escape

Fangirl confession: I've been rewatching the Syfy series Haven again. Yes, rewatching again as in I've watched it several times. And maybe "watched" is not the right term since, after truly watching it one time through, I now indulge myself by streaming episodes while I'm going about mundane tasks around the house. What better way to clean bathrooms, do laundry, and such?

Is it a guilty pleasure, or just a pleasure? I don't carry any guilt about it.

The show ran for 5 seasons from 2010 to 2015. It's loosely based on a Stephen King novel, "The Colorado Kid".  

Nothing to be taken too seriously, but I enjoy the creativity and the Stephen King vibe -  a fun escape. I enjoy the characters, the writing, and, probably most of all, the setting.

It was filmed on the South Shore of Nova Scotia, a place I've never been but would like to. In addition to the drama, the episodes include wonderfully scenic views of fishing boats, lighthouses, beachfronts, quaint little seaside shops... things we don't have here in Colorado. I love the sounds of seagulls, lapping waves, and those boat bells - there's probably a specific name for "those boatbells", but I don't know what it is. I'm Colorado, so I know cowbells. 

Haven Trailer

Magnum and I watched the series originally back when it was more fresh, but we lost interest somewhere in season 4, I think. I've never watched to the end. But I stream the earlier seasons now and then, like today when the kitchen needed a cleaning.

A more recent show we watched is The Wilds, which ran for two seasons. Teens sent off to a "retreat" for troubled kids become stranded on an island after their plane crashes... or did it? Decent premise, but I once again lost interest before the last episode, and we stopped watching early on in season 2.

Currently, we're a few episodes into Deadloch, which is starting to grow on me with it's catchy deadpan one liners. I found one of the main characters overwritten and highly annoying early on, but her role has shifted a bit, so I'll stay in for now. 

As with books, I have no problem ditching a TV series when it's not working for me. The purpose of both is to be amusing escapism, right? It's not like it's for a work/school assignment. I can think of other shows I enjoyed for a while, but they ended up dragging on for too long without going anywhere, or went off the deep end. 

First world problems, I know.

So excuse me while I go pretend I'm cleaning a bathroom in Nova Scotia, just not a season 5 bathroom.

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Linking up this week with Mama Kat for the prompt:

5. What are you watching? Share your favorite summer programming so far.

like we've opened up the door

She could feel the aloneness in her gut like a punch. She sat back in her chair, and the room felt empty even though her indifferent husband was seated nearby.

She realized that her days had become a series of mundane activities, centered around keeping the house tidy and stocked with food.  She hardly ever went anywhere except to the grocery store, and she couldn't quite figure out where the rest of her time went each day.

But who was she kidding.  She knew she wasted hours on facebook, lurking through overused memes, political rants, and gossip - rarely engaging in any of it herself, just spectating. This is what her life had become, and she accepted that it was her own fault.

Then one day, a private message. She didn't even know what the feature was at first and it scared her a little. 

"Am I being hacked?!", she wondered. 

Reluctantly, she clicked the message open. It claimed to be Bill, a boy she'd grown up with, who was now a facebook friend. She hadn't seen  him since high school in the 1960's, he being a couple years older.

All the girls had crushed on Bill. He was attractive, outgoing, and athletic and subsequently very popular. She herself was quite shy and tended to blend in to the background. But she knew Bill from her time spent working with him at the local Dairy Queen during summer breaks.  

Her friends back then would tell her how lucky she was to know and work with Bill.  She would blush and say how he just treated her like a little sister, that was all.  But it was better than nothing.

Many years later, social media became a thing and Bill showed up as a friend "suggestion". She'd nervously sent the request, and to her delight and relief, he accepted. 

But they never really engaged much one-on-one. She would often see photos of Bill on lavish vacations with his pretty wife or updates regarding his successful adult children. His profile listed him as retired from a prestigious financial firm. None of it was surprising, she knew Bill would achieve whatever he attempted.

What could this message be?  Probably a mistake... or more likely, a scam praying on an naive elderly woman.

"Hey there, Sadie", the message began. "I've been meaning to get in touch with you..."

And that's how it started.  Over the next couple of weeks, Bill and Sadie messaged each other back and forth. Bill told of his wife's sad decline and eventual death from a massive stroke about a year prior.  He hadn't shared any of that on social media, always wanting to project a happy fulfilled life.

But in truth, he was a sad man in his retirement. True, he had wonderful relationships with his children, but they had their own families now and lived spread far and wide.  Always so outgoing and friendly, he struggled with so much isolated free time.

And then, the clincher. He confessed to having a bit of a crush on Sadie in their Dairy Queen days. He didn't pursue it since they worked together, plus he knew he'd move away from their hometown to attend university while she was still in high school.  It wouldn't have worked out.

He was so happy to receive Sadie's friend request on facebook, but since she was married, he didn't want to make any waves.  It was one particularly lonely night when he'd sent the private message...

Long story short, Sadie saw the light. Over the course of a few months, she divorced  her  ungrateful husband and settled the assets - much of which she'd inherited from her parents, who'd never particularly liked her husband.  She got a beauty makeover that included a whole new wardrobe and new hairstyle and dye job.

Lastly, she got herself a sporty little Miata convertible. And her transformation was complete.

She and Bill currently reside happily just around the corner from me

...or something kind of like that or not at all. 

_________________________________________________________________________

Yeah, so yesterday, on my way to work, I rode past a cute little Miata convertible that I'm quite sure is the Miata convertible that nearly ran me over a couple of weeks ago during the intersection incident.

Same color scheme, same temporary plates.

Coming home later, I saw this smiling olderish couple, hand-in-hand, out enjoying an early evening stroll.  

They headed toward the Miata house, and I realized the woman was likely Miata woman of the intersection incident.

Clearly she was overly giddy that day, rushing to her first in-person meet up with Bill after all those years.  Stop signs and traffic lanes be damned!

I honestly have no idea who these people are, but I'm going with "Bill and Sadie around the corner". 

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Linking up this week with Mama Kat for the prompt:

2. Write a blog post inspired by the word: time.

not the Robinsons

Day 2 of the siege.

Obviously, I don't mean the Covid lockdown siege.  I've lost count of those days.  I'm referring to our interior stairs rip-out/replace project siege. 

I''m hanging out in my loosely named home office with the door closed so the cat doesn't escape and get accidentally sawed in half or something.  Now THIS is how quarantine SHOULD feel.



But it's all good.  Thankfully, both the cat and I have snacks and access to a bathroom.  Not so
thankfully, the cat's bathroom is all to easily accessible for him.


The view from my hideout:


That red bandana?  That's my face mask for being holed up with a cat.  I'm wearing it as I type since I snapped the pic just a bit ago.





The project does seem to be going quite well.  I'm glad I found these guys.  They should finish up today, hopefully I didn't just jinx it.

Last night and this morning, we had no stairs in the house, which is a tri-level.  We've been using ladders to get to and from different levels.  I told Magnum I feel like we're living in the Swiss Family Robinson house, which would have been much more fun if I was about 10 years old, but it'll do.

I've been streaming random videos and doodling, and now the stir crazies are getting to me.  I'm about to bust out. 

Gotta go check the potato patch? ←← the only reference I remember from "Swiss Family Robinson" other than their tree house.

Potatoes, anyone?

my secret adventure

In the summer of 1985, I was feeling restless.  I'd just completed my second year of college and would eventually transfer to a 4-year university.  A good friend of mine was in the same boat.  Joan was studying to be a pharmacist.

One day, she said to me, she said, "Soon, I will be spending hours every day inside a pharmacy.  You'll be in an office.  We'll probably both get married and have kids.  Now, we're free.  We should travel".

I honestly hadn't thought about it that much, but when she said those words to me, I realized she was right.

We each took money we'd been responsibly saving from our part-time jobs and bought one-way tickets to Nepal.  Maybe not the most original destination for students taking a year off, but it was cheaper than Paris.  We hardly even planned it, just arrived in Kathmandu with one backpack apiece and boots on our feet, ready for adventure.

We trekked, we camped, we met wonderful people along the way. Our savings went a long way, and we weren't worried if we ended up spending all of it.  Like Joan had said, someday we'd be working professionals, but then we were free.

One night, we were with another group of hikers.  We'd been camping with this group for a few days, and that night around the campfire, I struck up an easy friendship with Guy.  That was his name:  Guy.  He was from Ohio.

Guy and I stayed up all that night, talking and sipping our horrible Nepalese beers.  Joan was in the tent with a sweet Nepalese man named Samir.  After that, the four of us became somewhat of a family.  We rented a small place to live in Pokhara where we continued to enjoy the people and culture.

Eventually, it was time to return to the states and to our responsible, goal-oriented lives.  Joan and I enrolled at CU, ready to get back to the books after our satisfying year off.  But I noticed something was different.  I felt... different.

Soon after that, I learned I was pregnant.  With twin boys.  Guy's twins.

There was no way I could keep them.  I debated whether to contact Guy or not, but he had returned to Ohio to serve in the military, and I just didn't see a future with him.  With him and our babies.

Adoption.  That was my answer.

Luckily, at the time, I was renting a room from a divorced empty-nester.  She was active at her church, and, long story short, she arranged the whole adoption for me.  I only asked that I be able to name the children, and that they were to keep those names after the adoption.  It was agreed.

I gave birth in a hospital in Boulder, held my twins for a couple of hours, kissed their sweet heads, and then never saw them again.  My own family never even knew.  I just told them I was so busy with work and classes, I didn't have time to go home and visit.

Through my landlady, I was able to learn how our babies were doing, but I never tried to contact them.  I do have a few pictures from that time, however.  Gosh, it seems like a whole 'nother life ago.

This is Guy, wearing his climbing helmet adorned with Buddhist prayer calligraphy.

 I wonder, does he still have it?

These are our babies.  My landlady got this photo for me when they were about 6 months old.

Wallace, named after my father, on the left.  Greenbary, named after Guy's father, on the right.

They were adopted by an infertile couple in Florida.  Nice family, I understand.  I know through sources that they grew up strong and healthy and went to college at the University of Miami where Wally played tight end and Greenbary was a defensive lineman for the football team.  Go 'canes!




I don't know where either one is today.   I've also no idea what became of Guy.

And that's the reason I post this information.  Now.  Maybe someone out there knows them, I've been carrying this secret for such a long time.  Like...

... four days or so.

This IS a true story, with just a few minor embellishments.  For instance, I have no idea who the people in these photos are.  I checked a book out of the library a few days ago, and nestled somewhere around page 117 were these photos.  And I got to wondering...

The only thing I know is that the photos were developed at a Walgreens.  WALLGREENS.   WALL... GREENS...

But my friend Joan?  She's totally real.  We went to Junior College and then University together.  And I also rented a room from a divorced, churchgoing, empty nester named Myra.

And Joan IS now a pharmacist and she DID talk of travelling before settling down.  She went to Germany for about a month...  without me.  Or anyone named Samir.

So, yeah.  It's all mostly true.

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Linking up with Mama Kat for the prompt:
2.) Write a blog post inspired by the word: adventure



.

who's your hobo?

Todd and Jeremy have been best friends since second grade.  Now, at 16 years old, they are spending their summer doing lawncare to help save up for college tuition to complement the scholarships they will most likely receive.

When they're not beautifying landscapes, they spend afternoons doing volunteer work at a summer program for special needs kids.  That's where they'd been today when a surprise thunderstorm sent them seeking shelter under the Rockrimmon blvd. bridge as they rode their bicycles home.

As they pulled their bikes over to the sheltered portion of the path, they noticed a homeless woman living under the bridge.

Her possessions were sparse.  Just a small bag holding, probably, all her wordly possessions.  She did have a bicycle for transportation.  It was covered in splashes of mud and likely in need of a complete overhaul.

How long had she been there? they wondered.  She looked dirty, her hair all disheveled.  When was her last bath? Was she mentally stable?  Could she even read or understand basic computations?  What kind of future was there for such a person?

Even though they'd both completed their Eagle Scout projects, they began to ponder the woman's plight and what they could do to help.

The noise of the storm slowly began to dissipate as they pulled out each other's rain jackets, ever prepared.  Soon, the storm would be fully passed, but they wanted to get home to the suburbs to get started on their baked goods for the church fundraiser. 

They put on their jackets, and headed north out from under the bridge and into the last drippings of the storm.  As they did so, they went by the homeless woman, sitting there with nothing better to do.

They nodded their heads and smiled as they passed her.  She smiled back.  She even spoke.

"Hi.  Be careful.", with surprising clarity.  Just a brief moment of lucidness, perhaps.

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Yeah, I was out joyriding running errands with Bella and got caught in a storm today and waited it out under a bridge for about 15 minutes.  Pretty hospitable place actually.

These two teen boys arrived, and looked to be nice kids, though we didn't really talk. They left shortly before I did.

Probably to go home to smoke pot and play Grand Theft Auto...

the British are coming!

My Brit boyfriend is coming to visit.  You may have heard of him.  Henry Charles Albert David?  Better known as Prince Harry?

We've been carrying on for quite a while now.  I haven't mentioned him much here on the blog since I like to keep the whole affair on a low profile.  I mean, look at poor Kate.  Can't even have morning sickness in private.

But with him coming all the way out for a tryst, it's going to be difficult to keep things as hush-hush, so I thought I'd go ahead and spill.  I'd rather you hear it from me.

The media is reporting that he's coming out here for The Warrior Games, but that's just a ruse.  Don't believe it.

Still, I will play the role as American commoner so as not to arouse any suspicions.

His visit carries a   “strong central theme of supporting injured servicemen and women from both the UK and US armed forces”, and I'm sure that is also quite sincere.  In the meantime, we locals are preparing for the Royal visit.  Some comments I read regarding an article about proper Prince protocol included:

"Offer him a beer and say, "welcome to the Rockies, Harry!".

"As much as I kinda like Harry, this is the US. There is no protocol for royalty. I'd rather address him by his military rank than royal title. And I would encourage him to show me that same respect in return."

"We kicked their butts in 1776 and again in 1812 so I wouldn't have to bow or courtsey or whatever to any man"

"I'm sure I saw him at Hobby Lobby today twice.  I read later that he was in town.  I would bet $1,000 it was him!


But now you all know *wink* the truth behind his visit.  So in this case, what's written in AbbyNormal, stays in AbbyNormal.  (Not so much the case in Vegas).

• Would you go out of your way to meet British Royalty if they were in your town?  
• Do you think Royal protocol applies in the U.S.?  
• Was that him at Hobby Lobby??

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trying

I met him one afternoon in the rain.  I was staying with a friend, but she was moving, so I would have to find another place.  She said she'd help with that, and she did.  She introduced us.

He was lonely, I could tell by just looking at him.  His demeanor showed a guy who'd been through some hard times, and way deep down inside, he was crying out for help.  I agreed to be his roommate.

The apartment was sparse.  Just basic necessities. A few kitchen utensils, one stained coffee mug...  There was an old beat up couch and one chair in the living room with the small TV.  Nothing on the walls.  But the place was kept pretty clean and comfortable enough.  It was quiet there.  Very quiet.

And he was very quiet too, but because of our living arrangement, eventually he began to open up to me.  He told me about his wife whom he hadn't seen in over a year.  How they'd been happy at first and shared some good times.  But then came his first tour in the war, followed by two more.  He'd seen too much, and by the time he was discharged on disability, he'd changed.  

He didn't like going out, he told me.  People and noisy crowds made him anxious.  He just wanted to stay in, and his wife was good to him, but she grew restless.  She started going out and pursuing her interests with others.  One day, she just didn't come home.  

From these chats, I came to feel very protective of him.  He was a good man, but fragile.   He told me that he'd decided to take in a roommate after discussing it with his therapist.  He'd seen others in the apartment complex doing things and being out and about, but he didn't feel like he fit in with them.  Maybe bringing a roomie in would help him get over his anxieties and join in with the others.

The therapist thought it was a good idea, so he looked into it.  Turns out his brother had a friend who knew my friend that I was staying with before she moved.  And there we were.

And we tried, we did.  

The two of us would leave the apartment and try to mix in with the others.  I wanted to make new friends too, but at the same time, I had these overpowering protective instincts.  I would lash out at anyone who got too close.  Ironically, my man would end up being the one having to calm me down.  

The others began to avoid us, going out of their way to not cross our path.  It was obvious.  I felt awful, but my defenses seemed to have a mind of their own.

There was this one couple, though.  They'd come around every once in a while when we were outside.   The woman seemed friendly enough, and her companion, while a bit mental, had this endearing, harmless cluelessness about her.  

Still, I could only take them for so long before I was going all rage on them, and they would abruptly leave. This made my man sad, I could tell.  What was wrong with me?  I can't remember how I got this way.  

----------------------------------

Yeah, there's this guy who lives in the apartment complex China and I stroll by.  He's got this dog - nice looking dog, but geez - needs to lose the  Cujo  style
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herstory

I used to live with a crazy lady.  I mean, I'm not sure if she was certifiably crazy, but she was quite the recluse.  Lived alone in a relatively large house but took in a bunch of renters.  I was one of the residents, but it never really felt like "home".

I was young then, so it was an okay life.  At least there were always others around to do stuff with or just sit and talk.  There were boys too.  We were all too young then for me to think of them as men, but we were old enough for me to be interested in them as boys.  There was one sandy-haired boy I liked in particular, and he liked me too.  I thought it might be nice to settle down with him, maybe have a family together, but then I found out he was sleeping with some of the other girls in the house.  Broke my heart.

Maybe that's what made me decide to leave.  Or maybe it was just the lack of privacy.  I'm not a recluse like the crazy lady, but I really need my space and I didn't have it there.

I didn't even really have a plan, it was more like a sixth sense that directed me.  I knew there were good people in the world, and I trusted in the universe to help me find them.  I was still so young.

One day, these people I was staying with took me to a strange place.  I think it was their church.  There was some ritual going on and I started to feel very lightheaded.  The next thing I remember, I woke up in a dark place and I felt like crap - worst hangover of my life.  After a few days, I was well enough to escape that place.  But I was different.  Something was different.

Ever since that experience, I'm not so trusting of others.  I eventually found a nice secluded place to figure out what to do with my life.  There was a woman nearby who would check on me occassionally, but otherwise left me alone. There were boys and men there too, but none of them really interested me in anything other than friendship.  I don't know.  I was different.  Something had changed in me, and I no longer thought about finding a man and settling down.  In fact, I couldn't even remember why I'd ever considered it in the first place.

One day, something was going down.  I thought it was the end of the world.  The sky was gone, everything had turned a sick red-orange, and it was difficult to breathe.  The woman who sometimes brought me food was calling for me, or was it an angel of death in disguise?  Was I dying and going to hell?

Too curious for my own good, I peeked my head out just a little.  A large figure in red grabbed me before I could get away.

Next thing I knew, I was in some sort of transport vehicle.  There were others in there with the red devil.  I was frozen with fear, but I managed to catch a glimpse of the outside world.  I saw fire and mayhem.  Yes, this was definitely hell.  What had I done to deserve this?

I was put in a cell, but it wasn't as bad as I'd expected.  Strangely enough, I began to feel comfort in the presence of the demons.

They took me to their church shortly after that, and I was once again swept up in a dark ritual.  I awoke, remembering nothing but feeling quite impaired.  I was returned to my cell where I drifted off.

I awoke a short while later, still in pain but coherent.  One of the resident evils stroked me and talked to me. I felt like maybe I could trust her.  She said she had something that would help me feel better, and without thinking, I took all that she had to offer.

Immediately, I felt better and was in a happy place.  The next day though, not so much.  She returned with another stash of contraband for me and washed away the pain.

I used to live with a crazy lady.  Now... I think I live in a crack house.

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Story of Kat, at the suggestion of ShadowRun300.

an afternoon

I wasn't going to like him.  I was determined.  The last thing I wanted was a man in my life to mess with my head and my heart.

When he flirted with me, I didn't flirt back.  I wasn't disagreeable, I just didn't want to go there.   So we had a nice platonic work relationship, but I made the mistake of admitting to my co-worker Marissa that I thought he was pretty cute.  Of course she blabbed it to him, and he then kept hanging around.

He knew I had a kid.  When I first told him, I thought for sure that would get him to lose interest in me.  Instead, he asked to see pictures and wanted to know all about my son.  Of course he wanted to know about the father too.  I just told him, "things didn't work out" and left it at that.

To say "things didn't work out" was quite the understatement.  My ex was my first.  He'd told me he loved me, and I thought we would be together forever.  We were careful, but I still got pregnant.  I expected that he would want to get married once I told him about the baby, but I was so wrong.  When he left, I was devastated.  It had all been a lie.  I found out about the other girls he'd been with when he was with me, telling me he loved me, that I was his girl. 

Thank God my parents forgave me for all the crap I'd given them when they'd told me my ex was not good enough for me and that I should dump him.  That was one of the lowest points in my life, when I  had to admit they were right and ask if I could move back in with them.

I was getting my life together.  I'd gotten a temp job as a factory assembler.  I didn't know what I would do when the job ran out, but at least it paid well enough for me to build some savings.  And that's where I met Justin. 

He operated a spot welder near my assembly line.  He started hanging out with us during our breaks and eating at our table at lunch.  I admit that I did find him attractive.  He had light brown sandy hair and a sweet little chin warmer beard.  He wasn't very tall, just a couple of inches taller than me, but he was stocky and his muscular hands and forearms were nice to watch while he operated the welder.  And then there's his eyes...

When he asked to take me and little Alex bowling, I decided that maybe it could be fun.  I didn't go out much.   Work and motherhood kept me too busy.  Alex needed to go out and have some fun too, and he'd never been to a bowling alley.  I told Justin we would meet him there, not wanting it to be too much of a "date".

But damnit I had fun!  Justin was wonderful with Alex, and Alex really liked Justin.  I realized that Alex is getting to the age where he needs males in his life to emulate.  I watched the people bowling next to us- a family - and I wondered if I could ever have that.  It didn't seem matter to the mom that she sucked at bowling, she was just hanging out with her husband and kids.

Now, I'm confused.  I've been fighting it, but I think I'm falling for Justin!

-----------------------------------

Yesterday was a school and work holiday.  We went bowling after I finished tutoring.  Rather than blog about how awfully I bowled, I decided to make up a story about the people next to us.  I'm dying to know what happens!
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