The Adventures of Washington Whitten
  • Home
  • Dear Friends,
  • Storytellers
  • food, fun and fantasy
  • Letters from Yamhill
  • The Rank and File

Visit New Orleans

9/21/2022

4 Comments

 
Picture
"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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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. " 



Picture
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.
​
Picture
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.   
Picture
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
4 Comments

I Want To Get Away.....

9/18/2022

0 Comments

 
Picture

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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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 
Picture
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
0 Comments

Billy Lankford

9/15/2022

0 Comments

 
Picture
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.
Picture
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.
Picture
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




0 Comments

Porch talk

9/14/2022

2 Comments

 
Picture
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. 


Picture
​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.
Picture
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. 
Picture
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
2 Comments

The 'Bers

9/13/2022

0 Comments

 
Picture
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.
Picture
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



0 Comments
    ​Letters from me to you. Sometimes, my alter ego, Kia Louise has something to say.

    Archives

    December 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    May 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    June 2021

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Proudly powered by Weebly