The Adventures of Washington Whitten

Polynesian Road Trip

3/6/2023

Dear Friends,

I've had enough.

This time of year, I know, I know I always say this, but this year is the absolute worst. It's March and it's still snowing and grey. It's depressing.

My friend shared a story about the famous Mai-Kai resort in south Florida being remodeled and hoping to open in June of 2023. It's been on my mind ever since. I'm obsessed with a Polynesian evening of fire, entertainment, fun and absolutely no snow!

It's just what I need. Except, it's March and I'm in Washington state. C'mon it can't be the only Polynesian type place in the world. Time to do some research for a Polynesian Road Trip.

Photo by Yoal Desurmont on Unsplash

I found two places near me.

The first 0ne is The Sip 'N Dip in Great Falls, Montana.

The second is Hale Pele in Portland, Oregon.

It's time to compare and contrast as my 9th grade English teacher would say.

Both are the same in driving time.
Great Falls, Montana: 5 hours 47 minutes
Portland, Oregon: 5 hours 32 minutes

As the crow flies.

Let's start with the Sip 'N Dip. It's home to the Montana Mermaids. Look, Montana is known for rodeos, ranches, big sky, but Mermaids? This definitely makes it enticing. Montana Mermaids? They're definitely a fish out of water. This is a road trip worth pursuing.

Great Falls is a wonderful city. I've been there to watch the PBR national rodeo championships. It's a pretty cool town. It also has the C.M. Russel museum. He's the Father of Art of the West.

There's a lot of fun things to do in the town and it's beautiful. All of Montana is beautiful. It's expansive, it's the Wild West. It's Big Sky country.

Here's where it gets interesting. The Sip 'N Dip is located in the Ohaire Motor Inn. That's wild. Now, I'm going to stereotype this place never having seen it. A Motor Inn?

I feel like this is a place where you put on a wig, change your appearance with clothes and make up and become anyone you want. You could be a spy, a reporter, an astronaut. Practice your second languages and accents, be from another place. Hell, be from outer space, you're partying with Montana Mermaids.

Who knows you could be on your fifth shot and the international man of mystery bellies up to the bar. He turns to you, winks and gives his spiel.

He's there to recruit you for his next mission. Are you current on your deep sea diving certification? When was the last time you jumped out of an airplane? How are your driving skills? There may be a trip down the Autobahn highway. He'll annoy you with so many questions you will chug another Pina Colada then ask Larry the cable guy to dance. He knows the Macarena.

Oh, the possibilities. You must be careful because after massive of consumption of rum drinks with frilly umbrellas you will show your true colors.

Okay, I know, I know it's a story line for television, movies and books. Has anyone ever actually done this? I'd love to hear your story if you have. I really would. Write me at washingtonwhitten at yahoo dot com and tell me of your escapades.

This place definitely will get a visit from me. I think this is the perfect place place for a girls trip. Who's in?

Photo by Christian Fridell: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-holding-forward-a-glass-of-iced-pinkish-colored-cocktail-with-a-straw-3417441/

Hale Pele in Portland will probably be the one I go to first. I've never been to Portland. Sure, I've driven through it to head to the coast. but never hung out there.

Besides, this is more of what I'm looking for. It's a tropical atomostphere, kitschy, a total touristy kind of thing. Just what the doctor ordered after a long grey winter. Fire, rum, dancers and an escape. Yes, please.

Photo by Heidi Kaden on Unsplash

I love being a tourist. It's fun. Worlds largest frying pan, yup, I've seen it. Southern most point in the U. S. of A. Been there.

I love tourist traps, historical sights, ghost tours you name it. There's something magical about these trips. I also love finding out of the way places, meeting locals, and immersing myself in the region, but for a get out of winter blues trip, I need flashy. Fire, maybe neon.

Besides, Powell's book store is in Portland. I'm not sure if it is technically the world's largest bookstore, but it will be the biggest I've ever been in. It's on my live it list.

It's been settled. Hale Pele it is.

Hale Pele means House of the Volcano Goddess. The establishment comes with a warning. According to their website......

"But be warned, no true Tiki experience is complete without a little danger: listen for the distant thunderstorms growing closer and the fiery volcanic explosions... many surprises await you deep within Hale Pele. "

Danger. Dude, it says danger. We must to go.

Here's the deal. We all need some flaming vitality infused in our souls by the end of winter. Unless you actually live on a Polynesian island.

I'll let you know when I hit the road. Perhaps you will meet me there. If you're too far away, believe me there is something like this near you. At the very least go anywhere, or stay home and have a tropical drink. We will toast each others good health, good fortune and good times.

What do you say?

In the meantime, I'm going outside to shovel snow.

Wish I were kidding.

Warmest regards,

Kelly

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The weather outside is frightful....

12/23/2022

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Photo by Craig Whitehead on Unsplash

But the conversations are so delightful.

Some people consider weather small talk. They turn their noses up and want no part of it. They only want to delve into deep conversations. Me, I don't care as long as there's a genuine connection with the person. But, that's a whole other subject, that I will refrain from talking about. At least for now.

Is it really small talk? Weather, I mean.

I don't think so. It's the most common denominator for everyone. Especially, for ones in the same region. When we start talking about the weather, expressly, if it's extreme or out of the ordinary, then it becomes the hero's journey. Doesn't it? It has pretty much all the steps Joseph Campbell writes about.

1.)The ordinary world: AKA, the calm before the literal storm.

2.) Call to adventure : Ring a ling...Mother Nature calling. She never texts, unless you have a weather app with notifications. Will you answer the call?

3.)Refusal of the call: You will doubt your courage at first.Heck, maybe at second, third or forth. You will give in to fears. And as our man Joseph says," The temptation is to remain blissfully ignorant, to avoid discomfort, and to stay in your familiar world. "

Until you can't. What's that saying? You stay a bud until it hurts too much that you bloom. Something like that happens. You can't remain the same. We both know that's not how Mother Nature rolls.

4.) Meeting a mentor: This is usually someone who's been on the path and prevailed. These days you don't have to look far to find one. If you want someone who knows it all just go on Nextdoor or Facebook. Ha! Plenty of people there. But I beg you please, please be discerning on who you pick. You might well be talking to the villain, trickster, or the ugly side kick. Be aware. Beware.

5.) Crossing the Threshold: This is it. There is no turning back. You have answered the call of the wild. Isn't it thrilling?

The initiation begins.

6.) Test, allies and enemies: Here we go. The test is the actual weather. Power outages, pipes freezing, road closures, frost bite, blowing snow with no visibility. That's just winter.

The other seasons have their own obstacles. Here you will meet other heroes. They are the ones helping the elderly, or really anyone who can't shovel or plow. They are the ones pushing your car to the side of the road, giving you a blanket, and checking on you. Even bringing you into their homes. They are out in the thick of it.

These heroes crossed the threshold long ago. Then there are the enemies. It could be human or non human. The folks taking advantage of people in crisis.

This is the step where you slay the diabolical beasts. Never, ever slay a dragon. This is when you will have close calls, and of course failure. Your adrenaline is pumping and you feel alive.

The icing on this winter wonderland cake is datdatada.... you will have great tales to tell. Weather, small talk, hell no!

7.) Approach to the inmost cave: This is where you have already found your strengths and used them. It's also where you will face another level. I'm gonna let Joseph, take this one again.

"This is the beating heart of the hero’s challenge, where again self-doubt and fear can arise, as another threshold has to be crossed. This is often a period of respite, giving the hero time to pause and reflect. Will the hero make the leap?"

You betcha!

You have lived through the arctic blast. You have battled, helped, overcome and you are pooped. Mother Nature calls again.

Will you let it go to voicemail? Will you have the courage to overcome the next phase? The meltdown? The floods? The Post Office?

I hope the answer is yes. Put your cape on and get at it.
She'll be back.

8.) Ordeal: The grand finale. This is when you will live or die. Even if you live you will die. Well, death in a sense of you will never go back to the old ways. You have come into your power. Your confidence. Your humanity. I know it's dramatic. But it's true.

9. Reward, seizing the sword: You did it! You really, really did it. There is so much power in self confidence and mastery. The climax. Yes, please. You've gained knowledge about yourself and others and there is no going back. Do you even want to? Once you know, you know.

Celebrate. Raise that sword. Do a roundhouse kick. Clap your hands. Cry, laugh, jump for joy.

10.) The Road Back: This one has its own obstacles. It's not easy. You are going back, but you're not the same. This stage can either help you grow or break you down. Yes, there is still drama. Dude, this is a hero's journey. This is weather. Take this opportunity on the walk back to really digest what you did. What you went through. What you learned.

11. )Resurrection: Ahh, you've come home. The parades and accolades are coming your way, or not. Sometimes you are a silent hero. Here's the final confrontation. Will you go back to the way things were? Or will apply your gifts to the greater good for all of humanity. Will you?

Next time someone asks, "Is it cold enough for you?" Do not roll your eyes. Instead with a gleam in your eyes, tell your tale. Better yet, be quiet and listen to their tale.

With warmest regards and dazzling icicles,

Kelly

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Isabella Tralala

10/6/2022

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Jeff Haynie Artist of this card. Website

It was a crisp and clear October evening. The moon was a sliver, the kind known as God's toenail. I know, I know, it's not moody like a dark and stormy night with a full moon, but it did pack as much magic as that atmosphere would.

This was my first time attending the infamous annual Brew and Chew charity event. Tickets are hard to come by especially if you believe the history. Read about it here, but do it after this story.

My friend who was supposed to join me couldn't make it so, I'm flying solo. You'd laugh if you could see me after saying that. My costume is the best I've ever worn. I'm dressed as a wicked, wicked witch. I even splurged to have a professional make up artist style me in the most monstrous and unscrupulous way. The broom, well it's a one of a kind creation by the witchy artist Tabitha Sweepinheimer.

Photo by Alessia Cocconi on Unsplash

This party is worth a kings ransom. This year it's held in an old abandoned castle on the outskirts of town. The theme, medieval times.

After wandering around the drafty castle I make my way to the banquet table. It's the most magnificent spread I've ever seen. Plus, it has the perks of being prepared in present time. Refrigeration and skillful workers save us from botulism and E. Coli related maladies these days. Mostly. Unless of course we have the misfortune of having the one prep cook who flipped a coin taking the food handlers test. The particular question, how do you thaw meat? A) in the refrigerator? B) in the trunk of your car?

Don't laugh, that was a true question.

Back to this feast fit for, well me.

I grab my crystal platter and start to fill it up when I heard a collective gasp. The crowd was mesmerized by a cat that walked in dressed in a an oriental fuscia gown, dripping with jewels, and holding a solid gold fish mask with precious gems embedded in it.

The murmurs were not so quiet. Who styled this woman? Where did she get this striking costume? Who is she?

Listen, I was staring right along with them. Only I knew it wasn't a woman, but a real cat. I just knew. Unfortunately, when we made eye contact, she knew I knew.

Photo by Julia Cheperis on Unsplash

This cool cat with the mesmerizing eyes sashayed over to me. I pretended I didn't see her coming and kept loading up my plate. Until she was right next to me purring like a Harley Davidson.

I looked up and gave a courtesy smile and started to move along the table. She swatted at me to get my attention. I turned around and said hello. My hands were full. One with a plate and the other my broom. Boy, do I really wish I could fly away at this point.

She mewed again, then in perfect English introduced her self.

"My name is Isabella Tralala and I need the help of a witch."

Oh shit.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Isabella Tralala. However, I'm not really a witch, or a cat person."

Ooops, didn't mean to say that last part out loud.

"What I mean, is this is a costume party. And I do have a barn cat named Hazel."

Oh man, I'm really putting my foot in my mouth with this supernatural diva cat. I just told her I have a cat kept in a barn, not the castle.

Lucky for me she started laughing.

"You may not be a witch, but you do have magical powers. You know I'm a real cat and this isn't a costume." She said as she perused the table and zoned in on the caviar.

She went ahead of me to get near the delicacy while still talking. " You see I just lost one of my lives. My mistress, the world renowned soprano, Matilde Chanteuse, went bat shit crazy and now I don't have a mistress."

"Wait, I thought cats have nine lives, not nine lives of owners?" I asked her.

She was inching closer and closer to the caviar. She bent over the table and licked it.

"You can take the mangy, flea-bitten, raggedy on the brink of death kitten out of cat, but you can't take the cat out of, well you know what I mean." She did not apologize for her table manners.

I knew what she meant being a former white trash, elevated to trailer park girl, upgraded to a wicked witch at the ball of the season. Yes, I got it, but I still wasn't crawling around the table.

This was one of the most bizarre conversations I've had at a party. That's saying a lot because I was partying in the 80's and 90's

"Do you want to hear my story or not? "
She didn't wait for my answer and began.

"My former mistress, Matilde Chanteuse, was at a matinee performing Carmen. When it was over she came back stage and there I was in a box. I was left out back in the dumpster and a stage hand found me and brought me inside.

This elegant woman picked me up despite my state and hugged me close. She fell in love.

Of course she cleaned me up, dressed me then presented me with the name Isabella Tralala. I was her only friend. She was very talented. There was no one in her league. Until a young protege' came about. Ambrosia Deja Vu.

The young phenomenon sounded just as she did in her youth. Only better.

Months went on while my mistress steeped in envy. She wanted the young girl's talent and youth. The better Ambrosia became, the more Matilde unravelled.

So, she decided to keep her enemy close and pretended to mentor her and take her under her wing. Trying to figure out how to stop this change of the guard. It was her only focus.

The girl picked up on the animosity. The more her talent bloomed, the more her ego grew and she taunted my mistress.

One day Matilde, who I called MiMi, invited the young lass for a tea party. The little princess decided to turn up the heat and take over. "Allow me to serve you my queen." She poured the tea.

MiMi did not like being treated like an invalid. The green eyed monster who lived under the bed came out to join the party. He whispered to her that Ambrosia was trying to poison her.

He took his place at the table next to Matilde. Her eyes were taking on his green as she went mad. This time he didn't whisper, he boldly told her to finish the girl.

In her delirium she started singing. The notes she hit were so high they shattered the cups and saucers. Tea and crumpets flew everywhere. It was a storm.

When she hit the crescendo it was the highest note she ever accomplished. It was a history making note. The young girl cowered under the table holding her ears while blood dripped out.

The chandelier shattered and broke the spell.

Photo by Marika Vinkmann on Unsplash

Only the damage was irreparable.

Matilde Chanteuse lost her voice and her mind.

Forever.

Ambrosia DejaVu was deaf.

The green eyed monster left to take residence somewhere else.

The ambulance arrived with her haute couture straight jacket. She was wrestled to the ground so they could sedate her. The irony was she was now truly being poisoned. They wheeled her out the door but before they could leave I jumped on the stretcher. I nuzzled her and gave her a kiss and in that moment I inherited her green eyes. Hence, leaving me with eight lives left.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

"Here I am at this masquerade party looking for a new mistress who can keep me in the style I'm accustomed to."

She then swatted a glass off the table.

"Wow, that's some story. First off I hope you don't think I'm going to be your mistress." I looked at this crazy cat.

"Don't be stupid." she swatted another glass off the table.

Well that pissed me off. I grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and took her away from the banquet leaving my plate which I haven't touched and spent a small fortune on for this gala. This wicked kitty wasn't going to spoil it for me.

"Alright, you have my help for fifteen minutes. I will find you a new master and you will leave me alone. Oh and you can leave that golden fish mask with me for my trouble." I told her.

She hissed.

I lifted my broom over my head. I don't know why, but I figured it might be some kind of magic ritual to help me get rid of Mrs. Mittens.

Then I saw her perfect match.

When the empress made her way towards us I grabbed Isabella and flung her at the goddess.

Photo by zhengtao tang on Unsplash

The beautiful queen caught her. Isabella dropped the mask as requested.

This was a match made in heaven. The Belle of the Ball is a fish monger at a small shop in town square. We met at the costume shop. I think I will get my fresh fish from her now so I can check on the green eyed kitty. Wonder what her new name will be?

If you like the card featuring the green eyed beauty and would like me to send it to you write a comment. Tomorrow October 9, at 8 am pacific time I will choose a winner using the random number generator.

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Muses and Deer

10/2/2022

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This is a card from one of my favorite artists, Jackie Morris. It's from the book The Quiet Music of Gently Falling Snow. Website

“Muses work all day long and then at night get together and dance.” ~ Edgar Degas

Deer Friends,

Um, yeah, those aren't my muses. They belong to the deer people. Oh my. You're thinking there goes crazy Kelly. Well, let me explain. I'm not sure where to start, so I'll probably be all over the place. But you are used to that.

My muse once told me the best way to inspiration is to wander. It doesn't matter how. You can walk, bike, ride a horse, jog, fly, glide, skate, swim...anything you want. Leave the earbuds and cell phone at home. You can do it alone or with a friend.

The whole idea is to just meander your way through the landscape and soak in the scenery. It's quite lovely. Listen it's okay if you don't go home and create a master piece in your own way, if you day dreamed, even a little, you will be better for it. Really.

Photo by Janaya Dasiuk on Unsplash

This is one of my muses. At least I like to think so. She makes me happy. She's also a deer lady. And encourages me to roam.

Yesterday was a gorgeous October day. The temperature was perfect. You almost would have thought it was an early summer day, but, the sun put on its most glorious filter and the light was golden. A ride on the back of my horse with friends was the perfect way to go astray.

We rode in a different area than usual. The ride took us on regular trails, game trails and my favorite, bushwhacking. Making our own trails.

As were were zigzagging our way down the hill a doe stood still in front of us. We gazed at one another for the longest time. She glowed. After a bit she walked off leaving us filled with joy.

We rode off on what looked like the beginning of a game trail. Riding down we disturbed a magnificent buck with an impressive rack. He bolted off. He was wondrous. Listen, I don't want to spread rumors, but I think it was Harry Potter's patronus.

As he ran away a dozen or more does took off from their hiding places. All these white tails were bouncing here and there, to and fro, through the hillside. It was like a wildlife game of whack- a -mole.

We continued our journey and literally went off trail, not on purpose, it really wasn't a trail to begin with. This time we went through bushes so thick it was like swimming in mashed potatoes, hold the gravy.

That's how my muse rolls. She's not one of the elegant women like the one in the top picture. I think she's more of a renegade running a marathon with a meatball parmigiana hoagie. Echo, my black steed and her are in cahoots.

Echo has this uncanny quality where it doesn't matter what kind of peril we are in whether it's running down a hill like The Man from Snowy River. I don't recommend this and truly never asked for it. But you get what you get, so don't throw a fit. But do hold on. Or, fleeing from a scary sound and not paying attention to where she's going, she always, and I do mean always has time to eat on the run. She's gifted.

Photo by Jeremy Manoto on Unsplash

Deer.

They are truly special. They represent gentleness, love, and beauty. I know two wonderful ladies in my life who absolutely adore deer. Which, it makes a lot of sense because they are part of this special breed.

Deer people have a light in them. There is always a low hum of light. A glow. They also have a dimmer switch where they can up the brightness just a tad, or go whole hog and smother you in light.

While everyone isn't a deer person, everyone has a little deer in them.

My Muse reminded me this on the ride. When we were down the hill we ran into a gentlemen walking his dog. We said hello and he turned up the light and started talking with us like old pals. He shared many things with us about the land, his home, his family and even talked of his grandmother. He's definitely a deer person. A magnificent buck like the one we encountered earlier.

We said our goodbyes, and left feeling lighter and better people after meeting him. And that's a lot because anytime your on a horse you feel great.

We ran into another family closer to home. They were lovely and walking their one year old yellow lab, Albus. Yes, named after arguably the greatest wizard of them all. Albus Dumbledore.

Tell me October isn't magic?

Once home I thanked my muse for reminding me of the deer people in my life and introducing me to new ones. It was a true gift. And don't think I'm not headed back to that area in the spring to see if that spectacular buck will gift me with his shed.

My invitation to you my friends is to go on a quest, a meander, a stroll with a parasol and see what your muse has to offer you. And if you feel so inclined tell me what it was.

Warmest wishes,

Kelly

PS. If you love the image of the muses at the top of the post leave a comment here. Tomorrow at 8 am pacific time I will draw a number using the random number generator to pick a winner. Then I will mail it to you.

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October Magic

10/1/2022

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Image from a card I bought. Jeannie Lynn Paske obsoleteworld.com

“The thing with October is, I think, it somehow gets in your very blood. Unapologetically. Almost ruthlessly.”
― Anne Sexton

Dear Friends,

Welcome to October. The month of tricks, treats, magic, monsters both real and imagined. This is my favorite month. My excitement wants me to proclaim that I will write here every day this month, but that would be a Samhain miracle. That doesn't mean I won't try.

It's a moody month in the very best way.

Give me October's meditative haze,
It's gossamer mornings, dewy-wimpled eves,
Dewy and fragrant, fragrant and secure,
The long slow sound of farmyard-wending wains,
When homely Love sups quiet 'mid his sheaves,
Sups 'mids his sheaves, his sickle at his side,
And all is peace, peace and plus fruitfulness.
Alfred Austin (1835-1913)

Photo by Liana Mikah on Unsplash

The Mariners make it to the post season! Yes, first time since 2001. Magic. And a talented team.

There's much to look forward to. Tricks, treats, stews simmering in cauldrons, ghost stories, Grimms Fairy tales, writing by candle light, scary movies, mermaids talking to cats, scarecrows befriending crows, and dogs talking their masters ears off. I will say it a million times, magic.

I'm going to celebrate this month with gifts of cards and perhaps a surprise or two.

If you'd like the above card by artist Jeannie Lynn Paske just leave a comment.

Tomorrow October 2, at 8 am pacific time I will use the random number generator to pick a winner with the random number generator. That's if there is more than one comment. Bwahahahaha

“October had tremendous possibility. The summer's oppressive heat was a distant memory, and the golden leaves promised a world full of beautiful adventures. They made me believe in miracles.”
― Sarah Guillory, Reclaimed

Mysteriously yours,

Kelly

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Visit New Orleans

9/21/2022

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"There was something about the city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so many needed. It let me alone."
Charles Bukowski

You step off the plane and rush to the hotel. Hurry up! Throw your things on the bed and head out. Vacation time! There's so much to do and not a lot of time.

The Uber waits. The driver whisks you to the garden district. It's the first stop on a long itinerary of must sees. So much to see, so little time. But the Crescent city has other plans for you.

Photo by Hush Naidoo Jade Photography on Unsplash

You arrive on St Charles Avenue and jump out of the car. The driver hasn't come to a complete stop. You hot foot it down the avenue. Here's the thing, your scurrying and scrambling make Ms. Nola nervous. She cranks up the heat.

The warmth and humidity slow you down, while revving up your libido. Ms. Nola brushes her hands together. "Yes Cher, that's more like it."

You begin to pay attention not only to the grand houses encompassed with blooms of every colors, but all of your senses have come alive.

The neighborhood may look like classic antebellum south, but the iron fences with fleur-de-lis tops tell a different story. Magic is it's signature color.

Your stroll becomes a meander as the aroma of magnolia and jasmine weave a spell on you. The intoxicating perfume has a hint of sweetness and a whisper of risqué decision making.

You've been untamed.

Photo by Henning Roettger: https://www.pexels.com/photo/shallow-focus-photo-of-crocodile-on-body-of-water-2100047/

Your meander morphs into a strut and you head to the French Quarter with purpose. You're headed to the carousel bar and lounge in the hotel Monteleone.

Outside, a woman stands with a cart full of masks.

She asks your name.
Then you ask hers.
"My name is Marie Laveau. "

Photo by Jennifer Marquez on Unsplash

You recognize the name but can't quite put your finger on how you know it.

She offers you a beautiful mask. "It's a lagniappe."

A gift.

You are still under the seduction of the city when you choose the blue and white one. It sparkles. Did it just say your name? Well, it's the perfect accessory for happy hour.

Photo by Nacho Díaz Latorre on Unsplash

The mask is enchanted, but you are spellbinding.

You sashay to the famous revolving bar and take a seat. You're the only one wearing a mask, but it's New Orleans. They don't care. You order a hurricane, because a storm is brewing.

As the bar rotates, you sing, "round and round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows."

Only you know. You enjoy your libation at a luxurious pace. Yes, Ms. Nola taught you well.

When you're done you stand up, then smooth out your dress. Take a deep breath. The first gentlemen you see is your date.

My, oh my, he's wearing a mask too.

You take his hand and head to a smoky room, with the smell of wine and cheap perfume. No, no, that's a song. You do head out to a little jazz bar and dance to the horns and piano all night. And go on and on and on and on.

Then you leave.

Strangers walking down the boulevard.

Dang it there's that song again.

Well, I'll end this fantasy version of The Big Easy...I could keep going but then I'd have to put a warning for mature audiences. Written by a Scorpio, dahlin. But, I'll keep it mysterious for now.

The next entry I write will be my real itinerary.

But in the meantime...

If you like the New Orleans postcard at the top of the page be the first to comment and it's yours.
A lagniappe.
Bòn Nwit,
Kelly

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I Want To Get Away.....

9/18/2022

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Photo by Houcine Ncib on Unsplash

"I address you all tonight for who you truly are: wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventurers, and magicians. You are the true dreamers."
Brian Selznick- The Invention of Hugo Cabret

I'd like to add to that group: Werewolves, dragon riders, roller skaters and corn hole champions. I"m honored to be in your presence. You inspire me.

Recently, I did a series of letters to three people. The last one was a challenge, invitation if they chose to accept they were to create two tales of one city. I then put on my magical, mystical hat and pulled a travel postcard out of my huge, and I do mean huge stash of postcards. The city that was chosen for them was their destination.

The invitation was to create two scenarios, in whatever manner they like. One a very simple and plain trip to the town. I don't mean bottom dollar, low brow simple, I mean down-to-earth, mingling with the landscape, the locals or whatever that means to them.

The second scenario. Bold. Audacious. Wild. Anything goes. The challenge, to rub the genies lantern and make a wish. Then write it, make it, daydream about it, create it in whatever way they express themselves. Just for pleasure.

Of course I had to play along too.

Photo by Austrian National Library on Unsplash

Destination: Aspen, Colorado
The first caper.

Hitch hike my way up to Ajax, it's what the locals call Aspen Mountain. I bum a ride from Johnny, Leiza, Tommy and Margot. I call them the Warren Miller gang.

We eat beans and franks, aka beanie weenie straight out of the pan with five forks. We're gonna need the energy for an epic day of carving the mountain and catching big air, while avoiding an avalanche.

My ski jacket and pants are swag-i-fied and I'm giving off effortless cool vibes. Until I biff and everyone starts yelling, "Garage Sale". All in good fun.

I shake it off and get after it. The snow covered mountain is pristine. There's fresh powder. The limbs of the trees are heavy with snow giving the illusion of peace and tranquility. There's nothing but electricity when you are flying down the hill.

The last run is for speed. Last one down is a rotten egg. Oh my gosh I haven't said that in a million years. Every one's racing and the end is right in front of the lodge. Nobody wants to be a rotten egg. The goal is to do the best hockey stop spraying as many people as you can with snow.

The day ends with a beer and Tylenol in front of the fireplace.

Photo by Jan Kopřiva: https://www.pexels.com/photo/ski-exhibition-on-fire-show-3716087/

Scenario two:
After an extraordinary day on the mountain the night life calls.

My wardrobe will be my cowboy boots, blinged out of course. I know this is a fantasy, but even in my feral imagination my feet can not be placed in Cinderellas slipper. Ever. Click Me

Whatever the dress is, it will be fabulous, and evening gloves are an absolute must. Of course I will be dripping in tasteful diamonds.

Oh hell no, this is Aspen, and my fantasy I want to make it flood diamonds. No, The problem is, I don't have any. I mean who hitch hikes up a mountain with diamonds?

No, no, I want precious jewels to cascade over me. Something nobody else has worn, or at least an elite few.

Bold. Did you know Kelly means bold? Well, she doesn't come out like she used to, but tonight she is needed. We need to make it count. I miss her sometimes.

It's time to put the law of attraction to the test. That or a master class in law breaking. Of course I conjure up Lenny Kravitz, Slash and Jason Mamoa to join me on a little jaunt to Boston, private plane of course.

We head to the Fine Arts Museum for a heist. I know those three guys aren't jewel thieves but they do make for one hell of a distraction while I go Mission Impossible on the Bovin Starfish. Click Me for a little history.

Of course I"m only borrowing this brooch. I'll put it back when I'm done. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.

You see the Bovin Starfish possesses it's own magic. Did you know Starfish spirit's axiom is, as above, so below. It's a duality, like these tales. It also means you must rely wholly on your senses.

We make a get away and then we make an entrance at the chic hot spot, Boots Bellows. If you can get past the red velvet ropes you can join us.

Once inside, we are whisked away to a private loft where we can over see the dancing, but the crowd can't see us. The owner comes in and offers us a glass of world's oldest single malt scotch, Gordon & MacPhail

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

After sipping the old scotch, I order a beer. I'm feeling fancy so it'll probably be a Corona with lime. You know the old saying you can't take me anywhere. I'm feeling this starfish so it's time to retire to the billiards room.

In other words, we're skedaddling to the pool hall. Now, I have the best of both worlds. You know how this is going to end. I do clean the table, literally, with anyone who dares to challenge me. Look some things are the same in the as above, as below. I think I'm going to embrace this duality more in my waking life.

After winning stacks of cash, I send an envelope full to the Warren Miller gang. They showed me a good time during our day on the mountain. I'd like to reciprocate and keep them in powder.

The evening is coming to a close. It's time to take the Bovin Starfish back to the museum. I did make a promise. Hey, if you want to know more about this unique piece of jewelry check out this book. Diving for Starfish.

The rest of the evening is none of your business.

Well, back to reality. Maybe.

If you are up for an adventure meet me in Aspen winter 2023, date to be determined. I think we'd have gay old time. Click me

Tell me your vacation flight of fancy?
Your's truly,
Kelly

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Billy Lankford

9/15/2022

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I found the above picture online.

"“I love you sounds best spoken in quiet acts of kindness.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

Every summer in the early seventies I was shipped off to Tifton, Georgia to my grandparents house. I loved those summers. One of the best parts was going out to eat after church. We didn't eat out much at home, so it was a real treat.

Every Sunday morning and an occasional evening you would find us at the First Baptist Church. The church built on love. That's their motto, because the church is located on Love Avenue. Clever, huh? No disrespect to the faithful flock but the real church built on love was across the street at the Lankford Manor.

Billy Lankford was the minister of hospitality and love. He was a tall, spindly drink of water with a bit of a stoop. The slight, very slight hunch in his back wasn't from age I don't think, but probably because he was a lofty man and had to duck to get into rooms. A giant in more ways than one if you ask me.

If'n he was an insect I suspect he would be a praying mantis. An elegant man with a zen spirit and an ethereal quality. Yes, I believe that fits him.

Photo by Drew Easley on Unsplash

The Lankford Manor was a large elegant house. It was white clapboard surrounded by humongous trees. Probably pecan (pee-can). There was a huge enclosed porch where food was served. Enormous paddles from ceiling fans whirled slowly to boost the effect of the air cooled rooms to fight the oppressive humidity of south Georgia.

I remember the stairs leading up to the place squeaked. I suspect it's because lots of folks needed not only their bellies fortified, but their souls too.

Now, I went there many times for lunch, or I think they called it dinner, and the evening meal supper. Dang, I can't remember. But what I'm about to tell you happened on a special evening after church on a wondrous Sunday evening.

Photo by Michał Franczak on Unsplash

Billy's as my grandparents called it held a whole different atmosphere in the evening. It came alive with festivity, and bright lights. The pace was faster than the afternoon. Billy went from table to table greeting folks and welcoming them. Every now and again he pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his forehead. He always smiled.

On the side of the dining room stood an old, well used, well loved stand up piano. It wasn't a grand piano, but it was grand.

“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine”

Yes, doll here I am. I went right over. Now, I really couldn't play the piano, but my uncle could. There was the same type of piano at my grandparents house. I could play heart and soul, sticks and the first four notes of Beethoven's fifth.

I sat at the piano and Billy came over. He didn't scold me, or tell me to go back to the table. He told me to scoot over.

He asked if I could play something. I began playing sticks. He let me have my solo for a few minutes then he joined in with the most effervescent, spirited jazz.

Listen, I'm here to tell you that day I was transported. I remember the feeling vividly 50 years later. A warm light filled my whole body. It was the most joy I've ever felt in my entire life to this day. The music bathed me and his soul, vitality and love, love, love permeated me.

The dining room disappeared the clanking of the silverware and dishes quieted, diners conversation muted, the squeaking stairs went silent. Nothing existed but right then and there and full blown jubilation. Billy shared his light with me that day. I will never, ever forget.

You know I heard an interview with Liz Gilbert once talking about meditation. It took her years of practice and journeys to India to learn to do it. She talked of the one time she was able to quiet her mind and she felt like she was "in the hand of God" Well, I don't know if I was in the hand of God that day, but I most certainly was part of God's playlist. And I didn't have to go to an ashram in India to find bliss. It was right there in the dining room on Love Avenue.

Every time I went back to Georgia to visit there were two places I always went The Tift County Agrirama, .
And the Lankford Manor. I never did see Billy again on my visits as a young adult. I still needed to go there even if I just stood outside. Lankford Manor, aka Billy Lankford shared his place with the world. He made a raggedy little girl feel like the most important and well loved thing on the planet.

With love, affection and the jazziest jazz music,

Kelly

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Porch talk

9/14/2022

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Photo by Ana Essentiels on Unsplash

Dear Friends,

All the talk about the 'Bers, well, it got me into a warm, cardamon spice reminiscing kind of mood. Did you know cardamon is considered the "Queen of Spices". Well, I'm feeling like the queen of the rocking chair. Tiara included.

Won't you take the open rocking chair next to me, grab a bowl of field peas and lets visit.

This autumn part of my life, well I've lived my whole life to get to this sweet spot. Only I must confess, I've been doing it my whole life. Well, when I could. Nostalgia is my go to medicine when I want to feel warm and cozy.

Yes, I know it's also considered a sickness. Where you forget about the bad stuff, and only focus on the good. Um, yes I'm here to get down with the sickness. Click Me

Look, I don't want to reminisce, I want to chat, talk and be in the present with you. The one fantastic aspect of my entire life is I've been lucky enough to have some amazing conversations with people. Some I knew, a lot I didn't. Those moments, well, lets just say come in handy when I'm down, or need to remember something important.

I've always loved talking to older people the most. Now, I'm one of them. Now, just because I am happy to set a spell and chew the fat doesn't mean I want my body to get old. I still need to wander, hike, and ride my horsey. If I can't do that then I won't be alive to dawdle and dilly dally all the live long day.

Photo by ArtHouse Studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-wooden-rocking-chair-near-fireplace-5014757/

There's something special about rocking chair talk. I do think you have to be doing something with your hands. Fiddling with some kind of vegetable, knitting, picking at a geetar, probably not whittling with a knife, but I suspect some folks could do it.

The motion of chair and the use of hands is the gateway to relaxation like no other. Meditation for dummies. It also is the time for stories. I love, love, love stories. Especially personal ones, well not necessarily personal in the private sense, although I'm honored if someone shares. I mean personal in, hear a person tell me a story. Live. Books are wondrous, but people are exceptional.

Perhaps, that's why I'm fascinated by old photos of people and places. Imagining their lives and what they like and how they lived come pretty easy to me. A little too easy and sometimes it's a problem, Let me explain.

This is a scanned picture of a card I bought at an art fair. The artist is Janet Launhardt. Check her out and give her some love. Or buy a painting.

You see one Friday morning I pulled out the above greeting card I bought recently at an art fair. I looked up The Snake Pit online. It's the image on the card. I've heard about it for a long time. It's one of the oldest restaurants in North Idaho. It's been on the news a lot. But what I remember last was, I believe the owner passed and it was in danger of closing. However, a new owner stepped in and kept it going.

The best reading was on the website. It told of the history. Click here to see.

The Snake Pit opened in 1879. I know! It's wild. Wild, Wild West that is. Oh my this is one of the reasons I love living out west. So much history, stories, and road trips.

Gold.

One of the theories of how the name came about is told like this. They called the ladies of the evening, or morning if you will, snakes. The upstairs is where business was conducted. The bottom was the bar and grill.

But that porch! Dang, it needs some rocking chairs. Perhaps, I can get hold of some of the old timers who told the stories and buy them lunch. Then afterwards they can while away the time with me filling me in on the gossip.

After looking them up online of course I fell into a rabbit hole of good information. Great porch talk. Yes, and even though it was Friday which is notoriously pizza night at the Whittens, I talked my husband into going there for dinner.

Date night with the snakes!

So here's the problem with my imagination and story thirst, I'm not sure what I expected when I got there, but there were no old timers telling a story. Nobody was bellied up to the bar. There were no snakes upstairs waving to us soliciting our business. I was let down.

Seriously.

What the hell did I expect? A show like Disney? I think I kind of did. That's what happens when you live in your head too long. Well, even though I didn't go back in time the food was delicious. But I'm here to preach about their biscuits. Now, I'm usually a roll, or loaf of bread type of girl but these biscuits were worth the drive and now have me on a quest to perfect the biscuit. And as our server said drizzle a bit of honey on 'em and it's a game changer. She was right.

Even though I wasn't a time traveller we had a great time. The decor was pretty cool, the food comforting and the drive beautiful. I'm here to tell you the panhandle of Idaho is one of the prettiest places in the U.S of America.

Photo by cottonbro: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-in-dress-shirt-and-beige-pants-sitting-on-brown-wooden-armchair-7118183/

Well, I thank you for reading this especially if I asked you. I just want to be heard. I think we all do. I've got things to say before I'm the dearly departed. Most of it nonsense, but we all have to be good at something right?

Most things I like to remember are the little things. They usually are the grand things to the heart. Don't get me wrong I still love a big-big thing, I just don't need it as often as I used to. The best part about a big-big thing is, well, it's like coming home from vacation.

You click your red slippers, exhale and proclaim, "There's no place like home."

Warmest regards,
Kelly

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The 'Bers

9/13/2022

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Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash

I was recently given an assignment to create a vision of what I wanted my daily life to look like for the next six months. I'm in the Autumn of my life, and it is the beginning of autumn, plus, I love everything about the 'Bers. September, October, November and December. It's a no brainer. I want to indulge my warmest fantasies and run my fingers through Autumn's golden hair.

Instead of a list, or a schedule, my vision is to only do things that give me that Autumnal feeling. I'm tempted to tell you the things I'm going to avoid, banish, and stay as far away from but those ugly things may not have any free publicity.

Here we go.

The 'Bers = contentment. It's what the Danes call hygge. It's a coziness from the inside out. The feeling is exquisite comfort. It's not too hot. It's not to cold. It's just right.

Photo by Meritt Thomas on Unsplash

It's magic.

Here's my list of the autumn time, which by the you don't have to wait til the actual time of year to bask in it's cozy presence. Autumn can reflect the time of day, the golden hour as its known. The fall season of your life. The season of a project. The actual season. You get the picture.

Autumn is orange. The simmering warmth of orange, right before it turns red. Oh my...this sensation is The 'Bers!

Once upon a time... Those are wonderful words that alert every dreamer when it's time for a story. What is more reassuring than a great story? 
red checkered flannel
The trees. I'm paraphrasing, but that saying where this is the time of year when the trees show you how letting go can be beautiful.
Walking through the woods and spotting a deer. The magical fleeting moment of making eye contact before it dashes away.
Dashing through the snow
Over the river and through the woods to grandmothers house we go.
The International House of Pancakes carousel of tasty syrup. Making your choice and pouring it over a warm Belgium waffle smothered with butter. This one may cause a heart attack or send you to the winter of your life. But... for a moment its the rapture.
Casseroles. Even more comforting when it comes from a friend.
crock pots
Kind people
Taking a stroll and dropping in to visit Ms. Betty Jean. She offers you a cup of coffee and a warm blueberry scone before you get into a gossip session. Now, now, the gossip is strictly nice. It's about Mr. Green Jeans cow who gave birth to twins. A miracle I tell you. Bobby and Ella, childhood sweethearts who finally tied the knot. Mrs. Drummel's green thumb and her 900 pound pumpkin. O.K. it's not always so nice, we do debate whether Lilly Baldwin cheated in the pie contest at the county fair. We are green with envy because her pecan pie really is the ooiest and gooiest, and best we ever tasted and can not reduplicate.
Soups
Baseball in October. Fingers crossed the Mariners make it.
fuzzy slippers
trick or treaters
ghost stories
Waving at Mr. Thompson the mailman then pulling a card, letter or a note out of the mailbox from an old friend, while singing, "We just got a letter, we just got a letter, we just got a letter. I wonder who it's from!?

I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture. This autumn time of my life I'm also going to indulge in my love for nostalgia. It makes me happy to reminisce.

Music. Fabulous, music.

To this very day when I hear "When You Wish Upon A Star" I get warm and fuzzy. It reminds me of when I was little and no matter what was going on at that time, when I. heard that song, I knew it was time for the Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday night. It was a vacation from the world for an hour. Sometimes two, if there was a special movie. I was whisked away to a magical place.

The 'Bers are also that sweet spot when you get tucked in. You have your pillow fluffed just right. Your under your favorite blanket and you are midway between being awake and falling asleep.

Remember that feeling because after that comes the "Ary's.

January and February.

What are your autumnal feelings? I'd love to know.

With all my simmering love,
Kelly

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Polynesian Road Trip

The weather outside is frightful....

Isabella Tralala

Muses and Deer

October Magic

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I Want To Get Away.....

Billy Lankford

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