Now while I’d love to go, I have run out of time for the year and need to do other things with the vacation time I do have, so if you go and attend the birthday bash, take lots of pictures, and call me when you come back.  Oh, and don’t dance on the tables in Cabo Wabo.  We almost got thrown out for doing just that.  Gee, I thought it was a great Mexican tradition.  Apparently not everywhere.

Got to Seattle and had a great visit with my friends.  One friend I hadn’t seen in decades and I got together for coffee on Saturday morning.  We chatted for over an hour, and as the time for us to go on our way approached, I got out my camera and looked for someone to take a picture of us.  The man sitting next to us at Starbucks, was looking at the paper, not talking to anyone, and not even drinking coffee.  I asked him…very politely…if he would please take a picture of my friend and I.  He looked at me as if I had asked him to please yank out some nose hair, and replied….”I guess so.”  No, “sure, not a problem” or anything remotely friendly.  Way to go dude.  So, he took the picture and handed back the camera and tried not to look at us.  What an ass. 

I’ve been asked to take pictures of random strangers since I could hold my little Brownie camera, and I sort of feel honored.  Now that we all pretty much use digital I even don’t mind taking another shot if the first one isn’t that great.  When I was at the Huntington Museum Chinese Gardens in September, I took pictures of a little family with several of their cameras and was instructed on just what each person wanted.  No problem.  It became part of my memory.  I even took a picture of them with my own camera.

So I’m thinking that this guy either was having the worst day of his life, or he was just a snobby ass. 

I went from this scenerio to shopping with my cousin where we were greeted by the most wonderful happy people in the stores.  So it wasn’t something in the air.  Thank goodness.  We were treated to a free hand massage, we sat in a cool Irish Pub and caught up on our family stories, and had a lovely time. 

There should be some kind of moral to the story, or a point here, but I guess all I want to say is that I just don’t understand being sour to people.  Is it a way to be “cooler” than they are?  Does it make you feel better than them?  And also if you are having a horrible moment, maybe doing something for someone else in a small way might bring you out of your miserable self.

Yesterday after seeing the doc, I went shopping on my way home and while I was in the store, a most incredible downpour started.  The noise was what got the shopper’s attention first.  It was like someone was doing the drum solo from “In a Gadda Da Vida” on the roof.  All eyes went to the ceiling, then to the windows.  It was rediculous how heavy the rain was.  Then there was thunder and all that.  When I got back in the car, Shannon was playing “Mr. Blue Sky” and the clouds parted a little…a very little…but enough to give hope.  Of course that hope was dashed again and the rain resumed.

Yesterday reminded me of a time when I was in Mexico with my friend Chris. It was muggy and hot when we landed at the airport.  We got a rental car and drove to the grocery store.  I love Mexican grocery stores.  They are just different.  There are things about it that will gross you out if you are at all squeemish, but I get a kick out of it.  Gives new meaning to the term “mystery meat.”  Also I’m always amazed at how much Spanish I do understand when it comes to food.  The story of my life.  It’s the universal language for me.  Anyway, we were in the store, and we heard LOUD pounding on the roof of the grocery store and then KA-BOOM!  Thunder…more pounding.  We kept shopping and thought that it would pass soon.  This happens in Mexico in September.  Big drenching rains come and go…all day long.  We checked out, took the bags of food to the car, which was in covered underground parking (this is in Puerto Vallarta…very civilized) and started to drive to the road.  Road?  It looked more like a river!  I’m not exaggerating here, it looked like we couldn’t possibly drive in this without an amphibious vehicle, and we had an economy rental. 

My friend Chris is a fearless driver.  She’s tackled roads in other countries like she was born to drive.  The Autobahn (I’m hearing Kraftwerk in my brain right now….), Italy, Mexico, and the other side of the street in the British Isles are nothing to her.  She gets in whatever she’s driving and just attacks the situation.  God help the car.  So, she takes off into the street filled with water up past the kick plates on our little car and just decides to pull a Moses parting the Red Sea.  She hits that gas pedal and the car actually does forge ahead…of other people pushing their cars in this instant river…of people who were on motorcycles that are now walking beside them.  She amazes me and terrifies me all at the same time.  I’m such a pussy.  I won’t even tell you what it was like climbing the almost verticle cobblestone streets to her condo.  I pray silently when in those situations, unless I’m driving, and then it’s really LOUD!  “DEAR GOD PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE let us get there. 

Oh, and while you’re at it, please stop the rain for at least a good week here in the Portland/Vancouver area.

Alright, enough bitching about the rain, I need to do my homework and write about prayer. 

Hey, I think I just did.

We always have a large time no matter what the weather is like.  It’s not about skiing, which isn’t far away from the location of the cabin, but none of us ski anymore.  I gave that up after realizing that in 6 years since my initial lessons, I had not improved very much at all, and it took forever to get the gear and all that from the car, to the lodge and then spend the day falling down.  As usual I guess if I had cared more, I would have done better.  Maybe not.  I enjoyed parts of skiing, but also had a huge amount of fear associated with it.  I was forever being credited with more prowess by my instructors that I really posessed, and thus getting myself onto runs that I had no business being on.  One time I even skiied with the General Manager of Timberline and while he was lovely and kind (Mr. K, I will always love you for those “turns” on the mountain) I was freaking out the whole time that I would embarrass myself.

I have a healthy amount of respect for Ms. Hood.  I gave her the “s” in the spelling instead of a “t” because it’s like she has a personality that way.  She’s been very moody on days…dumping snow until I couldn’t find my car, much less drive the thing down the road…or not having enough snow and my skis looked like they had been used in a grocery store parking lot. 

Weather happens fast on Mt. Hood.  One time I was at Timberline Lodge on June 1st, and we got out of the car in lovely warm sunshine.  While having bloody marys (which Timberline Lodge does very well…) waiting for our lunch to arrive at the table, it started raining.  As we ate lunch, the sun came out again.  Then while we were thinking of dessert, it started to snow.  By the time we went back to the car, it was sunny again, but windy.  All within about 90 minutes. 

One time at the Cabin, down the mountain on Still Creek, there was a freaky wind storm.  We saw that the wind was coming up and thought we needed to get out of there.  After loading our cars and cleaning up, this loud crash sounding like an explosion came from outside.  A tree had fallen on the cabin next door.  We were all getting ready to leave and heard another BOOM.  A tree was down on the cabin on the other side of us.  I was now in full blown panic.  Two of the girls, Ann and Becki were just slightly concerned.  I was screaming and hugging what I thought would be the most secure place in the little cabin…the fireplace.  I’m pretty sure Tina was with me on that one.  Finally I got out to my car, and tried to leave, but there was a tree across the road.  The next attempt out, there were men with chainsaws making room for cars to pass.  Here’s the really weird part: on the way down the mountain, I expected to see trees and power lines down, devistation, roofs blown off…but there was virtually no other areas than the little pocket that we were staying in that was affected.  Damn moody mountain weather system, anyway!

This weekend it gave us a little sun, and rain.  Ann’s car battery died before she left, and I missed the big event of the flatbed truck trying to get down the tiny windy driveway because I had already headed back to civilization.  I’m sure it was interesting watching him back out.  That’s what was going on when I called. 

We even got to watch the last quarter of the Blazer game on Saturday at the Rendezvous Tap Room.  There’s no TV in the cabin.  ON PURPOSE!  So if we want to watch a game, we have to go out.  It’s better that way.  It was nice to see them win.  Now, if they can pull off another one in Phoenix!  Go Blazers!

The mountain adventures of “The Cabin Girls” are always interesting.  Sometimes scary, other times very peaceful.  No matter what happens, we seem to take away great memories, several laughs and stories to tell.  I’m not rested this time though.  Not enough sleep.  I guess we should work on getting to bed earlier than 2:30am.  We just lose track of time up there in the evergreen scent and darkness.

Writing class tonight.  No rest for the wicked.

Now, if you think about it, this is an amazing thing to do.  I know it’s a bundle of money but what a once in a lifetime experience for someone who plays music, but maybe has another career that they do extremely well at.  Like a doctor, lawyer, stockbroker, business owner, sports figure, or someone who can afford the fee, and fulfill a dream.  Since I can’t play a lick, I would not be even tempted to put up the money for this.  But I know there’s lots of people who are REALLY talented and just do something else with their day.  Like cure cancer.  My doctor, Will Winter, plays guitar and could do this and hold his own, but he’s got a medical practice, and a band who has been recording and playing, N.E.D. (No Evidence of Disease) the Band.  His rock fantasy is pretty full right now.

If you want to go, and need more details, click here to go to the site.

Now, there’s also something local which is a different kind of Rock ‘n” Roll camp.  It’s the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp for Girls.  They teach great things to young girls…like team building, song writing, playing instruments, singing…all of it.  It’s really a great organization with a wonderful group of people who teach and do the administrative tasks. 

They also have a Ladies Rock Camp going on May 21-23.  In that length of time, you form a band, write and rehearse a song, and then on the last night, you perform the song at a club in front of an audience.  Some of the ladies have never played an instrument..EVER!  I would have said that this takes big balls, but we’re talking about women.  Moxy?  Yeah.  All instruments provided. 

There’s another session in October for the ladies, and I’m considering participating in that one.  However, that being said, I get a horrible stomachache just thinking about the final night and performance.  SO, maybe not.  But it would be a great way to step out of my comfort zone and do something wild.  It’s good for the soul.  While you’re in the process, the brain keeps asking “why the hell did I sign up for this?”   But it’s been my experience that once said performance (of any kind) is over, there’s an extacy that just washes over you.

If you have a daughter who wants to rock, then you should definately consider sending her to the summer session of Rock Camp for Girls.  As camps go, it’s really affordable, plus there are some scholarships available. 

But if you’re a doctor who wants to rock with the stars, go to London for that gig.  Abbey Road.  What a rush!

“According to the National Weather Service, 1.12 inches of rain was recorded at the Palm Springs International Airport as of 8pm, surpassing the previous 1992 record of 0.90 inches on the same day.  Monday’s precipitation almost doubled the total amount of rain the valley has received all year.”  Did you get that?  On one day it absolutely poured, and we were there.  We were not only just there, we were out in it.  Hey, just a little rain, let’s go somewhere!  Like shopping.  We discovered very quickly that we also forgot to pack an umbrella.  Being Northwest people, not a big deal.  Being in the American Southwest, a very big deal since they also don’t believe in rain gutters on their buildings.  Going in and out of stores, we were soaked as the waterfalls poured off the tile roofs.  Okay, enough of this we thought.  Let’s go back to the place where we were staying.  

When it rains this much in the desert, there really isn’t a lot of places for the water to go.  That’s why there are washout areas left vacant all over the place.  Before it reaches the washouts, it floods the streets, where we were driving.  In fact we had just gone down Ramon Road right before they closed it due to high water.  It also snowed in the upper elevations, and then at night, the rain stopped, and the wind started blowing.  That whistling, howling, blowing sound that you hear in scary movies about haunted houses.  I put in ear plugs and went to sleep.  

The next morning we woke up to sunshine, and snow on the mountains.  It was beautiful.  I resumed swimming for the rest of the vacation.  Read three books.  Lounged.  Rented movies since I had forgot the ones I was going to bring along, and drove around the Coachella Valley in an amazing rented luxury car pretending I could actually afford to live there.  I know, not very green, but boy, it was fun!  

I think vacations are about pretending.  Relaxing of course, but pretending is part of the experience for me.  Wherever we go, I always get those local real estate pamphlets and look longingly at the pretty pictures of modestly huge estates (there is such a thing as too big…really)  and pretend I’ve just won the lottery.  I have a very fertile imagination.  Not very original I know, but fertile.  I also buy them mentally for friends and family.  My fantasies are generous.  Isn’t that what drives us to buy the dollar ticket on the way out of the grocery store, or to the casino?  The idea that it could happen.  My dad says that the fantasy is worth the dollar a week.  Investment companies tell you that the $52 per year invested and compounded would help when you’re old and don’t give a crap about going on vacation anymore.  Thank you Suze Orman.  Go bust someone else’s bubble.  

So, we’re back now and missed the record cold here in the Portland area.  For that I’m very grateful.  And the rain is back, which is par for the course.