He sang of sleeping in the kitchen with your feet in the hall, new suits, and strange hotels.

Take Your Lamp to Work

It was my first week on the job, and after settling in, I decided a lamp would homey up the cubicle. So, I grabbed one of the basement lamps, the one from the ’80s, and schlepped it to work.

On the way in, it seemed appropriate we celebrate the journey with a few photos.

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Lamp selfie. How cute.

imageLamp still-life with sculpture. (Lampy really wanted this shot. Even after I insisted it wouldn’t be very exciting. Whatever.)

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Traipsing about in the park.

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Don’t even try parking here, Lampy. You’ll get slapped with a ticket and then the towing company will haul your sweet 60-watt bulbs away.

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Every stairwell is a stage. Lampy makes a dramatic entrance to the new work environs.

Teeing up tomatoes for one last blast of gazpacho.

Corn, you better like it.

Me: Hungry?
Mikey: Yea! What’s for dinner?
Me: This microwaved cob of corn.

What happens when Tracy goes back to work.

Indeed, there are mysteries in the world a person of my limitations can never begin to fathom. Such as the affection people have toward spots. How one marries romance with war-heartedness. Or why my name is now Helmut.

But I want to know.

And since I imagine my new pen pal Leona values friendships, (you’d have to be somewhat sociable to value friends. Right?) the least I can do is respond to her.

And click that link…

What’s the worst that could happen?

Just another Shi Shi Sunday. This ocean-side national park is about as northwest as it gets in the contiguous US.

Bad Limericks

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This week, I threw down the gauntlet to pen poorly constructed limericks for anyone donating to my Bike MS fundraiser. And here’s the best part… some people donated twice just to get their name wedged into a bad poem. The things people do. (Actually, the things that people I know do.) FYI: That’s me, front left, with the yellow neon elbows.

Here are a few of the besties.

Ahem:

A gift was pledged by “Anonymous”
What a joy, what a pleasure for all of us
I’ll ride till it hurts. Even sleep in a yurt
To support MS research, you wanna must

(One week later, Anonymous donated again after revealing her true identity: Mom. So I wrote a second limerick.)

My Mom, she knows how to cook
She don’t even need a cook book
In the kitchen she’s handy, call her Chef Boy-r-Sandee
She makes it look fun with no wook


Bill and Anne are supreme human beings
Who love a good song and volunteering
Although it is said, they like to drink red,
It never impedes with golf teeing

The weather was hot and muggy
I wish I’d driven a buggy
But because I’m a twerp, I ride on this berth
Dreaming how I’ll give you a wuggy

(Here’s one I wrote for two published poets. You know how hard it is to be a published poet? You need to own, like, four cats.)

The cats cooked up something real good
In their microwave perched o’er cat food
They purred and they quipped mewing “Deb, pass the dip”
And then Witte was all, “Cats don’t eat dip, that’s crazy! Here, let me open the door so you can go outside and talk to the goats.”

Ms. Kristen’s an internet maven
Whose hair is soft, silky and waven
She spied Benedict and declared, “He’s my pick”
‘Twas a Cumberbatch made in heaven

Ode to Liz Conklin from P.A.
I think of her most every day
She was once thrown a hex by a witch, (I don’t jest)
But a coworker got in the way…
(True story. Liz once had a colleague accidentally step in front of her just as another coworker fired a hex at her. Since then, Liz always carries a compact mirror at the ready. It’s not vanity, people. It’s survival.)

Dollars flowed free from his wallet
To honor Ted Harrold, what a call out!
Smart “like fox” for a man with no thumb
Thank God he never sported a mullet

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At the tee on Labor Day: A Romoser triumvirate spanning three generations prepares to dominate the public golf course.

At the tee on Labor Day: A Romoser triumvirate spanning three generations prepares to dominate the public golf course.

Following are a few photos of Shi Shi Beach, two during our ninth anniversary backpacking trip. We’ve only missed one year of this family tradition and were impressed by how quickly the kids made it down to the shore after we had them park the car at Tilly’s on the Makah Indian Reservation. There’s a three-mile trail originating from the reservation that winds down to the beach and onto the shores of the Olympic National Park.

In the next photo, taken during our first visit to Shi Shi, Davey investigates an intricate plumbing system constructed from bullwhips, a hollow sea kelp that washes up onto the shore after high tides. A series of these long tubes can be connected to each other to transport water from a higher elevation, such as a stream or waterfall. It’s a very Swiss Family Robinson way to irrigate an outdoor kitchen.

And lastly, that’s our daughter Katie. Even though I yell at her to cover up with SPF infinity, she loves adding more freckles to her skin. I have another photo of her standing on Shi Shi with a sea star atop her noggin. Silly kid.

Guess what time it is

It’s 6:15 a.m. Friday morning and I haven’t had coffee yet. And I won’t. Also, it’s raining.

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This is the first day of the RSVP (Ride from Seattle to Vancouver and Party). We will ride our bicycles over 104 miles the first day. All the way to Bellingham, Washington where we will take showers at a friend’s house, stay up too late and then collapse on the floor.

The next day, we’ll get up and ride to the border of Canada and the US. This will be in the rain, again. We’ll get lost for a little bit, find our way and meander through farmland. We’ll eventually see Vancouver, BC in the distance. It will seem like a mirage but eventually we’ll arrive at the hotel (after spending a brief time looking for Leslie). There we will get a little medallion that says we’re insane.

And then we’ll party.