Happy Halloween

This showed up on my doorstep this afternoon:

Happy Halloween, indeed.



Sometimes, Halloween isn't as happy as you'd think. Especially when you've already eaten a cupcake (or two) so Aunt Sister gives you a Wheat Thin for your efforts. If she eggs my house later, I won't be mad. I had it comin'. Wheat Thins go on the "egging" list right below Sugar Babies, raisins, and dental care products.

ps. Didn't Shelley look fabulous today???

Bright idea.

Chuck had an idea.

Sorry. Too easy.

Call me crazy, spoiled, Bellevue, whatever, but I just wasn't too thrilled with the MC Hammer light fixtures that came with the place. It's been a source of "gross" every since we bought this dump (that was joke, FYI).



Hi,
We need our chandeliers back. The Liberace House of Tack is looking a little bare.
Love,
1992.

After receiving this death threat from '92, we went on the hunt for light fixtures and guess what? Those things are not cheap. This did not set well with my inner miser. I don't spend $500 on anything. Typing $500 made me nauseous. Seriously want-to-vomit. Anyhoo, we ended up finding the perfect light fixtures, finding out they were 50% off, and finding the one disenchanted Lowe's worker who would through in his employee discount. Holla. $125 later and I'm snuggling with my miser self. We love.

We bought the light fixtures in May. I kid you not. May. Before house painting was even a glimmer in our eyes. It was a simpler time. We hung the only light fixture we could that day but not until Chuck dicked around with it for an hour (I posted it here, but these deserved a refresh):





We spent the last 5 months trying to figure out how to hang the others without resorting to liquid courage and the safety harness. It's been a long 5 months.

But Chuck decided it was time. When Chuck decides, he decides. He talked it through with the 28 foot extension ladder (obviously a better audience than talking it through with me) and that's where we'll begin.






Someone did not liked being locked in the bedroom and asked to help several times. By asked, I mean threw himself against the door screaming bloody kitten murder.

I admire Chuck for doing this. I was not a believer until he was about half way through and I knew he wasn't going to die nor was a charge of manslaughter going to end up at my doorstep.

This isn't the most interesting picture, not that any of these are, but it may help to know that Chuck kept referring to this as his "favorite stripper" and then giggling incessanlty over his joke (you know the tool is called a wire stripper, right? Just checking...Shelley....).

Going from here:

To here:

And then here:

Looked like this from the ground floor.

Oh yeah. That's my husband. Wedged into the skylight. Over the stair case. I used to think of Chuck as this Safety Man, but I think he got a little PK in him on this project. Dad's a rebel. Chuck's following suit.

But this was just light number one. Light number two was the big honker that hangs over the front door. And this one involved wedging the ladder almost vertical into the ceiling. Somewhere, PK is smirking with pride.


How bad is it to have a black cat cross your path by walking under a ladder? Anyone? Anyone?




Sweet, sweet anti-1990s success. Good work Chuck.

A dramatic reenactment.

There was an incident on Mother's Day. PK (aka The Father) was elected etiquette police in Seattle and, while taking his post very seriously, he calmly explained to a Seattle Litterer that you don't just drop tissue and run. You don't.

Here is a dramatic reenactment of one of the classic PK Moments of 2009.

I've noted all the key players: Fe (innocent victim), PK (etiquette patrolman), Convicted Rude Litterer (he littered and he got told).

You probably have no idea what I'm talking about, but it was funny when it happened and Emy and Libby insisted on recreating history, since we were in Seattle and at the scene of the crime. Here's the original post: Our Kind of Mother's Day.

Tourists.

It seemed like a good Saturday to play tourist. No reason. Just a because. We ditched them men folk, played a little Indigo Girls, and set sail across 520.


We started with a little Pike Place to set the mood. Nothing brings out the crazies like the market. It's an education in amazingness. Case and point:

This is The Cat Whisperer. I've gone ahead and placed arrows at the key points, if you could go ahead and direct yourself there, I'll do the narrative. First, this guy is awesome. He had a small cat army with him, all in sweaters, like little gentlemen. He spoke to them. He also spoke to my heart. It was incredible. He also had ears and, um, a tail. And his kiosk was PVC. Again, this guy is awesome. Jack and I are going back on Saturday. These are his people.

The mini-doughnuts were next, only because my lame friends had never had them before. Losers. If you can marry pastry, I want to marry these. If you can do one thing at Pike Place Market, do this. Doesn't Libby look amazing eating them???

This doesn't actually fit in any sort of sequence, so I'll just throw it out there: This dog has the same hair cut as me. Do you see it? You have to see it. It's right there.

We did the Underground Tour as the big ticket item for Saturday. I don't have any pictures though, because Chuck said I had to actually listen to the tour guides and not focus on the camera. He's a kill joy. What a butthead. He was right, but whatever.

The tour ended with a picture of the holy land: the first Nordstrom. It was gorgeous. I swooned. I fainted. I couldn't get enough. I tried to light a handful of candles for a simple shrine, but they had "rules" on the tour and I was asked to leave.

Things I like about Seattle:

Almost everything smells like the Union Gospel Mission. There's comfort in consistency.

No matter how hard I try, I can't remember which way to turn my wheels on a hill. This is uphill. My wheels will lovingly help me roll downhill.

It's been 15 years but Sleepless in Seattle is bigger than Twilight (FYI, Dania is being sleepy in Seattle. She lacks the subtle humor gene).

This seemed completely normal. This is completely normal.

Things I don't like:

Wooden toilet seats in a public bathroom. Because there's nothing I want more in a restroom than a porous surface. It just screams sanitary and healthy.

Smart cars. Sometimes, I just want to burn a tire when I'm driving behind them to counteract any good they are doing. And yes, that is about a 9 on the tension scale, but I'm fine with it.

I love this place.

This is why I'm hot.

Basically, it was bound to happen and it's really just simple math: Drop 4 aging 20-somethings in Seattle (suddenly aware of their changing status and those perky 22 year olds), add 1 DSLR camera, multiply with an unhealthy relationship with Photoshop, and you have a senior picture reshoot. This is what we decided to do with our time and the memory on my camera card: play 18 year olds since at least that's funny. A little sad. Mostly funny.

It was Dania's idea (for you phonics teachers, that's pronounced duh-knee-uh). It usually is her idea. You may remember Dania, she's been around the blog here and there. Why not recreate all the pathetically posed, cheesy-staged pictures that we ooh'd and aah'd over 9 years ago (and loved more than life itself, still do, and wish it were appropriate to hang as an 11x14 shrine to glory days past). It was a classic fall day in Seattle and the mood was right, plus what else did we have to do with our time (we missed our 11 am Seattle Underground Tour and needed to kill time until the 12 o'clock one).

I'm not embarrassed to post these. This is what we do. This is why I'm hot. This is why we're hot (and why we have a very small friend group):

OOOH: Emy in the pensive "I love this wall, but I'm not in-love with the wall and what does that mean?" pose.
AAAH: Dania. Love that colored wall and you giggle at whatever it is that is coily grabbing your attention. It's probably a vagrant, but we'll never know now will we.
OOOh: The ever-beloved casual lay down. Because who doesn't routinely touch with bare hands all the many lovelies of Pioneer Square? Gorgeous Libby. So sanitary.
AAAH: Dania and the casual pose. So natural.
OOOH: Peek-a-Boo Emy. We see you. Who didn't have a peeking shot in their senior profile? Like you surprised the photog with this one.
AAAH: I actually had this picture. This one goes out to Shelley. Memories. Like the corners of my mind. Misty water memories.
OOOH: Nothing says "I'm ready for college" like sitting in a corner smirking.
AAAH: Dania. We love the ivy shots.
OOOH: Immediately after taking this, I kicked a pile of leaves and sang the theme to Mary Tyler Moore, because - you know what - I'm gonna make it after all.
AAAH: Thanks for the face in flowers/nature pic Libby. It's so subtle. No one will ever know it was posed. You just happened to ram your face into a bush.

We did actually do real things in Seattle this weekend that weren't of the high school nature, but those will be for another post demonstrating that we can marginally act our ages. Marginally.

HAGS,
Susie

ps. Get well Jessica. These pictures aren't the same without you and your face. Oink oink.

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