Ahtanum Smoke Shack and Fried Bread

Yakima, Washington sits just outside the Yakama (Native American) Reservation.  I grew up in Yakima.

I began smoking cigarettes in Yakima. One of the great buys could be had just a couple of miles from my home on Ahtanum Road, conveniently on my way to work at Miner’s Drive In.

The Smoke Shack was a little bigger than today’s coffee huts, and every bit as convenient.  Drive up.  Order your smokes.  Pick up a lighter.  Drive away.

The price?  Well, back then I think I paid about 35¢ to 50¢ a pack.  A $5.00 carton.  Eeegads! Can you imagine???

As a child I marveled on day excursions to the Yakima Valley.  Wapato.  Toppenish.  Sunnyside.  There were Pow-Wows where the tribe would dress, sing, share.  Jewelry and beadwork drew my eye, but the presence of soft leather and woven baskets were my favorite. Conjuring the drums, soft dance, beautiful skin and facial features so different from my own brings me to childhood. I can still taste the fried bread slathered with butter and fruit jam.

I no longer buy cigarettes or eat fried bread slathered with butter and jam.  The Yakamas? Well, they are firmly rooted in my heart.

 

Daily Prompt:  Reservation

Photo Ahtanum Ridge from 5414 by Pat Strosahl

These old boots…

When was it, exactly, that my hubs became enamored with retirement?  It’s been at least a couple years, I’d say.  His passionate dream of not clocking in has paralleled my journey of inability to work.  Me, at home, with assorted physical limitations.  Him, at work, with a longing not to be there.

On Thurs., 8/24/2017, our two worlds converged.  He is retired.

retirement - boots

Never, in all our married life of 35 years, have we lived a ‘typical’ work schedule.  I have worked mostly a 9 to 5 -type work week, M-F.  He has worked various shifts, the odd days off, holidays, etc.  It meant he missed a lot of events over the years.  It meant I was a quasi-single mom.  It kept us fed, housed, clothed.  He and I did the best we could with what we had.

You know, like most of us!

And now what lies ahead? Grand schemes for travel? Great building projects? Second careers?

For now, we’re learning how to share space.  He is trying on his freedom, finding small projects, rising and retiring at “normal” times.  I am a fly on the wall — watching.  My goal is not to interfere too much, allowing him to feel and experiment with this strange landscape.  He has worked since he was a young teen.  He is 64 now.  He doesn’t know it yet, but he probably will struggle a bit with the sheer strangeness of it all.

Either way, I’m here.

via Daily Prompt:  Enamored.

Photo:  Retirement by Mark Bonica

Head Bangers’ Ball

Two new adventures last night. First, helping Pam (my sis-in-law) at the door taking tickets and checking IDs at the Eagles.  Second, a metal music show. I took out my hearing aids for this one, opting for foam earplugs instead.  And what fun!

Can a 59-year-old fall in love with a genre so riotous? Yes! I felt like a child lining a parade route, horns and drums pounding a primal reverberation in my chest.

And the crowd? The range of ages was staggering. The leathers and spikes and tattoos and chained wallets were donned by nice people. They were old and young.  I saw shorts, dresses, boots, denims, nose rings, dreads, shaved heads and sweaty jumping folks.

It was such fun!

Would I do this again someday.  Yes! Only maybe I’ll try a henna tattoo in one my arm first, LOL. Hey, I gotta start small.  😉

Photo credit 20120413 – Heavy Metal – 72 by T. Kenbrock

My Heart.1

Trans Pride in Seattle – June 2017.  My trans son, Jordan (left), his wife Tara (center), and my daughter Heather (right).  Such beautiful people; such warming smiles.  I am very proud and blessed.  Heather drove over to spend this special time with Jordan and Tara!

 

 

Reblog: My Transgender Son

Transition Update: 2 Months on T

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Jordan Pegasus

For the past two months, I have been injecting 25 mg of testosterone subcutaneously every week. The prescription says to do intramuscular injections, but according to my doctor, subcutaneous injections work just as well. I opted to do injections of 25 mg each week, instead of the standard dose of 50 mg every two weeks because I wanted to minimize potential mood swings as the testosterone (“T” for short) cycles out of my system. I’m still taking the standard dose of 200 mg a month, just injecting a smaller amount more frequently. In lieu of driving to the clinic every week for my injections, I learned how to inject myself (through my doctor’s instructions) and was amazed at how quickly I got over my fear of needles.

Here are some of the changes I’ve noticed:

My voice has deepened. I am still speaking in the same general register as I…

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