Cars, Kitchens and Chaos

So, Nick says to me on Saturday afternoon that he saw these really cool light fixtures at Lowe's that could replace the ugly and terrible (my words, though I'm sure he was also thinking them) 20-year old track lighting spotlights in the kitchen.  We decide to go on Sunday and since it's easier to pick him up on the way, I drive to his place around 11:00 the next morning, we spend a few minutes dinking, then get in the Blazer to head for Lowe's.

The car won't start.  Dead as a doornail.  (And hey, what exactly is a doornail...???)**

I look at Nick, he looks at me, then he gets out of the car, lifts the hood, does some tinkering and discovers my battery is a complete goner.  I had no red light warning, saw no change in the gauge, but the thing is toast.  As I'm slightly stressing about the situation, Nick says, "Well, the car couldn't have died in a better place."  And because he's totally right, I just resigned myself to the inevitable and let him rescue me...again.  Course, he knew right where to go for the new battery, even got me a discount, and an hour later we're back on track and off to Lowe's.

[Have I mentioned already that I'm anticipating imminent dumpage?  Seriously.  The Blazer has run like a dream for years--yes, with regular maintenance--and yet in the past two+ weeks, I've Nick has replaced the water pump, running boards, and now the battery.  I'm telling you, dear readers, it's only a matter of time before he decides enough already.  Cripes...]

Anyway.  We get to Lowe's, and although I've just spent the light fixture money on the new battery (holy crap they're expensive these days!), he was right: the lights are really great...and they're on sale. So what the heck, I buy three--to go over the kitchen sink and counters--and with his usual attitude of no time like the present, we have lunch, get back to my house, and...

My wonderful new lights...

There will be three more on the other side of the kitchen to light up the stove and counters, though Lowe's was out of the hanging part of the fixture so they had to be ordered and won't be in until next week--a delay I'm fine with because, honestly, what with all the car rescues and stuff, I'd really like the man to just come to my house and not do any work.

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The West Coast is having a record-breaking heat wave, running from Anchorage, Alaska to San Diego, California.  That's 3,750 miles--give or take--of blistering heat, forest fires and temps in the high 90s and low 100s.  Friday will hit 103 here, in southern Oregon, then for the next three weeks, most days will hover right at the 100* mark.  It gives me brain fry just to think of it.

It's too weird having deep August temperatures in June.  My only hope is that by actual August it will be October weather as we seem to be at least six weeks ahead of normal this year. Unfortunately, I fear this could be shaping up to be the Summer The West Coast Burned.  I don't know when the unrelenting drought will end...or maybe this will be the new West: deserts, dust devils and fire.  It's frightening.  And probably not the time to be living on a mountain, surrounded by forest...just my luck.

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Still.  While I'm laying on the cold Italian tiles in the kitchen for the rest of the Summer as it swelters and scorches outside...I can admire my beautiful new light fixtures.

And dream of autumn days and warm soup, cozy socks and flannel jammies, pumpkins and falling leaves.  Sigh...

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** Okay, peeps, you know I had to look it up.  




Doornails are the large-headed studs that were used in earlier times for strength and more recently as decoration. The practice was to hammer the nail through and then bend the protruding end over to secure it. This process, similar to riveting, was called clenching. This may be the source of the 'deadness', as such a nail would be unusable afterwards.








(Answer and photo courtesy of todayifoundout.com)

Hey, Pop...

Happy Father's Day to all the great, kind and loving Dads out there...no matter what form they take...

P.S.  I'll be thinking about your smile today, how your blue eyes twinkled when you'd laugh at one of your own corny jokes, and I'll always remember your welcoming hugs every time I came home to visit.  Miss you, Pop...

Last Week Was A Doozy

About two weeks ago, I stubbed my big toe...really, really bad.  Just as it was getting dark one night, I stumbled on the front deck steps after saying goodbye to Nick, managed to catch myself, but still teetering, slammed my foot into the riser.  Agony, a lot of whimpering, I hobbled up the last several stairs to the front door and fortunately looked down before I walked onto the carpet.  Blood is pouring out the top half of my big toe and running over the side of my flip flop.

Holy crap.

I do a quick scan up and down the mountain road, then take off my shirt and wrap it around my foot so I can get across the carpet to the kitchen without leaving a CSI crime scene trail in my wake.  Up on the counter, foot in the sink, water flushing the wound so I can assess the damage. Damage I don't want to look at, let alone assess, but I suck it up, get everything clean...and realize I've nearly ripped the nail clear off.  I'm not sure what to do, so I wrap the toe in gauze and tape in the hope that the nail will somehow miraculously reattach itself.

Then I stub the dang thing at least twenty times over the next ten days requiring endless bandaging and mollycoddling.

Monday, last week, out of the shower, drying off, I look down at my foot...and what in flaming hell is wrong with that nail?  It's...**gulp**...twisted somehow, like almost turned sideways. Eeewwwww.

Long story short, skipping gory details:  I had to pull off the nail.  To the base.  The process was wretched and ugly and yes, there were tears.  And although it was one of my top five yuckiest moments to date, within hours of being nail-less, my toe felt better.  No more throbbing, no more painful swelling, just blessed relief...

Tuesday, I went grocery shopping, came out of the store and found that someone had backed into my Blazer and wrecked the running board on the passenger side.  Bits and pieces were laying on the ground, though thankfully the running board saved my car from getting bashed which would have been way more aggravating.  With Nick's most excellent help, I found some replacement running boards online, delivery expected by Thursday.

Wednesday, hot and miserably muggy day.  Stuck in traffic, A/C roaring, I'm at one of the worst intersections in town (a 12-way which is beyond-description horrible) when my water pump decides to implode.  Chaos ensues as you can imagine, dear readers, what with the soaring temps, the traffic, my rising anxiety and imminent heatstroke.

And honestly?  If I were Nick about now, I would dump me at the first opportunity because, yet again, he comes to my rescue. We get the car towed back to the house, then he takes me to the car parts place and we order a new water pump.  Coincidentally, both the running boards and the pump are delivered on Thursday.

I was feeling guilty about Nick doing all this work for me, but he told me not to worry, we'd have fun doing the car together.  I was still protesting when he left Thursday evening.

Friday, I get up, turn on the laptop and get this email/photo from Nick...

Caption read: "Help comes in all shapes and sizes"

He was leaving for work that morning and saw this spider hitching a ride on the back of a very large snail.  I laughed out loud...and smiled for the rest of the day.

So.  We did indeed spend the weekend inside the engine and underneath the Blazer and it was fun. Now my baby runs like a dream and has shiny new running boards, too.

I'm gonna owe Nick until the end of time.

And I don't mind one bit...

Man, Oh Man...

...what a great weekend.  The weather at the coast was outstanding, in the mid-70s, brilliant sunshine all day, once the early morning fog dissipated.

And riding the dunes?  I'm officially hooked.  It was wild and crazy and exciting, and I laughed like a lunatic from start to finish.  There's something about climbing a vertical dune, then plunging down the other side in a rush of wind and sand while hanging on for dear life that's just indescribable.

Nick said at one point, when we stopped so I could take some photos, that he'd never known anyone to laugh so much in the face of death.  I swiveled my Darth Vader helmet head and said, "Death?" He smiled and said, "Nothing for you to worry about, but there were a couple of dicey moments going over that last ridge line."

"Which moments?" I ask, suddenly concerned that I was clueless about the possibility of my imminent demise.

He just grinned, said he had years of experience, reassured me he wouldn't let anything bad happen and told me to just keep laughing.  I took him at his word and had the best couple of days a woman could ask for.

I didn't take as many photos as expected--too much fun racing up and down dunes all day--but I still got some good shots.  Here's a smattering...


We were racing toward the water so I could get photos of the Coos Bay bridge.  I have a thing for really dramatic bridge structures and this 1930s cantilever bridge--on the National Register of Historic Places--is a beauty.  So we had a great three mile run, even catching some serious air a time or two.

Off in the distance (middle of picture) is the bridge...



For an idea how high up on the dune we were when I took the bridge shots, notice the SUV below us...

On our way back to the truck at mid-afternoon, Nick did some fancy swirls and spins around these dead trees, then I asked him to stop so I could get a shot of the stark reality of the dunes...sea grass, dead trees and endless miles of sand...

Sunday morning we got a very early start.  Had breakfast at a little Mom and Pop pancake place where everyone at the other tables started chatting with us, and before too long it was like we were locals.  Small town America at its best.

Then we drove to a different place to ride, crossing Coos Bay, and the bridge couldn't have been more wonderful in the early morning fog...

                                     

All around the dunes, there are these pools of water, brought by the rain and fog.  Dozens of oasis(es?) tucked willy nilly at the bottom of several dunes, some hidden and hard to see, others large and deep.

Again, we stopped at the top of a dune.  Below us, skirting the water in the center of the shot, is a lone rider and in the far distance behind the trees, fog is rising off the ocean.  We drove to the sea, but it was too damp and foggy for pictures...

Another series of pools...

We stopped for lunch at an Airstream trailer turned into a most excellent diner and while Nick talked to some guys interested in his modifications to the Maverick, I wandered toward the bay and took this last shot of a gull as he flew next to the railroad bridge.  Love the Bay bridge arches in the background.

It would have been great to get more photos, but the weekend was more about riding.  And though there were apparently some death-defying moments, I was having too much fun to care.

A perfect weekend, then.

Screwdrivers and Sand Dunes

Honestly. between working my way through The Chores and daydreaming about Nick...I just can't seem to find time to write these days.  Inexcusable, I know, but there you go.  In the rush of a burgeoning relationship, it appears I've lost any talent for multi-tasking, being able to focus for longer than five seconds, or remembering why I've gone from one room to another. Good thing I don't have to operate heavy machinery.

I've also found myself shaking my head in amazement at Nick's ability to fix anything.  So far, he's fixed the back door, the screen door at the front, the water pressure in the shower, balanced the washing machine and changed the flickering fluorescent lights in the laundry room.  He knows exactly where I keep my tools and usually has my favorite screwdriver in his hand not long after he arrives.  I've tried to hide the thing because I really don't want him to feel like he has to work for his supper...but he just goes to his truck, gets his own screwdriver and carries on.  I'm trying not to get used to this turn of events--if it's broke, I'm the one usually doing the fixing--but really, having a guy around who can do anything?  You bet I'm smiling...

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Yesterday I spent the day cleaning out my closet.  Well, my intent was to clean it out, but after four hours and a heap of things for the thrift shop or the bin, I was shocked and dismayed to realize I had only sorted through shoes and one wall of stuff.  I have two walls to go, plus shelves. The hard part about cleaning out a closet is having to try on all the clothes/shoes and make decisions about what to save or what to release back into the wild.  And there are lots of memories in these little pieces of fabric; doesn't matter that I'll never be a size 6 again in this lifetime.

Before...                                                                     After...

Hot and grueling as the experience was, it's encouraging to see the vast difference between the start of the task and the end result--even if the true end result is still days from being accomplished.

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But the closet sorting will have to wait until next week.  Because I've been diverted by this bad boy...

Nick and I are off to the Oregon coast this weekend to ride the dunes.  Can't wait to put on my Darth Vader helmet and start screaming in fear yelling with excitement at the thrill of it all...and to take some great photos...

That's way more fun than cleaning the closet...