Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

I tried to post yesterday but the blogger site wouldn't have it. That's my excuse. That and I've been very busy writing like a good author. It goes well and I should have something to show the critique group tonight before the agent gets it.

We live in a suburb of Seattle that has been a Boeing focused community now attempting to transition to an upscale lakeside condorama. Downtown has been reseeded with antique stores and restaurants, though is still struggling to be something other than a weird intersection of one way streets that would confuse the most intrepid adventurer. The city built a metro transit center in the heart of downtown and surrounded it with condos and apartments and a central Piazza where concerts, etc. are held with a Farmer's Market on Tuesday in summer. Last night was the inaugural Art & Antique Walk in downtown Renton. With wine, mind you. I was so there!

The DH and I set out in our summer best. The wind came up, the clouds filled in and the temps ran about 60. We were wishing for a jacket. Our first stop was one of those great little shops full of pretty handpainted linens, unique decorator items and other lovely goodies. They served wine--a raw pinot grisio, argh--and lots of visual stimulation. Had a grand time. On to the Farmer's Market for fresh cut flowers, bought a big mixed bouquet for $5 and back to the car. Then we started down the street with the most silver and blue balloons marking the participating businesses in the art walk. Hmmmm, this is where and when it got--interesting. Walked into the first one, a restaurant, and the odor of backed up plumbing hit me. I looked at the two pictures, I think, they had displayed and beat it out of there. The DH never smelled a thing. My nose does not lie, unfortunately. Seemed there were plenty of restaurants participating. In the next one, we had to peer at the art photographs of India over dining patrons' head and plate of naan or whatever that was. Indian food isn't my thing after the hideous tandoori chicken affair in London. But that's another less than tasty story.

Antique stores aren't my thing either. Don't like the odor or all the battered old objet And there was no art, just stuff. Move along, move along to Uptown Glassworks. Wowow! That's my idea of art and they have a hot shop where they'd just finished a glass blowing demonstration when we arrived. We were served a really nice chardonnay and enjoyed all the beautiful and unique pieces. It was really a lovely experience and the best of the art walk that we saw. Basically, the art walk, in my opinion, was a not very artful attempt to get people into downtown businesses. Fair enough. Maybe it will improve in future attempts.

Now for the delicious dining portion of our artful walk. I dragged the DH to an Irish pub that I'd always wanted to visit, but it was closed, though there's no shortage of seedy bars in the downtown frequented by colorful gentlemen at leisure. We repaired to Gold Victory and made our getaway to another dining spot I'd seen but never visited. I can't remember the name but it's Italian and in an old house. The food was glorious with the best antipasti I'd ever enjoyed. The DH and I lingered over our wonderful food and wine while it rained outside and were glad that the rain waited until we finished our artful walk. All in all, we had a great time and I do believed I'd recommend the Inaugural Downtown Renton Art & Antique Walk as it was certainly a different experience where we found some special treasures.

Mmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

The DH and I have August birthdays five days apart, but he's Virgo and I'm Leo. A strange combination, you say? Maybe, but it works for us, usually. This morning he got up with the birds as usual and brought me a cup of Earl Gray. He announced that he was going out for breakfast. The DH loves to get up in the best part of the day--the crack of dawn--and go out for breakfast. He went alone today. I just called to sing our usual happy birthday song and discovered that he had not yet had breakfast. Typical Virgo that he is, he got to work and forgot all about breakfast. So he's taking himself out for a mid-morning latte.

We tend to do the lump birthday/anniversary gifts as in, let's take this big Med cruise for our birthdays and anniversary this year and make it count for the next eighty-two years. Then the next year rolls around with some other lump gift idea I come up with. Besides, we already did the personalized gifty thing with a trip through Costco where we availed ourselves of a new electric shaver and Henckels knife set. Not sure which is for whom, though the DH will probably use the shaver more than I because those knives are pretty darned sharp . . .

mmmmmmmmmmmmmelinda, wishing the DH many, many more happy birthdays.

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

Bet that title got your attention, huh.

The word Zen always gives me a little jolt of awareness or interest, though the actual philosophy will take me more than this lifetime to figure out, much less apply effectively, but I shall continue to continue to get it. I guess most people associate Zen with things Asian. I've mentioned before that I'm drawn to Japanese and Chinese art and decorative motifs which some people might equate with Zen. Kristi, wifey of The Cute Insurance Guy (TCIG) in Bozeman, MT walked into my house a year ago and said, "Wow, you've got a funky Zen thing going on in here, huh." Yeah, I guess so, the funky part, anyway.

I drew a card from my Osho Zen Tarot deck today, well several actually, all of which directed me inward and to focus my totality upon the job or experience at hand. So, guess I better sign off and get into the Zen of writing.

mmmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

For the last couple of weeks our neighbor's alarm has been going off several times a day. And of course it, like any other horn, siren, barking dog, is wired directly to the Airedale's butt. The alarm in question can go off at 3:30 a.m., again at 9 or 10 and then in the afternoon and evening. It is on no particular schedule, apparently, causing one to anticipate its jarring shriek at any hour. I don't like this, in fact, I freaking hate it. The offending neighbor finally gets around to turning the thing off after they have a cup of coffee or start the dishwasher or their favorite show goes to commercial.

I was pretty sure it was one of a half dozen cars parked along side our house belonging to someone in the house behind us. This morning--weeeahhh, weeeeahhhh, weeeahhh and the Airedale lit off. I let her out in the yard to share our collective pain with the offenders who just happened to be getting into the car, or trying to. This car's alarm was different from what I've heard previously so my thought was something along the line of "@#$@$%^&*^*, what don't these folks understand about car alarms? (In fact, the SOB is going off again as I type.)And I'm really getting freaked because we're talking six cars and six alarms. . .

I go out into the side yard and say good morning to the woman and fellow trying to shut off the alarm. "Sorry about that," she says. I ask what the problem is with their alarm for it goes off so often. She responded that they have no other alarms in their many cars, just that one. But haven't you heard that alarm at all times of the day and night. No. She got in her car and left me shaking my head.

I'm thinking that while they may not have other car alarms they might have a house alarm with an outside horn, which most don't these days because neighbors (like me) get sick of them in the boy-who-cried-wolf-with-bullhorn-in-one's-ear sense. Then when the real deal happens no one pays attention . . . except Airedales.

Mmmmmmmmmmelinda, inserting earplugs now

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

The following tender story was forwarded to me. I don't know it's origin or who wrote it, but thought it important to share with you . . .

A young man was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from college. While
he was walking through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant
standing with one leg raised in the air.

The elephant seemed distressed so the man approached it very carefully.
He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot.
There was a large thorn deeply embedded in the bottom of the foot.

As carefully and as gently as he could he worked the thorn out with his
hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The
elephant turned to face the man and with a rather stern look on its
face, stared at him. For a good ten minutes the man stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled.

Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned and walked away.

The man never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.
Twenty years later the man was walking through the zoo with his teenaged
son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures
turned and walked over to where they were standing at the rail. The
large bull elephant stared at him and lifted it's front foot off the
ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times, all the
while staring at the man. The man couldn't help wondering if this was
the same elephant.

After a while it trumpeted loudly; then it continued to stare at him.

The man summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his
way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared
back in wonder.

Suddenly the elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of
the man's legs and swung him wildly back and forth along the railing,
killing him.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

Mmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

Just a week ago, I prognosticated that Heather would win Hell's Kitchen.

So did you watch last night? Of course I did. Those clever writers wanted us to believe that Virginia actually was the chosen one. . .until she got stuck with/chose that team of dullards who extorted $1000. each from her should she win. She agreed! Told them she chose them because everyone else perceived them as "weak" and she could bring them along. Wheeeeee. Ah, the supreme confidence of a twenty-five year old, however misplaced, in her sweet self. Of course Chef was on her side of the kitchen exhorting the weakies to hustle their ahsses, helping Virginia again, because, let's face it, she needed every bit of help she could get despite her "fabulous palate." And when Heather walked through the winner's door, Chef stayed behind to console dear Virginia. Now that's great TV and pure fantasy!

On to other news . . . The Birthday Teapot Retrieved

Darcy picked up MMMMMM yesterday morning and zoomed me away to pick up our fired ceramic creations. My black washed red teapot actually turned out rather well, though the top could have done with a bit more wash. All in all, I like it. Darcy's big brown bowl was a thing of rare beauty, too. That was fun then we went to lunch. My kind of Monday.

It's cool and overcast this morning and I'm wearing shorts and a fleece jacket over a t-shirt and flip flops. Now, there's a treat to behold, let me tell you. Hey, such is the wardrobe of a writer who works at home--often crazy and utilitarian. I just shopped online for two pairs of walking shoes for our upcoming Med cruise. Why didn't I buy swim fins or yacht wear? Because our daily shore excursions are all about walking and good, comfy shoes most important. Besides, I'd be on my knees in minutes were I to attempt to schlep around Florence in my flip flops. Though my shorts and fleece might work for more than at home wear . . .

Mmmmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

I've said it before--some of the best writing out there is for TV reality shows. When real TV started with Survivor and Big Brother, it was fresh, new and shocking. I, for one, couldn't believe that people really acted like that, and for the world to see. Were there no secrets that anyone thought they should keep? Apparently not. Oh. My. Then I realized none of it was real, all was scripted.

Like most shows I watch on TV, my interest is held for a season or so then wanes. However, I do watch a few reality shows still, though not those that I used to watch. And if I think about it I realize that I watch if I remember they're on or am clicking through the channels and catch them. One would be the second season of aptly named Hell's Kitchen. Chef Ramsay--oh gosh, what can I say? He's so well cast for the part they have him playing. And does he overcook the part, as in char!

I've noticed that for each reality show season they have set parts that they cast new faces in such as the Bitch, the Loser, the Player, the Manipulator, the Innocent, the Liar, the Old Guy or Gal (who's about 50), the Professional, the Geek and hideous combinations of those. On Hell's Kitchen it's down to the final two who are women this time. Last time a guy won and darned if I can remember who he was or what he looked like. So, because I've come to believe that these reality shows are scripted, this time they wanted a woman to win. Consequently, the guy who was the one consistent chef who could actually turn out decent, tasty dishes was cut last night because Chef Ramsay didn't like his attitude. Weak, I know, but the writers were pressed, I feel, coming up with new disgusting behavior or motivation for stupid choices. They carefully edit the shows to lead the audience in a particular direction and then spring a "surprise" for the wow factor. Like you couldn't see it coming. Please. Surely, everyone can see by now that when the scene shows two characters, oh sorry, two contestants arguing or promising not to vote against the other, that's exactly what they are going to do. And that's the "most astonishing elimination yet!" Again, please.

In any case, I shall make a prediction about the outcome of next week's show. Virginia, the young Innocent/Manipulator salad chef, will NOT win. Heather, the sous chef will because she's well played the role of one who can actually cook and kiss Chef ass at the same time. Unfortunately, Virginia . . . there is not a Santa Claus named Ramsay in this episode, anyway.

MMmmmmmmmmmmelinda

Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!

Darcy always tries to surprise me for my birthday. You'll recall that last month for her birthday I treated her to a cooking class, which I blogged about. She's still going on about it because we actually had to cook. I got mine last Friday night when Darcy took me to a pottery painting store in Crossroads Mall for my upcoming birthday.

From rows and rows of greenware we selected our painting projects. Darcy went for a large flat rimmed bowl and I wanted to do a wine cooler, but she said it was ugly. It was cylindrical, chalky white, plain and something I could actually use. How could that be ugly? So I went for a little teapot. I know, I know, how very ordinary and not very MMMMMMM-like. But I'm ever the little pleaser and an unpleased Darcy can be very miserable for all. Besides it was her dime.

On the inside bottom of the teapot I swished a big M--my siggy, you know. The outside I painted a deep red that I hope will go with one of the many reds I currently have going on in the kitchen. It started with a fired brick on the walls and accessories have been added that have strayed from that color. You know how it is--in the store it looks like the right color, get it home and it's shades off. So it'll probably be with the red teapot. Though I did put a thin black wash over the whole thing, hoping to tone it down. We'll see. I was going to try my hand at some Sumi on the side of it, but Darcy was finished long before I was. I thought it better to leave well enough alone and put down the paintbrush.

Our fine creations will be dipped in a glaze vat then fired. We'll pick them up this week. I did notice that there were two huge racks of finished projects waiting to be picked up. And, wow, most of them should have exploded or vaporized in the kiln to save some parent or friend from receiving yet another crafty mug of horror. Or perhaps they did . . . I don't know what mine is going to look like. Of course I do. It's going to be indistinguishable from the other abandoned ugly stuff. Yi! I'll let you know and perhaps post a picture . . . or not.

MMMMMMMMMMMMmelinda