Queen of Burlesque, Brunch

Imogen, the flamingo from Australia is the new Reigning Queen of Burlesque aka Miss Exotic World 2012.  The flamingos at Seattle Zoo are a stinky lot but Miss Kelly redeemed them for me with all her lovely pink feathers, puppets and elegant disrobing.

I stayed up late.  It was already light.

I remembered to drink lots of water.

I find Vegas messes with my inner clock.  I ate breakfast at midday yesterday and nothing else all day.  There wasn't the sense that it was now time to eat.  Inside its always dark.  Outside is light a hellavu lot of the time.  Very bright.  Very hot.

I am going to try and do better today that means going out and seeking brunch of an inferior quality to yesterday.

The Donut Bar at the Verandah, Four Seasons

My 3rd course at lunch at the Four Seasons

The Tippy Tops of Tall Buildings

Ten am and ninety two degrees in Vegas this morning but I haven't been out of the ambient 74 of the hotel.

I am sitting on the monogrammed carpet of my room leaning back against the king sized bed I had all to myself.  Through the open blinds the pinacles of a faux New York skyline (the New York Hotel) glint in the yellow sky that blushes up to the faintest blue in outer space.   Helicopters circle like small flies over The Strip.

I managed to make a cup of drip coffee in my room - its one of those coffee makers where you stick a coffee 'teabag' into a slot and water drips over it into your cup.  In this case, the only cup offered was one of those white foam ones wrapped in a cup-condom so I stole a cup from yesterday's room service.  Its completely seedy.

So I am now thinking about brunch.

According to my expert advisors, brunch is a big thing in this city.  I am not sure whether my friends are up for a trip to find somewhere but I am quite taken by one that makes donuts to order for you.  Donuts no less.  The alternative is the diner in this hotel which has lots of blue formica and I am not going to vouch for on Urbanspoon.  If I don't get out for my brunch today I am going to have to come back here with Josh and do it.  Even he could be persuaded to get up by 11 for custom donuts, right?

The girlfriends are MIA after last night although I recall Natasha was going to have an 8.30am massage with bamboo sticks or rolling rocks or something else equally ..... er... specialized.


I have been reading in bed and realizing I need a flower in my hair for tonight.  Burlesque girls all wear sequins, figure hugging 40s style dresses no matter how large they are (and some girls are mighty mighty curvy), and hair fascinators.  Burlesque chickies are the fascinator heartland.

Being here, regaining equilibrium without children, has revealed that if I have no responsibilities I like the following:

1. Staying up late
2. wearing high heals
3. being very hot in the sun
4. swimming pools
5. cocktails without bottled cocktail mix
6. 1c slot machines (not 25c ones)
7. reading books in bed with the blinds open
8. having smudged eyeliner all day
9. reading badly written but thoroughly entertaining books that my English Major friends recommend in one lying in.

There are now about eight helicopters out there.

I need a bookshop.

The Tournament of Tease finals are on tonight!   I am already a fan of the Screaming Chicken Theatrical Society - I sat next to one of the performers last night - a girl from Vancouver.  Super excited.  Apparently one of the fans wore (nipple) pasties to the bowling alley so we were warned to dress appropriately.  I have found my skirt from last night but its still smoky.

Vegas Has Me In Its Grip

Its after midnight and I have been up for 21 hours without sleep.  I am sure this is why I lost $6 at the 1c slot machines and I smell like an ashtray.

Seriously, they should stop people smoking in here.  Maybe some people want to smoke and play but other people do NOT want to smoke and the people who don't want to smoke get so they can't breathe.

Its a thick pall out there and I feel like I need to use one of those indian nose teapots to get the smell out of my sinuses.  Even my non-smoking room smells vaguely smoky, probably from the non-smoking refugees being forced to hole up here with their smoke-stenched clothes.

I am going to hang out at the Luxor again tomorrow.  I had the greatest sushi rolls for dinner.  They were from a restaurant called RICE & COMPANY.  The mango and avocado roll was sufficiently good that I want to go back there tomorrow.

Oh, I saw the first burlesque performance tonight.  It was the Legends Night - meaning women who performed burlesque in the 50s, 60s and 70s performed.  Their abilities at this point varied widely but the spirit and the skill they brought entranced the audience and most received standing (and hooting) ovations.

Some are celebrities in alternative culture - one performer *Haji* had been in Faster Pussycat, Kill Kill and other Russ Meyer movies.  All had been fabled performers in the history of burlesque and the world of 'exotic' dance.

106 (Fahrenheit)

This afternoon I went down to the strip.   It was so hot outside that the soles of my shoes became tacky on the asphalt.   When I smiled, my teeth became so dry that my lips stuck to them.

It was so hot outside that my hair, which was wet from the shower, was dry before I had walked 3 blocks.

It was so hot that just one side of me became sunburned waiting for the bus.

It was so hot outside that the plastic frames of my sunglasses burned my face and made a rim of sweat across the bridge of my nose.

It was so hot that I could have burned my finger on the big silver WALK button at the intersection.

It was so hot that the guy a the refreshment stand was selling everyone TWO bottles of water instead of one.

It was great.

The cabbie was Sarajevo said it was the first really hot day of the year.

At the Luxor

That intersection

Its all about the pool

I know we are very Seattle people now, Josh embodies the NW idiom of wearing fleece all year or going out in a t-shirt in winter, but jolly geez, heat is good for the bones.

I think we might have to retire to Florida, or South Africa or Australia.... someplace with a pool and blue skies and helicopters buzzing overhead and slushy margaritas that come in a 24oz cup shaped like a beach babe with a straw out of her head.

I know there's a lot to do in Vegas but I am having trouble leaving the pool.  Seriously, I didn't even NAP despite my early start.  The pool at the Orleans is particularly lovely today, being populated by many burlesque performers and fans.  Tropical tattoos, boys with lovely ginger sideburns, girls with fake flower sin their hair and waists synched into 1940s dresses with thin belts, glossy high heels by the pool (even I!) and a particularly voluptuous girls in a blue sequenced skirt-kini make the pool culture culturally diverse.

I tried one slot machine with one dollar but it whirred and at my money. Natasha and I were a bit disappointed and have vowed to try the 1c machines next.

Kellie has gone out on the Hoover Dam in a boat with alcohol and friends.   If she returns I shall see her tonight.

See if you can make out the lettering on the lifeguard seat

I am now going to catch a city bus to the Luxor to explore and see the Titanic Exhibition.  Apparently, I can touch a piece of the Titanic.

Vegas, Old Lady!

I did a writing course years ago and the only thing I can remember from it is that every good story follows the cycle of conflict, crisis and resolution.  So, here's my crisis:

Its 3.30am and I am heading off to Vegas for the first time.  I don't think I am a Vegas person.  I am sure there will be a chorus of disapproval and I am open to persuasion, but really?   Vegas?  I'm plump, in my 40s, am not a bachelorette or a bridesmaid, don't gamble, don't have a single pair of non-yoga shorts and it cost me about $50 to get a bikini and underarm wax (I know, TMI).

I'm not even convinced I'm really going to get on the plane.  I have a ticket, but its not like the old days when you travelled with a leather folder containing tickets in triplicate.  My ticket is a crummy printout of a confirmation number with color separation from my old printer.  It doesn't feel official.  Even the boarding pass lacks the credibility of cardboard.  Its like an important receipt that I keep misplacing.  I might blow my nose on it by mistake.

I caught the Airporter Express to the aiport.  It wasn't very express.  They picked me up at 3.30am and after collecting Michael and Richard (I know their full names and home addresses since they were illuminated on the dashboard for the whole trip (beneath mine, creepy) we arrived shortly before 4.30am.  Michael and Richard weren't chatty but the driver enjoyed telling me about his lifestyle working the 3am-1pm shift.  He likes gardening.  He naps when he gets home then stays up till 7.30pm.  I imagined stories in which serial killers locate victims by riding the Airporter and remembering...

Michael and Richard huffed quietly in the row behind me.

I spent the trip staring out the window at things, noticing how the darkness makes interiors bright while daylight hides them.  The rental car wash depot looked like a machine with its gizzards torn out, pipes and lines bursting bright in the artificial light and a huge plane drifted silently over the interstate to land at Boeing field.

Now its 5am and the concourse coffee places are opening and the noise levels .  We board in half an hour.  Announcements have started.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our morning service to Las Vegas.  The flights is completely full so if you do not need your handluggage during the flight, we are offering courtesy consignment. We guarantee it will be at the baggage claim within twenty minutes of arrival.

The lights are coming on in Hudson News.  Out of sight, Bloomberg News is alternating between soothing ads and aggressive market news.

Nobody cares.

I have yet to find a crisis beyond the fact that I am going to bash the guy sitting next to me if he doesn't stop his ipad chiming belligerently with a noise like a metal spoon hitting glass.  CHING!!!  CHING!!!

I am going to consign my bag.

Canoeing in the Family by Granny Anne

Mervyn (Shannon's Grandfather) canoeing in France in 1938

Today, in Seattle, we went canoeing: Shannon steering at the back and Frost and Wren in the middle with Beezle dog wandering around or sleeping in the laundry basket. Our route was down the Sammamish River from McRedmond River Park to Woodenville, a distance of about 10 miles taking us about 2.5 hours. The river drainsLake Sammamish into Lake Washington.

On lake Washington 

Paddling downriver from Redmond (note Beezle in basket)

Snackbreak (canoeing is hungry work) 

 The Sammamish is named after the native people that lived along its shores. It is not a wide river and flows at about 3-4 knots. Shannon's Old Town canoe is very stable and none of the kids’ wriggling around worried us. It was an adventure and Wren commented that it was 'heaven'. Frost helped with paddling but enjoyed relaxing with Beezle snuggled on his lap. The 'padkos'  (food for the journey) was an important feature of the trip and even Beezle had his bag of padkos. There was a lot to see: birds, including some spring goslings, fish, a muskrat swimming, turtles and peoples' backyards. We were the only canoeists on the river.  Josh collected Shannon at the end to ferry her back to the car. It was a most successful expedition and it finished with delicious cookies from the Hillcrest Bakery in Woodenville.

The canoeing reminded me of family stories of canoe trips. Since Shannon and I have been researching family history I shall tell them here.

In 1938 my father, at the age of 27 travelled round the world ending up in Europe. He and a friend decided to canoe down the Rhine. They bought a wood and canvas canoe in London and set off for Kehl in Germany. It was the time of increasing tension between France and Germany and Dad recalled the Heil Hitler salutes that greeted you at every German Pub or wine 'stahl'. Dad would tell stories of that trip with great happiness. It was not without danger as the Rhine was full of boats and his friend could not swim.

“We were not fully aware of the developing conflict. They said that there would never be another war. At one of the places we stopped for the night we went up to a Rhinecastle. We met a lot of Spanish refugees, these were attractive girls. They had to escape from Spain, from Franco’s Civil war where the Nazis were fighting. And the other side was helped by the Soviet Union and the International Brigade. So we spent some time with them. We were like gypsies and we took what came, at that age one does not have the same fear of what tomorrow brings.

We should have been drowned a hundred times. On one occasion we were going like anything on the river and there was a great big bridge ahead with pillars down into the water. I was in the front and Fergie was in the back. I noticed that we are going to hit one of these pillars sideways.

I shouted at him, ‘Steer it round, steer it round!!’ expecting him to use the rudder.

He says, ‘No! No! I threw it away!’

We are going down the Rhine without a rudder! Imagine it! I paddled like hell on the one side to get it round. We just got it round past the pillars.”

I remember our canoe and kayak journeys in the wilds of Africa: down the Zambezi and Orange Rivers. In the 1980s Mervyn and I loved to do these trips. Now I look back on them with more sense of the dangers that surrounded us. The Zambezi is a kilometre wide. The birdlife, animals on the shores and in the river were a stunning spectacle. At night we camped on the shores and told stories of Africa round the campfire. Some days we lunched on a shallow sandbank in the middle of theZambezi. The Camp chairs were in the clear water and we could watch hippo pods in the river and elephants coming down to drink.  

Mervyn and Freddie beside the Rhine

Canoeing the Zambezi, note the hippos in the background

Canoeing in the Okavango Delta in a wooden "makoro"

Okavango crocodile

Notes from my visit

What struck me when I arrived in Seattle was how much Wren and Frost have grown. Several times during the first day Wren held up his five fingers and said, 'I am FIVE'. frost at ten is on the cusp of being a young man. Very determined, very literate. 

Frost tries out the keyboard on a visit to Google

Sizing up the snow on Hurricane Ridge (see below)

The spring in Seattle is glorious. Gardens don't typically have a front fence so generally much effort goes into the presentation of these areas. Azeleas, bluebells, daffodils, magnolias, rhododendrons, lavenders are in full bloom. I love the architecture of the homes here. Wren is very happy to come on a walk, actually he scoots and I walk with the reluctant Beezle dog.

I have been here for two weeks and Shannon has been diverted from her normal busy routine.

Shannon has not been diverted from her vegetarianism despite
repeated servings of salmon

We started with three days on the Olympic Peninsula which is a story in itself. I love the way Seattle is surrounded by mountains. They are still snow covered and one stream running into the sea that we had to cross was bitterly cold. Birds are everywhere at the moment and Wren is becoming a spotter. In his new diary I had to write, 'i saw a hawk' and while reading to him he spotted a yellow warbler out the window. He notes the Stellar's Jay as we walk our road. From little interests like this kids can build a life long interest. wren is a highly imaginative child. He loves the backyard basketball court and plays imaginative battles there quite on his own. On the wild Olympic beaches, the driftwood took on many shapes to him, mostly of them forms of battle weapons.

Wren tries out a driftwood "rhino gun" on a long beach walk 

I have started reading to him from Geraldine Elliots books of African stories, The Long Grass Whispers and the Singing Chameleon. The former was my childhood book of 1952 and I remembered them all my life. Fisi, the hyaena is the villain and Kalulu, the rabbit is the clever survivor. At first Wren complained about the lack of pictures, but that did not last long.

Fisi the Hyena who is always causing trouble

My (Anne's) original copy of the Singing Chameleon from 1952 (she was 5 years old too!)

Each day has new excitement. Yesterday Shannon and I took out their new Indian style canoe on lake Washington. Wren came, sitting in the middle. It was a perfect warm calm day and all the birds were busy. Wren spent his time catching water lilies, counting the great blue herons we paddled past and enjoying his 'padkos'. He even tried to help paddle but was confused as to how to actually help without depositing scoopfuls of water on my lap.

Wren on Lake Washington in the canoe

Wren called the trip "the 13 great blue herons" because we saw so many

Wren Likes Minecraft

I like Minecraft because you can build really cool things.  You can build iron swords, axes and stuff and also you can do this.  You might not like this.

Granny:  What did you do?

Wren:  I killed a sheep.  You have to kill sheep and cows and stuff to survive.

Granny: You have a sword.  Do you always have a sword?

Wren:  No, not always.

Granny:  How do you make music?

Wren:  To make music you right click on one of these music boxes and then they go like that.
Music comes out.

Wren:  If you double click space it makes you fly and if you double click space again it makes you drop down.    To go slowly down you press SHIFT click.

Granny:  Is this a frightening world?

Wren:  There can be endermen and zombies and skeletons and lightening.  If I was on survival the guys would try and come up to me and damage me but I can hit them with a sword.  There are experience swords "GET OUT OF MY WAY SHEEP".  that help you get experience.

This screen shows a nether portal [the purple thing with black things around it] if you go into it again it will take you back to REAL LIFE but if you go into it again you get back here in THE NETHER.    The fires are lava things and if you go near them its fine but if you go in them on survival its not fine.    Right now in the nether I am just going to show you want the nether is like.    The nether is like REAL WORLD but its HELL.

About TNT.
The TNT is for blowing stuff up.  I fill up this hole with TNT and then I go up to the surface adn so I get flint and steel and right click it on a piece of TNT and it gots off and it sets of the other ones all the way down.    Its a mine so its called MINE craft.

Frost:  Wren is very good at building castles and fortresses and he also likes to get wolves and things as pets.

Wren's pack of "puppies"

Wren:  and CATS!

Frost:  Technically they are called ocelots, but whatever.  Wren usually plays on creative mode and he is very good at using TNT and he likes mining very deep and in general, fighting things.

Wren:  I like Minecraft because it is cool and I love it.  Actually, that's a whatev.  No, not a whatev... its a "Just 'cos"

Granny:  Do they give you new things as time goes on?

Frost:  They do updates from time to time.  Wren, show granny an Iron Golem.

Granny:  An Iron God?

Frost:  GO-LEM.  When you fight an NPC Village (non player character village) NPCs will spawn.  Any mob or creature that is not a player is an NPC.  The villagers at night go into their house and zombies attack them.  Zombies can break down their doors but Iron Golems attack zombies to protect the villagers.

Wren:  Minecraft is a game you build things and its really fun and also you can blow stuff up.

Granny:  How long have you been playing minecraft?  How old were you?

Wren:  Either 2 years or one year.

A Visitor but not spring

I have been trying to write a blog while Mum and I slouch on the couch watching an old version of Jane Austen's "Emma".

"The birds will all be going north, now."  Says Mum.  "We should go out at do some birdwatching!"

Mum is only half joking.  She is very intent on seeing migratory birds which have shown up on radar in vast numbers, flying at night.  Tonight, it is clear and there is a huge moon so she no doubt imagines the flocks of warblers, sandpipers and plovers outlined like a handfull of rice thrown up against the moonbright sky.

My mother is visiting us from Australia.    Its a season of contrasts:  freezing winds and spring flowers, sudden breaks of warm sun and blustery squalls that fill the upright wheelbarrow with water in a matter of days.

Today, in faith, we planted potatoes and some hardy vegetables like chard and lettuce.

Despite the wintry spring, we have been getting out a bit:  to the Museum of Glass in Tacoma, walking the neighborhood, watching birds and have been on a trip to the coast.    Mum has a mission to stop Beezle using piddle pads and takes him out many times a day, wind, rain and shine.  Beezle pulls at the leash, digging in his feet to avoid going outside in the rain to pee.

Mum in the kitchen

Spring flowers from Magnuson Park

Frost at Hurricane Ridge 

Spring tulips in a neighborhood garden

I shall post again soon.  Must get mind in blog mode.  Blog.  Mode.

My first attempt at writing this blog was simply this:

MY MOTHER IS VISITING.  SHE HAS COME.

Well, now she (and I) are gone to bed and only Josh and Beezle remain in the warm spot on the couch.