The Bicycle Helmet Rack

I was raking raking raking
all the old debris from the
old carport. It was the original
carport for our house before the
garage was built thirty years ago.
It now sits in the corner of our
yard keeping the rain off the
bicycles, firewood and it
provides a nice dry shelter for
our copious rat population.
If you live on the edge of a swamp
with forty acres of blackberries,
rats happen.
So I'm raking raking raking
and notice a large square covered
with a tarp, holding about six
bike helmets on the top.
Odd, I don't remember seeing that
before. I lift up the tarp and
should not have been surprised
at what I saw.
Our old, broken washing machine.
My darling husband created a
nice, solid helmet rack.
Of course he did.

Odd Things in my Mail Jeep

I shoved the last letters into their
tiny one inch slots on my sorting case
and hustled over to my parcel bin.
A coconut!
I couldn't believe it and started laughing.
I did not know you were allowed to mail
mail that didn't look like mail.
After a few years of delivering mail
in Seattle out of Magnolia,
Bitter Lake and North City,
I was able to get hired at Bot hell
post office as a substitute.
After five years as a sub and one
long year as a T-6, I reached the
epitome of postalhood.
My own route!
Beautiful Holly Hills mobile estates
was mine, mine, mine.
The man I inherited the route from
told me, "There's old in them hills!"
The people were all retired and it was
fun to see them at their mailboxes every day.
Mr. Powell was building a mail order car.
Every week I'd deliver a new part.
The six foot mid-pipe that would connect
his engine to the muffler
hung out my jeep window on one side a foot.
When Auntie Agnes died in Alabama,
I delivered her ashes.
I was sure she was leaking out on me all day.
When Mr. Simpson fell from heat stroke,
I delivered him to Mrs. Simpson.
But I already wrote about that.

The Eight-Legged Pudu Deer

I looked down at my drawing with dismay.
I had the art book next to where
I was teaching the kids
how to draw a deer step-by-step.
My images were being captured by a
document camera and being displayed
on a large white screen behind me.
I had been in a hurry and grabbed a
black Flair pen instead of a pencil
and now I was going to pay for it.
I'd shown the kids how to draw the pudu
laying down with its legs tucked around
it and went on for the four brave kids
that wanted deer-legs standing up.
That was when I realized I couldn't
erase the first four legs.
"Oops. I accidentally drew
an eight-legged pudu deer."
It looked like the thirty second graders
were going to fall off their chairs
they were laughing so hard.
I might have needed more than one
"How to teach art to kids"
classes.

Jesus Christ Made Seattle Under Protest: Special Delivery Driver

I carefully wedged my large white postal
two-ton truck into the load zone.
I was thrilled to be in the dark canyon
of tall buildings with such an
important mission:
Special Delivery Mail!
It was special too and my old trainer John
had a big hustle as he dropped out of the truck
and zipped around behind our truck to
unload trays of special deliver mail
needing to go inside to all the law firms.
I took a deep breath as we entered the
building and he rolled the handtruck
to the bank of elevators.
My long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail
and I had on my blue two piece femailman
uniform with my shiny oval Special Delivery pin
pinned proudly to my then-small chest.
"Okay, here's the important thing kid."
John said looking down at me, "Always smile."
"You would not believe the loot
these guys give out at Christmas
if you give them great service and a big smile."
"Special Delivery is expensive and you gotta hustle!"
I smiled and quickened my step and dashed
around the sky-scraper one floor at a time.
"Good job kid. Now hop in and look at the
next mail and figure out where to park next."
I reached down and picked up the bundle and read the address.
"Hmmm" I thought as I read it and concentrated on what John taught me.
Jesus Christ Made Seattle Under Protest. Seattle streets running south to north.
Jefferson James
Cherry, Columbia
Marion, Madison
Spring, Seneca
University, Union
Pike and Pine
I looked over at John who was sucking deeply on his cigarette,
"Got it boss!" I exclaimed.
He looked at me and grinned, "Good job kid."

Conga Line in the Library

I looked at my principal
with an apologetic face,
"I'm so sorry Jim. I would
have never thought the kids would
stampede in a million years."
He looked at me and said,
"Look at it as a learning moment.
You did set a precedent at the party
that the library is a wild place
where there is sometimes
unacceptable behavior."
My heart sank.
I'm not well-known for making
the best decisions and the party
did get a little wild.
It was a shock to me as I led
twenty fourth and fifth grade girls
around our huge library in a conga line,
to look up and see kids up
on top of the bookshelf.
Ugh.
It had to be the EXACT minute
Jim walked in to check on the party.
I swear, the minute I saw them up there
I quit dancing and ran over
and told them to get down.
I was hopping mad.
It took me two weeks to plan the
party with the PTA!
The kids got Papa John's pizza
in pepperoni and cheese toppings,
Caesar salad, fruit, lemonade,
ice cream, Girl Scout cookies AND
green home made green Rice Crispy treats.
For Pete's sake. That's my favorite treat
and they were all gone when the kids
went back to class After the party
Our theme was "The Luck of the Irish."
For our Battle of the Books wrap party,
I made the mistake of inviting ALL the
original teams AND their boosters,
which swelled the kids up to seventy.
The stampede happened a week later
when they came for their yearbook picture
and they were good until I said,
"You are now dismissed for recess."
It was the first sunny day of spring
and they ran screaming out the library
and down the hall before I could stop them.
I did not predict that. UGH.
So, if I do get rehired for next year
it will be somewhat of a miracle.

The Baked Baby Suit

"Oh miss" the young soldier said
as I reached over his head to
turn off his call button,
"I seem to have a problem with
my baby. She just threw up
all over herself."
I looked down at the cute,
chubby little girl and asked
how old she was. "She is only
six months old and I'm taking her
to see my parents for the first time."
Boston to LA is about five hours
and we had just finished our meal service.
I smiled warmly and said, "Don't worry
about a thing, I'll help you put
her in a clean outfit."
His dark eyebrows came together
and I followed his gaze down
to the tiny diaper bag.
"I didn't bring another outfit."
My brain spun wildly for a minute
before I could think of what to do.
Sure I was trained by an FBI specialist
for what to do in a hi-jacking,
but they seemed to have forgotten to
train us about baby puke.
"I have an idea. I can wash
and dry her outfit in an hour and in the
meantime you can roll her up in a blanket."
I took the soiled outfit to the restroom
and pumped as much soap as I could
and then filled the sink with hot water.
After a wash and rinse repeat cycle
I was good to go.
I did some serious wringing out
and popped into my galley and decided on
a hot start then a heat reduction,
like a blackberry cobbler.
The MD80 aft galley is a tiny hole
off to one side of the rear aisle
and I shut the curtain, lest the passengers
saw what I was up to.
After fifteen minutes at 425, I lowered
the heat to 325 and rotated the suit every
ten minutes. I was sliding out the narrow
rack when my buddy-bidder Theresa showed
up. She looked at the fuzzy terrycloth
and said, "Whatcha makin buddy?"
I smiled at my fresh, dry little outfit
and said, "Oh, just baked baby suit."

Whale Watching on San Juan Island June 2013

"NO NO NO!"
I shouted in my head.
I knew it was my ferry pulling out of the dock
as I came down the hill from Anacortes.
Ack, ferry phobia as my step-dad Jerry would say.
I pulled down and knew I'd missed the boat.
literally.
I bought my ticket and the man informed me cheerfully
that I ONLY had to wait three hours for loading.
Next to whale watching and the Department of Motor Vehicles,
ferry boat waiting has taught me everything I'll ever need to know about
PATIENCE.
So I roamed around, reread my schedule, roamed around,
looked at my trashy novel and roamed around some more.
Luckily there was a Pepto Bismal pink zip hoodie
in the tiny gift shop to save me.
The minute I got to my van with it,
I realized I was far too old to wear pink,
and that I had made a huge fashion mistake.
Oh well.