Christening by Seagull

Mr B with Mt Rainier trying to upstage him.

Greetings from the Lamplighter's 127. A one night only roof on Jotsalot's Final Re-Nest Tour. I've declared this my home and I'm never moving again. Sure the streets are labeled in Finnish and seagulls battle sea lions for being the loudest. but the place really appeals to the Pisces in me.

I left Missoula thirty-six hours later than planned (not counting the four years on the original schedule). I blame optimism. I sincerely believed everything was under control, ahead of schedule, firing on all cylinders until I started packing props and photography stuff. My living room held: seven glass heads, three mannequin torsos, a 50s beauty salon hairdryer (you know the chair with the beehive thing), dozens of small props, and an enlarger. None of which wanted packing. I knew all those glass heads were going to bite me in the ass some day. Everyone always commented on them, and they work great for hats, but maybe I didn't need to have seven of them around the room. Okay, secretly I want more when I have the space. But the real challenge was getting The Minions organized and packed or specifically A Minion.

Ms Marigold seemed content, even relieved, to stay in Montana, but Mr B wasn't having anything to do with that. He's fun to travel with, the only problem is he's not allowed near campgrounds as part of his probation.*

*Mr B here. I am not on probation I'm in what's called a vocational redirection program. I swear I was just cutting through a busload of tourists, on my way to a berry patch, when I noticed a mosquito on a man's head and thoughtfully swatted it for him. Complete misunderstanding. And for bears reading this, next time someone plays dead try tickling them. They'll still scream and wet their pants, but it's not admissible in court.

Me again. So, I brought him.

Let's get to the highlights, we're hungry

-Ritzville WA is the creepiest, scariest, get me out hereiest place I've ever been

-B, in a clear “vocational redirection” violation, posed with tourists at Mt Rainier

-I drove passed a combination beauty parlor/taxidermist shop which now seems a perfect idea

-I took the last room in Moses Lake right in front of a honeymoon couple

Visa Gera Montana

Ahh, the final post from the Jotsalot Media LLC World Headquarters and I truly have nothing to say. Nothing. Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by unfilled boxes and lists of things to do in the next three days. Maybe it's because I'll be walking the streets of a new town and watching local news in a strange town. I love watching local news on the road. I really do.

I'll miss Miracle of America, Gem Mountain and P-burg and The Bird. Some people too, but I refuse to start a list.

See you next week from a hotel room in Astoria.

Karmageddon

I knew in my heart I hadn't created a new word, but I didn't think it would actually be in the dictionary. Be assured this post will have nothing to do with the title and, in fact, I would change it if I weren't so darned curious about how many extra hits I'll get.

Hello Malaysia, how are you? Thank you for dropping by every week.

All of you have heard, read or discovered (lucky you) that "thoughts become things," right? I'll share with you why I truly believe. I sought the help of a shrink to sort out some issues. Who hadn't guessed I needed professional help? Anyone? Now, I happened upon the only shrink in Montana, or probably anywhere else in the World, that began his career as an accountant, earned his MBA and then went back to school to become a psychologist. I like diversity and divergency so I took his experience as an asset. Ever on the lookout for new ways to avoid discussing feelings, I asked him how he went from business to psychology.

He worked at an ag products conglomerate and one of his duties was teaching free business classes to farmers and ranchers. Being at heart a business man he was always trying to decode why one farm prospered and another barely survived. He'd looked for the answer for several years until one day he saw two farms right across the road from each other and one looked very prosperous and the other was just kind of there.  Both farms had the same topography, acreage, soil, sun, rain, crops, prices for crops whatever they were identical in every way except prosperity. His curiosity compelled him to stop and fate had it the prosperous farmer had been attending the free classes. They got to talking and the farmer glowed when he talked about his farm and how it was putting his kids through college, and they were planning to come home and take it over and some day his grandchildren would own it etc. Shrink met the farmer across the road and Farmer B said just the opposite. His kids wanted nothing to do with farming, nobody ever got rich farming, it is what it is etc.

My former psychologist works almost entirely with corporate clients (only taking "unique and challenging" private patients for fun) and, to get to the end, the consistent difference between prosperity and failure, in every business, is attitude and vision.

This post's Trivia Challenge: How many times did I change tenses mid-stream?

Here's a token graphic.

A Mauling By Any Other Name

How do I disown my sole celebrity Twitter follower?  While pondering that, I arrived at a blog plan stinking of don't feel like it, code named Manana. Right now Manana rhymes with banana but, if you add diacritical marks, it's Spanish.  I love magic.  Watch this transition. Nothing up my cerebellum, my hemispheres are empty. . . but PRESTO! You're still reading!  Holy crap! bring me water the masses demand wine!

Why so Inspired? Yesterday, I witnessed my car turn its lifeblood into steam right in the Albertson's parking lot. Part Old Faithful part racehorse, my car couldn't expel fluids fast enough. But that's not the Miracle.  The Miracle is the day before I had journeyed into the heart of no cell coverage. Thirty miles to the nearest free wi-fi coffee shop and there no guarantee of a call. But my car waited, until I parked at home, to spew a quarter mile from my mechanic.  (That was awkward but I have three minutes until adding softener so deal.)

My favorite place in Montana is The Miracle of America Museum.  I could live there. It's one person's dream running amok perserving other people's dreams. Polson, MT.

Okay, it's Manana and what I really want to tell you about last night's post is that I was repeatedly interrupted and interacted with just when I was rolling. My bubble functions as my creative incubator. I need to not be disturbed and this is why I never have my phone on and leave the house at strange hours.

For the Record Mr B refers to hikers as "land salmon." He felt you should know this.

Pursuing Greener Pastures

I spent the afternoon dismembering roses then huffing their scattered remains.  Or to put it more delicately, I spent two hours preparing a shot that took all of ten minutes to shoot, but my living room sure smells pretty.  Isn't it interesting how the same situation can be viewed in different ways?  Pretty darn deep if you ask me.

You all comment on how introspective I seem and that got me to thinking: Why me?  If I'm the introspective friend in your life you're hanging around escaped balloons at the county fair.  I've lived in. . .  let's count out loud. . . (but only after eighteen because I was cloistered in boarding school which is a lot like "Oliver!" with matching blazers) and here's the list: Boston, Barrington, Iowa City, Tampa, Moline, South Lake Tahoe, Albuquerque, Jersey City, New York, Greensboro, St Claire Shores, South Lake Tahoe, Incline Village, Czestochowa, Klaipeda, Carson City, and Missoula.  I can't identify the constant in all these places and you still think I'm the introspective one?  Vaguely apropos, it's like pinning your hopes on a balloon.  Normally, I  edit the last out and keep it for myself but I feel the need to share.

Sharing. Wow! I think that's how life happens. Keep your fingers crossed because plasma and sperm sales are supporting Jotsalot Media LLC.

I'm leaving Missoula in three weeks to nest somewhere.