This is what it looks like:

And tomorrow they are taking off the roof. 

Um.

And I'm giving them another $15000. Fortunately I meet with the nice bank people tomorrow to shake hands and sign papers lending me $$ so I pay off the mortgage AND acquire a bigger loan. See how that works? Thought so. 

My house is making me sneeze. Couldn't be the random dust from concrete and wood and ceiling tiles, right? Naw. 

Rebecca this one's for you-Discovery Park today

On the interminable plane ride to Europe, the free station in the back of my seat had this artist.


I've been playing her obsessively. And pretending I speak French, comme sa?

It rained. All night. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

I had peanut butter for dinner. On a spoon. Then some edemame. My mother, rest her soul, would not approve. I am thinking about forgiveness. Forgiving my enemies. A Dorothy Day article in the Sun has inspired me. It's a short list.

My mother is on the list.

My contractor insists on talking about the basement and wanting to put in a kitchen down there and sprucing it up for a tenant.

I don't have the $$ for this. I just want some rooms upstairs and a functional kitchen. Not fancy, functional. The basement is where the ghosts live and I don't think they care about a remodel. In fact, it might rile them all up.

What I did yesterday:

This couple were so in love during the labor, I felt embarrassed to witness. He kissed and nibbled her neck, she gazed into his eyes and smiled after contractions.  It was beautiful. This wee babe was born into that. Sometimes I can't believe what I do; the crazy hours, the complicated situations, the random stress and fear. And then there are people like this. My heart breaks with their love for each other and for their babe.

And today I did this:

The view from the top of Mount Washington. And I died, or could have. Blistered feet, wobbly legs and weariness, profound weariness. It was hot, the elevation gain was significant and the trail full of rocks. We had climbed this mountain before but decided to do it again for the view. WTF. I'm totally whipped. Holly was unfazed and Felix was bouncy as usual. I whined for the last mile, really whined. Even though hiking is VOLUNTARY, people. I would have given anything for an airlift back to the parking lot. 

We stopped at the Issaquah PCCon the way home, which, if you are familiar, is a ginormous natural food store in a fancy neighborhood off I-90. I looked a right mess, with my braid falling out, a bandana on my head for the sweat, clothes that were soaked and sweat-stained and I was seriously limping. A few times I moaned a little bit. Everyone else was polished with clean clothes and the glow of money about them. I was the person who crawled out from under the bypass to buy a lemonade. 

I am currently sitting down. I love sitting down. It's divine.

I have a practice where I have some dollars in a cubby in my car and whenever I'm at a corner with a homeless person, I give that person a dollar or two. And then we chat, if there's time. Yesterday I gave a guy a dollar by the on-ramp to I-5. There is often a woman there who has a large selection of signs with sayings like 'Don't worry, be happy!!!' and 'God loves you!'. She's blonde with a thick braid. She looks like an archetypal farmer's wife. But she's sleeping under a blue tarp by the freeway.

Anyway.

The man yesterday reassured me. 'I'm ok, just a minor setback. Don't worry about me. I'm fine!' And as I drove away, I broke down. I've looked in the eyes of so many homeless humans and he got in there. I wept all the way home.

I asked about homelessness in Italy. The economy is pretty bad. The cab driver I asked said that because Italians have such extensive social support, the families are so big, someone down on his/her luck will be taken in. The only people I saw who were street people were Gypsies and they were regularly harassed by the police. In India, begging is a profession and part of the caste system. And the beggars are aggressive and pushy. It was an interesting practice to walk through the streets knowing you'd be assaulted by children and adults who had clearly identified you as a privileged foreigner. Besides, you were paler and taller (and probably healthier with full vaccinations and a full belly).

The children are sleeping again under the overpass on my way to work. They are there in their sleeping bags on the pavement, sharing cigarettes and herb. Our last Teen Feed is next month on Halloween.

This morning the men are grinding and sawing and hammering out back. I don't know where Hugo was but evidence of him through the house is characterized by dirty footprints and fine grit and various plant burrs.

Vacuuming is futile.

The person I'm not dating leaves for the Sudan on Saturday. I bought her a wee external hard drive and loaded it with movies and series so she can watch Sherlock on her computer. I'm worried about her. Nine months is a long time. Especially in a place where there is civil war. I treated her to dinner downtown. Coconut cream pie for dessert. Least I could do.

All my staff is at a birth and I am doing clinic by myself. It's ok, not too busy.

Florence. The Duomo was astonishing. It looks fake, too big and green and white marble, acres of it. Look at the size of the people. Without power tools too.

Italian women reminded me of Manhattan women, all gorgeous and floating on air in their high couture and heels. No gorgeous Italian men. I looked. And no pregnant women. One woman nursing a baby in a pew. And this lady.

I long for Italy. Languorous meals that lasted for four hours. The best tiramisu I have ever eaten. Beautiful small farms of olive trees and grapes. The slower pace. I feel homesick. 

The person I'm not dating is leaving for the Sudan this week. We had dinner together last night, a farewell dinner. She's been fixing up the houseboat she lives on. We might try to see each other one more time before she goes. For nine months. I feel vaguely worried about her. 

I climbed down the ladder today into the basement to get my laundry. In my pajamas. My neighbors don't care and they can't see me anyway. 

And I stepped on the scale this morning. Um, pasta and I are in love but I'm afraid I have to break up with her. Anyway, there ain't no Italian pasta around so I'm probably safe. 

My house is a disaster. The back is gone (hurrah) and there is cement dust everywhere and giant piles of wood and bits of wood and old siding and what all. Wires hanging down. This is all good. My dance retreat starts today and goes all weekend. The katz have fleas and I must get some flea stuff for them. A house guest is arriving and I have to vacuum the couch so she'll have a place to sleep (and hopefully she won't get covered with flea bites).

The foundation guys are outside as we speak, talking in loud male voices about concrete things. I will soon have a new set of stairs to the basement, the cavern they dug will be filled in and they will be gone. Jim and Rob, the two bearded grey haired, balding men with glasses (BGBG) will arrive to continue pondering and ripping off siding and hammering wood and uncovering 'irregularities' in the old house (hahahahahahahahaha). Apparently, I need a tiny 'ramp' into the addition because there is a 2 inch discrepancy between the floors, compliments of the do-it-yourselfers who proceeded me.

The dog has a baleful look on his face because he needs/wants/must have a walk and I'm still in my pajamas.

Ah, Italy:

Art and food

I'm back

Sleeping now. I'll tell all when I've awakened.

Italy is better than they say.

Bon voyage

Dear darlings,

I'm packed mostly. I'm full of OTC meds-they really do work to suppress symptoms. Mildly coughing but ok to fly. Suppressed symptoms-where do they go? There's an alternate reality where fevers/snot/coughing/sore throats go to commiserate. I can barely hear them complaining and whining. Tomorrow the big adventure over the ocean with my old friend/ex g'friend to Tuscany and the Holy Roman Empire. With our bags stuffed with, no doubt, the wrong clothes and a bunch o'euros.

The wedding ceremony is written and rehearsed. I bought a gorgeous black silk dress that was very expensive. I will wear it somewhere, either the wedding itself or the welcoming party at the villa.

Check me out, ole Beth C from Upstate NY. Reading a book called Let's Pretend This Never Happened. That was me, the feral girl raised by a dad who skinned rabbits and cleaned ducks on the cellar stairs.

Now I'm gonna get me some culture in Europe.

In the meantime, I'm blasting the music and dancing in my living room. Sliding around on the floor.

The person I'm not dating wants to be friends.

Ok.

I can do that.

I'll write when I come back, not taking my computer. Or I won't come back because Italy is too beautiful to leave. It could happen. Garlic and wine. Art. Music. I don't speak Italian but I could learn.

It could happen.

Ciao bella.

Twirling in my beautiful silk dress.

Of course. I'm leaving on Saturday and yesterday it was clear that I was getting sick. The works, high fever, headache, snotty nose. Spent the night so far moaning and thrashing. The first day, when you think that death would be ok because you feel so awful.

It's after midnight and I think I might live. And I have to get better enough to get on a plane in four days. I'm not going to do anything except stay in bed. Randy will get Felix tomorrow so I don't have to worry about dealing with him. I got euros yesterday at the bank. I still have to call the phone company to get my phone switched. And I have to figure out what cold/flu remedies I can take to suppress symptoms for the 13 hour plane ride (sheesh).

Reminds me of my time at Esalen, very beautiful expensive place and I was sick the whole time, coughing and feverish. I might try to see my doc before I leave for emergency meds of codeine cough syrup and antibiotics, even though this is a virus and abx don't do a thing...

It will be ok.

Two babies at once and no room at the birth center so one of them delivered on our clinic room floor by the exam table. Very gracious they were, didn't care where they were as long as we were with them. A fine, fat baby girl, as yet with no name.

Today performing a wedding for a writer friend. Coming and going, all the time. A week to Tuscany.

Whew. I can sleep on the plane.

There is more pondering going on over here today. And I have moved everything into the 'living space' of the house. Gawd, I'm tripping over boxes and the vacuum cleaner and bottles of wine that now live on the floor of my bedroom. It's a true mess. And for my mild OCD, completely crazy-making. I put something down (somewhere) and then spend half an hour looking for it, pacing around the house loudly cursing and alternately sobbing. I have learned, however. I tend to put things on top of other things. THAT'S why my keys 'disappear'. The other night, I had to go to a neighbor to ask him to call me so I could locate my phone (under a book).

I've begun to pack, well, I'm thinking about packing for Italy. I don't have a staging area like the nice gray-haired men do. I don't have a floor, or a table and I sleep in the bed so hell.

And I've decided that none of my clothes are any good and I should get a whole new wardrobe but I have neither the time or money for such foolishness.

The bride sent some suggestions for two events where dresses might be required. The wedding, natch, and a dinner on Monday night. I don't have dresses. I have a skirt but mostly I have shorts and light weight pants, including what I'm gonna wear to 'officiate' in. I do have two new bathing suits so I thought I could live in those with a sarong while on the estate, except for the aforementioned formal situations. It's hot in Tuscany, y'all.

I do have a pair of fancy prescription sunglasses that make me look like a movie star so if I wear those maybe no one will notice I'm wearing a Speedo and a Hawaiian sarong with huge hibiscus on it. With flip-flops. And a straw hat.

Here is my current life; holes in the yard and men in the yard pondering---

No no no

I leave for Tuscany in TWO WEEKS, holy shite. I have to spend some time contemplating what I'm going to say to the assembled. I have ideas, many ideas. And poems and wise and pithy sayings and so forth. No pressure but they are flying me there and keeping me in a villa so I better be good.

However, it's hotter than, well, you know and Felix and I must head to the swimming hole and plunge in, at least for an hour.

In a dream, I delivered the bride's baby and all was well. She's not pregnant but apparently she was in the dream and she pushed out a nice round and fat baby.

My little kat licks herself compulsively and then throws up hairballs all the time. I think she needs valium.

Castro Halloween case #1:

A beautiful man spray painted all iridescent blue with a full peacock feather tail and a springy head piece.

 I don't understand the principle of the 'self-cleaning' oven even though my oven is, apparently, doing just that at the moment. Not finding any noxious burn your eyes, scald your lungs oven cleaner, I have resorted to the self-cleaning feature and we shall see. Does anything else self-clean? I've always thought that babies were pretty self cleaning while they were breastfed. They smelled good, their poop was rather innocuous  and they peed water. And they weren't playing in or eating dirt yet.

My katz self clean but then deliver puddles of hair balls on a regular basis os I guess that doesn't count.

There are self cleaning windows. Do these come with scaffolding and wee men on ropes who squeegee up and down with that characteristic squeeee sound?

Today, the gray haired balding bearded men will arrive to do something to my house. Mysteriously, some orange marks appeared on the patio where the foundation will go. And the plans disappeared. Aside from that, NOTHING has happened. And this drives me crazy. I have a patience problem or if you will, an impatience problem. And it has been weeks since we sat around the table discussing what to do where and with what and how. And I think this is how it goes mostly. So I have become Zen about this when I'm not willing something to happen. Boxes here and there, my weird kitchen and the horrid yard which I continue dig up. Only about 43 more cinder blocks to go. My version of weightlifting.

I bought a bag that has wheels AND converts to a backpack AND has a detachable day pack. Maybe I
could ask it to clean the oven if my experiment doesn't work.

Signs and wonders department:

In honor ( I think) of Seafaire last week I saw:

1. Several Navy guys in their dress whites.
2. A lady by the fire station wearing a belly dance jingly belt over her dress. She was waving two rainbow flags and a large wooden cross.
3. A drag queen with large puffy mint-green hair, a chic belted dress and 6" green pumps at 7:30 in the morning.

It reminded me of a morning in San Francisco by the Castro (all gay all the time), when I watched two persons in killer bee costumes get out of a small sedan and a Sister of Perpetual Indulgence

 on roller blades cruise by and I thought, I'm not in Kansas anymore. Some time I'll have to write about Halloween in the Castro before it became a spectator sport.

My ladies came over and we ate salmon and ice cream and drank wine and danced barefoot in the living room. And we listened to this song.