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Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Vacation: Part I

Day four in our annual pilgrimage to "Seattle" is winding to a close. Downstairs, my mother makes dinner, Jack cries over Evan having upset his block tower, and electricians put the final touches on my mother's hottub. I have had my first beer of the night (Pike Kilt Lifter) and am desperately trying to finish the library book I swore I would not bring all the way to "Seattle" for fear of losing it. The real vacation book is supposed to be an unabridged translation of "Don Quixote," but between the five books I bought today and the busyness of our schedule, my "vacation book" may not get cracked until the plane ride home.

I am upstairs in Mom's "bonus room," which is where all her myriad of art supplies are stored, where her home office is set up, and where Evan's port-a-crib is situated (far out of arms' reach of aforementioned art supplies and home office equipment).

"The girls" (my mom, myself, Sabrina, and Ellie) went for tea today in Lynden at a tea shop. Happily for me, we parked our car right smack dab in front of a coffee shop/used book store. After cucumber dill sandwiches and way too much clotted cream, we waddled in to visit the books, as I felt strongly one was calling my name. It would take perseverance, patience, and fortitude (things my daughters and mother sadly lack in bookstores) to discover the one diamond-rough tome that beckoned.

I did finally find the book - one that writer/reader-friend Darlene already has - E. B. White's "The Second Tree from the Corner." Mine is a hardbound (with damaged dust jacket) edition from 1954 (first published in 1935). Once I greedily snatched it off the shelf, my soul relaxed and I knew it was okay to leave.

Out in the street we ran into two of my mom's friends, one of whom is a local artist, who upon hearing I sell art in a gallery in Anchorage, rushed to her car for her brochure; like all artists ever-hopeful of finding another marketing resource.

So, now here I am, writing for the first time in.... a long time.

The main story I wanted to relay happened last Sunday at our old church. I sat listening in an exhausted haze to teaching about Revelation 5 (on 3 hours of sleep it almost made sense). I was letting my mind wander, thinking about the underlying level of [insert descriptive phrase that conveys sense of differentiation] that I no longer share. Yet, I also rejoiced to be worshipping with dear friends.

After service, Pastor Scott came over to talk to Bruce and me. In mid-thought, he suddenly grabbed my arm and said, "Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you! I've got an idea for a book, and I want you to write the woman's perspective." I chuckled and said, "Of course I will, but be careful what you ask for." And here, I indicated my nose piercing. I added meaningfully, "I'm a little bit edgier than I used to me."

Scott's eyes twinkled. "You haven't seen Wink [his wife] yet, have you?"

Talk about wind out of the sails! My former pastor's wife got her nose pierced over a year ago! That was even earlier than I did it! No one cared about my diamond stud, no one commented, no one was shocked over how "free" life in Alaska has made me.

Sigh. So much for coming back reinvented.

When I mentioned this story to my mother last night, I added, "May be I should go ahead with the tattoo."

Her eyes twinkled. "You know, if it weren't for the needle, I wouldn't mind getting a tattoo either."

My mother said this. My mother, who.... well most people reading this have probably met my mom. You understand the significance of this. She attributes her newly discovered rebellious nature on being a member of the Red Hat Society, which, incidentally, were thicker on the streets of Lynden than June tourists in Anchorage.

Lord help me. I can't rebel for snot.

So far, so fun. Tomorrow promises a busy day with my brother and his family visiting, and then, about the time they leave, my friend Jill and her two kids are arriving in Birch Bay for a couple nights.

I could probably spend all night blogging about all the things I have been observing and all the connections I've made with dear loved-ones, but hey, I've got to finish this library book and start on "Don Quixote."


At 1:51 PM, Blogger Gateway School and Learning Center said...

I just know you'll be sportin' a tatoo when you get home. Thanks for worrying about my kids the other day. Abigail thought she was calling MY cell phone. The news that 'Kaes had exploded' might have been a bit alarming. Home soon? Call me. Grace is in town and you and I might be able to escape for a bit.


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