Well, so how are all of you tonight? Yeah, okay, so we know that I've been promising this entry since Tuesday. Wonder of wonders, you've only had to wait a day. *Smirks*

Well, okay, if you count Tuesday morning, then two days. Almost.

Regardless...

[[Begin pre-recorded entry]]

It's now officially a long-ass-day.

We left the house this morning at 9 and drove up to Milton. That's North of Tacoma, South of Federal Way. Now, I was completely unaware that we were going to be stopping in Milton.

Not only did we stop in Milton, at 1:30p, but we stopped there in order to attend church services. Yet another surprise. (Sunday was Pentecost)

I was wearing traveling clothes. I had nothing with me to resemble church attire. Not even close. If I had been told we were going to be attending a church service, I would have packed something a little more appropriate.

So, I went to a casual church service in Jerzee's Sweat pants - black and a semi-dressy shirt, button down, black with orange pumpkins in a "scene" across the chest. And, my typical high-top hiking boots.

Oh, and my hair was thrown back into a rushed pony tail immediate after my shower this morning.

And, one last tidbit for the "completely unprepared" section... I had forgotten deodorant this morning.

Now, you have to understand the difference in clothing attitudes between the beach and the city. (Everything from Tacoma to Everette along the I-5 corridor is considered the city... about 70 miles of city) City-"almost"-dressy is slacks, blouses, button-down dress shirts and ties. Beach-dressy means your shorts actually cover your thighs. And your T-shirt has sleeves.

So, Mom and Dad were in Beach-formal attire... slacks, dress shirt/blouse and a tie for Dad. I was woefully underdressed. Because I was completely unprepared. Cause I didn't know we were going to stop for church services.

Because my sister had been in the living room as the 'rents talked about it. Hell, she was another body, we're the same, aren't we? *Rolls her eyes* Okay, so I'm a scoshe over a foot taller and I've got about 100 lbs on her... but still. *Smirks*

By the by, Beach-black tie is a suit or dress. *Chuckles* The occasions where "black tie" is necessary at the beach are extremely, and I do mean extremely rare.

C'mon guys, the nearest K-mart is 120 miles away. The nearest Fred Meyer's is 20 miles away... in another State. *Smirks*

Anyway... So we're sitting there, Mom and Dad are in Beach-formal attire. Did the Fatal Tiger think, for even a moment, about asking the 'rents why they were dressed up before we left the house? Nope.

Now, we have the preliminaries worked up, where do we go from here?

We get there at 1:30p. We're late. But the people officiating (friends of Mom and Dad) are late anyway. So, we sit there for half an hour. There are maybe 30 people there, including the three of us. This happens to be the hottest day the Spring has seen so far. Okay, so that's probably a lie, so what.

It IS a hot day, and this is inland, so say good-bye to the soothing Ocean breeze. I'm stuck there in a situation which I was completely unprepared for. I'm looking extremely fat because the button down I had with me has one button missing and needs to be tucked in so it doesn't look like it's WAY too small.

I usually wear that button down open, and over a T-shirt or something. No chance today... ain't no way in hell I'm wearing my black T-shirt, black sweats and black button down in a small "community center" where there's one main room and it's small. Hell, the 30 people there filled the damned place. (Including children, folks)...

So.... anyway... There's my huge belly, huge ass, huge thighs, etc. And my rush-out-of-the-house pony tail. And it's hot in that little room. With no air conditioning and 30 people all looking clean and dressed up.

Strangers no less.

And the service starts at 2p. Finally. By 2:30p my back hurts and I'm too hot to stay in the room. So I go out to the RV. I walk Joey and have a smoke.

I go back and they're just starting the sermon/bible study.

Now, the guy officiating is a long-time friend of the 'rents. By long-time, I mean, Dad knew John and Lavon before he married mom. (Remember, Dad's my step-Dad)

So, by 3:30, I've sat as long as I can, I go out to let Joey out again. It's still hot. I'm in pain and hungry.

Since 7:30, when I woke up, I'd had a Grande Mocha (at 9a) and a Vanilla yogurt (at 1:15p).

So, I go back in. I'd only eaten up 20 minutes. Finally, at 4:30p, Mom's face is red, she's hot and tired and looks to Dad, saying she has to go, she could barely stand. Taking her prescribed Glyberide (diabetes meds -- a blood-sugar-reducer) then not eating anything substantial... cmon folks, put the components together.

The way we figure it, Mom was about 10 minutes shy of slipping into a diabetic coma. Not a good thing.

The friend who was officiating, wrapped up the service/bible study (he'd already gone 40 minutes overtime, and had only gotten through half his intended information) Mom had half a glass of juice, then went out to the RV to lay down a while.

20 minutes later... no more encroaching black-out. And the service was finally over. 3 hours after we got there.

So, we got back on the road, our goal, to get Gram, then take her to dinner. WOOHOO. Olive Garden. Yee Haww, I scored.

Salad, breadsticks, more salad, soda, water, more salad, Tour of Italy and Black Tie Mousse for dessert. Nummy nummy nummy.

At we ate at about 6:40p.

So, we then took Gram back to her place, Mom and Dad got to sleep inside gram's place, which meant I got the RV all to myself. Well, with Joey. *Grins* Awesome for me. BUT, then the horrors began again...

The next morning, I had to set up the computer so that Gram could get Email and send Email. Heh. Good luck.

First off, the system I have now is better equipped for Email than Mom's old comp. Oh, trust me on that one. If you believe nothing else, believe that.

That comp is a 386, 8MB RAM, with a 19.2 modem. Yes, you read that correctly, Nineteen-point-two.

Lucky for me, after all the muttering and frustration, there was a problem with the modem itself. So, I didn't have to instruct Gram in how to play on the net... which is a good thing for me currently.

The comp is hooked up, and it's a good system for Gram to learn on. Hell, it's got tutorials that even Gram can figure out. She'll get used to the computer first. THEN, I can figure out what's wrong with the modem. Or rather, my Uncle, who lives up there and has actual experience with taking computers apart and fixing them, can work on it. It will give him an excuse to get out of the house.

That's the Uncle who just recently had a heart transplant. He was on the donor list for like three years and just last year he got a new heart. Thank you, God for that gift.

Anyway... so the comp is set up and Gram can type and such. She can play games and get used to a computer.

I told her, "just play around with it. Explore and experiment. If it suddenly stops and you can't make it do anything, throw a sheet over it and pretend it's not there."

Gram liked that.

Oh yeah... and that system runs Win 3.1. Keep in mind, it was purchased, brand new, for 1800 bucks. 8 years ago.

*Chuckles*

Anyway, somewhere in there I stopped transcribing and started just spouting things off the top of my head... but it doesn't matter where. *Chuckles*

Have I ever told you how much I hate the city?

Gram lives in the suburbs. At least, that's what they call it now. Hell, I bet there are more people living in her immediate neighborhood than all the year-round residents of Long Beach, Seaview and Ilwaco combined. *Chuckles* Maybe not, but I wouldn't be surprised for even a minute if it were true.

Anyway... there's new construction across from Gram's house. She's lived there for the past 20 years or so, maybe only 19, but she moved out to Washington in about 79 or so. Regardless... She bought her home for something like 140 thousand. The houses going in across the street start in the high 300's. That means, the lowest price house that's going in across the street will be at about 385 thou... or so. And that will be the demo house. The others, which are larger, will start at about 450 thousand.

THAT means, that in about a year and a half or so, Gram's house will have a re-sale value of about 360 thousand. Or higher. And, Gram's remodeled the kitchen about 6 years ago or so... it's perfect and fancy lookin. It's a three bedroom home, with a living room, dining room, huge kitchen and rec room. Single car garage and nice-sized back yard. Completely fenced.

Fenced, as in there's a fence around it. Not fenced as in stolen and sold. *Chuckles*

Just had to clarify.

Anyway, we're tryin to talk Gram into selling her home in another couple years, moving down to Long Beach where she can get a home twice the size for about a third the price, and live there at the beach where she won't be afraid to drive.

Hell, Gram's 81... or, the way she says it, 79, since she's now going back in years. *Smirks* She can't drive alone much anymore, since everyone else in the "city" drives like a fucking maniac.

Did you know that recently Seattle was popped as being in the same danger bracket for traffic as Los Angeles and New York?

Nasty. And my Gram has no business being honked at and cursed at by rude, yuppy drivers in their posh BMW's and Infinity LX's. *Sighs*

I'm not biased or anything.

Anyway... I hate the city. It's so mean and fast and angry and busy and... loud. People are honking and swearing and cursing and cutting you off in traffic. They yell and scream and rage at every little thing. They don't take the time to stop and actually look at what's going on around them. And they don't give a shit about anyone else.

That's the part that really ticks me off. It's like the time I spent with Charles in Dallas.

I'm sorry to all of you who love City life... but I can't, fucking, stand, it. (Commas for emphasis)

I'm generally a polite person. If I don't know you, I'll nod and smile, excusing myself as we pass in the aisle. Charles told me time and time again that I shouldn't talk to anyone. Don't make eye contact and don't excuse yourself unless you're running into people.

*Shrugs*

I just can't do that.

Sorry, babe. I can't make it in a city. I've tried it before. The last time I lived in Seattle, I went home in a fucking basket, tried to kill myself, and slid into a ten year depression. Wonderful, no?

*Smirks*

My life has turned around so drastically. I'm a country girl, folks. I'm perfectly at ease if there are three, four or even ten miles between houses. I'm happy and thrilled when I live on more than a quarter acre city lot. I need the trees and the green and the life and the freedom and the ability to breathe clean air when I leave the house.

I love the ocean.

I can't leave it.

God, you have to bring my husband here. I can't leave. I love the ocean.

And, on that note I'm going to jet out.

Peace unto thy hearts, dear friends.