Saturday, October 31, 2015

Halloween hunting

Because we trick-or-treat in a neighborhood we have to drive to I thought a little surprise Halloween Scavenger Hunt would be fun for the drive back. The riddles with a little treat lead us home through city landmarks that mean something to us:
Rest in peace and don’t go sneaking
The deer are sweet but the caskets are creaking!
(A) Mt Olive Cemetery
Under the oak trees dark and dim there is a lots of water but nowhere to swim.  It is the perfect place for a witch to grab a drink but don’t be fooled there is no sink.
(A) The Artisan Well
Bats in the bell tower
Ghosts in the hall
Have you ever in your life been so tall?
(A)The City and County Building
At night the fireworks crack in the sky
Go there alone and for sure you will die! >yikes<
(A) The International Peace Gardens at Jordan Park
Down a long dark road is an old creaky house
Over run with animals, even a mouse!
At night the cats growl & the dogs on the floor groan.  One more riddle to answer and you will be….. 
Hot as a witches brew it bubbles in the night.
Don’t walk the path alone you might get a fright!
But if you must travel that way don’t forget to go fast.  Tonight was fun but the magic can’t last.
(A)The Hot Tub in the greenhouse
Happy Halloween my Pumpkin Baby!!!!

the most convenient, November 4, 2014

Did you sleep he asks. His words quiet and slow, caught in a tangle of sleep. In the dark of morning the house sits on the edge of waking up. A dog groans, a cat switches sides on the sofa, and the coffee maker gurgles and seeps.

"Here is the thing," I say with a long pause so he knows I am trying to answer him, "no one should die in a convenience store. There are lots of bad places that are fine to die in but not there. It should never happen."
We hadn't talked about it. 

The news of a fatal shooting at a convenience store within a block of our house had been delivered by one of the clerks from the other store, the closer more convenient one right around the corner. He had come in to our house early Sunday morning bringing the mood of the rain with him.  "I thought you guys should know what happened last night..."

As he talked I remember thinking about life here on 10th. About a place where store clerks know where you live and you them. The clerk carrying the news had borrowed tools and BC's trailer- he had also dropped off beer and an emergency coke or two. 

Most of the clerks are locals. And in fact the clerk who was shot and killed -for our convenience- was also one of us. He lived right on 10th about 5 long doors down. About where the wild roosters like to cross.

Tenth is not a small street. It is a very big place to live... and die.

After the clerk left we didn't mention it again. We set it aside with the other items to handle later. 

We hadn't talked about on the 2 hr misty drive into the back country of Idaho- searching for hot water. 

We were going up for me. One of BC's last ditch efforts to offer me a piece of what I'm missing. Time far away in the middle of nowhere. Time to get cold and dirty and then too hot and not give a shit about any of it. 

A place without the need for conveniences. A place where ghost can whisper without being heard.   

He was seeking shelter for me from the storm I'm not seeming to be able to out run on my own.   

But I had thought about it anyway. Wondering about what happens when you die in the wrong place for no reason at all. Thoughts falling like the snow kissing the windshield, never getting anywhere, never piling up... and drifting away.

He tries again to judge where I am. 
"Misty, you never answered my question; did you get any sleep last night?"
"Tons." I say, because that is the most convenient answer.

Friday, October 30, 2015

bumps and bangs are part of the package

When you come down a little bit too hard on one hand in a flick-flick on beam and your Pediatrician doesn't have in-house x-ray you get to take a non emergency trip to the Emergency Room. 
(We are so spoiled to live this close to such a wonderful children's hospital!)
Second finger to the end right on the joint. 
Super quick set of x-rays proved it was only a bad sprain, as apposed to a good sprain....not sure.  The ER doc filling in as our Ped's was wonderful. In taking her history he joked, "So the high blood pressure and the ulcer compliment her type A personality. I bet she is a great gymnast."
 So all is well except one minor thing... before we went in I said grab a book to keep yourself busy while we wait and she picked a Sign Language book. Really, was that the best choice under the circumstances?! 

the end of a season

There is frost in the field. A low mist hanging under the watery morning light.  
It whispers, time is up.
I come in cold with muddy shoes and wet cuffs. I  pour myself a cup of dark coffee & call BC.  He is standing in the red Moab dirt looking over the job site. 
The first in a series of final inspections is scheduled for 3:00 today.  "We aren't ready," he admits. And yet the list of things undone were not those on BC's list but those on the homeowner's: counter tops, hardware, sink basins... Unaccustomed to the time tables of construction the owners were caught off guard despite BC's prodding to 'get it done'.
It really is only a matter of days now.  But inside those days is Halloween. Beach and I have decided to go trick-or-treating alone forgoing the large group we normally run house to house with.  I figure we are both sick of being alone in a crowd and would rather just be alone, together. 
BC and I officially moved into the house on 10th West 10 years ago today. I mark the anniversary with a breakfast of waffles for Beach. Who tears them into strips & dunks them in syrup. She licks her fingers clean while asking, "Did we really move in so close to Halloween? Does dad remember that?"
"I'm not sure what he remembers. I'll ask him."
 So now we wait.  
And the season says, time is up.

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Spooky 3-D Folded Paper Art

 3-D Folded Paper Art
Yep, that right there, 2 crows is attempted murder, haha.
Pretty simple, accordion fold a strip of paper. Round the top for the head. Cut out feet and a beak. Add eyes and wings.  Glue the appendages to the underside of the folds. Squeeze the folds tightly together making sure they are all lined up and secure with a staple on the very back edge.
  Add some stylistic trees.
And a yellow kite for drama.
Why not make a bat and spider, after all it is almost Halloween.

Spooky 3-D Folded Paper Art


Hey, it's just me 
I'm calling because it seems especially dark this morning. 
And I can't find the cat, again

There is one too many empty beer bottles in the bin 
One too many pieces of bad pizza missing from the box 
And one too few pairs of boots by my back door

I'm sure you're busy but I was thinking 
about the night you brought me a sack lunch into the ER 
and all the nurses gushed with jealousy
I was thinking about the morning I sat on your back steps not wanting to leave  

The October chill, the November snow,
And the December I met death then I woke you in the middle of the night to tell you all about it

Do you miss the things I do?

Homemade bread and apple slices
Hikes in the pouring rain
Fighting in the middle of the street while pretending we're not
Camping in the desert
Streaking naked through the grass

The smell of the canoe in the hot sun
The sound the tent makes in the wind
The weightlessness of the Wasatch back in the snow

The distant lights of downtown framed in a frosty window at 65 mph
The smell of chlorine and cotton pajamas
The world of Harry Potter spoken in your voice to kids sprawled across our bed

Your New England habits that speak to my soul
Canadian pauses that never fails to trip up my wild west nerves
And yeah, I'm still pissed about the day 3 years ago that you drove us down a rough dead end road in search of a better camp spot when no one but you wanted to keep looking

Do you miss my stubbornness, an inability to seek help
my one trip policy about for hauling in grocery bags- no matter what
the way I wake you by jumping on the bed while precariously balancing 2 mugs of hot coffee 
the smell of cinnamon rolls baking right after I've proclaimed the house empty of food

The awkwardness of 2 adult bodies crammed in our tiny shower
night terrors I can't explain that bring us both to the edge
my inability to give directions
or tell you what is really inside my heart

 Yeah, I'm calling because the house is a disaster
the chickens loose in the yard 
the dogs, one fat, the other old
And after this long year alone I'm afraid I have become both of those things

I know I keep telling you that this isn't working for me
And it's really not

I want to run again down long lost roads until I am too tired to stand
I want to sleep under open skies
Walk pine covered mountains
Fall into the snow

But I was sort of wondering after all this is said and done if you might want to come with me?

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

train stopping

It feels like stepping off the train one station too late. 

You look around for a moment dazed. Slowly the pieces fall together.  The benches are painted a different shade of green, the buildings too close, the people all wrong.... confusion fades and you begin backtracking through a mile of mistakes.

The silence always settles in soft and slow like that:  What did I just do?  How did get back here? 

It rolls in like morning mist in the mountains.  Dew and sunlight mingling with smoke from last nights dying fire.  

It feels that way too.  You wake and your whole body hurts.  Breath but no words.  Sleep but no rest.  Coffee but no comfort.  

I know most often I can wait it out, catch the next train so to speak.  Wait for something or someone to haphazardly light me a signpost and I can usually do the rest.  

But this isn't one of those moments.  I woke drowning in the blue.  Deeper in than I have been in a long time.

I look around to find the train station is abandoned.  As if no one has been here in years.  In both directions there is nothing but darkened, waterlogged tracks.  Quietly wasting in grey sleep.

All I seem to have carried with me in my bag is a memory of the memory of his voice telling me "one foot in front of the other".  Yes Dear, one foot in front of the other... today all that leads me to is the strong want to go straight back to bed.  I probably would not be missed.  I think back to yesterday walking unnoticed like a ghost- no I would not be missed until I was needed.  When I am not needed I am not known.  I'm sure it doesn't matter.   

What I'm not sure of is where I even thought I was going before I got off at the wrong stop.  But if you are riding trains you must have a some point purchased a ticket with a clear destination.  

I think mine reads: There is no prize for being capable. 

I can see what it looks like down the road.  It appears to be very much the same as where I just came from.  Me standing alone trying to figure out exactly how I came to be standing alone.   

I miss the calm vastness of the desert.  

I miss the peace of slipping beneath cold blue mountain water. 

I miss me.