The Adventures With Washington Whitten

Summer Crush

5/4/2023

Dear Friends,

Guess What? I'm taking my own advice. I know, I know, it's a risky move, but as the saying goes fortune favors the bold. So, I found me a summer crush. Her name is Summer.

The other day I wrote some May Day things to do. One of the ideas was....
Plant something unique while wearing a floppy hat and garden clogs. Whatever special plant you choose find a spot nearby where you can sit, daydream then sketch it. Weekly? Monthly? Then write about in a pretty journal. Talk to your flora. Name it. Sing to it. Dance around it. Tell me about it, if you choose this little adventure. I really want to hear.

Well, I forgot to wear a floppy hat and garden clogs, but I did dig the hole. I put an egg in the hole because I read somewhere it's a good thing. Summer, and I talked and listened to music.

I'm going to do everything I can to keep her alive. You see I'm like Jason Bourne. Except, I'm plants most dangerous operative. I'm an assassin. A killer. A plant's nightmare. I don't mean to be. This year, I'm crossing my fingers and hope it works out.

Look, last spring I bought six little chicks without a lick of poultry experience. Now, I have five full grown Marsha's and a Jan running the homestead. They really like the front yard, so Summer will have other visitors besides me.

When I put her in the ground, I was as tender as could be. I filled in the hole with really good soil. Then I gave her a really long drink of water.Today, I'm gonna get her some delicious fertilizer.

I grabbed a bucket and sat next to her. The first song that came to mind was Summer Lovin' from Grease. That song will now be stuck in your head. However, it wasn't right. It's not me. I want, no I need for this to be right. Summer needs the best possible treatment ever. She needs me to be true to myself, except for the killing plants part.

So, I put on some Lainey Wilson. We sang Watermelon Moonshine. Listen, if that song don't bring back memories of summer love, I don't know what will. The song opened a floodgate of memories and summer crushes. Nights spent at the Boynton Inlet or camping at Beer Can island were some of my most crush-worthy times. When I wasn't there, it was evenings rolling around Atlantis Roller Rink. Life was sweet. O.K. not always. But carefree for dang sure.

I had to stop myself from oversharing on our first day together as plant and gardener. My girl needs to have grit to hang with me. Well, I played Lainey's song Heart Like a Truck. Summer is gonna need a sturdy heart.

There she is. I'm a proud plant mama. We'll talk some more today. I'll play her more music. I suppose I should make a playlist for my girl. Her label said, 'one of a kind reblooming garden hydrangea that blooms spring to fall, year after year. Will Summer be my ticket to Victorian Gardner status? Will I be able to buy some ugly fancy garden clothes from this place. Click me

Listen, I don't think there's anything there I would wear or buy at those prices, but those Myer lemon Yellow clogs would be cute. Do you think Summer would like those or would she mock me?

I'm thinking about getting her the Clematis sisters to live down the row from her. I want to have them climb, but I read those girls are tricky to teach to climb. They do it their own way. I'm gonna have to think of that.

I'm putting all my focus on Summer, but I'm gonna attempt to bring my front little yard back to life. When moved in I had big plans. Unfortunately I also have a short attention span, no garden knowledge, so I gave up. Well, I need to prove to Summer she has a home here. Do not Die. Do not!!!!

I'll keep you posted on Miss Summer, the hydrangea with courage. Oh, I think I will read her Angela Duckworth's, book, Grit.

With green thumb dreams and butterfly kisses,

Kelly

4 Comments

May Day May Day

5/1/2023

0 Comments

Photo by Cole Keister on Unsplash

Today is May Day. It's the day we celebrate spring. For centuries people have celebrated this day. Popular rituals were harvesting flowers and giving them to neighbors or strangers in a cone shaped basket. Also, there's the ding-dong-ditch method. It's where you hang a basket of flowers on a doorknob, ring the bell and run!

While that sounds fun, you will be seen by most people these days with their ring cameras, so you might as well reap the benefits of showing your beautiful face. I know for sure you will for get a smile and if you are lucky a bear hug.

An old tradition is to crown a May queen and dance around a Maypole.

According to omilights.com
"Maypole Folk Dance is a kind of dance performed by the performers around a tall pole. The pole is decorated with garlands of flowers along with other items of their interests.
Special designs of ribbons are also woven in the pole by those dancers. The pole really looks beautiful with all these decoration. This ceremony happens in the season of spring to ensure fertility. The top of the pole has a crown to which ribbons are attached. Normally, the height of a pole should be 3 to 5 meters."

Photo by Kasia Serbin on Unsplash

Here's a video of a Maypole dance.

Click Me

Let's Celebrate Mayday. How can ensure fertility? How can you go forth and multiply joy, well, I have some ideas.

Give flowers.
Dance. Really, this should be everyday.
Celebrate warmer days, BBQs, Farmers Markets, Strolling the local parks and gardens tipping your hat, smiling, then ask How do you do? A parasol would be delightful, hoop skirts optional, while you promenade through the grounds.
What idea have you been mulling about over the winter? Do one thing today to bring it to fruition.
Bake something springy, like lemon bars, cake, and take it to someone.
Plant something unique while wearing a floppy hat and garden clogs. Whatever special plant you choose find a spot nearby where you can sit, daydream then sketch it. Weekly? Monthly? Then write about in a pretty journal. Talk to your flora. Name it. Sing to it. Dance around it. Tell me about it, if you choose this little adventure. I really want to hear.
If you can make a flower crown. Do it. Then wear it or give it to someone worthy of a May Queen.
Lay in the grass and study the clouds in the sky. What do they remind you of. They can't all be poodles.
Listen to the birds singing while sipping a mint julep.

I wish you a most happy May Day, and a fertile spring. If you do any of these, I'd love to hear about it. Me, I'm going to give flowers to a friend I will see today. Also, really like the idea of finding a a special plant to watch. Of course I will do it in the style of a Victorian lady with a diary.

Wishing you sunshine, maypole dances, flowers and no allergies,

Kelly

0 Comments

The Biltmore Estate

4/29/2023

0 Comments

Photo by Stephanie Klepacki on Unsplash

Dear Friends,
One of the last places I visited in Asheville was the Biltmore Estate. Oh my, she sure is purty. My next thought, how am I not a Vanderbilt living in this fine home? How?

Listen, I have no shame in saying I would love to be accustomed to living in the lifestyle a grand estate like this demands, but in modern times. Taking the best from the past, and leaving the ugly behind.

This manor of living is an artist's dream. As I strolled through a lady played a hammered dulcimer. It was both soothing and powerful.

There's a music room, a library that rivals Beauty and the Beast. Books, books, so many books and not enough time even for a lady of leisure. The gardens in and of themselves are the piece di resistance.

Art is every where. Sculptures, paintings, (two Monet's hang there), tapestries, prints of masterpieces, which how prints were made back then was an art form on it's own.

Then there's the tapestry room. Here's an excerpt from the Biltmore.com. Please go look at this link to see the tapestries.

"The tapestry gallery is the longest room in the Biltmore house, it was designed to showcase part of a set of tapestries known as The Seven Virtues. Hanging in the room is The triumph of faith, (and two others I can't remember the names) and while there were sets made of these it's believed not many survived, and Faith is the only one left in existence.

Dang. Can you imagine enjoying your morning coffee studying the tapestries, "woven from wool and silk in Flanders (now part of Belgium) between 1525-1535"? The only one left in the world? I can. If these don't inspire to share and create beauty I don't know what would.

The humble abode also had a gym which would still be a decent home gym in present-day. There was an indoor pool, a bowling alley with two lanes. The billiards room with two tables which were masterpieces in their own right made by Brunswick Billiards.

There were sitting rooms where people gathered, usually before a meal to get to know one another or catch up with an old friend. The main dining room is spectacular. The one particular statement which struck me was, according to the tour dinner was the main event. "Conversation was entertainment."

Conversation was entertainment.

Yes!

Imagine conversations held here. There would be plenty to talk about. What did you do today? Did you stroll in the gardens? Did you ride on a horse? Did you hunt? Did you play a little eight ball? Did you know the Prince of Hootchykoo is notorious cheater.

I believe, conversation as entertainment is a profound statement. I would also add it's connection. If the chat is give and take, both parties listening as well as speaking, well, I consider that priceless. It's also a huge portion of a beautiful and meaningful life. Discussions, tete-a-tetes, heart to hearts, gabfests are an art form. Listening, really listening without thinking what you will say next, but actually hearing the person, that's like the tapestry Faith, a one of a kind gift.

Besides everything I've mentioned is part of why I belong there. It's graceful and slow living. A place where dawdling is encouraged. Where you can linger and digest everything. The gardens are meant for stopping to smell the roses, sketching, daydreaming and a perfect spot for a morning constitutional.

Of course the carefree life needs balance. I know this intellectually, but when I'm in the midst of something wonderful, special, GOOD, I never want it to end. I suppose it's a mechanism to block the ugly of the world.

Time, leisure I believe are types of attributes which equates to privilege. Since I do not live at the Biltmore mansion, or any other mansion, castle or fairy tale cottage I do have a bit more time these days. I can make the most of it.

Click me

Me, I get lost in the daydream. It's both wonderful and hurtful, because when I snap out of it, there I am. Well, that sounds depressing and melodramatic, doesn't it? I do have a very good life and I'm truly grateful. What I mean is how can I incorporate more art, culture and beauty in my world. I'm going to list some actionable items I can do because I'm a fixer.

On a side note, I realize not every wants things to be fixed. This realization took me a long time to really understand. There are people who want to talk and vent, I'm included once in awhile, where they just want to be heard, not fixed. I suppose this is a good starting place for me in how to listen in a more refined manner. I must admit I'm better at this than I used to be. I do need to know however what your preference is, listening or listening with advice.

Here's some things I think would help in the quest for slow, gracious living.

Surround myself with art of all forms. While I don't own a private collection, I can go to galleries, museums, art shows and create art.
Strolling. Getting outside as much as possible. My city has a lot of amazing gardens. There are also garden tours. I do have friends with green thumbs. The most challenging idea, start in my own yard. I do not have a green thumb or a gardeners soul, so I'm going to have to start small. This is no easy feat because I'm a big picture thinker, not detail oriented. I suppose that's what a challenge means.
Gather with friends, for meals or walks for meaningful conversations, or silly talks. I don't do this enough. Talking with strangers, well that's my strength, but I think a group of friends relishing in the same activity would be remarkable. I need experience in this area so perhaps a garden party or two or three.

If you have any suggestions on how to live like a queen for dummies, I'd love to know them.

Warmest Regards,
Kelly "Vanderbilt" Whitten

0 Comments

Drum Circle

4/22/2023

2 Comments

Photo by "My Life Through A Lens" on Unsplash

Dear Friends,
I'm still in Asheville.

Every "things to do in Asheville" recommends the drum circle on Friday night at Pritchard park. It's usually in the top three things to do. Plus, people who've visited or live there will tell you. "You must go!".

They are not wrong.

I arrived downtown a bit early so I went to another must see place. The Woolworth Walk. They have the original soda fountain inside. The rest of the place is art. There are two floors of different artists. It's amazing. I'm so grateful there are artists in the world. They bring color, beauty, and drama.

Now, it's time to head back to the park. It's a bit early, 5:30 and the drumming doesn't start till 6. Except today they kind of started early. Well, the few that were there. The drummers grew as time went by

This is the finest people watching place around. I mean that in the very best way.

The drum circle is like a tea kettle. It starts out tepid. In this case tepid is kinda amazing. The drumming begins. There's a few people gathered. They are swaying a bit, bopping their heads, a bit. One person starts dancing. I'm guessing she is there all the time. She knows everyone.

More drummers arrive, the swaying is putting out more energy, more dancing, everyone is bopping their heads. The tea kettle is warming up.

More people join the dance floor, children, a couple of girls with hula hoops who were pretty good. There was a contortionist who introduced herself with a head stand. A couple of guys twirled unlit fire batons. Cue the dude on stilts ribbon dancing. Good Golly, Miss Molly we now have a full blown spectacle.

Man, I love me a spectacle.

There are a lot of drummers in attendance now. The tea kettle is bubbling getting ready to boil. I'm playing my legs, bopping my head and really feeling the drums when a lady in the drum circle brings me a drum.

I teared up. Why? All my life when something special like this happens I tear up. I'm kind of nervous to tell you why, but I'm gonna anyway. It finally dawned on me it's because I'm being seen. Really seen. Whoever, whatever the situation it's when I'm being me. Just me and nothing else, and somebody sees me.

It's powerful.

I tend to see the not enoughness in myself. You see there's a lot of things I'm not good at.

I don't have a good singing voice.
I don't have great fashion sense.
I don't have a good sense of direction.
I can't read music.

I do have rhythm.

The people watching stopped while I drummed for two hours. It's one of those times when you just are. I know it sounds a bit woo woo. Perhaps it's what meditation is. I don't know.

The tea kettle whistled announcing it was at a rolling boil. I snapped out of the trance and looked around. This place was packed. Everyone danced in their own way. This experience is special. I notice a couple dancing next to me. They are in the moment, and guess what? I'm making music for them. They are feeling the beats. My only hope is they name their baby Kelly. ;)

With warmest regards and rum pum pum pum,

Kelly

2 Comments

Good Morning from Asheville

4/20/2023

6 Comments

Dear friends,
Good morning from Asheville, N.C. This is my view from the deck. It's glorious. I woke up, opened the door to look at my surrounding and was treated with the sight of at least 20 deer playing. Now, that's fine how do you do, isn't it? What a sight and I haven't even had a cup of coffee yet. I feel this is a sign of how magical the day, no, the trip will be.

Boy, I needed this. Spring has not completely sprung back home, but she's in her glory here.

I already want to move here. What a life it would be. Here's how my day would go.

Wake up, oh I would live at this VRBO I'm at. I promise to tell you all about that before I leave with a link to it.

Back to my glorious fantasy.

Wake up
Grab coffee and head to the deck. Greet the deer, and birds, perhaps bear. Yes, they're here too. Then close my eyes for a second and give thanks.
What do I write about today? It doesn't matter something will come up because this seat I'm in is made for writers. Yes, there is a chandelier above me, and I'm surrounded by buddhas and tall green trees. It's lush. Oh, and the flowering bushes, and fairy lights. I KNOW there are fairies with me now.
Finish writing something brilliant. Here's today entry.

Dear world. I know it's late in my life, but I"m finally getting to see much of the glorious country I live in.

I've seen the amber waves of grain, they're near me. If you ever want to go on a little road trip I'd be happy to show you. I've been in the presence of the mighty Gulf, Atlantic, and Pacific Ocean white with foam. Purple mountains majesty, check. Magnificent mountains and all that goes with them. Now about those fruited plains, hmmm, I've seen the orange groves of Florida, not to mention mango trees, avocado, key lime to make the best Key lime pie that is. In Washington, I've seen apple orchards, and all the other fruit trees. I wonder if Irving Berlin meant those? How lucky am I? I need to remind myself more often. It's easy to forget. Isn't it?

I think I just heard a turkey gobbling. I'm no stranger to turkeys, and I don't mean Thanksgiving.

I think that's it for now. I'm off to explore the town today with an old friend I'm meeting for the first time. Isn't that wonderful?

Now back to my itinerary if I lived here.

After writing the morning letter. I would get dressed and head to market. I'll pick up fresh produce. I mean the things I can't grow in my fertile garden that is. Mr. Lincoln will greet me and show me pictures of his newest grandson, and fill me in on his wife's bursitis.
Next, well I don't know yet. Give me a few more days here and I will perfect the daily list.

That's all for now. I'm going to explore and make friends with Asheville. I truly hope you all have as great of a day as I know I'm going to have.

Warmest regards,

Kelly

6 Comments

Restoring faith in humanity

4/15/2023

0 Comments

Dear Friends,

The above picture has nothing to do with this letter. But, C'mon it's a poodle driving a station wagon on a ferry.

A Few days ago there was an incident. I won't get into it, because every day there is a shooting, or something awful. This time it was a couple of miles away. I'm swearing off the news for awhile. But if you want to read what happened, here it is. Link

Thankfully, no-one was killed.

Seeing the house in the aftermath was jarring. I needed to shake this feeling. All this daily violence is getting to me. I headed to the Japanese Gardens. I felt some zen and mindful breathing were called for. But my spirit needed loud, laughing life so, I went to the regular park.

The sun was out holding court for all her worshippers. It's been a long, long winter. Yes, I know I say that every year, but it's true this year. You know the saying a broken clock is right twice a day. Ha! Besides, many people muttered the same thing today.

A park bench by the pond next to a willow tree, who by the way was not weeping called me over. Oh yes, this will do just fine. The vitamin D was abundant and so was the people watching.

There were hellos and tootles, dogs, dogs, dogs, oh and all the doodles. There were couples old, young, in love, and friends enjoying the day. It's kind of like a Suess-ical. Oh the girls and the boys and the toys, toys, toys. Thank you to my weird brain. This is just what I needed.

Across the pond is a statue called Love Birds. It's two swans making the heart shape with their necks. It's lovely. Many people paid homage to the symbol of love.

A couple with a beautiful husky had the dog pose inside the neck. It was sweet. Couples had their picture taken by it, and kids climbed all over it. I sure felt the love.

Many people walked by with their dogs. If I had a dollar for every time I heard the someone say, " You don't have to sniff everything." well, you know, I'd have lunch money. I'm not kidding when I tell you there were every kind of doodles there. So many. Dogs who of course looked like their owners. Dogs, who were the complete opposite of their owners. Dogs with better clothes than me. Do you remember the scene in the original 101 Dalmations where the dog looked out the window at the parade of dogs and their owners? That's what this felt like. I was brought back to my childhood.

Across the pond I see a little girl in a tutu, ball cap slinging a big stick. She was bad ass. Then she started twirling. Nobody told her to stop or she'll poke her eye out. Bravo world, let her be wild.

Another group of kids leaned over the pond seeing their reflections. You could tell they were captivated by the fact they were looking at themselves without a mirror. It was beautiful.

Another child started hopping instead of walking. Somehow, it threw me back to when I would spend hours on a pogo stick seeing how many jumps I could do before having to stop or fall. I was pretty good. I could even do it with no hands.

The regulation patio served as a pogo facility, roller rink, jack playing court, jump rope, chalk drawing, or just sitting watching the world go by. That 6 x 14 slab of concrete was pretty amazing.

I snapped out of it as one of the walkers said, "Beautiful day, it's been a long winter." Ha...I swear he said it then limped off with his cane. Everyone was out. Limpers, people with walkers, crutches, strollers, hacky-sack players, and I'm not kidding, a dude who looked like Bernie Madoff walking his dog named Max stopped to sniff me and say hello. The dog sniffed, Bernie said hello. As I'm watching Bernie walk off another woman walking her 14 year old dog, a lab mixed with corgi? I don't know it was a yellow lab on Corgi legs. Her name was Miss Daisy and her mama told me all about her. As she left she scolded Miss Daisy, "You don't have to sniff everything."

Cha Ching....

My faith in humanity has been saved.

0 Comments

The Epps

4/3/2023

2 Comments

Photo by frame harirak on Unsplash

Dear Friends,

I'd like to tell you about Henry "Pete" Epps and his wife Stella. They are grandparents to a family who is very dear to me. Unlike Ancestry dot com, my genealogy work is more, how do I say, uncorroborated. I'm more like Ancestry-dot-con.

Look, my tales of people have a pinch of facts, a heaping helping of fiction, and a whole lotta magic. That being said, I kinda hit the nail on the head more times than not. It's true, sometimes I have a knowing.

Back to the Epps. They lived in a mill village in Gastonia, North Carolina in the roaring twenties. Except for them the roaring wasn't dance halls, cocktails and excitement. Their roar came from hard times, chaos, and turmoil.

During this time Bootleggers, mountain people and farmers of this region were forced from their lives and rerouted to Gastonia to work the cotton mill. It was not a good time. No matter which mill you worked at it there were long hours, high productivity demands, and low wages. But folks needed the money.

The window up top, that's the Epps house. When they moved in it was a fake sunshine color, provided by the mill. A two room box if you will. This was the mills attempt at making them think it was a good life.

Both Stella and Pete worked at the mill. Long, long hours for a pittance. There was no labor union, yet. Behind the scenes there was talk and organizing. It was only a matter of time before the workers collectively snap.

"Home is a refuge from the world, a place where we can be ourselves." -unknown

Everything outside their house was unstable and daunting. Inside, was different. Every night after work, Stella would do something to make the house special. Every night bone tired she was doing something.

After dinner, she would sew curtains, keep house, bake if they had the ingredients, and decorate with whatever she could. While she would sew Pete would whittle, or play the harmonica. This time of day was their respite from the drain, drudgery, and everything that comes along with a life of poverty. She took pride in home making. The good Lord blessed her because of it.

Family and close friends would fight, drink to oblivion, sometimes death to escape the life of destitution, and really just the all around ugliness that comes with a life like that.

If you allow it.

Yet, Pete and Stella were the glue. Now mind you they would partake in spirits from time to time, and Stella was even known to sneak snuff the powdery kind that is.

Then....

April 1, 1929, the first ever strike at the Loray Mill headed up by Ella May Wiggens occured. Now, Pete and Stella worked at the Osceola Mill, but of course this was a news maker and would have consequences for them too

Photo by frame harirak on Unsplash

Not long after that strike, Pete and Stella were standing in the rain at Ella May Wiggins funeral. They did not know her personally, but she was their people. They were there to show respect.

She was killed, shot in the chest while pregnant. Assassinated by the mill thugs. It was payment for her and others leading an uprising. The mill retaliated by kicking folks out of their homes. They did everything in their power to make life hell, more hell if that's possible than it already was.

At the funeral, their was a young worker who broke out in song. It was one of Ella May's songs. Not only was she a unionizer, but a balladeer.

"We leave our home in the morning
We kiss our children goodbye,
While we slave for the bosses,
Our children scream and cry.
And when we draw our money.
Our grocery bills to pay,
Not a cent for clothing,
Not a cent to lay away...

Now listen to me, workers,
Both women and men,
We are sure to win our union,
if all would enter in.
I hope this will be a warning,
I hope you understand,
And help us win our victory,
And lend us a hand.

It is for our little children,
That seem to us so dear,
But for us nor them, dear workers,
The bosses do not care.

But understand, all workers,
our union they do fear,
Let's stand together workers,
And have a union here.

Photo by Jens Peter Olesen on Unsplash

Pete and Stella walked hand in hand in silence after the funeral. As strong as they were, have been, it was starting to chink, no chunk, away at their faith. They walked slower than usual home, even as it poured cats and dogs. Somehow, the rain was comforting, perhaps cleansing.

As they approached their home, Stella noticed the yellow of their house had deepened. There was a warmth about it. Pete didn't notice, but he felt it. They stood outside before heading in.

Pete took a deep breath then stood a bit taller. He was home.

Stella stared at her curtain, the one she spent days agonizing over the design. And the painstaking work that came with it. Yes, it was worth it. Her faith deepened just like the yellow of their home. This too shall pass, as life is wont to do. It did.

Wages were better, children were raised and as always the Epps navigated the ups and downs in their home.

"The ties that bind the wealthy and the proud to home may be forged on Earth, but those which link the poor man to his humble hearth are of truer metal and bear the stamp of heaven." -Charles Dickens

2 Comments

Polynesian Road Trip

3/6/2023

0 Comments

Photo by Adli Wahid on Unsplash

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

0 Comments

The weather outside is frightful....

12/23/2022

2 Comments

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

2 Comments

Isabella Tralala

10/6/2022

2 Comments

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.

2 Comments

<<Previous

Summer Crush

May Day May Day

The Biltmore Estate

Drum Circle

Good Morning from Asheville

Restoring faith in humanity

The Epps

Polynesian Road Trip

The weather outside is frightful....

Isabella Tralala

Archives

Categories