The Wino Who Mistook His Wife For a Ukelele

Remember that book, The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat, by Oliver Sachs?  Full of funny psychotic disorders?  And you're thinking, "Well, how can any psychotic disorder be funny?" And I'll be the first to understand your point of view, but yes, some are funny.  Soooo....

Off We Go

The Actual River, Honest.

Dear Diary:  I took my Border Collie to the Mighty Columbia River today.  He wanted to swim. Badly.  The river is down and swift in parts and waves swelled on the round rocks. We were walking off the asphalt path from one of the many dirt trails that lead off to the river.  Because the powers that be are draining the river so it can hold this year's mountain snow runoff, the river is harder to get to.  Round rock, some the size of a bowling ball, makes a shore.  The dog runs through the waves surging on the rocks.  I am fifteen feet up on the shore from the river.  Too much mud.  Another man had a Golden Retriever who was galloping after a green tennis ball being chucked by his owner.  My dog took notice but still had bushes to pee on.  Off he went.

We crossed the rocky mudflat to get to an island that you can only get to this time of year, as long as the river is down.  In the warmer months, the PUD's on both sides of the river dam up the river and slow its flow to produce more power. This route becomes underwater and swimming is the only access or by boat.  I wanted to take advantage of the river's ebb.

We made it over and the dog sought out the river bank while I stood atop the flat part of the island.  Downstream about one hundred yards probably more than forty Canadian geese took air and floated on the wind blowing across the river.  Then the wind let go and the geese swooped low over the river before rising up on the other side.

The wind kept up but since it wasn't biting cold , we kept going up river, along the shore.  The man was letting his retriever swim and this bugged my dog because I wouldn't let him swim. He loves any water deep enough to have a go 'round in.  This water, while warm for the time of year, would give him hypothermia.  Since he just about croaked from eating rat poison, I stuck to my guns and he did not swim.

We meandered back to the dirty, water stained asphalt and followed it back to the path to the parking lot.  I could tell the dog was tired but happy.  I was happy.  I sat on the brick wall and swung my feet while the dog sat far enough away not to get smacked by an errant foot.  We sat for a while.  The wind was blowing.  We crossed the parking lot to my car.  I got in and looked for my "government issue" sunglasses.  Crap...I left them at the river.  They could be anywhere.  I was not going to go look for them.  Too much ground to cover.

The dog and I got into the vehicle and drove toward home, stopping at Costco before going home.  After Costco and before home, I stopped off at my coworker neighbor friend's house to tell her kids that Banjo was ok.  They bought him a big tube of tennis balls for Christmas.  They were getting ready to go watch roller derby so it was a hi and goodbye hit and run.  On the way out, my coworker told me she might buy her friend's house.  I asked her how much.  She said $305k.  I thought: Holy shit!  Is it one level?  Yes.  With a three car garage.  Where?  Up the street, turn left on Mary St.  It's a small lot with hardly any yard.  I drove by and took a look.  Holy Shit, I thought again.  If this is what $305k gets you, what's my place going to be worth?  At least that.

And again before I got out, my coworker neighbor friend who lives up from Costco but not quite to my neighborhood said, "Why don't you buy my house? It's just right for you!"  I asked her how much.  She said probably $209k.  Holy shit, again.  Three bedrooms, two car garage in a neighborhood.  Hmmm...neither of those two houses has half the view I already have.  If somehow this did come about, and I'm only half considering it, it would be the newest house I have lived in since high school.  My mom kept popping out kids so, instead of building a new bedroom, my mother would have my dad build a new house.  Contract to have a house built to my mother's spec, I should say.  To this day, I pity the guys who built any of the houses we lived in.  My mother was OCD for detail.  The last house we had built and lived in as a family had a winding wooden bannister that my mother sent back THREE times before she would pay for it.  I'm sure the people making the custom bannister did not make a cent on it.  It probably cost them. That was my mother.

And I'm off track again.  Just before I went to the river today, a van pulls into my driveway and pulls through and parks in the lot as if they have been here before.  There was that air of authority about the van and its foreknowledge of where to park that put me at ease as to who it could be.  It turned out to be another coworker friend teacher person and his two beautiful sons who think I'm the best thing since Dr. Seuss.  My coworker needed to use my phone.  He was supposed to be at a church kid's party with "the inflatable castle thing..." and couldn't find it.  I gave him my phone. He couldn't find the church.  He was on the wrong side of Grant Road.  On one side of Grant Road , everything is North or Northwest.  The other side is South and Southeast.  He needed to be North but was South.  Seems they were late because the oldest son, who is five, was watering the flowers.  Nobody asked him to but he was doing it anyway.  His younger brother, who is four, decided that the mud being produced was too much to pass up.  After all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.  After this, they would be told that this activity was wrong and would not be able to do it again.  That's how discipline is supposed to work.  He tromped through the mud.  Again.  And again.  Yet again.  Then he walked into the house just as it was time to go to the church party.  Both boys had to be cleaned up.  When they got to my house, the father was flustered.  He had the phone and started to call someone.  The oldest boy told me what happened. the youngest said, "Yeah, my boooots were muddy.  I should probably take them off."  They looked good to me so I told him that's ok, we'll hose down the place later.

Dad was still on the phone trying to figure out what was going on.  This is a guy who told me last week that he had smoked weed for the first time.  He read that Carl Sagan had tremendous insights when smoking marijuana.  I looked at him and said, "Well?"  "I was couch bound," was his only reply.

I took the boys out to look at the bamboo.  I pretend to hide in the bamboo.  "You can't see me!" I shouted at the boys.  "Yes we can!  Yes we can!" They were both jumping up and down.  I jumped up and laughed.  "Hey you guys, what kind of animal lives in bamboo?"  "A panda. Pandas!" They were both shouting.  "Should we be watching out for Pandas?"  They both stopped, looked at me, looked at each other, looked back to me. "There's no pandas here, " said the oldest. "Right!"  I said, "Let's go find some!"  I led them back into the house where dad had finished his trail of calls.  Turns out he was too late for any activity, no they didn't need his help tearing down but thanks for asking.  They three trooped off to the van and vanished on the road.

Returning home from the river I still had enough energy to go out to the studio and decorate some platters.  I'm into a series with basically the same design.  The design is Picassoesque as I admire Picasso's work on ceramics.  One of the best exhibits I have seen was the collection of Picasso's ceramics, owned by his daughter.  It was on exhibit at the Tacoma Museum of Art.  Simple, expressive strokes.  Fabulous.  Tomorrow I will finish fixing the kiln and try to get a load together to test it.  Wish me luck.