ILLUSIVE JEANS SNAGGED

I had breakfast with a friend this morning; then I zipped over to Dick Hannah’s to have the Highlander’s back end and right back tire checked – the other afternoon; in Oregon, on the stretch of roadway between Astoria and Svenson, a moron in a jacked-up pickup literally ran me off the road … and I hit the shoulder at road speed, bumping into and over a ragged pothole.

MPO is that Oregon driver’s are the worst driver’s on the planet.

They are mean spirited. 

They are self-centered. 

They are rude. 

They are obnoxious.

They are very aggressive. 

They are stoned 24/7/365.

I really do not like Oregon driver’s.

I heard the Highlander’s backend bounce as the dust settled. When I crossed the bridge at Rainier, and set down in Longview – I drove to Dick Hannah’s Toyota Shop to have the car and tire checked: the pothole was pretty ragged and I worried I may have skinned the tire on the sharp edges. I was told by a stuffy attendant I’d have to bring the car in for a checkup in the morning, at 10 AM., because “it could take hours to check out.”

Matt checked it over – and gave it a good report: no damages. And, he refilled the windshield wiper fluid. I was relieved it did not “take hours” – I was in and out in half an hour.

And I decided that I’d make another trip to Warrenton, instead of waiting until next Monday. I’m no good at putting things off … if something needs doing, I just want to get it done so I can move onto other things that also need doing.

So, off I went.

Making my way across town to the bridge that would drop me on the Oregon side, I saw a VW Bug tricked out in a woman’s obsessive fantasy.

She had had her VW Bug painted to match dalmatian dogs – and the nose of the car was painted to mimic a red dog collar. 

What an amazing sight … 

Her car seat covers were dalmatian print.

Her back window was filled with stuffed dalmatians.

SHE HAD 2 DALMATIAN DOGS in the back seat!

I got the feeling she really, REALLY liked the 101 Dalmatians movie 😉

Warrenton from Longview is a little over an hour away, and I didn’t plan on staying any longer than it took to return the clothes that didn’t fit/replace them or take the $$ and run; I wanted to make this my last trip to Warrenton, until I pass through there in July sometime.

Clothes returned to Warrenton - OR, again.

Warrenton, OR from Longview, WA - 1 hr.11 mins.

Bob & Aza feeding the seals at Seaside. 2017; Aza barked with the seals, who were barking for fish tidbits. It was hilarious.

Seaside, OR from Longview, WA - 1 hr.23 mins.

I had returns for two different stores.

I had just about given up any hope of ever finding regular jeans … and then, I spotted them 😊

2 pairs of jeans: actual jeans, not the ‘jeggings’ (stretchy cigarette leg jeans that fit like leggings).

I found 2 pairs of jeans! Hallelujah ...

I snapped them up and headed the car towards home 😉

The temperature had soared to 83-degrees by 4 PM.

I just wanted to be home.

The 3 trips to Warrenton – practically back-to-back – was giving me road fatigue.

So, I was happy to catch sight of Mt. St. Helen’s, the Port of Longview, and home base; coming into Rainier.

Even though Mt. St. Helen’s is now lopsided, she still beckons.

When I got home, I watered the garden area as well as my geranium pots under the carport; rain is forecast for tomorrow (50%), but the humidity today was very drying, so I gave everything a drink of water to stave off heat stroke until tomorrow arrives.

And I noticed that the yellow tea rose bush Bob bought for me as a gift 20 years ago, is blooming this week.

I am glad – it is a living link to Bob. 

When I see it, I smile all over.

The Tea Rose Bob gave me 20 years ago is still thriving; and blooming this week.

I AM MORPHING INTO A KARDASHIAN

Jared came early this morning to wash the exterior windows, skylights, and clean the gutters.

Outside windows cleaned this morning.

Skylights cleaned ... no more ashy smut cutting into the view; and gutters were cleared, too.

After he finished, and left … I decided to drive to Warrenton, Oregon, to return some of the clothing items I had bought last Thursday.

Back to Warrenton ...

All I want is a regular pair of jeans!

Apparently, I am morphing into a kardashian.

Not in attitude, lifestyle, finances, or neighborhood.

Mostly in my {bodacious curves}.

Without “enhancement” butt cushioned pants, or silicone breast implants.

My curves are all natural.

I am a curvy, full-figured woman.

It can be a bit much for my small frame.

Finding clothes that fit “all parts of me at the same time” is tricky.

Purchasing clothes that fit me in this demonrat and rhinorepub political nightmare is a continual rollercoaster of buying/bringing home … trying on/returning to store to refund/replace.

Every damned thing is made in china or the Philippines … and sized to fit straight-as-a-board-midgets.

I’m petite – but I am also a mature woman with a mature figure.

I have mature breasts; my breasts have nursed a baby, and ‘blossomed’ under 44 years of continual (and welcome 😉) manhandling loving ministrations. They’re no longer what they used to be. 

I have hips that have ushered life into this world; my hips will never again look like those airbrushed models who “were 300 pounds following childbirth – and now looking like 17 again, after a gym membership”. I'm calling BULLSHIT on the bullshit hype. My hips are what they are. 

I have mature thighs; even with the constant 4- to 5-mile hikes, age and genetics gets their hooks into everyone. My thighs are still nice – given my age and curvy genetic pool; but, they are now 64-year-old thighs … loooong past the boyish, coltish 20-year old’s designers cater to. 

And at 64, I also have a mature ass; and I’ll leave that ‘right there’. No explanation is needed.

I have lost a significant amount of weight with the onset of widowhood 28 months ago; but I’ve also aged 10 years, too, in that short period of time (from 61 to 64). Stress ages the body … and it is beginning to show.

Bob’s love kept Spring in my life – now my life feels the stress of his physical absence in it.

Aging is taking its toll; and cashing in on my gene pool DNA (my mother's contribution to how my aging shape is shaping up).

When I see my reflection in the mirror, all I see looking back at me as I swivel to view all angles, is that I am beginning to look like a dwarfed kris kardashian (she has smaller breasts that I do, but there is a definite similarity in the ass and thighs).

But I don’t have a seamstress at hand to make beautifully tailored clothing for me that actually fits me in all the places the clothing I am constantly returning, does not.

The clothes I had before widowhood needs replacing: most no longer fit, and some are threadbare. I’m not indulging in spending sprees – I really need new clothes … and stores are only stocking clothing for underdeveloped teenagers.

Apparently, the power-hungry politician’s intent on isolating “the elderly for their own good” also think we should be naked, as well: as the only business they are encouraging are with countries that not only hate Americans, but make clothes for unrealistic doll sized bodies.

It’s ridiculous as well as frustrating. 

After I got back home tonight, and tried things on; I was happy to see that there are only 3 things that have to go back to Warrenton next week – possibly Monday, as it will be raining here through the weekend.

I like the drive, and I am learning the route. But making the 3-hour return drive every other day is no longer fun.

Hopefully, there will be no more return trips after Monday.

And maybe … maybe … I will find those illusive jeans I am still searching for 😉