Oh what a world my parents gave me

 I am alive!  And mostly good. 

I no longer work at a bookstore, which is sad.  But my new job, while not exciting, is at least useful to people?  In that I manage a self-storage facility and people need storage and sometimes I can be very helpful to them in a stressful time of their life?  While also calling people about late rent, but usually they aren't that late and by reminding them I'm saving them late fees?  IDK it's not too bad so far.  It an actual Monday - Friday job, which I never thought I'd have ever, so that's nice.  Though I have to wear business casual clothes, and I am entirely out of practice wearing things that are not jeans and t-shirts and hoodies.  Shopping for women's shirts is dreadful.

And I think I can keep my house?  I'm pretty sure I can keep my house.  I need a few more paychecks so I can get a baseline for what my budget will need to be, but by my preliminary math I think it'll work out.  Which makes my entire life like 75% less stressful.

On the other hand, the IRS still hasn't processed the tax return I sent them in February, and the website basically says, "we're getting to it, don't file again.  And don't. call. us."  So I won't call them.  At this point I'm vaguely hoping that at least if they haven't processed it by early 2022 it won't make things too difficult to file this year's taxes . . . though if it looks like it will complicate things I'll just break down and hire a professional.

Four of the neighbor's ducks have taken to hanging out in my yard, which makes me pretty happy.  They're mallards - or at least two of them look like wild mallards and the other two look like mallards but with domestic coloring -- and they seem to appreciate the dog dish I put out with water for them.  They are pooping all over my yard, but I think they're eating the slugs that would have otherwise shredded my gladiolus by now, so I'll just watch where I step.  

After I got through the training at my new job I splurged and bought myself some expensive linen/bamboo blend sheets, and a linen duvet cover - they are so very nice and I love them.  I run hot while I sleep, and these stay nice and warm without making me feel sweaty and overheated - much appreciated last week, when it hit a fucking 108 degrees here.  Only for a day or so, but yikes.  Yiiiiikes.

My hollyhocks are starting to bloom - I don't think they took the heat too well last week, as at least half of the leaves are brown and dying, but today the first of the blooms opened!  I don't know that I'll get many flowers from them but they're trying and I appreciate it.

Soon it will be the anniversary of the worst week of my life, but for now, things are ok.  Things are pretty good.  I'll  make it, I think.  I'm lonely as hell, but hey, the state is opening up again.  Provided the delta variant doesn't shut us down again, maybe I'll start looking for a dungeons and dragons group to join or something.  Try to make some new IRL friends who don't live 3000 miles away.  It's a plan right?  It's a plan.

 The rain is falling, steady and gray and cold. 

There are more leaves all over the yard, though at least it was dry enough yesterday to get the lawn mowed (which involves, at least in the back, hauling the lawn mower up and around a steep hill pocked by industrious moles, which is at least not boring.  I only slipped once, and those old jeans won't mind the grass stains).

I dropped off my ballot today - took a bit to find the drop box, as Google kept sending me to the municipal court, instead of the courthouse that the drop box was actually behind.  But when I found it, there was line of cars dropping off ballots, which was kind of heartening.

Someone stole my Biden / Harris yard sign off the end of my driveway the other day.  I live quite close to Trump country - rural Arlington / Marysville is pretty red, so that's not too surprising - I put up another one this morning, and I have a third ready to go if this one goes missing.  I don't think they'll change anyone's mind or anything, but I feel like voicing some small counterpoint to the giant Trump flag hanging at the house at the very end of the hill.

It's gray and cold and wet outside - the kind of day I'd like to spend baking.  But I don't want to waste half a pan of brownies, or most of a batch of cookies - Only individually wrapped treats at work right now, as a precaution, and I can't eat a whole batch by myself.  I haven't really baked . . . anything, since July.

So instead, I lit some candles - the house smells warm and piney.  It's a nice accompaniment to the gray day.  It would be a perfect time to curl up on the couch with a purring cat.  

But for the first time in my life, I don't have a cat. 

Zoro didn't make it.  The anemia was due to rather severe internal bleeding from a mass in his stomach - very likely cancerous.  The vet said the transfusions (two, at that point) were like pouring water into a leaking bucket.  He wasn't strong enough for aggressive treatment, and the vet wasn't hopeful of the outcome, even if he was.  

They let me spend a few hours in a exam room alone with him, just letting him sleep on my lap before saying goodbye.  

It's just me now.  All my boys are gone.  And my house is far too quiet, under the sound of the rain.

Last week, I took a camping trip - partly to get my head clear a bit, with the trees and the water and the smell of a campfire. But primarily, to hike up a mountain as far as I could (not being an expert hiker, this was an important consideration in trail choosing) so that I could spread Chad's ashes somewhere high and beautiful.

So on Tuesday I hiked up the Green Mountain Trail, to the Green Mountain lookout (an old fire lookout, restored and listed on the national historic registry), and there I spread Chad's ashes, to the sound of the wind and the whistles of marmots.

It was a stunningly pretty hike - once I was through the forest, carpeted in pine needles and moss, nearly silent - the steep mountain meadows were covered in wildflowers, and the Northern Cascades spread out all around under a blue, blue sky.

There were only a few other hikers - one of the reasons I went on a weekday, as I hear it's quite popular, even crowded, on the weekends. And pretty much everybody had no trouble remembering to mask up as we got close, or to keep a responsible distance.

The hike was probably too steep for me - I am not super athletic, and I had to stop and rest a lot. The hike up to the top took about five and a half hours, and I nearly quit partway up, more than once. Also, I was an idiot, and forgot that bugspray doesn't last all day - I am covered in bites from mosquitoes and flies. The mosquito bites are mostly healed - the fly bites, however, are still annoying.

The hike down took only a bit over two hours - much less stopping to rest, though my knees were aching about halfway down.

At the top, by the lookout, I had a good few moments entirely alone - perfect for quiet little ceremony, which basically consisted of me writing down the coordinates, saying a few private words, and letting the ashes out on the wind. It was . . . well, I think it's what he would have wanted.

( Cut for lots of unedited pictures )





Now I just have to get in good enough shape to make this hike yearly, I think.

 My husband is in the hospital.  In the ICU.  Things don't look great. 

( cut for emotional venting )

 I'm going back to work on Tuesday - in some capacity at least.  Reduced hours (for both me and the store itself).  Reduced responsibilities - the store isn't doing buys for another week at least, and then only by appointment and with limited amounts allowed  -- because we won't be fully staffed, still.  Masks are required ( I may need to add a nose wire to mine - my glasses get foggy, which is fine for a grocery run, but less so for a 7 hour shift), and there's apparently plastic shields up by the cashier stations now.

I have mixed feelings, to be sure.  I can't stay on unemployment forever (mostly, the extra Covid funds will likely run out next month, meaning that while for now I actually get more income unemployed than I did working, that will no longer be the case, even with reduced hours) but I have very much enjoyed spending time at home, with my husband.  My cat gets his insulin shots at a steady schedule, because I'm here to make sure of that.  We spent SO MUCH LESS money on gas.  But I do enjoy my job, and I miss the people there.  

Still, if I thought that anybody (ANYBODY) other than fast food joints and home improvement stores were hiring right now I might tell my boss that I decline, and stay on unemployment while the extra funds last, and then find something else.  Something that isn't retail.  Something that maybe I could do from home.

I have suspicions that lockdowns and quarantines will need to be reinstated at some point, seeing as how the virus isn't gone, there's no vaccine, and people, as a whole, are apparently really stupid about how viruses are transmitted - everybody's trying to get things "back to normal" when really, should they?  Shouldn't we have realized the dangers and frailties inherent in the current system and started going in different, healthier (physically, emotionally, mentally), directions?

But hey.  I'm going back to work on Tuesday.

Yay.

 So, like a lot of people lately, I've been trying to bake more bread.  And this recipe, for a basic sandwich loaf, is both super easy, and super delicious - seriously, the loaf turned out REALLY well, and I will definitely bake it again.  Like, who needs to buy bread at the store?  So long as the yeast and flour last, at least.  And in this case, the milk . . . but still.  Bread!

The baking is really only in the first part of the video, as he then goes into multiple sandwiches and such.  

 So, I get to find out how to apply for unemployment benefits in Washington state.

I've never been laid off before - I've still got my health insurance, and my employee card (so I can use my discount if I want to do some online shopping, I guess).  I'd be less stressed about it if I was sure I'd actually be called back to work by the 30th, like they're saying they want to do. (Hell, I was just thinking I wanted some actual time off, instead of the half shift work arounds I've been getting the last week or two)  But who knows what's happening in a month, honestly!

If they do decide not to call me back in - whether corporate decides to close my store, or the shut-down lingers longer and and longer -- then I'll get the pleasure of job hunting in a time when NO ONE IS HIRING (except grocery stores and Home Depot, apparently.  And I'm not picking up a job that would put my husband's health at risk - he's got asthma, so he's higher risk than I am right now.  Don't want to bring back a bug that would do real damage to him).

I can say that if I don't go back to the bookstore, that's it for retail jobs for me.  I have no idea what else I can find, but it won't be fucking retail, for sure.  

yay, for such certainty in uncertain times. . .

 You ever do that thing - the thing where you have a thought, like, 'oh, I should post pictures of my new house!  I'm so happy with it, I have so many plans I want to share!' and then you don't, because finding a good way to post them is a bother, and also it's been so very very very very rainy since we moved in that a lot of the pictures are grey and wet and muddy and eh.  so you don't and you don't and time passes and then you've done the thing where you didn't do the thing? Or anything related to the thing, like posting anything at all?

Just me?

ah well.  Hello.

( light politics and virus talk and plans for the future )

Anyway, the world is uncertain and tipping over into more uncertainty, but there are good things in it.  There are good people in it, I know, so I hope that all of you are well, and stay well, and are happy.

We went camping in Newhalem this last weekend - it's a campsite near a tiny company town of the same name (owned by the Seattle City Light company, and populated entirely by either government employees, or employees of the Skagit River Hydroelectric Project).

The campsite is one of our favorites - we've been there once a year since we moved to Washington. We go there when we want a really relaxed kind of camp, since it has proper flushing toilets and rangers on site. This year they've added Bear Safes to all the sites (last year they'd only added them to one of the three loops) which is nice, since it's in the North Cascades National Park and bears are definitely a thing to be aware of, even though we've never seen one yet.

Last year we walked all the hiking trails that actually meet up at the campground - some really lovely trails through some old-growth cedar forests near the river, a trail that winds through meadows that are what's taking over an area that caught fire a few years ago (the burnt out stumps and stark, bare trees are very dramatic against the riot of purple fireweed and bright green new growth), and a trail that overlooks a 1400 year old hunting camp (lined with educational signs and kept up by the forest service).

Since we did that last year we ranged farther afield this time - we drove about an hour or two through the bordering Mt. Baker - Snoqualmie National Forest and looped back into the North Cascades National Park to find the trailhead for the Cascade Pass - one of the most popular hikes in the area, but we haven't done much hiking, so it was new to us.

The trail goes up via 30 plus switchbacks through towering trees - near the end of the switchbacks you start to see glimpses of the valley and the mountains nearby. The trail then leaves the trees and crosses steep meadows filled with wildflowers, and a scree field that echoes with marmot whistles and the squeaky cries of pikas (one of these adorable things ran right up to Chad and my shoes as we hiked down - either very curious, or just wanting to get us further away from its hideyhole). Shortly past the scree field there's the pass itself - a flat spot lined with stones that looks down an impressive spread of valley and peaks. We stopped there, rested, and turned back, because a 7 mile round trip hike is plenty for us right now. Alternatively, we could have followed the path all the way to Stehekin - 30 miles further on - but we definitely weren't prepared for that sort of trek.

( pictures of the hike )( pictures of the hike )

Christmas, for me, is a much needed celebration of life and love and lights in the middle of what can be the longest, darkest, coldest part of the year.  There is, I think, a primal need for that sort of thing, as shown by the myriad of old traditions from multitudes of faiths and cultures that have become the modern Christmas thing.

So, here are my Christmas hopes for all of you -- may you find friends, and keep them close.  May you be warm and safe, may you be healthy, may you be happy.

Please know that you're loved.