Hi! I’m Alive!

I write tonight from Cari’s laptop computer.  We are staying with Cari and her family at her new house on Lake Whatcom.  They have twin children, who are almost 9 years old, a boy and a girl, so it’s been a kid-fest around here, with six kids frolicking.  Today, the children swam in the lake, road in the boat, went tubing behind the boat, jumped off the top of the boat house, soaked in the hot tub, played X-Box and got a little sunburned.

Last night, the five oldest kids all slept on the deck overlooking the lake.  My 8-year old son didn’t fall asleep until 12:30 a.m. and at 5:30 a.m., I heard the whoops and hollers of the children waking in the bright sunlight.  That was the first time my kids slept outdoors.  What an adventure they had!

Yesterday, we traveled by train from Tacoma to Bellingham.  That seems like an easy thing, right?  (My husband made the 3-hour drive today because he had to stay behind for a memorial service.)  So, my husband dropped us off at 2:30 p.m. for the train scheduled to depart at 2:40 p.m.

The train didn’t leave until 3:00 p.m.  Midway through the hour-long journey to Seattle, I became aware of a man behind us several seats speaking in an unintelligible, loud voice.  A while later, the same man appeared in the company of two Amtrak employees who insisted that he sit down immediately.  Unfortunately, they forced him into the seat across the aisle from two of my sons who were sitting in front of me.

I watched the man in some alarm.  He appeared to be hearing impaired, which explained his odd voice, but as it turned out, the guy was drunk.  He reeked of beer.  The two employees firmly told the man to “STAY HERE” and they disappeared.

A few minutes later, the scary guy stood and started to holler at two women sitting in front of him.  He seemed to be asking them to help him put his hearing aid back on.  (It was one of those that attach to the skull directly, somehow.)  The main woman handled him so gently, yet firmly, that he responded to her.  He’d sit, then stand and bellow again. 

For some reason, he never made eye contact with me or my kids, although he grabbed at people walking down the aisle.  As the train approached Seattle, the woman he’d bugged the most moved out of the her seat and into the aisle and he reached around her in a bear hug, slurring, “I LOVE YOU,” to her. 

I was not amused.

But, once we exited the train, we never saw him again. 

Then, we went out to the street to catch a bus to the waterfront.  I’d researched it and the bus-route seemed to stop right by the station.  By the time I figured it out (by asking a bus driver) and we ran across the street to the correct stop, the bus already stopped and started again.  We literally missed it by 10 seconds.

Did I mention how hot it was in Seattle yesterday?  Oh boy.  Hot, so hot . . . record-setting, remind me of Texas hot.  Sweating in my shoes, rubbing blisters on my toes, hot.  Shiny forehead hot.  H O T. 

So, we waited for twenty minutes for the next bus and a few minutes later, arrived at the waterfront where we went to Red Robin for an early (hot!  no air conditioning hot!) dinner.  I was just happy to be in a safe place without a belligerent drunk scaring me and my kids. 

We had enough time to hurry through the Aquarium again before catching the return trip bus.  I started to worry that we’d miss our train, though.  When we got close to the station, I asked the bus driver if we would get any closer to the Amtrak station.  He said no, so off we went, rushing down two city blocks, sweating . . . h-o-t.  I carried my daughter on one hip, a large canvas bag slung over my opposite shoulder, my purse dangling from my other arm, my feet rubbing in my sneakers.  Fun, really.

We practically ran into King Street Station, hurried to the information desk with seven minutes to spare . . . and received the bad news that the train was delayed for an hour.

The train station had no air conditioning.  H-O-T.  We found a corner to inhabit and the boys played their Nintendo DS games and my daughter watched a DVD on our portable player.  I read my Vanity Fair magazine–sort of.  I was interrupted a lot and basically, read the same paragraph about 27 times.

At last, we boarded the train for the two and a half hour trip to Bellingham.  The scenery on that route is gorgeous.  I watched the sun sink lower and lower, but missed the actual disappearance of the sun behind the Olympic Mountains because we were stopped at a station, behind some buildings.

So, we arrived at our home away from home at 10:30 p.m.  The kids got to bed (outside, on the deck, in sleeping bags) at 11:00 p.m. 

We spent the day on the shore of Lake Whatcom today, just a few sets of stairs below the house.  As I mentioned, they had a great time and most importantly, no one drowned.

My husband arrived tonight, just in time for dinner.  He brought our van, filled with all the things I remembered I forgot–my hair-dryer, the beach towels, the phone charger . . . best of all, he brought the luggage in which I had packed my pillow. 

I know this was a disjointed post . . . I write it on a borrowed laptop, across the room from our friends and my husband who make remarks designed to make me laugh and lose my train of thought. 

But the kids are also asleep, the air has cooled, finally, and tomorrow will be another gorgeous day here in the Pacific Northwest.  I’ll be vacationing, and hopefully, finishing that Vanity Fair magazine.  But I’ll be back because what is a vacation without obsessively checking email and writing blog posts?  (Don’t forget to check my other blogs . . . links to the left and right.)