Apples

There are about one million of these in our back yard, on the ground. They are much prettier and definitely more desirable when still attached to the tree. But inevitably, they end up on the ground, in the grass, decaying to mush. The back yard has started to give off a stench not unlike what I imagine a bootleg brewery to smell like, in the 1920's, before the invention of air conditioning.

Am I complaining? Maybe a little. I've always wanted a fruit tree. As a kid I use to imagine waking up in the morning, walking to my backyard and picking fruit from one of my many and diverse trees that would be swaying in the breeze, waiting for my arrival. I would then carry my choice picks to my kitchen, cut them to fine strips and feed them into my Jack Lalanne Power Juicer. I would sit, with my dog and drink my fresh, sweet, perfect juice. Then, in my imagination, I would lift my shirt to see a beautiful 4-pack appear. The skin on my face would clear up to be a flawless, rosy completion and a twinkle of my perfectly straight, white teeth would catch the eye of my imaginary boyfriend, luke, beckoning him to greet me with a good morning kiss.

But this is not how having a fruit tree is going down in reality. It has been a messy, smelly and dangerous (another story for another blog) experience. Mother Nature sensed my aggravation and created a gust front that resulted in one half of the apple tree laying over a power line- dispersing apples everywhere. After It was all cleaned up, which entailed a morning of me imitating Mike Rowe (yes you missed it, I'll show you when I see you next), with power tools and one big a$$ truck.

I feel bad for hating the apple tree, because now it looks so sad, one half of a tree standing alone in the backyard, with rotting fruit all around its feet. I'm almost compelled to dig out my favorite children's book The Giving Tree to gain some perspective, or maybe I should write my own book about my tree. Maybe not.

So, if any of you know where I live, and need some extra sour green apples, feel free to pick them and take them home to your own juicer. Maybe I should have you sign a waiver first just in case you break your leg by falling out of my tree, we have nothing for you to win in a settlement, unless of course, you want half of an apple tree.

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We're heading to Chelan, Washington in the morning for the XC Open and the Canadian Nationals Paragliding Competition. It'll be a blast. I'll post pictures for you all to see. I'm hoping that it won't be 100+ degrees like it was last time we were out there. If it is, I'll ditch to comp and spend the week in the river. Rivers are so good.

O.k., I know that some of you are thinking: Wow, she's a blogging fool- and that's kinda foolish. But in my defense, I'm sick. And I have had a lot, and I'm talking a lot of time on my hands. I've heard NPR loop for the past 3 days, that's how much time I'm talking about. No more Garrison Keeler's Writer's Almanac.

I have, however managed to leave the house at least once a day, if only to make small talk with the coffee slinger. I haven't missed an afternoon caffeine run yet, it would be a drag to go through caffeine withdrawal on top of being sickly, and anyway, I don't find my afternoon cup of coffee satisfying if it's not delivered in a to-go cup. But see, this is where I'm stumped by dilemma. I'm going to admit to something kinda drastic here, ready? I'm a firm believer in sanitariums for the sickly. Those of you who've worked in the customer service industry should be nodding your heads right now. There's nothing like being handed a palm full a coins by someone who's also gripping a snot rag and sporting beads of sweat in the crease of their upper lip. It's even more memorable when the coins are clammy with little remnants of moistness on them.(mumm,I know you want to borrow my laptop to check your stock options right now). So the question is: do I balance my sanity by exposing my snottiness to what appears to be a healthy, relatively happy barista or baristo, (is there such a thing as a baristo? because today's coffee slinger was male) just for the sake of my own selfish need of human interaction and the to-go cup? I wonder if he was thinking what I would be thinking if I were in his shoes. I won't elaborate on that thought, but I will say that my intake form does read that if you're feeling ill due to sickness you're not responsible for the cancellation fee. I wish there were bubble boy coffee slingers.

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And between pondering deep thoughts like the above, I've been passing my time by reading other people's blogs. Some good, some very bad. Again, I vow that I will never stop seeing my mental therapist.

So that's the deal. Please trust that I will not gain 50 pounds and leave my laptop only for more mac and cheese-and caffeine, as a result of a newly acquired love affair with the world of blogging. Soon I will have a life again. But until then, keep reading me, because I'd hate to think that I'm only making myself laugh-- maybe I should back off on the Robitussin.

Here, this will make you laugh: click here

This will make you feel old

Remember the baby on the cover if Nirvana's Nevermind?

Now he probably wears Teen Spirit.

Check it out

Team Galli

Here we are: Team Galli. Mr. and Mrs. SuperStar. Yup, this is probably only in my head, but still- I can brag to the internet because it can't talk back, or at least I can filter it's back-talk.

We just got back from Ruch, Oregon. Chris flew in the Rat Race Paragliding comp. (did you see how I linked to that? pretty spiffy yeh?) It was a total blast. It was hot hot hot.

There's a beautiful river in Ruch, the Applegate River. I gained access (with my the help of my sweat smile and good charms) to the 'Super Secret Spot' on the river that only the locals, or as they say "family" know about. And let me tell you, there is a rope swing there, and jumping cliffs that should be outlawed. I still have bruises from the Slap of the water hitting my skin. Remember that feeling? The OWWW feeling? I hadn't felt that since, since I can't remember..no, I can remember- it was when I tried to out-water ski my sister a couple of years ago, and after a huge wipe out I figured that it's o.k., I've always wanted to adopt anyways. (sorry, I forgot to filter that thought, you guys will get used to it with time).

Anyways, it was great and I've got some great photos that I'll post later. Right now I'm on my way to Super Walmart- I know, completely against all of my morals - but it's so cheap! I'm going there to purchase an air conditioning unit because I can't take one more day of this heat. I'll tell you what: to off-set this newly acquired bad karma, I'll make sure that when I eat out I ask the waiter to package up my leftovers and send them to Bangladesh. Deal? Now I've gone and given myself a guilt trip.

home sweet home

It's small and perfect but not without it's flaws.

One: It's HOT, yes HOT with all capital letters, and many of the windows have been painted shut. A couple weeks ago I woke up, got a ladder, a chisel and hammer and went to work on opening them. This happened before coffee while I was still in my pajamas. Yes, I agree, my neighbors probably do assume that I'm nuts. But that's o.k, it's early yet and I have plenty on time to win them over.

Two: The basement. Need I say more? do I want to say more? I'll filter for those of you with sensitive ears. Men previously occupied the house. Maybe that's not enough explanation to do justice to the turmoil of the basement. Not only did men occupy the house before we did, but they had animals that they kept in the basement. When the weather heats up outside with just a little bit of humidity it becomes very obvious that the Men didn't believe in litter boxes, and that maybe they had been raising ferrets. Chris emptied bags, multiple heavy duty bags of poo that had been hiding behind the walls. I love my husband. He hosed everything down and sprayed with some sort of industrial concoction that claims to harbor live bacteria that will eat other bad bacteria. This is high tech stuff. Did I mention that I love my husband? Because I do. If the smell doesn't fade soon our next plan of action is to paint with concrete paint. Maybe we can do a nice purple color. I remember a house on the block that I grew up on that had a blue fireplace, the goal was to rid the house of evil spirits, do you think that purple is worthy of ridding the house of poo?

Three: Porn. the Men. Yup, we have-had a porn stash. A porn stash in the basement wall. Very cheesy porn printed on the back of biology power point notes. Not only Men, but nerdy men occupied our house. Not so sexy.

So I've decided that if the smell doesn't diminish before we run out of money from excessive vacationing, I'll just backfill the basement. Whats a couple extra hundred square feet?

here's to the beginning of a non-reclusive life

So... I realize that I have a habit of dropping out of site and forgetting that I have family and friends out there who are wondering if I've finally given in and moved to a beautiful island far far away.

Not to worry, because I haven't- but don't think that I've not given it great consideration, given that I do best with no shoes and sand in my hair. My hang up is that tropical places tend to have many large, hostile and often poisonous bugs that I'm sure the cats would take to battle, and I hate to say it, but they would most likely succumb. Plus, my mother-in-law has a personal vendetta against bugs which means she would never come to visit and this would result in no more Cosco mango's. Can't have that.

This blog is my attempt to keep everyone whom I think about regularly -but never call - appraised of my shenanigan's, or what I call life.

I'm really trying to avoid this blog becoming a super cheesy personal therapy session, so I invite you right now to use the comment section to tell me when I need to can-it and make an appointment with my mental health therapist. I promise, no poetry or scripture, unless of course my words are so moving that you're motivated to read them as those.

My plan of action is to post mostly photos, as well as short entries. Just enough info to spark your interest and leave you wanting more.

And with that, I will publish this very first post, pour myself another cup of coffee and begin the process of figuring out how to visually o.d you with photos of me.

Here's to the beginning of a non-reclusive life.