It's New Years Eve, another year marches by.

I've made my Resolutions, as usual. They are not out of reach. I tried to make them possible this year - so often I think we set ourselves up for failure by resolving to do the impossible.

Then again, nothing is impossible, you just have to want it bad enough to really work at it.

My more public goals this year are;
Finish studying the Marseilles Tarot, which is possible since only 17 cards are left.
Learn 4 songs on the guitar.
Write in my journal every day, and at least 1 page a week.
Spring clean, de-junk and organize my house.

My personal goals include, as usual;
Eating a balanced diet, maybe even going low carb again
exercising 20 minutes a day minimum
Drinking a minimum of 64 oz. Water a day

Whenever I make resolutions, I always wonder why I bother - maybe because it seems like a good time to start something new, or make plans for the upcoming year.

I know this year I will;
Be playing a lot of World of Warcraft (Maille on Kilrogg server)
Be road-tripping to Alaska with The Saint, barring unforeseen circumstances
Be reading a lot of excellent new books
Not be worrying so much about the housework as I have in the past
Hopefully be seeing a lot of my sister and my niece Erin


Well, whatever your resolutions and plans for the New Year are, I hope you and yours have a safe, prosperous and happy 2006.

Vacation Planning

The Saint and I have opposing methods for getting ready for a vacation. I am a planner. I plan far ahead. I make lists. If I'm planning a big trip, or extremely far ahead (our potential drive to Alaska next year) I even have a list of my lists.

Alaska Lists
1. Barb's luggage
2. The tote bag (this bag carries the book I'm reading, Game Boy, the iPod, etc.)
3. The cooler list
4. The car list
5. The pre-trip countdown lists
a. Cleaning list
b. List of pet needs
c. Pre-packing list
d. Things we need to buy list
6. The other bag list (this bag carries the camera, computer, cell phone chargers, etc.)
7. Day before shopping list

I am sure there will be more lists.

If we are flying, my bag is packed a week before the plane takes off. I will have previously made a list of outfits I will wear each day, and made sure they are all packed. This will include accessories, and extras.

If we are not flying, I will still have a clothing list. Even if we are staying mostly around home, I will have a clothing list list. And of course, a to do list for the week before.

Also, the house must be cleaned, very well, before I leave. Almost Thanksgiving clean, but not quite. I usually try to clean the week before my vacation. This also entails a cleaning list.

The Saint takes a more zen-like approach. Throw some clothes in a bag the night before. Do whatever he must to keep me from freaking out the week before. If we are flying, make sure we have the tickets. If we are driving, take the car in for an oil change the day before we leave.

True, my way can make for a very stressful week prior to leaving. Of course, there is always something forgotten, no matter how many lists I make.

Luckily, we are both more spur-of-the moment people when it comes to the actual vacation.
We don't plan every day out, no matter if we drive, or fly, but take each day as it comes.

One year we were headed for the Oregon Coast and ended up visiting Disneyland. We had to stop and buy clothes along the way, as we had packed for rain and cold and not 80 degree California sun.

Another year we decided to drive to Reno, and took what we thought was a direct route, which took us miles out of the way. It was luck - we got to see beautiful country, and stopping the car while horse-back riding cowboys drove a herd of cattle across the road.

We have had some amazing vacations, and luckily, in spite of our disparate planning styles, we generally end up having a fabulous time. Now, where is my list of lists......

Hurricane Season

I can't believe another hurricane is heading for the coast. At least it's no longer a category 5, but three is bad enough. Hurricane season doesn't end until NOVEMBER.

I might whine about the never-ending grey in February, but I think I'm going to keep quiet this year. I will take that over 145 mile an hour winds, and flooding up to the roof.

Tonight I sit, toe in the air, chocolate in hand, and watch the hurricane. In case you were wondering, I had toe surgery today (nothing major, but I won't go into the gross and gory details) and unlike the last time I had this done, it hurts like crazy now the numbness has worn off. So, in addition to ibuprophen I have self-perscribed chocolate. I have been virtually chocolate free (except for the chocolate in my non-fat Mochas) for almost three weeks. But my toe was throbbing, and the hurricane is coming, and I am sorry (well, okay, not sorry) I needed it. Wanted it, needed it, same thing.

Since my toe is so bad, I think this is an ideal weekend to play World of Warcraft, and not clean the house. But, maybe tomorrow it will feel better.
Or not.

My toe and I are going to find more chocolate now.

Favorite Places to Read

I have been known to read in the shower, when walking from place to place (at home) and even while exercising. It's amazing how many leg-lifts you can do if you loose track of time. A book at the sports arena is not a bad idea either. The treadmill, on the bus, on a long car ride, the living room floor, in bed; all good.

Some of the best places to read are outside. On a bench or sitting in grass. Some prefer a shady tree, others a sunny beach. I don't have one favorite outdoor reading spot. I am willing to read anywhere, as long as it's not raining. I like a chaise lounge, but I usually end up laying it flat so I can lay on my stomach, propped on my elbows. My favorite position to read in. You have to be careful with webbed chaise lounges - elbows can sometimes poke through.

As a kid I had a great outdoor reading spot between the privacy fence in our backyard and the forsythia bushes. I made a platform out of 2x4 scrap wood with a back, so nobody could tell I was there. In time I had a secret jar of change buried there, an old umbrella, and a nice flat rock to rest my feet on.

Inside, when I wanted to read I would go up to unfinished attic and sprawl on the cedar chest my dad made in high school. In the winter, I would take my coat. I could read anywhere, but I liked going up there. It was quiet. No TV, no sister, no blah blah blah.

Now I have my own house, I still read everywhere. The bed is, of course, premium, but the couch or floor is also fine. Chairs, at the breakfast bar, leaning over the sink. Another favorite is the tub. True decadence is a bubble bath, a glass of wine, and a good book (not a library book - learned that one the hard way).

I always have a book nearby, the opportunity to read a few pages might be just a moment away. I have yet to read stuck on an elevator, or on a runaway train, or when locked in a freezer, but one never knows when a new reading opportunity may arise. And who knows, it may end up being a favorite.

Housework

There is nothing more boring, pointless and repetitive than the drudgery that is housework. Unfortunately, it still has to be done, unless you really DO live in a barn. And even then, you still have to muck it out a couple times each year.

As an undomesticated goddess, here are a few tricks I use to keep housework to a livable amount, (ie, not requiring a shovel when you finally get around to it) and not the focus of my off-work leisure hours.

Clean up 10 things per room every day. Okay, sometimes I don't do it every day. If there are less than 10 things to pick up in a room, then I fold laundry up to ten things. For example; Living room=1 glass, put the blanket back on the couch, take 1 pair of shoes to the closet + 2 towels and 5 pairs of socks. It doesn't take that long, and it makes a big difference.

I also clean during the week. Spending a whole weekend cleaning, or an entire week night or morning sounds like a bad idea. After a full day of work, I want to relax, or do something fun. My solution around that is cleaning one or two things every day in each room. Cleaning the bathroom mirror and changing the towels, or scrubbing the shower. By only doing a few things there is still time to chill out, or play video games, or whatever after work and when the weekend arrives the house is reasonably clean; the weekend is chore free. In theory.

To make things easy, I keep a list on the fridge. Weekly chores, like dusting and vacuuming; chores for every other week, like scrubbing the shower and mopping the kitchen floor, and monthly chores. REALLY cleaning out the refrigerator, not just the weekly scan for dated or furry green items, or cleaning the oven. Actually, most of the monthly chores should truthfully be under a "Twice a Year" heading.

The Saint does his share - he gets a break when it's the busy time of year, or when he's working on a "big house project". He gives me a break all the time; he doesn't really notice dirt, and if he finally does, he will handle it himself.

For keeping housework under control there are many other methods. The daily "whirlwind with a cleaning caddy", the "one chore day during the weekend". The housekeeper that comes once a week. My favorite, but alas, unlikely. My way works for me. Housework is still boring and repetitive, but it's done.

Someday I will talk about the difference between regular housework, and cleaning for a vacation, holiday, or company, which is a whole different ball of twine. But not soon, enough housework for now.

Words I have made up

I've always made up words. In my family growing up, words could be elastic. If we made up a word, as long as we could explain what it meant, and and it was within the realm of what my mom, the grammar stickler, could tolerate, we were allowed to use the word. Even in public. As long as it didn't sound like a swear word.

In some ways, I think Mom was relieved we made up words, instead of referring to things as "thinga-ma-bobs" or "whatsits", as our dad sometimes referred to his belongings. Often, when he requested his "doohicky", we would know exactly what he meant; remote control, or napkin, or whatever it was he wanted us to fetch for him.

We also had family words for things. The "Dirty Socks" for example. Imagine the embarrassment of visiting a friend's home when Italian food was served, and asking, at the table, for the Dirty Socks. The odd looks might have given you the urge to slide underneath the table, and ooze out the door. However, if you asked for Dirty Socks at the table in our house, you got the Kraft Parmesan Cheese. So named because my as a young child my sister took a whiff of the open container and said "Eww, smells like Dirty Socks". You know, the faux cheese in the green container, (I don't care what they say) with the handy yellow shaker top. Forever after, Dirty Socks.

As an adult, I do have a fondness for words. To me they sing, and dance, and when strung together adeptly they are a kind of magic.

I'm certain I have made up thousands of words. The Saint and I have lots of family word-jokes. For example, the stealers. Stealers is a word the dogs would use, if they could talk. Dogs are not not grammatically correct; they don't give a sniff of a clean fire hydrant for grammar. Stealers; those guys who arrive every week and steal things out of those tall plastic dog-food bags. They steal the best stuff - the most yummy smelling, the most played with, THE KITTY ROCA. What's worse, you can hear them coming from blocks away, the loud beep beeping as they approach, but no matter how hard you try to warn the people you live with by barking and trying to SHOW them the stealers - you still just get yelled at. Poor dogs.

Here are a few other words, not from a dog's point of view.

Cryful. It's not tearful, a restrained and ladylike feeling. Cryful is the boo-hooing, bawling, getting red eyes and a runny nose feeling. It's also a word I don't use in public - too childish, and a little too private.

Squicked. It's not quite as strong as furious, but it's stronger than piqued or irritated. It's also the feeling you get right before you want to climb on a soap box and start ranting about the last stupid thing the government officials did.

Skittering. Also, Skitter. I am not sure if this is a word or not. Spell Checker doesn't think so. It's what water bugs do on water. Also, spiders on anything, if they are moving fast. Mice, too. Also, cats on ice; they have traction, but not quite enough. Not a scamper or even a run - those are controlled - skittering is almost out of control.

Creeped. The grammatically correct word is crept. But creeped is so much more evocative, and, well, creepy. Moving silently and slowly. Maybe with bad intent, perhaps to catch the dog eating the cat food, perhaps for something much more sinister....

Jazzing up this Blog.

I need to do something to make this blog more interesting. Pictures, maybe. Possibly a different layout, although I don't know, I like this one.

If I was a tiny bit more educated in HTML I could play around with images. I know a few little tricks, but not many. Not like the under 25 group, who probably took it in high school or college.

A spider just ran across my desk. It was one of those black jumpy spiders that are usually fairly small, but this one was big. Big to me is the size of a plastic pop bottle top around. Anything bigger than that is huge. The only thing that kept me from screeching was that the poor Saint is sleeping, and has to get up in the morning, and also because my window is open and The Spider Scream would totally freak the entire neighborhood out. Really.

One of our friends compared it to someone being killed by an axe murderer. But, anyway, back to the blog.

So, maybe pink is not the best color. Too calming. Maybe I need to change the background to blues or greens....no, I think it just needs to be more lively.

I wonder where that spider is now.

Maybe I will consult with a friend who does this for a living...no, she'd probably want to charge me a consulting fee. And who can blame her, I'm sure she gets pestered all the time from people wanting her to take a look and fool with their meager little websites and blogs. It's so true - if you're good at something, people want your help for free. Now, personally, I'm always flattered when I get asked for help in my areas of expertise.

I am still sort of creeped out that the spider is skittering around on my desk somewhere.

I suppose I can take a little glance around the html world, and see if I can find anything cool, but not too challenging for my limited skills.

And since I keep thinking the spider is crawling up my leg every two seconds, I'm going to cut this short.

How we can help the people affected by Katrina.
Plus more than a few other things.

How to help.

Aside from the Red Cross there are several other agencies providing help; the Salvation Army, Second Harvest ; , NOLA.com has a list, in addition to being up to date on news, as do many other news sites. Just be careful and donate to an organization you know. Another agency I like is the Humane Society Disaster fund. Kids and animals depend on their guardians to care for them; but when a disaster like this happens, human life always takes precedence. It makes me feel better to know that the Humane Society, and organizations like Noah's Wish are helping the animals left behind.

The more than a few other things.

I have heard several comments that the people now stranded in New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are at fault for being there after a mandetory evacuation. They don't realize many of the people who stayed behind had no way to get out. No car - no money for hotel if they did leave - no friends with room on their cars. Others too ill to move. I didn't see busses lined up to take those with no transportation to safety. It's true - some were stubborn and decided to stay and ride it out. It's also true that any disaster preparedness material says you need to bring your own supplies to a shelter. It's also true that people reported the water rose so fast in some areas they didn't even have time to put on their shoes. The reasons people stayed don't really matter; they need help now. Playing the finger pointing game doesn't help the thousands of people who are dead, and more importantly the ones who survived but are dying now because of lack of food and water, and medicine.

I don't care about looters. I make a distinction between thieves and those people who broke into stores for food, water, diapers, medicine, cigarettes (as a former smoker, I have utter sympathy) even shoes and clothes . Thieves are another matter. What are they going to do with a plasma TV, anyway? Stealing drugs I can even understand, but those idiots shooting at the rescuers? I don't care how desperate anyone is, killing rescuers is not going to help. If there really are snipers and the gangs of armed criminals killing, raping, robbing (who knows if that's true, or a media escalation) they should be delt with accordingly.

I feel the federal response has been appalling. I can cut them a little slack - it takes time to get everyone mobilized, get the rigs on the road.

But, food and water drops should have begun right away. There should have been at least a few FEMA and National Guard units ready to go BEFORE landfall. The storm did impact most of the roads around the stricken areas, but surely there was something they could have done on Tuesday, after the storm. "Help is coming" brochures, at the LEAST should have been printed up and dropped, with instructions for what to do, where to go, in my opinion. Hopefully the agencies involved will learn from these mistakes.

The editorial comment from someone, "I wonder how fast the response would have been if it was a middle-class predominately white city and it's suburbs hit by the hurricane. " made me wonder, too. New Orleans is 67% Black, 24 % White. There have been portrayals on the media that I find disturbing - the white looters "finding" food, and the black looters "looting" food. What is that about????????

All the politicians and their blah blah blah about "not knowing how series it was", and "several ongoing and unexpected disasters after the hurricane..." BS and covering their asses after the fact. All the back-patting makes me nauseated.

In the weeks and months I know the public will find out that the politicians in the City of New Orleans, State of Louisiana and Federal Government had information about the risk of levee failure long before Katrina was a name on the Hurricane list. I knew about them, and I am just a normal person - but two of my million interests, not usually combined, are severe weather, and New Orleans. But if I knew than a category 4 storm would weaken and probably cause levee failure and major flooding - how could they NOT know???

Watching all this unfold has made me realize I need to update my own disaster preparedness. Obviously if a catastrophe occurred we would be on our own for awhile. Time to get a new tent. Go out and buy a water barrel. Have at least a few weeks worth of food for us and the pets on hand. Forget three days, apparently it might take a week or longer. I wouldn't want to have to depend on the government for my care, and that of my loved ones. From what I've seen, that's not going to happen, in spite of all the money we give them.

My thoughts are with all the people who have been affected by this horrible disaster. I wish I could do more. I'm glad to see the National Guard has arrived, in both Mississippi and finally New Orleans, and I hope the people there get the help they so desperately need.

Hurricane Katrina Aftermath

I don't really feel like writing any of the entries I planned for this week. They all seem trivial and unimportant; ego-flogging.

My thoughts right now are with the people who have been devastated by the passing of Katrina, especially the coasts of Mississippi and Louisiana, and particularly my beloved New Orleans. Hopefully our friends who live in Metarie are safe.

Even though I know the bobblehead newscasters go for the big headline moments and dramatic footage, it looks unimaginably awful. We are probably not even hearing about the most terrible things - because no one can get there, water is too high.

The people who have lost everything in this storm are really going to need some assistance in the next few months.

The Red Cross is a great place to donate money if you want to help.

Makes me think about not taking the life I have for granted.

The Back to School Entry.

Something about the end of August incites me to commit back-to-school activities. It doesn't matter I haven't been to school in 23 years. It's time for clothes shopping, buying school supplies, pursuing knowledge.

There is a clothes (and shoe) shopping trip in my immediate future. Never at the mall, oh, no, but it's time to look for a few items - black is back, and life is good. Not that black is ever absent in my closet. I am planning a small online expedition as well. It wouldn't seem like the end of August without a new outfit or two.

Next stop; office supplies. My favorite, Renton Stationary, closed at least ten years ago. In addition to business supplies they stocked a vast array of pencils, papers, and erasers for architects, engineers, artists, and school kids. The store shared space with the printing press for the Renton Record Chronicle . The faint, astringent scent of printers' ink always drifted through the aisles. Wedding invitations and personalized stationary were printed on-site. An elderly typewriter repairman had his own corner, with racks of typewriters to be fixed, and a few antique machines displayed. When I was eleven, he fixed my green garage-sale typewriter for three dollars. I enjoy trips to any office supply store, but I still miss that store particularly.

This time of year also inspires me to take stock and plan to continue my education. Dig through my disc storage and find the Spanish course I keep meaning to start. Unfold the King County Library System Megalit list, wondering which title to tackle. I'm considering Fool's Crow, by James Walsh. I seem to read a lot of non-fiction in the fall, and usually have a small burst of interest in the family genealogy.

I think back-to-school behavior becomes ingrained. But now we buy outfits we like, even if they are for work. Silly Post-its instead of pens and rulers. The knowledge we pursue is for our own interests, not graduation requirements. We experience all the back-to-school pleasure without having to open those heavy school doors and walk inside - unless we want to.

The absolute cuteness of this picture cannot be denied. Of course, that is why it was taken.

Like any person who lives with animals, we have various and sundry digital and pre-digital images of pet cuteness. I am not normally a fan of cute. But real-life animal cuteness is difficult to deny.

Actually, this began as an image-posting test. Looking through the few pictures on my computer (most are on The Saint's computer) this was one of a few, semi-decently composed, personally owned images I could find. So I went with cute.

I started thinking about other cute pet images. Somewhere in a dusty box labeled 1973 is an 8mm film of our three family dogs playing. Gypsy, the St. Bernard, Binker my oversized Sheltie, and my sister's Papillon. Papillons, if you are not familiar, are about the size of a Chihuahua, but with long fluffy hair, and "butterfly" ears. The three of them often played a dog version of crack the whip, holding onto each others' tails. Sometimes Max the Papillon would fly through the air like a growling white bird, with teeth.

Even today, the thought of them playing together makes me smile. Max was a feisty little dog.

I was certainly smiling as I took this picture of Suzy and Cocoa, and hoping the flash wouldn't wake them up. It still makes me smile now.

No, this is not going to be the "cute pet picture of the week" blog. I'll leave that to someone else.

But still.

Awwww.

Awwww 

Beatles or Stones? Part 2

In an effort to understand the whole Beatles vs. Stones thing, I took it to the street. Okay, maybe not "the street", but I took a highly unscientific and unofficial survey of people I knew.

I didn't tell them anything except I was doing it for my blog, and their names would not be mentioned. I didn't tell them if it was about the music, or something else. I also did not state my preference until after the survey, and only if they asked.

The results surprised me. Most of the people under 40, and virtually all of the men chose the Beatles.

Almost all of the women who chose the Stones were 40 and over.

There were several who could not choose at all.

Discussions became heated. Lines were drawn. Even The Saint and I got into a debate. The Saint stating, "The Beatles were, by far, the most muscially influential rock band of all time."
"Hah, what about NIRVANA!" I snapped.
Well, I admit it isn't quite the same, but...nevermind.

Even people who don't listen to classic rock had an opinion. Most of them chose the Beatles.

There are people out there who don't like the Beatles at all.
I thought I was the only one!

Now, one of the survey takers suggested the question "Dog or Cat" was more important, as a make or break relationship question.
And another survey taker added "Or even Animals or No Animals."
I may have to explore this in a future post.


STONES!

Beatles or Stones?

Is this question really a relationship breaker?
If so, I don't get it.

Yes, I know it's really a joke question.

Any music fan knows the history of the bands, so I won't go down this road.

For non-music fans, I will explain, in the 60's, the Beatles were the "good" guys, and the Stones were the "bad" guys.

I think the real question is;

Are you conservative and sweet, somone who enjoys strolling on the beach, and holding hands by the fire?

OR
A free-spirited skinny-dipper, who lives for long motorcycle rides, and a bear-skin ( okay, faux bear-skin) by the fire?

So, why don't they just ask that question?

Of course, most people are both, in innumerable variations. So questioners want to refine it to the basic elements.

Are you "good" or are you "bad"?

Which might be a little too basic, so they couch it in terms most people would get right away. Even if it is a joke question.

So, Beatles or Stones?



In case you were curious about me - STONES!!!!!

Although, just to prove it doesn't really matter, The Saint is a Beatles man.

Hair and Haircuts

I'm pretty sure most women have issues with their hair. Crowning glory, and all that. I know men do too, but I'm not a guy, so I don't know anything about that perspective.

Lately I have been getting my hair cut at one of those no-appointment hair shops. Not the most glamerous, or even fabulous, or sometimes even competant places to go. Luckily I have found a guy at one of them who does a decent job on my hair. He's also funny, which is good - I prefer a stylist with a sense of humor.

Aboout two years ago my favorite stylist got married to a rich guy, moved 60 miles away and no longer cuts anyones hair for a living. Good for her, but it hasn't helped my hair much.

Right now, my hair is super-short, shorter than a lot of men wear their hair. The good things are;
It looks okay
It's very fast to fix in the morning with 0 minutes left until I need to go catch the bus

The bad things are;
I don't think it's very flattering
I have to get it cut about every 5 weeks - really every 4

I used to have very long hair. It ranged between butt length, and shoulder length. The cool thing about long hair is that you can do a lot with it - I used to curl it, braid it, do all kinds of things with it - you can be as elaborate or as simple as you like with long hair. In my extreme period aka "when I was skinny" I even travelled with a butane curling iron to make sure it was always correctly styled. Yes, even when camping. I would sometimes perm it, which was fun.

However, when I got to a certain age, my long hair wasn't flattering anymore. It betrayed me, the hair I always loved, by starting to change color, and making me look, well, like I was trying to look young. I resisted for a year or so, but finally I chopped it off and dyed it blonde. Honestly, I haven't found a style I like since the big chop. They have all required either major amounts of work every morning, which is so not going to happen, major amounts of upkeep, or keeping it very, very short.

For my younger self, hair was a big part of my self image. If I was having a bad hair day, I almost didn't want to go to work. Now when I'm having a bad hair day, I slap a little more gel on it, and call it good. I'm not quite sure what that says about my current self image.

I didn't really care when it started to go grey. I'd never colored it, because it was always a good color. Now I could try new things, like color, and frosting, and tinting without worrying I was going to wreck my already good hair. It was sort of fun being blonde. I was also a redhead, a reddish-brown head and I even tried jet-black once. (Most people didn't notice the jet black stage.) But color requires upkeep. Which I am not into.

And why is it that;
Unless you have really short hair, you can never recreate exactly what the stylist did
It usually takes at least a week to get your hair back to normal after a cut
The haircut never looks as good on a real person as it does in the magazine
(well, I think we all kind of know why, but still....)

I need to start looking for a new stylist one of these days; someone who will, once again, have ideas about my hair. One with a sense of humor. Who understands the concept of "I have 2 actual, real time minutes to spend on my hair when I am getting ready. Unless I have 30 seconds."

Wish me luck.

I was going to make this entry about why I love living in Seattle (which I do) but then I started thinking about fun places we've visited so far, and decided to make it about my other places. You know, those places that you say, "Hmmm, it would be really fun to live there.....or stay there for a few months..." Except, of course, I love Seattle.

New Orleans. . I absolutely love this city. It's not just one thing; it's all the little things together. The people are friendly and love to talk. The food - well, I could write an entire entry on the food alone. Even 99.9 percent of the dives have fabulous food. But it was the spirit of the city that got to me. Laid back, with an interesting past. Modern buildings, and a few blocks away, one of the oldest buildings in the US. City, but with the country not so far away. I could see why so many writers stayed there for a time - it made me wish for a few months to just hang out and soak it in, and write it down.

Hawaii. There is nowhere quite like Hawaii - part of the US, and yet apart. Like visiting a living jewel in the ocean, lush, exotic, fabulously beautiful. Utterly laid back - you go on island time when you are here - there is no hurry. There is always something to do, but you can also just relax, and kick back on the beach with a book and a cool drink and that's as much a good time as anything else. And the feeling that, with all the tourists, there are also real things too - the roadside shrines, and the even older placeds.

Oregon Coast. Beautiful beaches, not too crowded. Another area that makes me long for a few months to just rent a house on the beach and write, write, write. There isn't a lot to do, but it's a great place to unwind, walk on the beach, watch the surf, hang out.

Vancouver B.C.. I would put Vancouver in my top three favorite cities. It is vital, diverse and an altogether fabulous place to visit. The people are friendly, and polite. It is one of the most beautiful places in the world - even prettier (I hate to admit it) than Seattle. And it's also more hip (oh, I hate to admit that too). What can I say, my mom's parents were both Canadian citizens. Great food, interesting nightlife and places to go during the day, both for tourists and the people who live there.

Eastern Washington. My dad's family were pioneers here, as well as in Oregon. There is a part of me that loves it over there, the bare hills, the fields, the smell of mint in the air and the crickets at night. The way the lighting moves over the valley during a storm, and you can see it for miles away. Now the area my dad grew up in is becomeing a bunch of chi-chi wine appellations - and it's a good thing for them.

Northern California. There is something about it that is mesmerizing - the sea, the beaches. Farther inland the history - the old mining camps and dusty little towns that make you want to stop and get a cool drink and hang out in them for awhile. The real towns, not the tourist towns.

Now, these are places I would want to live, or at least stay for awhile. I'm sure there will be more - I plan to travel a lot in the next 40 or 50 years.

Is there anything more luxurious than staying in bed until 1 PM? Well, I'm sure there is, but it doesn't feel like it this morning. Instead of getting up to paint the house we stayed in bed, snoozing, mostly. (We've been getting ready to paint, or painting, since last October...)
Although you can sleep in anywhere, it's more satisfying to sleep in when you like where you're sleeping. I love my bed. It's a waveless extra-king waterbed. For those of you who have visions of the 70's style "balloon" waterbeds, with the mirrored canopy, and the automatic disco-ball strobe going as Barry White plays, our bed is nothing like that. Although, it would be fun to do that as a joke....
Long ago, we decided since we spend 8 hours (well, with luck) a day there, we should get a bed we liked. The current matress is our fifth one - not too bad in 23 years, pets mostly allowed. Waterbed technology gets better all the time - if you tried our matress out you wouldn't know it was a waterbed unless you looked under the sheets. I also like being able to turn up the heater a few degrees in the winter, so it's nice and toasty when we crawl in.

Our bedroom set is solid oak. Not laminated oak - very important to The Saint (aka my husband) , who is from a family of woodworkers. The bed is on a pedistal with drawers where I keep extra blankets, heating pads, and a few other items. The headboard is tall, the upper part has lighted glass shelves displaying my pig banks; the lower is wood, with a night stand top, and drawers. Sufficient room for piles of books, a flashlight, and numerous other things. On each side there are electrical outlets. On my side The Saint installed a power strip; so I have outlets for my laptop, recharging Game Boy, etc. There is also plenty of room for alarm clocks, phone, etc. He gets the side with the phone, because I am known for having phone conversations while asleep - and no memory of them later.

I spend a lot of time on the bed. I am a lay-down reader as opposed to a sitting-up reader - and my favorite place to read is on the bed.
I mentioned pets are also allowed. The cats, of course, sleep wherever they choose to sleep, and mostly it's on the bed. Our big dog gets on the bed a lot too, although technically he is not supposed to be on the bed when we are both in it. You would not think a 180 lb dog could sneak onto a bed with three cats already arranged in their respective spots - but he can.
It is very funny to wake up, pinned in bed by a dog on one side, and two or three cats in various positions. Well, I find it funny, The Saint not so much. The cats are very particular about where they lay, and it can be disconcerting to wake up at two am as a dispute breaks out. I will say, the dog does sometimes detract from sleeping in, when he clambers over us to escape the feuding cats.

Back to the luxurious side, we discovered higher thread count sheets a few years ago, and they really DO make a difference. They are well worth the extra money, although we don't get all crazy. I recently read an article that said those ulta-expensive 1,000 thread count sheets are misleading, that the manufacturers count the threads in each thread. I'm not paying that much for sheets anyway.

Still, there are some days when it feels good to indulge; waking up at six-thirty am, looking at the clock, smirking, and going back to sleep. Waking up at eight, reading for awhile, and going back to sleep. Some people (those wierd morning people) would say we have wasted the day, but I think it's good to be wastefully luxurious once in awhile. At least when it comes to sleeping in.

As the Queen (or perhaps the Empress) of Procrastination, I have been thinking about starting a blog for quite awhile. In my usual fashion, I decided to get started today to avoid doing something else. I am very, very good at finding ways of avoiding things I don't want to do. It's a gift, I tell you.

I have my own website, which I update sporadically, but a blog seems much more interesting somehow. Much more twenty-first century. Plus, there is a slightly greater chance that someone will read this blog, since my website gets about four hits a month, two of which are me, one is probably my husband, and number four is someone who most likely got there by mistake.

Like all blogs, the purpose of mine will be expose my opinions to the world, or my random thoughts, (hmm, connection with the name - nah!) or my mental wanderings - and I tend to mentally wander a lot. So, here it is, Joy to the World and all that.