Lulubelle's Revenge

Marriage is a funny thing. It has a life of its’ own and needs feeding.  I have learned more from watching my kids and their relationships than I ever learned in my own.

 My oldest daughter, Lulubelle, was not an easy kid to raise. She was bright, stubborn, clever, and had the knack of finding the one thing that would annoy me the most and doing it.  From the day he was born her brother became a target. She loved him but she also felt he was a test subject. She once cut her brother’s beautiful blonde hair while he was in the high chair. He smiled a toothless smile at me and I then noticed the missing tuft of hair at the top of his head. Lulubelle then proceeded to cut her own very long hair right above her ear; on one side.  When I asked her why, she said “Grandma said if you cut your hair it grows faster and I want long hair”. Oy. (sigh) I understood her logic.

As the years progressed Lulubelle became a favorite among many. She was headstrong, straight forward, goofy and defiant.  It was a hard combination to parent.  We had many arguments through the preteen and teenage years. Silly arguments; both of us struggling for power.  Instead of focusing on loving my daughter, I was focused on controlling her. Such a waste of energy. Why would I want to control a free spirit? I realized one day that one of my favorite things to do was to watch her ride her horse. She would run across the fields with her hair flying free. What a beautiful sight! I began to realize that this visual was exactly who she was. She needed freedom; freedom from me. She went to stay with her dad and on making that decision I started mending my relationship with Lulubelle.

Lulubelle grew into a beautiful woman. She married and had babies. The is the same girl who hole punched the kitty’s  ear so it could wear earrings, peeled the sheetrock off the wall when she was bored, snuck out of the house but didn’t  “sneak” back in, and ate ice cream by the gallon. She has had her trials with my grandchildren. They are bright, clever, stubborn, headstrong, and goofy.  She has had to clean up the remnants of an attempted cake baking gone wrong,  colored walls, lipstick painted bodies, removed diapers and what was in them painted…everywhere.  Her childhood has most definitely come back to haunt her. 

 Through all her trials she has kept her dignity, with frustrated humor and calls me to tell me about it. I support her and comfort her by telling her, “ no, there is nothing wrong with your children. They are just children.” As her kids have grown, so has her marriage. What started as a young couple teetering, is now a solid couple who has figured out what works for them. They both make an effort to keep their bond fresh and alive. They go on dates and do random interesting things.

As a woman she is something to be proud of. She is a wonderful momma. She is true to her friends and she is there when you need her. Many times I have called her at the last minute to see if she can help with an event at my work and she is there, willing and able. I enjoy her dry humor and straight forward attitude. She is capable and reliable. I’ve enjoyed watching this rebellious girl turn into a strong woman, good friend, loyal sister and compassionate mother.   I mostly enjoy watching her feel particularly in control until she realizes…she has siblings. 

Siblings that aren’t afraid of her. They aren’t afraid of her bark. (and she has one)  One particular day her brother and I were buying Halloween candy. He picks up some horrid looking fake tarantulas with hairy legs and I say “what are you…? Oh no.”  He has a devilish grin.   We head up to Lulubelle’s for dinner. I’m down stairs and he asks me if I notice anything. I look around, and up in the curtains are a couple very long hairy legs poking out.  He is a brave soul.  He is so happy that I didn’t have the heart to remind him he will have to deal with the wrath of Lulubelle. He’s used to it, I suppose.  I shake my head at him, and then I hear it. “ahhh! Who put that on my bed?!” He grins bigger. Revenge for Lulubelle wasn’t over.  He had hidden them throughout the house and she found them on random occasions. Each time calling her brother names and he would grin. 

One day Lulubelle revealed that she thought yard gnomes were creepy.  So of course, her brother went out and bought some. He also included their youngest sibling, to insure secrecy.   Every now and then he or the sibling would place a yard gnome in her flower bed. Time went on with no comments from Lulubelle. He would ask me, “has she said anything?” Finally after a few months of hiding them, Lulubelle calls me to tell me she had just got done scolding her boys for lying that there were gnomes in their yard. (“you two are watching too much Harry Potter!” ); until she went out to check. “Mom! Where did they come from?!” Well, none of us told her, which drove her crazy. Why she didn’t immediately put it together that it was her brother, is beyond me.   She came to adjust to her creepy yard gnomes. She still has them. She’s even created flower beds for them. Maybe as a reminder that even when people aren’t with you, they still think about you.  Maybe it’s so that she remembers you are never in control. Maybe it’s to remind her to get back at her brother. Seriously, he can’t possibly think that’s not going to happen…. Could he?

Salsa, Singing and “Sista’s”-

Family is not an important thing, it’s everything.

                                                                   -Michael J. Fox

I was reminded this last week while in a Canning frenzy about the importance of family—yes of course it is helpful when in the throws of a canning frenzy to have additional hands to make the job go more efficiently, but there was a lesson to be learned about what family means.

Izzy came over to make salsa. We had between us, 3 cases of tomatoes and all the stuff that goes into a batch of our delicious goodness.

Estherbegood was in attendance and all of us were busily chopping, dicing or juicing away.

Of course music plays a huge role in our friendship and family, and the songs were blaring. Izzy, Esther and I would break out into 3 part harmony with the likes of Credence to Fleetwood Mac.

We sang and continued to prep the salsa until we were ready to can. Jars were labeled, seals were set and rings attached and into the hot bath the salsa went.

When all was done we left the cooling jars and drove up to the neighborhood watering hole for dinner and conversation.

Later that evening when I was saying goodnight to Izzy and to Esther, I realized that family means more than blood.

All these years of knowing Izzy it had just dawned on me that she was more than my friend, she was family.

Yes—I suppose that isn’t that profound to most of you but honestly, it was to me.

My family, under this definition, is huge. Friends over the years who have become more than acquaintances but threads in the tapestry of my life.

Take for instance Angelique and the ARTIST, Jackie Chan and Roy Rogers, Case of Bass , CoCo and the Texan, The Hippie Clan, The Z family, The Roofer and Blue Eyes, and of course Doc and Irish—all family—not blood you know--- but bound by love and friendship.

Thanks Izzy for the years together-they have not only been memorable but spectacular!!

NOW for the salsa recipe:

WASH all of it thoroughly!!

3 lbs  of tomatoes (preferably Roma) Chopped
1-2 onions (chopped)
1 lb Tomatillo's (chopped)
4 Jalapenos (seeded and chopped)
2 bunches cilantro (chopped)
Juice of 2 -3 limes
1-2 tsps salt

THIS will make a bunch so adjust for your use and taste--honestly these are the ingredients--YOU make the quantity's fit your taste buds.

Enjoy and have some family over !

Girls Gotta Have Fun

Summer has come and gone for those of us  in the Pacific Northwest, or PNW as we texters like to say. Long gone are our 90 degree days, and on to our mid 60  misty days of fall. I love Fall. I’m not a summer girl. However, summer does bring on the bravery of adventure. Summer makes us feel invincible, young and alive!

I have turned 50.
 50.  The golden number where you realize everything has shifted, lower.  I have no finances to shift things “up”, so I must do my duty to move this body a little more toward the elusive “perky” stage. This is not going to happen I realize, but the fun is in the challenge not necessarily the ending, right?  This summer I tried to do some new things, active things.

 I went on a girls trip. 

We traveled around central Oregon to some out of the way places and stayed in a really cute house that I’m pretty sure was haunted. I didn't  mention it to the other girls.  I had been talking zombies all weekend due to the audio book I had been listening to during the week. It was probably best that I didn't bring up some of the oddities of the house. Like the old clothes hanging on the walls. As if a person should actually be in them, clear down to the perfect hat and handbag. Then there was the "Annual Book of Knowledge"..... from 1953. hmmm

 At one point I was feeling a bit snarky so when we were at a stop sign and Bubbles asked if there was any traffic coming, I said “no, just the zombies”. (I was chuckling.) She says”Zombies can’t run. Or grab doors. They are powerless without their heads”. Shoot. They didn’t include that part in the audio book.

We found some beautiful landscapes. The painted hills look just like their pictures by the way.

We even found a few shoes trees. 

Now, why  would people throw shoes up in trees? Well, as it happens, it is a rite of passage; signifying an ending or new beginning. Students throw shoes up in a tree when they graduate, or hikers who’ve reached the conclusion of a particularly challenging trek. I don’t know if this is a central Oregon thing or what, but where I live, we have things like cake in those situations. 

Bubbles wanted to see dinosaur bones. So we went to a place where they have fossils. (Fossil Oregon) We saw leaves, branches, rocks, no dinosaur bones. All was not lost, we did see the biggest dandelion ever.  At the end of this hike we came across a rattle snake warning sign. Yes, posted at the end, not the beginning. Probably for people like me, who wouldn't  have hiked in the first place if I had known there were snakes out there waiting for me. 

Our little town for the weekend had a ghost town set up going on. In it was a graveyard with cowboy boots by the headstone. Charming.  This quaint little town had some of the prettiest yards. We soon learned there was reason for it. Each month there was a contest to see who had the nicest yard. The winner received a pie. My kind of contest!

It also had the smallest library, ever. The size of a mail box. ( Uh huh. I’m not kidding.  They really believe in the honor system.) 

The most unique part of that town was the sign in sheet for the duck races on the 4^th of July at the local market.  I looked for a camera, really? But yes, there are duck races on the fourth of July and the list of entrants was actually quite long. Impressive. 

On our travels I noticed we kept coming across some of the most random signs ever. How does one prove this? Take pics! 

#1 (at a closed gas station)  what? Ew!

#2 (in an antique store on the toilet tank)  Ok, Bubbles…you go first.

#3.(at the painted hills)  Ummmm so where exactly are we supposed to walk…?

#4 (also at the painted hills, at the end of the trail…) all this gets is an eye roll. Really??

#5 (at the end of the fossil trails)   Are you KIDDING ME?!!

 In the gorge we saw windsurfers, tons of them.

In central Oregon we saw amazing landscapes and rock formations.

 On the way home we stopped at Stonehenge. which I think is really a mystical place but no one else does.  Got some great shots there. After Bubbles took a photo of me I said “I didn’t have Bingo wings did I?”  and she told me “You can’t have Bingo wings unless you do a Bingo.”.  oh.....Ok.

Stonehenge  sits up on Maryhill in Goldendale WA. was built in  1929 with the grandest view. It is so serene. Something about it makes you talk quieter be a little more respectful and have some unidentified emotions.

  It was a great weekend, with some really wonderful ladies. We laughed a lot, learned something new about each other, explored, did some singing, ate some great food, made friends with the locals, found out that Kia Soul is actually quite comfortable for a road trip, saw some enormous windmills, beautiful fields, quirky abandon shacks, too much to fit in one blog. 

So, we decided we must have another girls weekend. This time we will stay closer to home and explore what is right in our own backyard so to speak, maybe enjoy a few glasses of wine while we’re at it.

And for the intellect in you:

Did you know that the fear of windmills is called Anemophobia and/or Ancraophobia?

Yea.
Me either.


Izzy

Next blog : The Salsa Adventures….

"Bingo Wing and the 10 year old"

As it happened, I had the opportunity to spend an entire weekend with my nephew Haystack recently. 

I have never learned so many things in such a short time, granted not all of them were true but all of them were entertaining.

My nephew Haystack is 10 years old. If you know anything about 10 year old boys they are at the age where they still see girls as an annoyance and flatulence as something beyond hilarity.

Haystack has a penchant for story telling. He is an awesome storyteller.  Granted the stories only have an element of truth in them, but all in all, they are entertaining and always leave me pondering which part was true.

This last weekend, Haystack joined my husband (the one aforementioned as too wonderful to name) and another family for a weekend getaway to the Columbia River Gorge.

Saturday morning arrived and it was decided that we would go to the cultural museum in town. 

Many harrumphs were heard mostly because of the word museum. I immediately changed it to interpretive center.

Once inside, Haystack was on the go—going from exhibit to exhibit. There was an elevator of which we had to try each floor. There were bugs, and hides and pointy things and all the while I found my mother voice saying—“Haystack, don’t touch. The sign says don’t touch”.

Haystack, I found out, learns by touching. He learns by doing.

We ventured out to the back of the “interpretive center” where old machinery and equipment had been laid to rest.

This was Haystack’s playground for the next 45 minutes as he scampered into old bulldozers and graders and played with levers and gauges and pretended (I am guessing) that he was a logger of old.

We took pictures and encouraged his play, mostly in hopes it would wear him out but that isn’t the norm for a 10 year old by. In fact, I was worn out and ready for a nap before we were done. Such is the power of a 10 year old.

As we began to end our venture at the interpretive center, there was a opportunity to make a rubbing from samples of petroglyphs of the area.

Haystack proceeded to remind me that these were the drawings from the Indians preschools and kindergarten classes and they had been carved into the rock because they were so good.

OK—that was a pretty good explanation since the owl petroglyph looked like something I would draw, but I reminded him they were hundreds of years old and that it was most likely adults that carved them.

I don’t think he was impressed as he stopped completing his rubbing and wanted to go outside. So much for culture….

We went back to the house and had lunch and everyone went outside except for Haystack and myself.

He was telling me a story.actually, in all honesty, I think he was telling me  as story ,when he announces that “old people have Bingo Wings”.

This caught my attention since I am slipping over the threshold into old.

“What are Bingo wings” I asked, not sure if I wanted to know.

And with all the flair of a master storyteller, Haystack regales me of old people who play bingo and every time they get a bingo and raise their arms, the lower portion of flesh on their arms flaps in the breeze like a wing.

He is quite proud of himself as I sit there with my mouth open. I am guessing even my mouth open will some day generate some other little description he shares such as “old lady lip” or “gravity gone wild”.

I ask him if he came up with that himself. He answers “yes”.

This is the time that I am grateful I am wearing a long sleeved sweater. Long sleeved anything at my age prevents the ever-dreaded “Bingo wing”. I grab my sleeves and yank them down and then I change the subject.

~Bubbles

Things that should never happen, and do.

So I hear  things happen for a reason. Reasons, beyond our control; that we wouldn't understand.  I choose to use the phrase "what am I supposed to learn from this?"

What are some of the things you never want to happen to you?

 Well, I can tell you without even thinking mine would be to be caught going to the bathroom when a fire alarm goes off. How do you shut mother nature off and run out a door? I can tell you!

A few weeks ago I had this exact experience. Started a new job and  wore a dress...which is not really my style. I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of gal. Although, if I can find a nice pair of shooties to wear with my jeans it's a sparklin' day. (Shooties-shoes that look like boots.Mine have a heel, not to high , juuuussstt right.)  Anyway,  so there I was in the girls room in the middle of relief and the fire alarm goes off. I'm thinking,  it's a drill, I have time. Nope, the boss raps on the door. "evacuate!"

(yes, that's exactly what I'm doing and these thing are on their own time table).

 The problem was not the "going" it was pulling things up and then pulling spanx down and then pulling down a dress that was multiple layers. Spanx are also on their own time table...I don't know how anyone quickly gets them back in place. They are tight for a reason.They are made to smooth all the squishies us women over 30 have earned. Ok, 35....yes, yes...40. Finally after making sure nothing was tucked where it shouldn't be I walk out the door. There is the boss waiting for me and telling me not only do we evacuate but we relocate. Across the road, on the corner, with the rest of the building. I get to the designated spot and there are all my coworkers,obviously, knowing I was in the girls room. My words of wisdom? "just so you know, if your in the bathroom and the fire alarm goes off....you can hear it".

 Silence.

Then I hear "awkward".

 ya think?

This is a once in a lifetime situation...right?
Maybe not.

Yesterday I was getting beautified. (my hair colored)  Now, to give you a visual, I have a lot of hair. Medium length and curly. When I get my hair done it's a process. Picture Bette Midler in Hocus Pocus, (minus the teeth)  Got it? ok, so there I am, hair wild, foil all over, sticking up everywhere and.....the fire alarm goes off.

 No! THIS is worse than getting caught with your pants down. (And I should know.)   All the girls in the shop are talking about the "hot firemen", which yes, I have a thing for firemen.  The  boss tells us we have to evacuate and "Izzy you go first. "
Nu-uh I'm going down with the building on this one. I am not letting those brave.good looking, rugged, shirtless, musclebound, suspender wearing firemen see me . At least I think they were, I didn't have my glasses on.

Turns out the alarm was for the business next door, there was no fire, we didn't need to evacuate and I got to stay in my chair and admire the fuzzy, blurred, firemen from afar.



So, what am I to learn from this?
1. Never wait until you MUST go. Go when you think you might need to.
2. Spanx are wonderful for holding things in place and  do not move anywhere. Even if you want them to.
3. Not all firemen walk around shirtless.
4. Always wear your glasses, cuz even if your hair is standing straight up and smelly a fireman will give you CPR and you don't want to miss the rugged, musclebound, suspender wearing, sauntering firemen working his way over to you, now do you.

Till next time,
Izzy

Well now, I am guessing y'all want to know about little old me and how I came to know Izzy--well that's a really long story, but in all fairness to Iz, I did meet her around 20 years ago so at least her memory is still good.

You probably want to know how I got the name Bubbles.  Well to clarify, it is about my personality and not my digestive health. In fact, my personality can be quite bubbly and so I adopted the nick name Bubbles.

I am a pretty creative person--which can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on the situation. 

That is how Iz and I met--singing--playing a weekly gig in a small town . 

Unfortunately, we didn't always know ALL the songs the locals through at us, but we gave it our best. 

Good memories there--but the best being --meeting Izzy. 

As the years have gone by, we have sung in many venues throughout the PNW and in Mexico and each and every time is memorable because of Izzy.

In fact, to describe her is very easy. Izzy is unforgettable and she is real. 

Now enough on her and a bit more on me . I call the Pacific Northwest home but have been many places including overseas a number of times. I am married to the best man ever  and I mean ever. His name will be unmentioned as he is to great a catch and I don't like other woman to know.

I have a daughter,  Estherbegood who is a lot like me, but younger.  She is a singer as well and a musician so y'all may get the chance to hear the 3 of us some day.

As Iz mentioned, I like the sauce! Cooking and eating that is and I make mustard and BBQ sauces and anything with spicy goodness. We may even include a recipe or two for y'all to try. 

I am normal looking old woman and you wouldn't pay a second thought . 

 In fact, in all honesty, when I was your age,  I  didn't look at anyone older than me as having anything interesting in their life to tell me about. 

BOY, was I wrong. The most interesting people are those who have lived and enjoyed life, regardless of the cards dealt them. I have learned so much from older friends over the years and many times I stop seeing the aged face in front of me and begin to see that younger person that is hiding inside. 

So, the best advice I can give you is to know who you are--your identity and to live and be real. 

That is the key to being spectacular.  That is the key to being memorable. 

Izzy and I call it, Spectacularity!

More ramblings will be coming--but for now, Iz and I have an adventure to plan--Spectacularity doesn't just happen, it is also made!

~Bubbles

 

Meet Bubbles LaRue and Izzy Blu

Hello! My name is Izzy Blu. I've been friends with Bubbles for 20-some years. Has it been that long? Geez Bubbles, your getting old. I'm figuring this out based on the age of my youngest daughter. Having a youngest daughter that is 20 does not make me old it simply makes me WISE-er. At least wiser than I was when I had her. 3 words to describe me: Vivacious, Voluptuous, Very Entertaining.
 3 words to describe Bubbles: wow...how do I describe her in just three words? Let me check a Thesaurus...
Frolicsome, Free-Spirited (counting that as one word, sorry) and Earthy.

Some of my interests include: photography. Yes, we will be adding pictures. Most will be taken by us but if the pic fits the situation could be a copy. We will let you know.  I love taking pictures of odd, unique  interesting things, people and projects. Music would be next on the list, maybe first. But right now my obsession is photography, music is just who I am.  Anyway, trying to keep this short.

We are planning some local trips at the end of May and then again in June. My goal is to see as many of the local sights as possible. I have lived in the Pacific Northwest all my life and there are so many things I haven't seen! Silly isn't it? This is where the photography comes in.

Saucey Wench came from a name of some products Bubbles has produced. No, we will not be using this as an infomercial. We are a couple of gals who have fun, have unique views on things and can share our wisdom we have earned thru the years. Sometimes in the most unplanned way.

Wisdom quote number one: Boys grow up fast, but not emotionally. All men are stuck in teendom.Hence , the farting, need to grunt, and communicate with one word. Which is ok. You just gotta understand that.

It is a know fact that I love Shermar Moore. Seriously, I have you seen the guy? (sigh) Now ,because I have room in my heart for many, I also admire Johnny Depp  say I'm  married to Dwayne Johnson, and have a serious crush on Chris Hemsworth. I don't think Shermar minds. He's a pretty confident guy.

~next blog~ Meet Bubbles