THESE DAYS IN PICTURES

Waking with money in the bank and books on the brain, we journeyed to The Uptown for breakfast at Magills with our friend, Christoph.  I happily walked in my new Oxfords in our new and greatly appreciated sunshine, and my heels clapped like the pair of tap shoes they resemble.  And with a stomach full of fish n' chips and strong coffee on my breath, we made our way through the alley and around the corner to Adventures Underground. 

Walking in we were greeted by the guard of 'Adventures, Charlie;  a Scottish Wolfhound of intimidating size, but tender character.  He wagged his tail at us upon entering, and I was able to give him one of Magills' home-made dog treats and snap a few pictures.  He ate it feverishly and attempted to follow us home as we left.  Our booty was good.  We came home with a copy of Hemingway's Green Hills of Africa and Stephen Kings' Gunslinger (the first book in The Dark Tower Series).  My mind journeys into the taped-up boxes stacked up in our closet.  I imagine opening them and smelling that sweet scent that was our old house.  I file through their familiar covers and try to remember whether we have a copy of The Gunslinger or not.  I reckon we do, but when Joe and I find we have multiples of wonderful books, it only brings us happiness.  Now we will be able to give a copy of this wonderful book to a friend or traveler.  Joe is able to buy the newest installation to the Dark Tower series.  He finished it in just a few hours and regrets not buying more books.

After our trip we return home to meet up with friends to play music as the bluegrass band, Toothless Grin.  My husband on banjo, Johnny Marijuani on drums, Chris on stand-up bass, Robert on guitar and I on washboard.  The sweet memories of summer mix with my mason jar of mimosa to leave a delicious taste in my mouth.  The night follows with a night out and a bedtime of about 6:00 AM.  And the weekend continues to be comfortable and surrounded by friends.

1. Ol' Hunter S. Thompson being beautiful.
2.  My new oxfords.
3.  Charlie, the 'Underground dog.
4.  My new perfume, Lovely by Sarah Jessica Parker.
5.  The condenser mic and Johnny on the drums.
6&7.  My washboard and the thimbles I use to play it.  It came painted like that, and I personalized it a bit by adding Pabst cans all over the grass, a beer bong on the fence, and a ruckus flag flown proudly.
8.  One of my favorite records.
9.  The quarters we use to weigh down the needle when a warped record needs playing.
10.  Joe smoking.

WHAT I'M READING . WHAT HE'S READING

THE SHINING - STEPHEN KING

 



I've searched used-book stores across Washington for years to find a used copy of The Shining (but never got around to simply ordering one online).  On a time-killing trip to The Goodwill, I come across this simple and beautiful copy sitting timidly between Chicken Soup For The Teenage Soul and an Anne Rice novel.  It is paperback, to boot (my favorite)!  I nearly scream in the middle of a sea of jabbering children and shawled women crouching to read the self-help books.  I'm so excited, I start feverishly reading the titles of the books that are left to scan.  Pulp novel... shitty pulp novel... natural cookbook... On Writing!  Another Stephen King book, and one that had been stolen from me years past.  It was a wonderful trip to goodwill, and at a total of $3.00, I could hardly believe it.

I would normally have two books to mention on these posts, but we won't go book-hunting until tomorrow.  Joe just finished The Shining this morning before class, and it took him less than 24 hours to read.  This morning I wake up to find him smiling and nearly pulling out his hair in excitement.  Throughout the book he suspected - and at the end it all came together - that this book had numerous references to Stephen Kings world in The Dark Tower series (of which Joe is lost within for the rest of his life).

In our Uptown Shopping Center here in Richland, there's five antique stores and a large used book, comic and game store called Adventures Underground.  One antique store has an expansive library in the back.  I hate to think of the person who must have died, and whose family just put their books in an antique store.  But Joe and I are thankful, for we've found many a treasure in it's depths.  My unearthed gem is a first edition hardback of Wind, Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.  Searching through the shelves, I could hardly read the gold lettering on the blue binding, so I of course snatched it out.  It's always the ones with no title or dust cover that are the lucky finds.  I had just bought a small paperback of this book and read it a few weeks before, and as I opened it I found a tattered ripped piece from a newspaper advertising little girls' Mary-Janes.  It was this and it's uneven pages that made me research more into it's printing date, after purchasing it. 

My husbands gem was another first edition; Hemingway's Death in the Afternoon.  He had been searching for this non-fiction for years and we found it without dust cover and sitting on top of the standing books on the top shelf.  It's pages were rough and beautifully uneven, and filled with age-stained stories and photos of all the great Spanish bull fighters.

I hope that tomorrow we can unearth more treasures.

HEMINGWAY & BREAKFAST

I woke up after just a couple hours of sleep to prepare coffee and breakfast. The hound howled outside at the passing sirens, and the dogs next door barked in impatience that his howls are the only sounds he makes.

We're low on money, and so I make the cheap, ground coffee, and I do so as potent as possible. I heat what's left of our butter on the stove and crack the eggs on top to sizzle. I pour water across them, and cover them to trap in the steam. I toast the bread and scrape the walls of the jam jar to get every last boysenberry preserve. Joe has his standard breakfast of three fried eggs, over easy, between two sandwiches. I give this to him with napkins, which he'll need once he bites down into the soft yokes, and they come pouring down his chin and into his red beard. It happens every time, but he doesn't take them any other way. I make sure to let him know the left sandwich is the one with two yokes. I have my standard breakfast, two fried eggs heavily peppered, and two pieces of toast with jam on them. I wish I had a gin and tonic to go with this, but it's still perfect, so I enjoy my charcoaly, black coffee instead. 

It's when we are low on money and food that these simple meals are so delicious. It was Hemingway that taught me to savor. It was his tangerines and bag of nuts in his small, drafty apartment in Paris that filled my mouth with the taste of appreciation for small luxuries and moments. He says art is best taken in with an empty stomach, and I believe that the world becomes much brighter with one as well. When you are hungry and get the chance for a bite at bread and cheese, and to wash it down with a good drink, you savor every bite and remember every passing second. It's one of the few ways that you can be assured that you are truely living. You'll know that you're living the way we're all meant to - by appreciating every second that passes without looking in the past or to the future.

I miss our first house. The small, decrepit thing. It was there that I would read A Moveable Feast and Islands in the Stream day in and day out, over and over. In the summer I'd sit on our front steps with a room temperature coffee or a cold beer and read, or draw. And I would come inside with a new desire to eat simply and treasure it. When my husband complained of financial burdens I'd quote Hemingway to him and we'd look at how beautiful our life was. We'd remember all over again, that our house is always full of friends, and strangers soon to be. There'd be music filling the spaces between the people piled into our living room and kitchen, and nobody minded standing along a wall all night, or sitting snug next to a stranger.

BLACK COFFEE AND (CHEAP) WHISKEY

I am Laura.  I thrive on literature, art, music and among many other things, strong black coffee and (most likely, cheap) whiskey.  I live with my two main muses, my husband and my hound.  Joe is a walking piece of art, and that's not only because he has been a canvas for others.  Hunter S. Thompson is a wolf hybrid trying to be a domestic dog, which has resulted in him being the most intelligent and well-mannered I have been around.  We drink and recreationally indulge, and every moment is beautiful.  I will reminisce on our old house, Fort Ruckus, often, as we have recently left it.  And I will most likely drift into stories from the past years, as I had no outlet for their tales.

This is my husband, Joe, and that handsome hound of ours.  I am lacking in pictures of myself.. so that will come later.