ but then my friends in Philly threw me a surprise Sweet Sixteen in March or April or something, because everyone should have a good 16th birthday memory.

You get the idea.

Last year, though...last year was not only the best birthday, it was the best night of my life.

This year is very different. It's been a year no one expected. But my birthdays have always been good, and in that way, this is year no different. I slept late, have been lazy and gentle with myself, watched NCIS and White Collar because I wanted to, not because they are good to write to. They're both pretty good shows, even when you do pay attention to them. Lithus has called frequently. Crow, BIL, my Heart and the Hatchlings nearly woke me but didn't quite. My friends have been in touch. And about 3:00, I walked out of my wonderful, downtown apartment wearing my wonderful leopard print pumps, and headed to Cake for a cupcake. They had pecan tarts. Hello. 

Lithus gets home Tuesday. We're celebrating together Wednesday night. I am peaceful and happy and content in a way I haven't been in a very long while. It's good to be 41.

Scenes from Forty

Topsy Turvy cake by the Lovely Cats. Yep, she learned to make a topsy turvy cake for me.

Lithus and the Princess, being fabulous

Nemeria and me

P. C. (Yahoo Billy); yep, he's still around. And he's the world's greatest sport.

Lithus and the Divine M

My best friends, the Divine M and the Muppet

(Note: there were many other people there, but these people have been on this blog before and I have their permission to post. If you aren't here, it's because I didn't want to assume.)

Scenes from Forty-One:

What I wanted from Lithus!!!! (the feathers will drop after a few days)

With our purple furniture. Purple and red make quite a statement. Not sure what the statement is, but you can't help but hear it!

I'm blessed. I'm happy. I'm at peace.

 Happy Birthday to Me. :)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

A Small Lesson...

...from Me to You.

When you have been working all day and have only had about 450-500 calories during the day and most of that has come from the milk you put in your coffee and then decide that, when you are done work for the day, it might be nice to have a glass or two of wine...

Remember You Have Only Had About 450-500 Calories and It Takes Very Little To Get One A Tad Intoxicated.

Watch how much wine you actually pour into your glass. Seriously.

Then go to bed.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee. If you can figure out how to work the coffee maker.

Meerkat Moment #4 (dear Goddess, the book is almost done!)

The We Got Your Back Project.

A brief explanation from the site itself because I don't have time to write something myself but, damn, this is too important to not get up immediately.

Yes, I know some of you are thinking… but there’s already a similar project out there! Well, yes there is but (the co-creators of the project) wanted to be sure everyone’s voice is heard, that everyone is able to share their story in the hopes it would give strength to others who are dealing with coming out, being out and bullied as well just for being who they are.

For the rest, click the link up there.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and save a life.

Wilbur and Rex

My grandfather and my father.

One died when I was 22. The other, still unbelievably, died only five years later. How either of those things are fact is still a shock to me at times. I mean, I'm not supposed to live in a world without Wilbur and Rex in it. But I do.

I'm not sure why they have been on my mind so much recently. Perhaps it is because I am really indescribably happy these days ~ for the first time in so many years, possibly as many years as they have been gone ~ and it's weird to be this happy and not be able to pick up the phone and share it with them. Perhaps because I have a birthday coming up. 41. And I am rapidly approaching living without them as long as I lived with them. Perhaps because the adventures are so cool right now and they would love them, and would love living them along with me, so very, very much. Maybe because I am loved and I love as much as I once was/did when they were in my everyday world.

But I know I have been thinking of them recently, more than usual, and missing them but in a good way, not the painful, heart-wrenching way is has been in the past. Lithus asked me who the three of us were to each other. First, it seems impossible to me that Lithus doesn't know. He knows everything about me; how can he not know this one, most important of all things? But second...how do I answer that question? Who were Wilbur and Rex and Charlie to each other? 

They made me who I am. First and foremost, I am their granddaughter and their daughter. Everything good about me comes, directly or indirectly, from one or both of them. We were the three generations of us. Other than that, I can't help you. You either saw it and knew it; you understand that statement instinctively; or...I leave you confused and in the dark because there is no way to describe who the three of us were to each other. Luckily for me, Lithus understood instinctively. There's a reason he's my partner, after all.

So I live the latest chapter in my adventure, overlooking the city lights of Anchorage of all places, and I hear their incredulous laughter in the distance ("Alaska? Are you serious? Do you know how cold it is up there?"  "You have to send me pictures. You will, won't you, Charlie?"). And I trust in the man who loves me now and wonder at the fact that I love him back, and know the men who loved me first would be so pleased and love him, too. And I write romance novels and laugh at myself because I am so not a romance novelist and know how amused and proud they would be of me and how embarrassed to know so many of my characters are based on the relationships they had with the women they loved and married and dedicated their lives to.

And I miss them. In a happy, melancholy, bittersweet way that is overridden by the fact that I am honored to have known them, honored to have been the final piece in the puzzle that was the three of us. But mostly, I love them still, and am a grateful granddaughter and daughter, even all these years later.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

A Political Addendum

So, a couple days ago, I meerkatted up long enough to write this about the It Gets Better Project. I have since learned why people loathe Dan Savage. And guess what? I'm no longer simply amused by him. His racism and white privilege is astounding.

I still support the program. Because of who I am, my history, the history of many people I love, I cannot not back any program that is aimed toward keeping kids from killing themselves. At the same time, I have to call Dan Savage out on his isms.

As the facilitator of this program, it is his responsibility to actively pursue people of color and transgendered people to speak out here. If he truly wants to impact all LGBT teens and not just the ones who look like him or come from his same background, then he needs to do that. To refuse to be passive about it. Otherwise, he's not doing his stated job and he's certainly not having his intended impact.

The program is good. Again, I won't speak out against a program hoping to keep kids alive. The program is no where near complete, no where near good enough. Step it up, Dan.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

September 26th

...and it's snowing?????

Seriously?

Seriously?

Welcome to Alaska.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Meerkat Moment #3

I am on the fence about Dan Savage. Some people I know loathe him. Some people I know love him. Me? Eh...when I used to live in the PDX area and would read the Portland Mercury, I wouldn't skip him. His sex advice column amuses me. I haven't read anything else by him since leaving his local area. Because I don't love him, but not because I loathe him either. Because I'm more...eh.

Until now. For this, I have become a fan. In response to the teenage suicides among the LGBT community, he has started the It Gets Better Project. It's a way for adult LGBTQs to talk to teenage LGBTQs, right now, while they are going through the bad times that call themselves high school. A way for these kids, who are hurting so much, to hear that It Gets Better.

Pass it on. It's important.

Those are Pobble Thoughts (about Dan Savage's project). That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and may save a life.

Military Meerkat Moment

Chief Master Sergeant Richard Etchberger received the Congressional Medal of Honor today. As well he should have. 42 years ago, in a country he needn't have been in, doing a job no one had any business asking of him, he did the unthinkable and not only got everyone onto that helicopter before himself, but he kept them all alive for God only knows how long under God only knows what kind of the darkest of conditions. Another something that struck me though, was the statement that his wife had known all along where he was and what he was doing ~ and she had kept his secrets for him, even after his death. I understand that. I respect that. I live that and let me tell you, it isn't the easiest thing in the world. I'm glad he's getting the recognition he deserves.

And today, the Senate voted against even starting a debate to discuss if they should vote on repealing Don't Ask, Don't Tell. We can't even talk about talking about it apparently. I'm going back into my hole and grumble. Sometimes, meerkating is worth it (thank you, CMS Etchberger). Sometimes, it just pisses me off (yeah, I'm looking at you Senate).

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Happy Anniversary

Apparently, Boston was founded today in in 1630. Happy Anniversary old girl.

"Old Boston with its zigzag streets and multitudinous angles, (crush up a sheet of letter-paper in your hand, throw it down, stamp it flat, and that is a map of old Boston) — new Boston with its miles upon miles of large and costly houses — Beacon street, Commonwealth avenue, and a hundred others. [...] The New England metropolis of to-day may be described as sunny, (there is something else that makes warmth, mastering even winds and meteorologies, though those are not to be sneez'd at,) joyous, receptive, full of ardor, sparkle, a certain element of yearning, magnificently tolerant, yet not to be fool'd; fond of good eating and drinking [...]."

~ Walt Whitman, Specimen Days

And that's why I love my town.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee (preferably from the Copley Square coffee coffee guy).

I'm Here! I'm Here!

I'm in crunch time. Writing like mad and loving every minute ~ although I'm not sure Lithus is. Deadline is October 15. I'll try to post more between now and then. For now, I'm here! Anchorage is GREAT. Life is even better.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

An Infinitely Civilized Day

After four months in the Interior, and most of that in the bush, we are back in Anchorage. City life agrees with me. A king-sized bed. Room service. Street noise. Bellcaps. Coffee in bed. Restaurants. Tomorrow I'm getting my hair done.

At lunch today, Lithus looked at me and said "you look different, better. You've got that Pobble look about you again." Because I love the adventure. The adventure is the greatest thing. But when the adventure's over, I want a city.

It's good to be back.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Boredom

The problem with being bored ~ soul-suckingly bored ~ is that the very act of being bored prevents you from taking the action that would alleviate the boredom.

There are things I need to do:

* Write 2000 words today

* Plot out my romance novel

* Write on the new adventure story and see where that goes

* Make my bank deposit

There are things I want to do:

* Write a couple letters

* Call about the Anchorage apartment

* Paint my nails

But I'm bored. And doing any of those things takes more energy than my boredom allows me. Go figure.

Those are (bored and boring) Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

10,192 Words

In three days.

And there wasn't even an earthquake in the Falls (sorry GOML!). Yeah, I'm grooving on this.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Cheating?

Is it a cheat if the Falls gets hit by an earthquake, sucked into the molten lava that is the center of the earth and everyone dies?

Yeah. That's what I thought.

Okay. Back to work.

Those are (really tired) Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

10,000 Words, Three Days

Lithus gone for three days. Check.

32 ounces of strawberries and TONS of coffee. Check.

Clean towels, fresh sheets, and trash out. Check.

3 seasons NCIS, 1 season White Collar, queued up and ready to go. Check.

Do Not Disturb sign on doorknob. Check.

10,000 words in the next three days...?

Let the games begin.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Words

* I love words. That's part of why I became a writer. Interestingly enough, the more I write, the more I love words.

* There are many, many words I wish I remembered to use more often. Nascent and apex are two of them. Of course, there are many more but, you know, I don't remember them right now.

* I have decided to stop using the word "ally" to describe myself and the work I do around rights issues that "don't affect me" (quotation marks intentional because all rights issues affect all of us ~ but in this case I mean issues where I don't carry privilege). Too many people use that word but then back off from it the minute it becomes less than easy or not fun or they screw up somehow and get called on it or whatever. From here on out, I'm just going to walk the walk, without a label.

* Speaking of, my love of words allows me to appreciate labels. We need them to help understand things. At the same time, I don't like people who get too caught up in them or put too much weight into the label, the word.

* Nonplussed is one of the most misused words I run across. It means befuddled, puzzled or or perplexed. People tend to use it as if it was the opposite, to mean unaffected.

* It's easy to get caught up in what words someone uses, and ignore (intentionally, stubbornly ignore sometimes) what that person means or is trying to say.

* I'm on track to meet my deadline, writing the words I need to write.

Those are wordy and word-loving Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Meerkat Moment #2

I am angry. I am disgusted. I am sad beyond words. I no longer know my country.

Here's why.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and not much more any longer, apparently.

CONGRATULATIONS!

My friends, Lrns and Slick, had a baby boy last night. The world just became a bit of a nicer place to be.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Meerkat Moment #1

Generally, when I am working hard and fast, as I am now, I fall completely out of touch with what is happening in the real world. Every so often, I will pop my head up in what I have described in the past as "not un-meerkat-like" and check in, just to see if anything interesting is happening. World still on its axis? Check. Gravity still the law of the land? Check. Excellent. But every so often, something else will catch my eye and when that happens, I have to comment. Why? Because I'm me. So, yes, I am late to this party. I have been under my rock in Lambert Falls. However, that being said...

Shame on you, Andrew Breitbart. You are an intelligent man. If you weren't, you wouldn't have bothered to edit the video so well. You wouldn't have bothered to spin Shirley Sherrod's story. You wouldn't have managed to pull off the racist bullshit that you did.

Call it what you will ~ a misunderstanding, misconstruction, not meant as a personal attack, whatever. It was deflection. It was a low blow. It was racist. And it was racist in the ugliest, most insidious of ways, couched in trying to seem helpful, educational, to bring information, fairness, and objectivity into a situation that had none. Bullshit.

You knew better. You had to have. You orchestrated it all too well for it to have been accidental. And even now, instead of being willing to stand up and say "you're damn right I did it" you are backing off, still trying to shine the exposing-the-wolf-in-sheep's-clothing light on all of this. In other words, handing us more deflection, another low blow, and continuing the (insidious) racism. You are intelligent. Stop insulting ours by pretending this didn't play out exactly the way you'd planned.

No wonder I prefer my fictional worlds.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

I'm Doing What?

Seshat be with me. What the hell am I thinking?

With only about three months before my deadline for book three of the  trilogy, I have decided I hate the story I've got, have completely thrown out the original plot, and am reworking the entire story, almost from scratch.

The characters, especially Carter Anne herself, just weren't working. The story depended on her behaving in ways that she wouldn't have behaved and reacting in ways that she wouldn't have reacted. Part of me finds this totally reasonable and logical. Another part of me thinks that these are characters I have created and therefore they can do anything I want them to do...but that doesn't feel right. If anything, it feels like a bit of a cheat.

I wrote to my wonderful teacher, who wrote back some incredibly helpful words of wisdom (including: if you hate what you're writing, others will hate it as well which makes So Much Sense ~ but I had managed to lose sight of it anyway) and gave me the courage to do this thing, even three months out. Wish me luck. Because what the hell am I thinking?

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Done and...Done.

Back during my divorce, I had a credit card get completely out of hand. There were legal bills, court costs, mediators' fees. There were unexpected expenses, such as having to pay to have certain services changed over because the SGM or his new wife were trying to access them, relocating things for the same reason. You get the idea. Now, don't get me wrong; the card wasn't empty when all this started. It was, however, under control. And then my friendly, amicable, we-aren't-going-to-screw-each-other-over divorce went sour.

Today, July 16th, 2010, Lithus and I made the last payment on the card.

This is a huge relief, obviously. As someone who prides herself on money management, to have had this kind of debt hanging over me has been stressful, to say the least. I don't overdraw. I don't over-extend. I budget and budget well. To paraphrase the Divine M ~ I may spend down to my last three cents, but if all I've got is three cents, I know it and won't spend four. Now, I get that for some people one card out of control seems like it's not that big of a deal. My credit will recover quickly and relatively easily and all that. For me, though, it has been exceedingly hard. So, I am relieved beyond measure.

I've realized there is more, though. There is something else going on here. The last vestiges of one of the ugliest chapters in my life is over and gone. Erased. I didn't even know I was carrying it. But it's over. Finally. Done and done. And that feels even better than a shot at a decent credit score.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

The View In Alaska

The smokejumpers were wandering around shirtless again. I cannot give you a single reason why this sucks. There is much to be said for laundry day.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Yes, Maybe, No

I'm always just a little amused by the question "Is Lithus flying today?" The answer is yes. Flying is his job. Some of us go to offices or churches or hospitals or schools. He goes into the air.  Every day, for twelve days in a row. Two days off and then it starts all over again.

Is he going to be home tonight? Maybe. That's really the best I can do for you. Some days, I can stretch it to probably but realistically, probably is just a more optimistic maybe. Regardless of what his schedule was when he left, this is a fluid job. New fires, new crews, more cargo...everything changes quickly. If nothing else, when your vehicle breaks down on the way home from work, you call a tow, call a friend, call a rental, something. There may be paperwork but you'll get home that same day. Lithus's vehicle breaks down on the way home from work, he's gotta wait until someone can get to him with a part and another bird.

Do you know when he'll be back? Nope. Not a clue. Even on days when the answer to "will he be home tonight?" is the ever positive "probably", I don't know when he'll be back. His duty day is from 10:00 to midnight everyday. I never lock the door until midnight. He leaves here about 09:45. Sometimes, he rolls back in about 12:00 and we have lunch and that's that. Other times, he rolls in about 23:45 and we're grateful he made it back to the ground here in Galena with those 15 minutes to spare.

Mind you, I do recognize that people ask because it means they care. They care about him, about me, about us. So I would rather answer the questions than not have them asked. Still...

Yes. Maybe. No. Every time.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

And Just Like That...

...the door opens and he's home.

Dirty, tired, scruffy, smelly ~ and beautiful.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

With Friends Like This...

Apparently, these photos are making their way 'round the internet these days:

(For those of you unfamiliar with Matt Bomer, he is the co-star of the show White Collar, on USA.)

Now, as pretty as these pictures are ~ and, hello, do you see the man? ~ my feelings about pretty boys are well-known by my friends. But, hey, this is what's making the rounds right now. Who am I to complain? These pictures did, however, get me into an email "conversation" with a friend about how I really prefer the other actor in the show, Tim DeKay. He's a little older, a little less pretty, a little more...something. Yeah.

And going into Day Five without Lithus home, what does my friend Denny do? Sends me these...

Just so ... not right.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Monday Morning

* When dressed in pajamas and going to get one's first cup of coffee in the morning is not a good time to wander into the crowd of showered, cleaned, and well-dressed pilots milling around the hallway, waiting to leave town.

* Any place called Skinny Dick's Halfway Inn would not be allowed to stay in business very long in the lower 48.

* It used to be relatively easy for me to put my hands on $1500 if I really needed it. Aren't finances supposed to get better/easier as you get older?

* Wearing a watch after years of not doing so takes an adjustment period.

* Having your grossly inappropriate crush admit it was mutual way back when may make you sigh over lost opportunities but it is terribly good for one's ego.

* A cell phone should stay charged all on its own. Or take AA batteries. Or something.

* Although sparklers aren't the same in places where it doesn't get full dark, they are still pretty.

* "Yukon Mud" is iced, sweet, strong, thick espresso ~ and delicious.

* For those of you keeping track, we are going into day four of no Lithus.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.