Thursday, April 4, 2013

Cat Stevens and Jesus Mouse

Since I started my writing class, I have less time for the blog.  Heck, I have less time for showers.  It's been three days now, people.

Perhaps I'm in over my head with this writing class.  I'm in there with "real" writers who have done a "publish."  My teacher's former job was literary critic for the Seattle P.I.  My writing assignments are returned with red marks all over them.  I'm pretty sure it's my teacher's pen, though I like to think he was just eating Twizzlers and got sloppy.

My assignment essays, strictly bound by a 300-word limit, have me awake in the middle of the night, writing in fits of sleepy inspiration.  I'm quite proud of my most recent essay and look forward to reading it aloud to a roomful of critics who will have no idea what I'm talking about.

Spring has sprung in Seattle and not a moment too soon.  Winters in the Pacific Northwest, as most people know, are chilly gray and dreary.  But in the past week of warm sunny days, we've come out of hibernation.  Everyone's back outside, stretching and squinting up at the mysterious yellowish circle in the sky. 

My favorite runner is back, running through our neighborhood for hours at a time.  He's my favorite because, while most runners look straight ahead and pound the hell out of the pavement, he gets more vertical with his strides and looks around the whole time.  It gives him the appearance of bouncing, near skipping, down the sidewalk.  He looks thrilled to be running, which is a strange concept to me.

I was sitting on the front porch when I saw him again.  I ran inside to yell to Al, "Ole Bouncy Black Pants is back!  Ole Bouncy Black Pants is back!"  I probably should have been taking a shower instead of sitting on the front porch watching the passersby but we all make questionable decisions sometimes.

The days when all the mountain ranges are out -- Olympics to the west and Cascades to the east -- and Mount Rainier is standing crisp and clear to the south, those are the days we Seattleites live for.  On those days, we are all convinced we live in the most beautiful place on Earth and feel smugly satisfied with our life choices.

We're now facing another string of cold gray days but last week was enough to give us all more patience.

Coco had a nightmare last night that woke her (and me) at 4:00 a.m.  She was bolt upright and crazy-eyed, screaming that something was in her bed. As I tried to calm her, she seemed to catch sight of something out of the corner of her eye.  Her eyes widened and she screamed again, then bolted to the end of her bed.

She convinced me.  I nearly yelled,  "Holy sh*t, girl, there IS something in your bed!" and hightailed it out of her room.  Instead I gathered my wits, pulled all her blankets off the bed, shook them out, and quickly became hopelessly entangled in the middle of them.  Lucien woke up and said sleepily, "Mommy, are you doing an April Fools joke?"

There was absolutely nothing in Coco's bed but don't bother trying to convince her of that, it's wasted breath and time.  She came back to bed with me where she spent the rest of the night kicking Alex and I in the kidneys.

As usual, for those of us with no family nearby, friends were family for Easter.  We gathered on the Street of Dreams for an egg hunt and mimosas (one was for kids, one for adults, you decide).  The kids watched in horror as Seattle Mom and Dad's cat attacked and nearly killed a mouse in the backyard.  Seattle Dad had to put the mouse out of its misery because there was much suffering.  Happy Easter, kids, and no worries, maybe that mouse will resurrect just like Jesus.

Then there was a ton of food including homemade cinnamon rolls and a psycho jello mold --

Want some candy, little kid?

It was a beautiful day so we headed down the street to an empty parking lot to ride bikes --

"Daddy, why doesn't my bike work anymore?"

When we got back to Seattle Mom and Dad's house, the jumping began --

It's not Easter until someone jumps over my head, scares me and makes me spill my mimosa. 

This one's for the ladies

There was some singing involved in our Easter celebration, which reminded me of a classic Alex tale.  When I first met him, Al loved Cat Stevens and sang his songs regularly and loudly.  His favorite song was "Peace Train."  But instead of understanding the chorus for what it was -- "Ride on the Peace Train" -- Alex misunderstood (it's hard to decipher foreign language song lyrics!) and sang, "I love to be straight." 

I love my foreigner.

I was flipping through a catalog full of useless items recently when I saw this --

How is this better than a dog pooping in your yard?  Instead of an occasional left-behind pile of poo, you're going to stare at a fake dog in full poo position, with fake poo coming out of its behind, every time you step out your front door?  Catalog people, go home, you're drunk!

Everyone jump on the be straight,


  1. okay..that lawn ornament is wack...I'll pass

    good for you and your writing classes..

    all of us Canadians think those are the lyrics to Peace Train.

    1. Thanks, Debbie, you crazy Canuck.

    2. You mean they're NOT the lyrics to Peace Train?

      I agree on the lawn ornament. This brings tackiness to a whole new level. Some frontiers should be left alone.

  2. I had a "less than intelligent" friend who thought the song was about "beast rape". NO LIE! We were sitting around and the song came on, she looked confused (more-so than usual) and said "OH MY GOD why is this guy singing about beast rape?? This song doesn't even make sense!" Seriously?

    1. Beast rape? Beast rape? Well that's a new one...

    2. I know, right? And I just went back and listened to the song. I can't even imagine HOW she came up with that! Such a dummy. I no longer associate with her, I was becoming stupid through osmosis haha

      I'm with Debbie...I'm a Canuck and I'll agree with Your Al's interpretation ;)

    3. Whoot! More Canucks! I'm lovin' it.

    4. We're taking over your blog muhahaha!

      I was actually in "Al Country" in February. Drove through on our way to Ontario, then stayed in Montreal for 2 days on the way home. I live on the east coast (aka, the best coast)but I'm transplanted from BC so in my heart I'm a west-coaster.

  3. The only thing that would make it better is if the writing on the dog was "Non!"

  4. And in my previous comment I forgot to add that my better half, Mrs. Staying Positive, sends hugs and bisous to your entire fam!

    1. Oh, you're THAT Chris! Hello, hello! Big hugs and bisous right back to all of you.

  5. Showers are overrated. Just saying.

    So, Alex's English was a bit funky when you met him?;) I'm sure I can relate;)

    1. Duchesse, I'm so glad you don't place a high priority on showering. That means we can still be friends because wow... I am not clean.

      Alex's English was barely understandable when I met him. His accent was so thick, his words all weird and invent-y. Charming, though, obviously.

  6. I'm passing 75 and I can still feel the rejection of the parents not taking seriously that there was a mouse in my crib nibbling on my toes. They wouldn't even tear the bed apart and look.

    And in another disillusioning example of grown-up behavior, one of my playmates' father put a little bird that had been injured by the cat out of its misery by stepping on it, right in front of us two little girls. He became the Most Evil Man in the World and I would never go near him again. No telling when he might step on me to put me out of MY misery if I fell down and got hurt.

    1. Hi Lee. Ouf....I fear Seattle Dad may have become the most evil man in the world then. I'm not sure how he dispatched the mouse exactly but, in his own words, "It wasn't graceful."

      Was there really a mouse nibbling on your toes? And you still remember your parents not believing you? Glad I tore apart the bed, then.

      Thanks, Lee, have a good one!

  7. I don't think I can allow this writing class if it means you have less time for the blog. What about us, MJ? WHAT ABOUT US??

    (I love that Lucien automatically assumed you were pulling a prank with Coco's blankets)

    1. Bec! My writing class only lasts a few more weeks. I will return! Unless I take another writing class after that in which case I will be more absent. But I can never forget about you, precious.

      Lucien obviously does not take me seriously, ever.


  8. So much to love in this post, I don't even know where to begin! It's such a great mélange of Twizzlers, mimosas, psycho jello molds, and peace trains/bein' straight!

    Oh what a smile is on my face, though, and this is GOOD.

    Love from Denver,