Monday, October 9, 2017

More thing change, more thing stay same… (And other thoughts on transitions…)

Squatch here. Ever notice how Autumn often make for good season for reflections? Good time to check in with one self and say, “hey…everything on track? You still hang in there buddy?”

Question like, “Where Squatch at in life? Squatch happy? Squatch on track for retirement? Squatch ready for bigger commitment to Wendy?”

Life funny like that. One day just walking in woods and thinking, “everything okay dokay and fun.” Then Fall come and think, “maybe time get serious. Not young, handsome football captain squatch no more!!”

Speaking of Autumn… When dang pumpkin spice trend start? EVERYTHING need to be pumpkin spiced? Regular Oreo® not good enough… need pumpkin spice Oreo®?

Sometimes Squatch visit pumpkin patch. Legend true, mostly. Sometimes Squatch steal maybe few pumpkins…here or there…not too many. Squatch not proud of it, but Squatch need to get by too, you know?

Squatch never split open pumpkin, take long whiff and think, “need to make everything smell and taste like this! Even Oreos®!”

Oreos® fine as-is, people. Fine. As. Is.

> Cold weather = < Meat = Squatch raid pumpkin patches for food. Not rocket science, people.

Plus… some jerk start trapping mice in North Cascades for fun and ruin Squatch’s food source. Sent chipmunk friend Cody to investigate but he not come back. Rumor he trapped too. Sad.

Prime suspect this man! Squatch want to ask him some questions. You see him, you tell squatch where.

Also... squatch provide Missing posters for Cody. Please post in your neighborhoods. You seen him?? Hard to envision life without good friend Cody. 

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Historic Seattle Spaghetti Factory to close after 41 years. Struggle to find happiness in joyless, soulless city to become infinitely more challenging.

Seattle, WA.

Listen to me. Get up out of your chair… right now.

Take a stroll down to Seattle’s historic waterfront.

Stand at the cross section of Myrtle Edwards Park, Belltown and the piers. Lean over, close your eyes, and put your ear to the ground.

If you linger, if only for a moment, and truly listen… and I mean TRULY listen… you can still hear it.


Can you hear it?

Monday, December 28, 2015

Rest in Peace Steve Henderson

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck
You 'ye fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.