After a lovely evening of baguettes, adult beverages, and chatting,  the crew of RainHaven hit the collective sack around 9pm.  (well, Eve opted out of the baguettes, bevs, and chatting. And not sure when she went to bed.  But whatever.)

Anyway… I was snoozing along, happily asleep, with the AC and the fan on full blast.  I tend to tank up on water before I go to bed, ergo….yeah.  About 1am, my bladder dutifully wakes me up.  OK.  This is routine.  I toddle to the bathroom…..go back to my room, get a big drink of water (yeah, I know..) and snuggle under the covers.

…….and. I’m. awake.


So I lay there for a few moments, hoping I’ll doze off.  No dice.  OK….next trick.  Look at the phone, maybe Facebook, maybe email, maybe play a bit of Mah Jong (I really really need to load a new game..).

Huh.  I have a voicemail.

Look at the call log.  It’s….my aunt?  At…..9:30pm last night??


My aunt is on an Alaskan cruise with my mother, one of my uncles, and another aunt.  They’re all in their 80s.

I’d better listen to that voicemail.  So I did.  It was my aunt, saying my mother needed to talk to me, and to please call.

OK……clearly, no one is dead or dying…I’m not going to call at 1:30am.  I’ll need to wait until….oh….8:30 or so Pacific time.   No need to…

Yeah….no need to stay awake.

So I tried to go back to sleep.  I drank water.  I snuggled.  I tried meditating.  I threw off the covers so I would get cold, and snuggling back into them would feel nest-y and sleep inducing. Nope.  Ok…..turn on the bed warmer so maybe the heat coming from below would relax my muscles into tricking my brain to fall back asleep (instead of endless and pointless speculation on way my mother needs to talk to me the day before they get off the boat).  Nope.  Alright….get the phone back out, and play MahJong until I get so bored I fall asleep.  Nope.  To add insult to injury, my tummy started growling.  Seriously, stomach – you want food at 2am?? “Yep. And I’m not going to let you sleep.  Feed me, Seymour.”

Fine. @#$%^! fine.  I got up.

Started the coffee, put in my contacts, fed the cat (seriously, cat? you want food at 2am?  “Yep.  Feed me, Seymour.”  OK, fine.

Opened all the windows, started the fans.  Went outside for the paper.

Yes, the paper had already come.  You know that image you have from, like, Leave It to Beaver?  Some freckle-faced kid (a boy, of course) on his little bicycle with the saddle bags, riding the residential streets in the early morning (ACTUAL morning, with sunlight and whatnot)?  He rides along, tossing the papers neatly onto walkways and driveways, perhaps cheerily greeting old Mr. Jones as he comes out in his bathrobe and slippers to get the paper?

Well, I don’t know if it works that way anywhere anymore (maybe in the flyover States?), but I think the paper here is probably delivered by somebody in an old station wagon (maybe an old Subaru…) sometime around 1am.  Maybe it’s a guy working swing shift at a Plaid Pantry (that’s a local convenience store, for the non-PNW’ers).  He gets off work at midnight, high tails it over to the Oregonian, snags his delivery bundles, and gets them delivered just as quick as he can, because the sooner he gets that done, the sooner he can get to bed, which means he can get the maximum amount of sleep before he has to get up at 6:30 to get showered, dressed, and get to his breakfast kitchen shift at Shari’s (that’s kind of a local Denny’s, for the non-PNW’ers).

Anyway.  That’s what I imagine.  I’ve never actually laid eyes on the regular paper deliverer.  When I’ve had occasion to call for a missed delivery, I’ve had a couple of guys come to the door  mid-morning to deliver the missing newspaper.  They are invariably haggard, rumpled, and pretty darned grouchy.  So maybe that’s them – held over from the night, tagged to deliver missing newspapers, and devoid of that precious few hours of sleep.

I feel ya, delivery guy.

Fortunately, my sleepless in Seatt – no, in Portland – night once again falls on a telework day.  Not sure what to make of that, but for what it’s worth, I’m fairly certain I’d have gone back to sleep after micturation (do I get a quarter for that word?) had I not seen the voicemail from my aunt.

After my initial assessment that, no, my mother had not expired on the cruise, well, then the tapes started running and the speculation began.

My guess is that they don’t want to stay here again (too small? too alternative? Am I too fat?  Too opinionated?  Are they freaked out?  Do they just not like us? ), and are making my mom take the fall.  Maybe they want to get a hotel “so they can each have their own room”.  Or maybe they want to drive a different way from Seattle (“because your uncle wants to see something in Idaho”).   Could be anything, really…but the only reason I can think of that my mother would need to talk to me *before* the boat docks tomorrow (Saturday), instead of just waiting until either they arrive Saturday here, or are at least on land in Seattle, is that they’ve had some change of plans, and my mother needs to tell me.

Being not at all secure in my ‘relationship’ with my bio family, that raises all kinds of tapes in my head, and I’m working on being okay with that.  Let the tapes run, although they’re not particularly useful.  Try to hear what is said when I do call back.

Fortunately, it’s not the end of the world if they don’t stay here.  It’s going to be over 100F today and probably tomorrow, and basically, our survival plan is to seal up the house and hunker down.  If they don’t come, we don’t have to relinquish the main floor bedrooms and don’t have to play shufflebed downstairs in the basement. Also, we don’t have to change all the sheets twice and do extra laundry.  I really didn’t know what I was going to offer to them to do in the dark, sealed up house.  It’s going to be far too hot to go anywhere.  My brightest idea was to offer naps, and a cold chicken dinner sometime after the worst of the heat dies down.

Anyway, I won’t know until I phone.  Who knows, maybe they want to split ways, and I need to come up to Seattle to get somebody. *shrug*

Well, it’s now 3:30 am, and my first alarm is due to go off in half an hour.  I don’t have to be ‘at work’ (which consists of getting dressed, putting my phone on the kitchen table, firing up my work laptop, and logging on) until 6am.  What to do until then?  I suppose I could lay back down and try to doze, but the house is completely open, so I don’t really want to do that. I do need to get the dog up soon, to keep her on schedule.  Plus, she’ll wake up soon and figure out that I’m not in the bedroom.  Velcro Dog will not like that, not one little bit.

I do have an appointment for a herding instinct trial for her in September – that should be interesting!  My guess is she’ll hide behind me, but you never know.  Of course, my thought is ‘what do I do if she absolutely LOVES it and is a natural?’ I have no sheep (and no prospects of getting any), and that herding stuff costs $30 for half an hour. :-/   I guess I’ll play that as it comes, as well.

Thinking about picking up a second job to plump up some accounts – specifically, my travel fund.  I’m thinking about curtailing travel expenses for awhile, and saving up money to buy a small RV.  I think that would be more cost effective for most of the kind of travel I’m interested in (National Parks, BC, Calgary, State Parks, etc).  Hotels are ridiculously expensive, restaurant food is unpredictable and expensive, and hotel beds freak me out.  A small RV could be just the ticket.  I’m starting to do the research…..going to be a couple of years before I can swing the finances.

Well, I guess I’ll post this….get the dog up…and read this little newpaper that someone….somehow….delivered when the nightowls were just turning out their bedside lamps for the night.