Ol O

Ol O
Originally uploaded by sasadler.

My hood is missing a couple of the "v's"

Big Stick

Big Stick
Originally uploaded by sasadler.

Steering Wheel

Steering Wheel
Originally uploaded by sasadler.

This actually is a functioning steering wheel.

Decorative Radio

Decorative Radio
Originally uploaded by sasadler.

The Ingition Key to Sten

DSCN0643
Originally uploaded by sasadler.

Sten, it means Stone. Like Papa was a Rolling..

DSCN0637
Originally uploaded by sasadler.

When I told my sister about the Volvo, she said, "Does it run and everything?"
I told her, "It runs, it doesn't do the everything though. Like tail lights, but the horn works...at least when you put it in reverse and turn the wheel it honks. Not when you press on the horn."

Orion's armpit

p01porion
Originally uploaded by sasadler.

I was in the back yard of a friend's house letting out her dog on one of those stunningly clear February nights when I noticed Orion. A friend called me on the cell phone from across town and I asked if she could see it. So, using the nearly full moon as the main point of reference, I lead her to the big red star that is Orion's armpit. Hard to find it in the picture, it is the red star on the upper left side. It's name, I learned on jeopardy earlier tonight, is called Betelgeuse. What a name.

Sten's cousin

1962_07
Originally uploaded by sasadler.

I'll post a photo of Sten, which means Stone in Swedish, btw, Like Rolling Stone, as soon as I can.

He looks just like this guy, but different.

Olga or Olaf or perhaps Sven, Lars??

Our friend's, Elliot, Oliver and their folks, Lloyd and Christie deserted us and moved to Minnesota. Lloyd is one of those fellers who can pretty much do anything. He has a PhD in some sort of economic businessie thingish stuff, and can build stuff and fix things and likes to buy old cars and houses, fix them and sell them. He started a project, a 1961 Volvo 122. He however found himself commuting from MN to Seattle and had no time for the ancient beast. So when they moved yesterday, I took possession of the car.

It has been very entertaining. I went to the Volvo Parts Nazis to see if I could get in the in-crowd. The story is, these guys have everything, but if they don't like you, they have nothing. I was nervous going in, but as it turns out, the owner, Ou, is a cambodian refugee who lived in the Thai camps for 4 years and speaks about as much Thai, or a bit more, than I do. So we chatted about the heat and food in SE Asia. Which, by the way, is exactly what I talked about when I lived in Thailand. I passed whatever test and out came the needed part for about 150 dollars less than I thought I was going to need to spend. The part, by the way, was a hood. It didn't have a hood. It does now.

I went up to Ballard, the Swedish neighborhood appropriately, and picked up the car. Starting the thing is a bit involved. There is a wrench that loosens the filter that exposes the...oh probably the carburetor, where one sprays starter fluid. Then one pulls out the choke, pumps the gas and inserts the key, easily recognized as a screwdriver, into the cable and Voila, the car sparks into life.

I drove to Wallingford. No tail lights, no indicators, one headlight, oh....and my license is expired.

74%

These are the states I have visited. I did one of the world too, but it looked so grand becasue I have been to Moscow. If you have been to Russia, there is a BIG red swath on your map.

I didn't get to choose the color.


create your own personalized map of the USA
or check out ourFlorida travel guide

There Goes the Neighborhood

I was taking my daughter to our neighborhood Taco del Mar, right next to a little red brick plaza and a giant statue of Lenin when I saw a black dog who appeared to be on it's own. I was talking to the fellow, petting it, looking for a tag, looking around for an owner type person. Then suddenly, I heard a voice from the other side of a short wall telling me how I should ask before petting someone else's dog. I apologized and explained that I didn't see an owner and thought he might be lost. She asked how I would like it if she went up and molested my daughter, 'cause that was basically what I had done.

Great. So now I am going to have to put an notice up in my neighborhood and register as a dog molester. Dog owners will go on the News at 10 and say, "I have a dog. Well, my cousin's in-laws do, down in Arlington and I just love that ol' bitch. I don't want their kind just 16 blocks from me"

They will picket my house, 'Not In Our Neighborhood!!!" They'll be no peace. Oh, the shame of it all.

I decided that perhaps dog owner lady was over reacting a bit and I did what any reasonable mother of a perfect, happy little girl would do. When Ellie was out of hearing range, I went to said dog owner lady and very slowly and clearly and a perhaps in a bit of a sternish voice, "You are hecka whacked"

Except I didn't say 'hecka.'

Breaky Dinner

Ellie, today to school, wore a lovely pink silky nightgown with matching pink boots and contrasting blue fleece pants.

So, for dinner, Kim thought we should have breakfast for dinner. Everyone was to wear sleeping attire for dinner.

This lacked a certain appeal for me, given that today was the first time in 5 days that I donned anything but sleeping attire. Did I mention that of Saturday's 24 hours, I slept 20 of them? Not rested, not was in bed...but slept for 20 hours.

Now they are wearing underwear for hats and had a snow-sock fight. They can be rather cute...

Neologism

Neologism is my favorite new word. It means new word. Or more derogatorily, made-up word. In the universe of parenting, we strive to promote this activity whenever possible, as it keeps us entertained.

Many neologistic words are adopted by the family and are used well after the inventor as adopted the 'proper' word.

Example. I go to the Airplane port. And have for years. Ellie, however, now goes to the "It's an airport, Mama."

At night, I help put her into her Dress-nite nite, that she now calls her pajamas. But that is still a cute word, so I won't complain too loudly.

My worldly child has also learned that the third toe does not represent the piggy that gets tofu, but it is in fact roast beef. While not a neologism, but rather a fabrication on the part of a vegetarian mother, it is still a sign of things to come.

Malaprops are also the backbone of age 5. Today in Phoenix's class, the teacher was asking what you put at the end of a sentence. A little boy, we'll call him Sven, there aren't enough Sven's in the world, raised his hand and said, 'Pyramids!'

Close.

Phoenix asked his mom if it were opossums??

Another question was where wood comes from? One girl said her mother's boy friend. Another kid said, "What about God?"

Pyramids, 'Possums, Boyfriends and God...

A Wee Nap

After playing hooky w/ Ellie, I dropped her off at school and was driving toward work and thought of a tool I'd forgotten. I crossed the bridge, turned around, and had a difficult time remembering how to get home from Queen Ann. (The very next neighborhood over.)
I finally made it and decided to lie down. 5 days later, I got up.

Sylvia called me tonight. She said she wants to quit using email. She told me she wanted to program her auto reply to read, "If you really need to get hold of me, send me a letter." Upon further thought, she has decided she wants all correspondence important enough to garner her attention to be hand written, on parchment, delivered with a wax seal on horseback.

Sylvia complained, "You never right me letters."
me: I send you postcards.
Sylvia: Letters. I said letters.
Me: We live in the same town!
Sylvia: I want to see the guy on the horse come to my door.

Guru El

Wednesday night a gardening client whom I frankly don't like, called and was frustrated with me. I share her sentiments, though kinda in reverse.

Thursday morning, Ellie asked me why I had made that sound. That sound being a sigh. I told her I had a lot to do. "Like when you run around and you have one thing and then another thing?" Yes, I told her, like that.

"You need to go in your room and repeat your favorite word. Your favorite word is 'gardening' right Mama?"

"Not this morning. My favorite word is Ellie. Let's take the morning off and go to the studio instead of going to school."

"Really, Mama?"

"Yup."

So we did. I cleaned the studio while Ellie un-cleaned. Yin and Yang. A perfect morning.

Two progeny

Two of the Big Guys progeny bit the dust last night. Gavin, though weak kneed, is feeling satisfied. Now if we can get the mama, we might stop the cycle of death. I would upload a picture, but...well, it's gross.

This time, I heard no snap

Gavin, the one who wanted to go upstairs with a little bow and arrow to hunt down the R.A.T s, was convinced, as the man of the house, to set the rat traps upstairs. My initial plan to have the critters open the cellophane to the rat traps, pull back the hinge and release it on their necks did not work. Gavin put the rat traps so they had to reach the peanut butter bait head first. Smarter boy than I am.

Sooooooooo, last night in the wee hours as I was up anyway with a busy mind and a sore throat, I heard something running around. Then I heard a desperate flopping about noise. This morning, I went upstairs and sure enough, a big, ugly Norwegian roof rat was lying there dead as a doornail. Ellie wanted to see, opened the attic door and announce, "I'm Coming Up, Rat!" There was no answer.

Inheritance

I have been thinking a lot about Nature vs Nurture. Having a young child does that to a person, I tellya. The mystery is greater, being an adoptive parent.

Last night at dinner, Phoenix and Ellie were talking about adding numbers like the "Stupid Machine" in a puppet show they saw. 2+2=7 Funny stuff to be sure. 13+13=16. Who am I to argue with that, this being my 3rd attempt at 39?

Any ol' how, back to Nature vs Nurture. Parents, we are a group of natural scientists. (Or narcissists, perhaps) Looking at our children wondering where they get there appearance, expressions, personality, mannerisms. When Ellie is stubborn or blaming, I say under my breath, she gets that from Heather's side of the family. When she is out-going, charming or a
funny, I am sure it is a Sadler trait.

Last night, as the salad was being passed around the table and Ellie said, "Mama Sal (pronounced "Shal") is allergic to hazelnuts. Huh, mama? Are there hazelnuts in the salad?" Kim assured her there was not. Just sunflower seeds. Ellie asked if I was allergic to hazelnuts as a kid. I told her no, my siblings and I all grew into that particular allergy as adults. She ask if she was going to get allergic from hazelnuts from my side of the family. I told her I doubted it. She asked why. I was stumped on how to answer.

My Birthday Speech

Today, on my 41st birthday, I have numerous, numerous words of wisdom to share.

Birthdays. Why, you wondered out loud. Only Jeopardy can give me the question. Perhaps 2008 will be the year.

For crying in the soup, I am 39, good lookin’, funny as the day is long—I mean, what’s not to love?!

Yet, as I reflect more deeply on the existential meaning of my life. I know that the relationship I share with my chickens, compost pile and immediate neighbors to the South are imperative to the joy I bring to all of you this year.


QU’EST-CE QUE C’EST????????????????? QU’EST-CE QUE C’EST???????

In the interest of brevity, let me just say that I truly appreciate the effort that each and every one of you has made on MY behalf. So, a very happy Birthday to me!

Qu’est ce que c’est. In another words, what is it that this is. Bush, ………..capitalism, ………………the crab smell of my dishes after this dinner,……………….. the meaning of our lives, ……………….why I go to church, …………………those without personal 4-wheeled transportation………..are the divine, ………….existentialism bespensialism. I’m here damnit and you are all the better for it. Long live me.


PS Full disclosure demands that the authors names be revealed. :Jean Jean, Carl, Kim and Bev.