Coastie

Nothing like a photo such as that to make me feel totally girly. The above was taken a few months ago in a Spokane mall, during a 'Coastie Splurge Trip' as I like to call it. It's funny to me what characterizes a 'coastie' according to valley-goers. Multi-term coffee orders. Brand-name jeans. Smart cars. Typically, city slickers are easy to pick out around here; find someone nervously buying Godiva and bottled water, and viola.

We ogle them like they ogle the deer we see so often grazing alongside the road. I reckon you dangle a Starbucks mug before them and they're baited.

Only joking. Kind of.

Lazy Sunday

Sunday again. It's overcast for the first time this week, kind of a welcome break by my opinion. There's this soft little breeze tickling the apricot-bearers, and I've always thought the whisper somewhat melodic. Anyways.

It's been sort of a fun weekend at casa de Rainey; yesterday the Metric Hogs rode en masse through Republic, up to Bonaparte. A half mile outside of Curlew Gabe's beloved Vulcan had a little engine trouble, postponing lunch for my poor little grumbly tummy. After Dad and Gabe pushed the steel horse to salvation, we finished the ride up to our signature lunch spot and dined on burgers and fries. Well, that is, they dined on burgers and fries; I ordered my usual salad and suffered through endless taunts by Gabe, who stated matter-of-factly that my food was pathetic.

"You're really making fun of me for being healthier than you?" I pointed out as he shoveled food into his face, pausing long enough to raise an eyebrow and say;

"That would bother me if I couldn't outlift you by 100 pounds."

"Yeah, but you couldn't pull off a bikini as well as me."

And even he couldn't argue with that.

Next weekend is bound to be good, given the extra day of relaxation. My plans as of now are up in the air, but they're bound to come down eventually. For now, I'll enjoy a lazy Sunday afternoon and pop in the Alanis Morissette CD Mum requested that I listen to.

A short post, I know, but I'll try and write some again this week.

Break out those sunglasses! Ciao!

Drone Convert

I've been searching out the time, motivation, and muse to sit down and blog again, but finding it gruelingly difficult for a few different reasons.

1) Nothing happens in my life.

2) Nothing happens in my life.

That isn't fair. No, no, I'll retract that... it's just that I feel a little dead inside surveying the amount of posts where all I write is, "I am bored. Nothing happened today"; or, "Today I went to [this place] and blah, blah, blah with so'n'so  and then I went home, and now I am blogging."

Curse my uneventful posts! No wonder I only have...7? 8 followers?

So, now that I've thoroughly berated my subject matter, I find it only fitting to make a new summer's resolution: Blog once a week about something meaningful. Even if it means I have to Google 'things to blog about' on my dad's iPad. Because the computer is evidently under the weather, and not planning on getting better anytime soon. (I'm typing this on my brother's laptop.)

Today's post is actually featuring the newest installation into my life, my major time-sucker: school. Cue creepy music. Yeah, I finally joined the ranks of public-school rats and juvenile-delinquents-in-making. All I need now is a tattoo and leather pants.

Kidding! ♥

Really, the reason I decided to take a peek into the dark side was experimentation at first. Being a home-school success story for the past three years, I didn't really consider anything different until I was handed the choice while washing dishes with Mum on a Sunday night as we discussed my future plans or something like that.

When she asked me if I'd ever considered public school, I realized that I had; never once fathomed it would be an option. But I was wrong, because two days later I was holding my new class schedule and facing a hallway of rushing peers.

It was kind of weird, at first, adjusting to the continuous period-by-period schedule. It was weird being surrounded by so many people who had been doing this every day, who weren't fazed by locker combos (still haven't gotten the hang of mine) or dashing from one classroom to one at the other end of the school in three minutes. It wasn't elementary school where your classmates size you up day one, and friendship starts from there. I had seven different classes, and different sets of students in each one. Cliques and friendships had already solidified by the time I showed up mid-year, and I started to feel like I'd have morph into one of those hermits, hide under a dark hoodie, and listen to emo music just so no one would feel bad that I was sitting there all alone.

But lucky enough for me, my new colleagues took a liking to me after not too long, and all previous fears of loner status were shed completely.

One thing I noticed about the difference between public and home school (aside from having to sacrifice sleeping in on weekdays) is the structure you get. To me, its helpful to have deadlines and schedules. It helps me achieve. Yeah, it's difficult. Like, I'm totally not used to teachers getting in your face and demanding that 3,000-word-count essay on slime molds, because it was apparently due last Tuesday. But you pick it up pretty fast after getting used to 'the system'. I guess it's not for some, but this girl likes it.

Then there's the drawbacks. Time for the con list. My only complaint would have to be this:

When you're stuck into a population of 400-odd students, something's gotta give. In my case it was my academic individuality. At home, where the student population consists of three brothers, it's easy to be the star pupil with shining colours. But try bragging about a three-point-eight at school, and you're met with a couple unimpressed eye rolls. My peers were so not having it. I was initially a little shocked by a subtle grade-drop upon entering school, until I realized that strict adherence to the teachers and instructions was now vital. No more was the occasional format mishap 'no biggie'. It's a biggie.

Then, of course, there's the social aspect of school, the popularity game, the rumour mill, and all those fabu perks to being a publicly educated drone. I'd like to think I'm liberated, free from the cliques and the gossip. As far as the hierarchy goes, I'm not exactly a top dog by any means. But I think I've escaped the bottom-feeders at this point. I have my friends. My acquaintances. So far no enemies, but I'm wary of hungry gossip feeders; if I can avoid them, I've learned, my seas are smooth-sailing.

With the approach of summer, I'll be graciously accepting a two-month break for tanning and Seattle trips. I'll be getting my permit this week (fingers crossed!) and I've officially started putting feelers out for summer jobs. My iPhone committed technology-suicide, and I'm stuck with a backup cell until I can raise enough to get the update.

Until next time, ciao! Let's hope I can find my muse with equal enthusiasm next week! 
  

The Fry

It was kind of awkward seeing The Fry again, after so many months of silence. I hadn't laid eyes on him since the seventh grade, and it appeared (outwardly, at least) that he hadn't changed in the slightest. Neither had I. Still I didn't hesitate sitting down at the computer next to his in the library, even though I fought every urge to turn and look at him. I wondered if I should say something. Something old friends say when they haven't reunited for a while. Except that was just it- we weren't friends, not by any definition. I never talked to him in school besides a passing hello every now and then, and as I recall he was pretty unpopular, and everyone just ignored him. Including me. So I didn't say hi.

 He was suddenly rigid and upright, so I knew he recognized me, too. Still no hello, not from either end. Just an awkward glance that we both exchanged inconveniently at the same time. I had no idea what to say. There was nothing to say. Like I said; we weren't friends. But at the same time, we weren't exactly the opposite, either.

 I guess it just made me a little sad, sitting there, mute. Not acknowledging his existence. Him not acknowledging mine. When he finally got up, gathered his things, and left, I watched him go. And waved.

5 Things That Do Not Make You a Tomboy

Being the only girl= blessing. Major blessing. You might think it would  be utterly horrifying at times... like when I have to clean the bathroom (which I probably should be doing right now), but the honest truth is that I wouldn't have it any other way.

Translate: I am so, so, so glad that I can at least have some minor grasp of understanding how dudes work. 


I feel for my friends. I really do. For one, we're all home-schooled, and that sets us back about ten notches in social life already. Two, its a small town, so take away about five more notches; and three: I am the only one who has interaction with the opposite sex on a regular day-to-day basis. Not counting dads.
What irks me- really irks me- is how much I see girls trying to act like they're pure blood "tomboys" lately. Not just my boy-starved (did I really just say that?) friends, either. Really, what's so wrong with being a little girly sometimes? In fact, there's nothing wrong with being a little of both. But don't try and say that you "never act like a chick", because that just makes me want to scream.
  Today I'm going to clear up a few popular myths about the "Guy's Girl".

1. Adding a "favorite sport" or "favorite athlete" to your Facebook profile.

Seriously, guys? There are lots of girls who like sports. Saying that the New England Patriots are "sooooo keeewwlll" does not qualify you as a tomboy. The same principle goes for saying that you like football. Sitting on the bleachers and cheering on the boys in jerseys does not change the fact that you are a girl sometimes. Unless you can prove your lack of femininity  by getting out there and throwing a clean spiral. In that case, I commend you.

2. "Oh, I get along with guys better than girls. All my friends are guys*."


I hear this all the time. 99.99999% of the time, ^that is total bull crap. As for the other .000001%, you speak for yourself. As far as I'm concerned, a girl will always feel a little more comfortable with her girlfriends  than with guy friends. Its not bad- its just nature. Besides, even if it were true... it makes you a flirt, not a tomboy.

*One of my friends actually told me this was the real, legit reason why they are full-on tomboys. 

3. "I can play video games. Therefore I am a tomboy."


Playing MarioKart does not make you a gamer. End of story.

4. "I hate shopping."


Possibly one of the lamest reasons ever. Being a woman (and this is not any sort of feminist rant, or anything),  being a woman does not automatically mean you like shopping and clothes. There are a lot of girls out there who aren't "tomboys", and they don't enjoy spending 2 hours at Macy's for a shoe sale. Even more to the point, I know of at least 3 of my guy friends who actually do enjoy shopping occasionally. Saying that shopping is a gender-defining activity has to be one of the most annoying pet peeves of mine.

5. Taking a picture of yourself with a jersey team sweatshirt on.


Oh myyy goodd. Every time a girl titles one of those pictures with "Hee hee... just me being a tomboy", a baby seal is poached.

When I say this stuff, I am in no way implying that girls who do this stuff aren't somewhat tomboyish. I just think that girls who do this stuff and then deny being girly at times are total liars. Every girl will act girly, and tomboyish in their life. Urgh... no further comments.

Jump-Starting the Year

With every new year comes change, but sometimes it's more drastic one year from the next. 2012 is bringing in more new challenges this first week than 2011 did in six months for me. In a span of 9 days I got registered for 3 races, and I became a vegan.

Talk about jump starting the year!

So-o-o, I can say for a certainty that I'm nervous... very nervous. I already committed to doing the mud run this June, with my fitness-obsessed Aunt Chanelle and my friend Akela. Because they live 5 hours away, our collaborating on training will have to be Skyped. Knowing that it's up to me to make sure I train and build muscle and endurance is a little intimidating, especially since that's not the only thing on my plate.

Mom and I plan on running the Seattle Rock & Roll Half Marathon (13 miles, in case you didn't know). Luckily we made a pact to go to the gym as much as possible and train with each other. She already has a master regimen planned out-- but then again, there's my mother for you!

Then- as if those two things aren't scary enough- I'm also running a full marathon this October, in Portland!

3 races. 3 grueling fitness challenges that will test my body to it limit. When I pull through- as I'm sure I will- I will only have my training partners to thank. And that stubborn disposition of mine... What's it called... ambition?

As regards to my newly-vegan status- that actually just started today. Last July I pledged to a month of vegetarianism, and I powered through that with little or no trouble. It surprised me how easy it was to drop extra weight by cutting out meat. This time, I've taken a step up by cutting out all animal products- and for 100 days!

Many friends and family- not just me- have decided to do this 100-day challenge. Sky and Dakota have both decided to completely raw vegan as well- only fruits, veggies, and nuts- and my Mom will be doing another juice fast like the one she just completed in November.

It's inspiring to me that so many people are really stepping it up to start 2012 off the right way. By the time 2013 shows up, I want zero regrets. I want to be able to say with confidence that I did all I could this year. And then I can set more goals for the ones to follow.

I'm going to rock my year.

So my question is this... can you?

How To Eat a Baguette

This is an experience I will share- albeit a little shamefully- about my service morning in Kirkland with Chanelle. It's funny how things have a way of getting back at you sometimes. Today I learned that humility overrules humor at the most inconvenient of times.

Our morning started off cheerfully despite the light drizzle of notorious Puget Sound weather. Clouds gathered overhead but we marched cheerfully to our car group shielding the literature from any stray rain drops, should they try and sneak their way through our guard. I sat up front with Chanelle, breathlessly greeted the brothers who had kindly sacrificed their front seats for us, and the morning began.

We weren't three calls into the ministry when it was established that the almost-illustrious coffee break was in order. So we parked outside of QFC and went in search for a Starbucks pick-me-up.

Chanelle detoured to pick up string cheese- you know, the little three-bite pieces of mozzarella for Lunchables and whiny toddlers- claiming near starvation due to lack of breakfast. Then, armed with her two string cheeses, she promptly informed me that she was also going to get a roll to have with them.

So I took a look at the Starbucks menu while she went hunting for those. When she came back, I did a double-take. She was carrying an entire baguette!

"I'm guessing they didn't have bread rolls?" I asked, raising an eyebrow almost mockingly. She said they did not. She said that she still wanted to have some bread to enjoy with her cheese.

I quickly pointed out that her ratio of bread to cheese was way off, but that didn't phase my apparently bread-ravenous Aunt. So we got our coffees, picked up the change, and resumed service as before.

Well I just couldn't stop teasing her about that baguette. My witty repertoire would not be exhausted. Even the guys in the back seat were chiming in after a while, asking if she might want a gallon or two of wine to go with her bread and cheese.

"If this were France or Italy, no one would be questioning me at all," Chanelle grumbled, ripping off a chunk.

The brothers in the back seat called on a man at roughly 11:45, and that was the turning point, because that call seriously lasted an hour. The clock stretched all the way to 12:40, and then I heard it.

Grumble... grumble...

My stomach was sounding the alarm. A none-to-gentle reminder that I hadn't eaten since the small bowl of oatmeal earlier in the morning. I tried to ignore it at first, my dignity too stubborn to let reality sink in, but eventually I had to give in. And so, turning humbly towards Chanelle, I dropped my head in shame.

"Is there any of that baguette left?"

A symphony of trumpets could not have competed against the sound of my aunt's laughter ringing mercilessly. I then proceeded to scarf down roughly a third of the baguette which was left. For the rest of the time I remained totally silent, bitterly cursing my feeble stomach.

So I guess you could say I learned a lesson in humility. If ever there was anything I could advise you, it would be this-

Never underestimate the power of irony.

Run Down of Vacay So Far...

I suppose I'd better update my blog, since it's been awhile since last post. Right now I'm kicking it coastie style while I live up my last week of vacation. My Aunt Chanelle and Uncle Kioki have generously extended their hospitality to me while I'm on "the coast" to visit my friends and family.

Wow. What to say? These past two weeks have been nothing short of heaven for me. I came down to Kirkland with my Aunt Paula on December 14th, and have been living the good life ever since.

On the 16th I went to a party, which turned out to be pretty fun despite my previous ideas. Cousin Keliana and I burned up the dance floor with our mad moves, and Akela did pretty good too, I must say. The musicians played a lot of hits from the past three decades.

From the 17th to the 19th Keliana, Akela and I house-sat for some friends of my Aunt Chanelle. It was an excuse to stay up far too late and watch all the old Disney hits.

Monday, the 19th, the girls and I went for a shopping spree and I dropped some money for much-needed new clothing. We stopped at 'Everything Party' and they both bought these awesome masks, which, after my suggestion, they promptly wore as we walked to Payless two blocks away. A mixed reaction from the passing cars had us- and our viewers- laughing quite hard.

One day last week Akela's brother Kioni came over and all of us had a jam session- me with my electric, Akela and hers, and Kioni on his uke. They're far better musicians than me, but it was still pretty dang fun, I'll say.

Went to a great get-together last night at a beautiful home sitting right against Lake Washington. I met some new friends, played charades, got mercilessly beat at it, and then sat on the edge of the dock for a while. It really was fun.

This morning I woke at 7, ran to Starbucks with Aunt Chanelle, and then worked on my writing for a while.



So this is what I've been doing to keep busy! I guess its more of chronological time-line than anything else, but I hope you enjoyed it! I'll be heading back home to Tonasket in a week's time, but I hope to do more fun, blog-worthy stuff this week. Hopefully I'll get up the nerve to post a big, fat post to make up for all these wimpy ones.

Au Revoir!

In Honor of Jude; Chapter One

1

“Sydney, I swear, if you take one more picture I’m going to throw that stupid camera out the window!” Jude Connor told his twin sister in an exasperated tone, as she lowered the silver Canon she was holding. The blinding flash was a slow and yet lethal weapon that would temporarily blind him with every snapshot she took. This would lead to the impending car crash, the hour-long lecture from his uncle on responsibility, and finally the confiscation of his car keys and beloved Ford F250.

Sydney gave her usual smirk-and-eye-roll response. “Sorry,” she said, though the tone of her voice implied she was anything but. Her brother rolled his eyes as well, unable to help the small grin twitching at his mouth.

He wasn’t really mad. It was kind of hard to be mad at her.

Jude eyed his sister while there was a pause in traffic, watching as she went through all of the photos on her camera. What a devil, he thought.

The twins were slowly inching their way down 175^th street on their way to the Woodinville theater. The traffic was bumper-to-bumper and the blaring of car horns was almost constant. Jude- who was always calm and composed- didn’t care for complaining when nothing could be done. He used this opportunity to take a quick sip of his Mountain Dew, and then shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he remembered how fast Mountain Dew travels to ones bladder. Anxiously, he peered over the cars in traffic, praying the red light would soon become green. Pretty soon here everything was going to be yellow.

“I don’t suppose you could make this go any faster?” she said, reading his mind. This was not unusual. Because they spent nearly all their time with each other, the twins had developed an almost telepathic ability with each other. Despite the question, though, Sydney didn’t really care about being stuck in traffic. There was not a day when she didn’t enjoy spending time with her brother, even if it just meant kicking it in a mile-long traffic jam.

“Yeah, right.” He answered her, taking another drink of his soda, and then warily setting it down as he realized what he’d done. “I’m not God.”

“Oh, really? I thought that’s what you said last week when we were playing Mario Kart,” she teased, reaching for his beverage and inserting the straw between her lips. He would have taken it back, but it would probably have meant the bumper of the blue Prius in front of them. Instead he rolled his eyes.

“That,” he eyed her seriously, “is totally and completely different.”

She cracked a grin while he punched the stereo’s power button and the screen lit up. “What do you want?” Jude asked her.

Sydney gave a radiant smile. “Skinny Love,” she answered. Not that she really had to, of course, since her answer had been obvious even before he asked the question. Sydney was obsessed with Bon Iver, and had been ever since she’d heard his song on the radio in fifth grade. He fumbled with the controls a few moments until the music was playing softly out of the speakers, and Sydney leaned her head against the window, enjoying the combination of silence and music.

Come on skinny love just last the year

Pour a little salt, we were never here

My my my, my my my, my my

Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

....

The Connor kids were identical twins of sixteen years of age; meaning that sixteen years ago two unfortunate babies were born into a chaotic marriage that neither mother nor father wanted. James Connor was a full-time stock broker from Connecticut. Melanie Penn had been a substitute school teacher from downtown Bothell.

If you had asked the former Miss Penn what drew her to the tall, dark-haired man, chances were she would say something about his ‘intuitive’ stare and his ‘peaceful’ aura. She’d always been kind of a hippie nut. (He would’ve mumbled something about her looking sexy in that red dress and nothing more.)

When they met in a club in downtown Las Vegas, it was- ta da! Love at first sight! The kind of stuff you only read about in fairy-tale books…. Or was it?

Their wedding was rather small, just three close friends who had accompanied James on his trip (and who were also extremely drunk). Their vows were slurred, but their marriage was official.

They woke the next morning with pounding heads and 25 cent rings on their fingers. It took less than an hour to realize that the ‘fateful night’ they’d shared was nothing more than a few too many shots of vodka. By noon, their marriage was annulled. They exchanged a tart goodbye and never saw each other again.

Precisely nine months later Melanie-Penn Connor had her kids.

.......

As they reached the turn in for Woodinville Theater, Jude swerved into the parking lot, eager to get out of the snail traffic. By some unspoken law of bad luck it was packed. Trying to find a spot to park would be harder than solving a Rubik’s Cube.

“I think there’s a space over there,” Sydney suggested helpfully with a rightwards nod, sitting up straighter in the passenger’s seat as the car slowly made its way through the parking lot.

Jude followed her gaze and saw the single open spot among dozens of other filled spaces. He smiled and steered the car towards it, meanwhile reaching for his drink again. Somehow it seemed much emptier than before. Just as he took the last sip, which was probably mostly saliva and melted ice, there was a slight flash and a clicking sound from the passenger seat. He glared at Sydney, who was again holding her camera.

She grinned innocently. “No, I swear. They’ll accept this one into Us Weekly.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Along with the other fifteen photos you’ve taken so far?”

“Idiotic Teen Driver Endangers Sibling!” Sydney predicted the headline with mock severity. “A Sip of Soda Turns to Tragedy at Woodinville Theater!”

“Shut up,” He grinned, and slid into the parking space.

Tonasket Fever

It's hard not to love Tonasket in early Autumn- I swear its something straight out of a fairytale. 60-70 degrees, sun's shining, and there's a slight gentle breeze. Its times like this when I realize why my mom is so in love with this town. When I realize I might just be, too.
School has started and I'm officially a freshman. Kinda scary, when you think about it. We're two weeks into school and I already have the goal to be valedictorian, which just goes to show you how much of an over-achiever I am. What's even better is the fact that I started writing my speech. If that's not being pro-active- tell me, what is?
Our house has been taken over by flies, which love to land on our faces and arms and computer screens while we work. Luckily, today we recieved our custom fly-swatter-tennis-racket-gizmos, as I've christened them. You just press a button, hit a fly and then viola! Fried flies, anyone?
Gabe and Sky have spent the past twenty minutes trying these out. They're leaping around the house like ninjas, slapping their flyzappers on every surface possible and scoring each other for how loud the snap was. Its times like this that I wonder what my life would be like in a house of girls... and then I picture it and I thank Jehovah I don't have sisters!
Jesse has been sick for the past few days with fever, and he's taken to walking around the house wrapped in his blanket like a giant slug. It's kinda funny, actually.
Well, that's it for now! Thanks for reading!

The Fight Begins

Well, I'm finally doing it.
I'm finally reaching for my dream-- the thing I've wanted since I was a little girl. Close family members might recall that little girl with waist-long braids stapling sheets of printer paper together and drawing a story with crayons. They remember me thrusting my 'books' into their faces with the demand to 'read it'. They remember enduring my poor spelling and shapeless words. All my friends wanted to be princesses or artists or movie stars when they grew up. I wanted to write books, simple as that.

I can recall walking into a Barnes And Nobles, holding my dad's hand and wondering if one day any of the books would have my name on the front cover. How I used to daydream that some day girls would imitate my characters. You might think it an odd fantasy for a seven-year-old, but I honest-to-goodness wanted that above all else. I still have those daydreams, albeit with a little more grown-up detail now. I picture book signings and Newbury awards... but until this last Friday I had never really taken a direct step towards my dream.

I was just growing more and more frustrated for the past few weeks. I'm being pushed towards my 15th birthday and I still haven't left my mark on the world yet. So I did a quick but desperate google search; "How do I publish a book?!"

Well, fortunately for me google has never let me down. Up popped a list of links that led to different 'how to' sites. I got busy reading articles, poring through web pages like some word-hungry freak. And, I must admit, I knew a lot less about the publishing process than I had thought. But I wasn't disheartened. Instead, I got to work looking up agent lists. After I had compiled a list of names, I wrote my query letter. And then- viola! All I had to do was click 'send'.

I think after that moment, after that final click of the mouse that signified my first real attempt to follow my dream, I just kind of sat back in my chair and let out a sigh of relief. I thought 'I did it. I finally started my dream.' And thats when the crazy smile spread over my face.

I know book publishing isn't exactly a cake-walk. I know I will get rejection emails- lots and lots of them. But you know what? I don't care. Because I know that even if I have to try my hardest and keep sending and searching for the rest of my life-- I'll be happy. I'll feel accomplished. And I also know that someday (hopefully someday soon), an agent will click on my email and say 'this is it, this is exaclty the kind of project I'm looking for'.

And when that day comes; trust me. I'll be ready for it.

Consider Yourself Updated

Hey everyone!

Sorry about my last (brief) post. I didn't provide very many details on the awesome times going on here. But I can tell you that they haven't ended.

Today I went out in service from 9 to 1, and spent an hour or so at Tammy's while Kota got his haircut. They were watching 'A Cinderella Story' to pass time. Gah. Let me just say, not my cup of tea. The 'cheesy-romance-guy-really-seems-too-perfect' type. I like movies where the male lead is rough around the edges, rides a Harley, and has dark mysterious battle scars from his former 'bad-boy' life. This one had too-perfect hair and was just too mushy. He recites POETRY for gosh sakes. POETRY! What kind of self-respecting dude quotes 19th century french poets? None that I would kiss, that's for dang sure.

ANYWAY, not trying to rant. Me and the girls have spent a lot of time swimming over the past week, which is why I'm sporting a tan much darker than usual. With that, and the loss of eleven pounds (yes, eleven!) I think I'm looking pretty damn good! Pretty soon here I'll be sliding into those size sixes, yesiree bob!

We went to a congregation picnic the day before last, and I'll admit to gorging on the buffet a little TOO eagerly. Monday I fasted until dinner, though, and this morning I was down another TWO pounds! I lost another one in the five minute dance session that followed. Anyhoo, the picnic was a lot of fun. Lots of socialization and even some good photos. We got a group shot of everyone there! But I'm too impatient to post it.

So that's about it. Thanks for reading!

Dueces! Y

Keeping Busy

A quick post from your favorite blog author, just to tell you that my cousins came to town! Yep, that's right. My last shout out must have worked, 'cos they appeared at our door that very same day. Since then, we've been keeping busy. Wednesday we went to Lake Osoyoos and pigged out on chips. Thursday we leapt off the cliffs at Blue Lake and swam with wolf spiders (yikes!). Friday we went to Tonasket Pool and tried to look pretty for the lifeguards. And today we're going to Winthrop for Ice Cream and some mini-golf! Yes, we're having lots of fun in Tonasket. Now I gotta go! There's fun to be had!

Dueces! Y