Trials and Tribulations of the Whistle Pig

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Okay, so housekeeping at Signal Mountain Lodge in Grand Teton National Park has been interesting, but it has only been about 4 days of it so far. The first day was torture. I was so sore that I went back to my, for now, roommateless room and took a long shower; and the water pressure sucked. *thought at the time. They really mean it when they say conservation:)* I napped and felt so much better. Who knew that sleeping on my stomach would help my back and legs relax. Dinner was good and met some nice people.

The days passed and I did some hiking along the South Landing trail to the campsite there. The next few days got increasingly better. My body is adjusting to the increased physical activity, yeah weight loss, and the altitude it bothering me a little less each day.

So, on to the title. What is a whistle pig? Well, in Wyoming parlance, it is a ground hog. Here I am at the end of my shift and back at the housekeeping lair unloading the days extra linens and cleaning supplies when someone yells “whistle pig”. There is the intrepid explorer sandwiched between us and the housekeeping office; trapped in the endless hallways. Which way will it go? Towards the sudden appearance of myself or the housekeeping office. We know which way we want it to go and it is not toward the office filled with at least three people and full of toilet paper and the all important coffee supply.

Of course it darts toward the office and gets trapped. No one can find it and all assume it is under the shelves behind the housekeeping managers desk. No attempts to lure it out of its frightened hiding spot is successful. Life goes on and we, or me that is, forget about it and go about our unloading duties. I grabbed some clean towels out of the cart and head back to the office hallway when everybody shouts and I look up in time to see the whistle pig running toward me. I don’t know who was more startled, but it halted for a second and made a mad dash out of the office and away from me. Sigh. The excitement of a housekeepers work day.

Am I Lost?

Depression deepens with age,

Dark, silent hands sweep aside courage,

Disease draws out life, desire, delight,

Forgotten memories are swept away like snuffed candlelight.

Family binds tighten, but memory slips away,

Forever brilliant, but always fading,

Fear celebrates each slip, each ebbing thought,

Gasping, grasping, holding tight.

Am I family?

Am I still here?

Am I remembered?

Am I counted, loved, seen?

Do I matter?

Is it all for nothing?

Is it forever?

Is it necessary?

Why? What is it for?

Memory, lost memory.

J. Windsor

Knitting Brew: Typical Yarn Shopping

Typical yarn shopping

  1. See sparkly yarn, drool
  2. Hesitantly touch sparkly yarn, squeeeee
  3. Have sudden hysterics realizing yarn is VERY expensive, but would look great as a trendy hat
  4. Sudden panic attacks at all the yarn you already have
  5. Decide you MUST have it anyway and head toward the checkout counter
  6. Spy a new set of stitch markers you don’t have, add them to your over loaded arms
  7. Realize you do not have a pattern in mind and head over to the knitting books
  8. Pick out the perfect pattern, then realize you need more yarn
  9. Get more yarn
  10. Look at the pattern again and wonder if you have that size needle, length, material choice?
  11. Take 10 minutes stressing about whether to get the bamboo needles or the new shiny, and expensive, set you don’t have
  12. Get new shiny expensive set rationalizing you will get a lot of use out of them for the money
  13. Finally get to the checkout line and have to wait in line
  14. Spy a really cool button you know would look great on the sweater you started last year for your sister, which is still in the beginning stages, but you swear you will get to this year
  15. Add button to your overflowing stash of wonderfulness
  16. Plonk it all down and hand over your Visa etc. excitedly
  17. Walk out of the store, unwillingly, since you just spotted a new style of knitting bag you don’t have.
  18. Cry in the car realizing you have ANOTHER project already waiting at home, but this one is so new and fun.
  19. Rush home and start new project, pushing the latest new project into its new project knitting bag for LATER.

SPACE OPERA: CONT.

The ship shuddered as the wormhole opened in front of the ship, drawing it in like a sucking black hole. Everyone on the bridge who were not strapped in were thrown around, slamming into consoles and each other.

“Nim, find out where the Captain is!” Mr. Erskin cried as another console blew up sending sparks flying around the bridge. Nim only nodded and ran toward the elevators. She stepped into a world of silence as the elevator doors closed. Leaving all the turmoil and confusion behind. The softly playing music felt surreal to Nim as the minutes drifted by. The doors opened upon chaos as passengers and crew either played bloody or dead in the hallway outside the doors. The luxuriously appointed quarters of the elite of their society, and the Captain’s quarters, were in such disarray Nim had to pick her way carefully around broken planters and prone people.

She wanted to stop and help, but finding the Captain was too important. She thought that something must have happened to him. He would have at least been in contact with the bridge even if he couldn’t get to the bridge.

Walking carefully, but still as briskly as possible, she finally approached the Captain’s quarters. Nim sucked in a staggered breath. The airlock seal was red. She stared at the door in a daze. Her mind would not focus on the though that the Captain could be dead. This must be a mistake. He has to be somewhere else on the ship, injured or helping the rest of the crew and too busy to contact the bridge. He couldn’t be gone?

Her fingers shaking she lifted her Phox, “Nim here Mr. Erskin. Can I get a structural integrity report for the port side of the ship? Heart pounding she waited for the report, but she already knew the answer. He was dead. They were on their own now.