The Unexpected Consequence of Thank You

A one-hundred-year-old rectangular brick building once housed a feed store in downtown Puyallup, Washington. Purchased by Shaun Brobak. He converted it into an upscale pub called Crockett’s Public House.

If you’re a fan of the Food Network, you may have seen it on “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives”.

We didn’t “discover it” until out of town guests found it on Urban Spoon. Go figure.

Four gentlemen from one of the companies we work with joined us for dinner after an extended day of product installation and demonstration.

The volume in the restaurant rose with the number of patrons enjoying their beverages and meals.

After a couple of round, discussing the ups and downs of the day, the gentleman sitting on my left said, “The thank you note you sent me was the highlight of the last five years of my career.”

After the razzing quieted down from the other members of our table. He stood by his words. He said, “I’ve got it hanging in my cubicle and look at it every day.”

My better half, seated on my right, patted me on the back when I choked up.

Who would expect three short sentences of gratitude written in 2011 to create such an impact?

It reminded me sometimes I get busy and don’t let other know how much I appreciate what they do for me. Knowing my note made someone’s day inspires me to write more.

Thank you Crockett’s Public House for providing the place for my epiphany.

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The Week of Traveling

Sunset at Ocean Shores, Washington.

Sunset at Ocean Shores, Washington.

Company is visiting this week. Thus the short post.

Unlike two weeks ago, pictured above, clouds and rain this week wiped out the stellar sunset.

And made our trip to the Gum Wall a bit sticky . . .

The Gum Wall in Seattle's Lower Post Alley below the Pike's Place Public Market.

The Gum Wall in Seattle’s Lower Post Alley below the Pike’s Place Public Market. Business cards not shown.

. . . an instance where “crazy does work.”

Enjoy the rest of your week.

Ciao,

Fannie

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The Road Not Noticed

My better half and I travel together for work. Our travels take us to places most people wouldn’t even notice. If my husband see a smoke stack in the distance, we search for the road which takes us there.

Along the way we notice things.

Like fields of dandelions outside the solar pit toilets in Central British Columbia. Solar pit toilets not pictured. :)

Moose droppings not shown either.

Moose droppings not shown either. Hmmm. . .the smell of moose droppings in the morning.

 

Molting elk in Alberta grazing in someone’s front yard.

Part of a herd of elk in this "suburban" neighborhood--in the Rockies.

Part of a herd of elk in this “suburban” neighborhood–in the Canadian Rockies.

Bears romping in fields outside of remote towns in northern British Columbia.

Objects in photo are farther away than they appear.

Objects in photo are farther away than they appear. Because I’m not getting that close to a bear.

Buffalo roaming the side of the road in Wyoming.

This beauty stands taller than the hood of our F150. It walked in front of our truck for greener grasses.

This beauty stands taller than the hood of our F150. It walked in front of our truck for greener grasses. Yes, I am this close AND in the truck.

Dams in out of the way places in Washington State.

Mini Cooper conveniently located for scale.

Grand Coulee Dam. Mini Cooper conveniently located for scale.

A few weeks ago on our way to visit a paper mill, we noticed a road we passed many times without “seeing”. With extra time on our hands, we took the road. The “old” highway. We cruised north along Hoods Canal in Washington State.

Small communities. People waving from the side of the road. Thin Clouds. Sunshine. Blue water. Birds.

We drove into town earlier than expected and parked below this “ghost sign”.

Wonder what happened to those three generations?

Wonder what happened to those three generations?

You may have noticed my penchant for funny names. Which leads us to the town of Sequim, Washington. (Pronounced skwim, rhymes with swim.)  Famous for their weather and lavender farms and Dungeness crab.  We arrived at the tip of the Dungeness Spit.

The former home of the 3 Crabs Restaurant.

The remains of the 3 Crabs Restaurant.

The remains of the 3 Crabs Restaurant. A former 1950’s style diner. Great crab cakes. Port-a-potty for good reason.

While exploring the countryside, we crossed Kitchen-Dick Road. How could I not notice that before!?!  So many possibilities, so little time today.

The next time we visit Sequim, I will take a picture of the street sign. And if I can ferret out the story behind the name . . . you’ll be the second to know. It will not be not noticed again!

What is the strangest named road you’ve ever encountered?

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Salman Khan versus Salman Khan

Fannie Cranium:

Salman Khan–this month’s contribution to the Blog of Funny Names.

Originally posted on The Blog of Funny Names:

We recently had a run on twins here at the BoFN. How about twined names.

What’s in a name? A lot if your name is Salman Khan.

If you Google Salman Khan, the first name to rise to the top is Bollywood actor, writer, director, producer, Salman Khan. The man appeared in the top grossing Indian films for nine consecutive years. A feat not yet repeated.

Salman Khan, Bollywood Hotty. Photo courtesy of Bollywoodhungama.com Salman Khan, Bollywood Hottay. Photo courtesy of Bollywoodhungama.com

He won the Filmfare Award—India’s version of the Oscars—for Best Supporting Actor for his extended guest role in the 1998 Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. I can’t help myself, I have to repeat that off stage several times . . . okay, I’m better now.

By 1995 he starred in Hum Aapke Hain Koun..!. The film becoming a worldwide hit, garnering $21 million US. And landing on the “Biggest Blockbusters Ever in Hindi Cinema” list…

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Nature Needs Noticing

Tuesday morning a baby cotton tail rabbit stopped by for another early morning visit whilst I enjoyed my morning cup of brew before work.

Clean feet are essential in the morning.

Clean feet are essential in the morning.

He sat on the patio grooming. So I captured his picture with my phone.

The visit lasted for ten minutes before he raced off for an important date. Or maybe he was late for school. Or he left the gas on. Or our Cooper’s hawk returned for a bit more breakfast.

Ten minutes with nature well spent.

If a rabbit’s foot is carried for luck, what happens when it’s attached to the entire rabbit?

I consider myself four times luckier meeting him.

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The Mushrooms of Springtime

Mushrooms celebrate spring with the rest of us. Mushrooms commandeer our yard. Mushrooms attract squirrels. Notice the nibbled portion of the pictured mushrooms.

Mushrooms celebrating the morning sun. Wouldn't you?

Mushrooms celebrating the morning sun. Wouldn’t you?

Spring fever overwhelmed my brain this week making it difficult to come up with a post. Spring happens.

If it rains, I’ll have a longer post next week.

What was your shortest post? Leave me a link in the comments.

Thank you for visiting.

Ciao,

Fannie

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The Enchantment of the Inner Child

A few years ago, a close friend mentioned I’d lost my sense of enchantment.

It made me reconsider. Gray hairs—not refundable. Dime store magic only masks the problem.

Now I take my inner child out to play. Respite care. It saves me from the days I could wake up storming like bridezilla or going to bed in a chocolate coma.

During my well spent youth, the girls in my neighborhood formed the Park Royal Dynamite Club, named for our neighborhood—and the magazine we read.

Defenders of the imagination.

We built forts in the woods, raced hippety hops down the street, pitched tents in backyards.

On a warm summer evening, dew mellowing the fresh cut lawn smell. No moon. The stars twinkling between the hemlock branches. Frogs singing their lullaby. We packed into the tent, youngest to oldest. Ages 6 to 10. Sleeping bags, pillows, security blankets, flashlights, and Pringles.

At 10-years-old, I slept near the tent flap protecting us from marauders.

Mrs. B., the responsible adult, said, “Do not completely zip the tent flap in case someone needs to make a potty run. The back door will be unlocked. The bathroom light’s on. Sweet dreams, girls.”

I woke up sometime after the frogs settled down. Something long, dark, and thin climbed the desert-sand-colored tent flap—inches from my nose. I found my flashlight. A six-inch-long, dark-brown slug clung to the flap. Five of his best buds sprawled across my sleeping bag.

My gut twisted into a giant pretzel. A blood curdling scream burst from my lips.

When ten little girls sleep in a tent, and one screams, what do you think is going to happen? Mass hysteria. The youngest cried.

My best friend—the most level headed nine-year-old-in-a-crisis—tossed me a can of Pringles.

“They have salt. Scrape ’em off with a chip and toss ’em in the yard.”

We repelled the slug invasion, did not wake the adults, went back to sleep.

When the sun rose, I peeked through the flap.

The largest slug wrapped itself around a chip and feasted like Superbowl Sunday—writhing. The others, dead.

We celebrated at breakfast telling Mrs. B. how we would save the world one can of Pringles at a time.

Enchantment.

Our group evolved, some moved away, other moved back, new members joined. Marriages, children, grandchildren, divorces, loss.

We gather once a month for our inner children to play.

And this month we make Shrinky Dinks.

What would your inner child's Shrinky Dink look like?

What would your inner child’s Shrinky Dink look like?

“It’s not where you take things from, it’s where you take them to.” Jean-Luc Godard.

Nourish your soul. Remember to play.

Ciao,

Fannie

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