mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Bear Went Over The Mountain Phew! It's been a whirlwind of activity in my little world. Last Thursday was book group (I highly recommend this months selection). As usual, there was tons of tasty treats and lots of wonderful women and much laughter and on the way home, there was a little dumpster diving. See, Kaymess and I had spotted some old movie theater seats set out on the curb on our way to the gathering and had decided that if they were there when we left, we'd load them in the truck and bring them home. Of course, we didn't exactly think that they'd be 300 lbs. each and ridiculously clumsy to carry. After a few minutes of maneuvering, I began to pray to the Beefy-Men-Who-Help-Ladies-In-Need Gods to send us an angel. It worked! A large man stopped his car and helped us load our loot. I then drove home through the city very, very slowly in the hopes of not destroying le Chevy and success was ours. I excitedly fetched Pete to show him the booty and he showed an utter lack of enthusiasm for my treasure. Oh well. I can tell you what runs through Pete's mind when he sees me bringing home my finds. "What on earth is she going to do with that and where in our 1100 square foot house will we put it?" Or maybe he's just calculating how much it will cost us to get rid of it when we take it to the dump a few months down the line. And in a way, he's absolutely correct to think that way. We have dozens of things I have dug out of the trash that I have big plans for. Problem is, my plans don't materialize. Still, I can't leave a good find behind. When I lived in Boston, I would get so excited for June to arrive. In June, the students all moved out of their dorms and it was off to the most expensive schools (MIT, Harvard, Boston University) to check out the trash. I once discovered a brand new VCR in the box with the instructions and everything! I also acquired an air conditioner in like-new condition, a leather coat, dozens of books, a radio, and an answering machine. Ah, those were the trash picking days. Now, I mostly find old computers, badly beaten up furniture, and true crap but every once in a while there's a diamond like these theater seats. I am totally going to recover them in funky material and put them on my porch. Uh huh, I am too. Just wait and see. Friday afternoon, I rode around Ballard with RDG trying to find her a new flat. I had bragged to her about my good housing karma and insisted that we would find the perfect place. Sadly, my karma failed me miserably. One place was worse than the next. I couldn't imagine what had gone wrong. Upon returning home, Pete asked if we had had any luck. "No," I said. "I just don't get what's up. My chi is all screwy." "Why is it exactly that you think you possess 'good housing karma'," he asked. "Well there's that first place we lived in Fremont which was wickedly cheap and a perfect place to start out. Then we had that two bedroom house which was just adorable. And we found this place which is such a bargain and perfectly located to boot." "But don't you think that it could be my housing karma and not yours at work here?" Oh yeah. That actually never occurred to me. I should have sent RDG out with Pete. Sigh. Saturday, we headed up to Twin Falls Lake with Peachy and Mr. Peachy for a little maxing and relaxing. We found the loveliest campsite and had the entire area to ourselves. It was absolute perfection (a gazillion times better than the weekend of the 4th) and if you go camping with Peachy, she will bring both cheese and chocolate to share. It does not get much better than that. Now, I am not much of a funny cigarette smoker. In fact, I can count on one hand how many times I have smoked funny cigarettes in the last five years. It's not that I am opposed to them or anything. No, it's not that at all. It's just that I discovered somewhere around my sophomore year of college that the stuff makes me completely paranoid and utterly useless. Of course, it would be another five years before I actually admitted that to myself and I still have moments where I think I can handle and enjoy myself. Out in the woods, the soothing sounds of a waterfall spilling into a lake as background music, I had one of those moments. Things were okay for a while until we turned into our tent and Pete began to snore. It was then that I heard movement in the campsite. A bear!!! Why must bears always stalk me when I am stoned?!! Okay, so a bear never stalked me before (stoned or otherwise) but you know what I am saying, right? I woke Pete up and begged him to save my life. "It's something small," he said. "A small bear means there are big bears close by!" "It's not a bear," he assured me. "It sounds like a mouse got in the food bag and is trying to climb out." "It's definitely a bear. We'll all be dead soon." "Do you want me to go outside and check," he asked. "No! I don't want you to die." At this point Pete fell back to sleep and I sat completely awake trying to coax the dog into protecting me should the bear come into the tent. In the morning, when the light was finally rising above our heads, I emerged. The bear was gone but he had chewed the tiniest holes in my food bag, nibbled on all of my trail mix, and left itsy bitsy turds behind. Damn bears. Another busy week here in the Emerald City. I get to have coffee with my dear old friend Jess who had moved off to the swamplands of Florida but has returned for a visit to the Northwest. I also have tickets to see the Scissor Sisters with the gals. Friday there's a kick off for the Capitol Hill Block Party and Saturday I'll be enjoying the sounds of U.S.E., The Long Winters, Pretty Girls Make Graves, and Sir Mix-A-Lot. On Sunday, I rest. 2:00 p.m. - 2004-07-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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