Laundry Life

As a single person without the luxury of a washing machine and dryer, I pay frequent visits to the laundromats of my town.  I tired out several sketchy places, and decided I prefer the heavily trafficked laundromats.  Mostly for the safety, but partly for the pleasure of watching people.  I wrote this story via my Blackberry on my first visit, while waiting for the machines to finish.

Coin Laundry

by Tabatha McMullen

At first glimpse, this laundry facility is something like a YMCA. Children frolicking, parents busy with their current priority, yelling at them half-heartedly and out of breath. There's a man, balding and squat, scolding running children through his teeth, but when he sees me he  smiles with an open mouth and says, "These three are open, probably some of the only ones that work!" and inches his cart away from them, gesturing to the machines with the open lids. I leave my sunglasses on and begin discreetly sorting my laundry, hoping that red pair of panties doesn't pop out and fly across the room. As I tug and pull, the man hangs his slacks ever-so carefully on those tiny pants hangers, that clamp the cuffs of the pants, rather than drape them over.

I decide it's safer to stay with my clothes than to leave and come back, because I still haven't seen those panties. I got lazy and just hoisted all the colors into the same wash.  I notice that the man has an apron hanging from his cart, and five identical shirts also reside there. Their logos read "Dillons," which is conveniently right across the street.  I wonder if he lives nearby. As he wheels his clothes out the door on the rickety cart, he tips an imaginary hat and me and I know he must be very good at his job.

A woman of about fifty, with salt and pepper hair, takes it upon herself to pull the door stop out of the open door, shutting it on the first beautiful day we've had in weeks. I catch myself frowning as she turns and I see her "Chopper Mama" t-shirt.

I take a seat and open the new book I got from the library yesterday, but can barely make it through the first chapter before my natural curiosity gets the best of me and I'm engrossed in creating life stories based around the patrons in Coin Laundry.

A woman and her daughter are dressed in two extremes, the woman in red and black sweats, the daughter (around seven years old), in high heeled boots and tights. She points out things to her mom like, "That's different now! That table used to be here." Ahh, they must frequent Coin Laundry. I stare at the clothes she folds. She has many children.

Another woman huffs and puffs, bringing load after load through the door. On her last trip I see two things clutched in her right hand -- a bottle of detergent and a convenience store microwave burrito. Her shirt reads, "Queen of Everything."  That one caused me to let out a delighted giggle.

Thoughts dance through my head of these people wearing these clothes they fold (or toss in a basket), maybe all together somewhere. At work. At school. A family reunion. Yes! Maybe they all know somebody that knows somebody that they know, and they'll wear one or more of these pieces of clothes when they realize. The exponential quality that life has completely amazes me. Every person I come in contact with has a story. The people they come into contact with have stories. And so on and so on...if I think too long about it I start to drool.

Once in a while, I see someone watch me. People might wonder what I am doing, typing away on my phone. "I'm writing about you!" I want to exclaim. If only I could admit to them that I think they are fascinating, and if only they'd converse some more with one another, my imagination wouldn't have to do all the work. Or maybe...they're thinking the same thing about me.

I'm in the market for a washing machine and dryer of my own. Maybe I'll hold off on that.

Doesn't this story make you want to visit Coin Laundry?  I mean, their machines are always broken, but the must glorious things can be seen.  Come visit me.  We'll go together, and it can be twoderful.  Plus, there are snow cones right next door. ;)

Spring Time

It's Spring!  It's Spring!

And Margaret Atwood said, "In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt."

I've taken that literally, and expanded it to mean not only dirt, but sweat, paint, and dust.

It's my spring time of DIY, the onederful way.  Things on my list, newly crossed off, are:

-An antique shutter to hold my ever-expanding collection of scarves in a beautiful way
-Four chairs sanded, primed, sanded and painted(only half crossed off, I've only done two...)
-A desk painted and office area decorated
-An old frame re purposed to hold my necklaces and bracelets with tree-branches
-Clock arm earrings, taken from a clock and painted, then made into earrings.  Slightly unsymmetrical, but quite beautiful.
-Washing my house, with a scrub brush and a hose (now THAT felt good)

And the next thing on the list?
Time to tackle my garden!  And smell like delicious dirt, every day.
I'm busy reading Talking Dirt, by Annie Spiegelman.  It's the Dirt Diva's Down-to-Earth guide to organic gardening.  I'm in love.
I have a big container for my salsa garden, and will be getting some lumber from the Hamlett clan to make my six by eight foot raised vegetable garden in the back yard, as well as sunflowers galore!  I now own a shovel and several garden tools.  I'm itching to make this happen.

Cody and John tell me I need some other actual tools, besides my two screwdrivers and a hammer.  But I say that leaves little room for ingenuity.

The best part of all of this is the sense of ownership and accomplishment it gave me in my home.  It was an empty vessel, and when my friends walked in last night, they said, "Look at your home!"  My home.  After which we had a most-fabulous dinner of pesto pasta, wild leaf salad, and sorbet for dessert.  Wine included.

There's something to said about building a home together with someone, but at this point in my life, it's me.  Just me.  Making myself a home, and a life, that is a direct reflection of who I am.  Not to be alone forever, but to be completely one person before I become part of something else.

Sometimes lonely, but often inspired, and onederfully yours,

Tabatha

The Public Library, and then some.

What a whirlwind these past two months have been!

I am sad to say I am no longer living in Little Sweden...some unforeseen circumstances (and one drive in the blizzard) have landed me back in Salina.  I still plan on visiting often, and being involved with something in that charming little town.

But the good news is I'm in a house!  My very own house!   And, eventually, I'll be saving money.  Moves are expensive.  But things are coming along swimmingly.  I live within 2.5 miles of my job, and have already mapped out a bike route for when the weather gets warmer, and looked into the City Go buses, which run right near my house.  Transportation like that just takes a little more planning.

(These photos are the built-in hutch where I keep my late Nana's tea set from Germany and wine glasses, of course, and a picture looking into the living room, when things still weren't really unpacked).

Now, I sit at the public library, basking in its remodeled glory.  For those of you who haven't been to the Salina Public Library -- this is my advice to you:  DO IT.  Besides having a stellar children's section downstairs, the parts for the adults are comfortable, clean, and quiet.  Sections are clearly labeled with large signs and new pictures on banners, representing areas of interest.  There is a vast selection of both books and media, and the study area is conducive to laptops and books alike, with wireless hot spots, plug-ins that pop out of the tables, and some sleek comfy chairs with revolving desk pieces.  I couldn't be more impressed, and with no internet at my house, will definitely be visiting often, and enjoying the book selection.  The lighting isn't harsh, and nothing smells musky.  This could be heaven for me.

As I look around, I see two brunettes (holla) studying flashcards and whispering quietly, muffling laughs about what their children are doing around the library, or funny things other patrons are doing.  There's a man with a grocery basket, seemingly doing some shopping amongst the non-fiction.  Young and old alike are gathered here, and not only in the DVD section.  This is community, side by side.  Parallel community.  There's not a lot of interaction between patrons, but it feels like we're all doing something together.  A library isn't a place you whip in and out of.  It's a place where time is spent and knowledge is gained.

I sort of feel like if someone could be inside the internet, this is what it would be like.  In the midst of endless information, bopping from place to place.  And it might even be faster than dial-up.
(Pardon me while I daydream of myself in a Matrix universe).

I'll go now --I've got my eye on the large banner with pictures of pens and paintbrushes.  And unlike the internet -- I get to take something home.  Something I can hold and investigate, read and return to.  Mine for nearly two months, keeping me company on unnecessary snow days and onederful nights in my new home.

The Visitor's Guide

I've lived in Lindsborg two full months now.  Exactly how long does it take to be considered a "towner?"  I've never been sure, but I know I want to be.
To reach this coveted status, I knew I'd need a little help.  I say "yes" to evenings at the Ol Stuga whenever possible, shop at Scott's grocery store with their high prices (who doesn't love to buy local?), and even stop at Casey's every morning with Sara to get ice in our 52 oz mugs.  I am also pro-hydration.  But somehow I still often feel like I am just a visitor here.

This morning, while enjoying my caramel macchiato from the Old Grind while my friend from out of town enjoyed his hot chocolate, I racked my brain for ideas to entertain him.  Nothing seemed to be open, so we wandered the streets aimlessly, looking in windows while I blabbed about the store I want to open and peered in the building for rent to assess its quality.

I suddenly remembered the time Molly and I had accidentally ended up in Lindsborg and had found a tiny building with seemingly endless pamphlets about Lindsborg and its splendor.  I told my friend about it, and we had a new quest.  Of course I couldn't find it.  We passed it a few times before we finally saw it -- right beside the Old Grind, nonetheless.  Whoops.  We grabbed a pamphlet for Coronado Heights and went the wrong direction a couple of times before I just Googled it.  God bless my Blackberry.  I wasn't alone on this part of the adventure, but it's still worth mentioning.

I was a little upset that I had spent $12 on a car wash yesterday and had to drive a mile on a dirt road, but I was willing to go 30 mph, at least.  Sometimes 15.  We creeped up the bluff to Coronado Heights, and I will dare to say the the road up was terrible.  Full of potholes and deep crevices, not good for cars.  Good thing my 4-cylinder is a trooper.
It definitely was a beautiful sight to see.  Even in the wildly warm, rainy, windy, kind-of-like-autumn day that it was.  I didn't come prepared with proper foot gear for the trek, but I enjoyed it.  We made our way around the desolate site, and could see for miles.  It was very castle-esque, and had I been a child, I would have stayed for hours, enjoying its whimsical qualities, and pretending to be my ancestors.  Then, every time I saw a car go by, I would exclaim with wonder, "What's that piece of machinery!?"  Just like the old days, Sami K.

For some information on Coronado Heights, check out this link:  http://www.kansastravel.org/coronadoheights.

 

After my friend left, I looked for candles for my dear friend Peggy H. (only available in little Sweden for her Swedish Christmas tree) and headed to Salina for some thrifting.  The candles didn't fit, but I did get to see one of my favorite families for the third time this Christmas break.  My tummy led me to Freddy's Frozen Custard for lunch, alone.  Always the most awkward of experiences alone is eating. Freddy's was crazy stuffed with families and couples, so me taking up a whole booth to myself seemed a little selfish, but hey, it was warmer than a little table.  I enjoyed my burger with pickles and read from the Visitor's Guide I had brought in on a whim.

I also thought I might have time to make some lists, but I didn't.  Right there, in the center of the universe that is Freddy's Frozen Custard, I decided to work my way through the Lindsborg Visitor's Guide.  I threw my trash away with gusto and walked outside without putting on my coat.  Nothing could stop me.  But I did get a tad distracted by a woman with very small arms making the narrowest turn ever in her humongous van.  What a BAMF!  But then...back on course.

I drove right back to Lindsborg, searched all the little shops for candles to fit Peggy's Swedish Christmas tree, but only found one candle in a discarded pile of candles.  Defeat.  But I will not give up!

Next up -- I went to the Bibliotek (library).  I have been wanting to visit its used book store inside, as well.  I got myself an account and spent an hour browsing, then ended up with these gems:

I checked out Kate Chopin's The Awakening.  Always a great read.  As well as "Arsenic and Old Lace" with Cary Grant. LOVE me some Cary Grant.  And I don't fully understand why more men don't have his swagger.

I also got the bottom four for my classroom.  The 20th Centry Children's Book Treasury (full of all my favorite books made smaller!), Surprise (which was only 25 cents and needs a little TLC, but great for object permanence), Merry Christmas Amelia Bedelia (my childhood favorite books, and more for me than anything), and Fun with Numbers (that comes with an interactive CD-rom!  Helloooooo technology!).  All of this for the bargain price of six dollars!  It was buy one, get one free.  Hallelujah.

I also got to know the lady working behind the circulation desk a little.  She asked me if I was in college (typical), and when I told her that I was teaching preschool at Head Start, she was so gracious and appreciative.  I liked her immediately.  She said she admired what we do, and that she knows it didn't make a lot of money (truth), but it was such an important job, and she was so glad I was doing it.  Her son was born with Autism and attended parochial school in Western Kansas, which must be how she heard about us somewhere along the way.  We shared a few experiences, as many as two could while she scanned my books and a line formed behind me.  Yes, I liked that place indeed.  

Now home, as I reflect on my day, I am proud of its productivy contributing to my "towner" status.  Now maybe when you ask me what to do on a lazy day in Lindsborg, I'll have an answer. 

*Tip for Onderful Adventurers*

When going out alone, always wear something you feel lovely in.  One of my favorite things to do is make outfits.  However generic that sounds.  When I feel good about myself, I project confidence.  And doing things alone takes a hearty helping of that.

Parade of Lights

I'm not sure I even need to pump up this title with a quote or proof of its amazing qualities.  It's a PARADE.  Of LIGHTS.  Christmas lights!

I begrudgingly (very begrudgingly) went to this even by myself.  Not only are Christmas lights one of the top five most romantic things to look at, but a Charlie Brown Christmas was being shown at the old Stiefel Theatre directly following to raise money for charity.  And it only cost one dollar.  Talk about the perfect date -- Christmas lights, music, hot cocoa, and warming up next to each other watching Charlie Brown.  I couldn't create a more perfect situation if I tried.  

Of course every time I really find something this perfect, I'm all alone.  It's good for me, right?  My roommate was out of town, and everyone else I know was too far away or wrapped up in their own life.  You know -- children, in-laws, date night, taking naps.  Things I have no concept of.  Except the naps.  I had been doing that practically all day.  So getting myself motivated to shower and dress in so many clothes to stay warm was an obstacle in itself.  But I did it!  Because I knew my five faithful readers would like to hear about it, and I needed to snap out of a lazy Saturday funk.  

So there I was, almost late to a parade downtown in Salina.  Everyone was there.  At least it looked like it.  I had to park blocks away then trot (more ladylike than a jog) to the main event.  The biggest obstacle of going to a parade by yourself? -- finding somewhere to stand that doesn't make you look like an awkward predator.  I walked up and down a couple of blocks and surveyed the land.  The parade was moving slow enough that this was possible.  I found myself pretending I was looking for someone.  Because a single lady alone at a night-time parade stands out.  And I just had to carry my new holiday purse.  I think that made it worse.  

I found a spot amidst several families with young children.  I just kept looking away from them.  If I was caught staring, they'd think I was creepy.  If I was too busy to notice them, I was obviously someone important.  The parade was great -- just as I expected.  But it was a touch too long.  An hour is too long to stand outside in winter temperatures.  People stopped caring about the lights, because all their appendages were numb.

Below is the tree inside the Stiefel, and an old fashioned fire truck, all lit up!  Some girls were even twirling fire batons.  Flashy!

I took a break 20 minutes in and got some hot chocolate.  After that, I was still cold and the hot chocolate was lukewarm, so I sought shelter beneath the twinkling lights of the Stiefel Theatre overhang.  There I met some merry old gentlemen.  We sort of huddled together and talked about how cold it was.  It started with two, and we multiplied to four.  Each time we'd exclaim how cold it was.  If we said it out loud enough, it might change. 

When the parade was over, I was in a prime spot to be first in line for Charlie Brown.  When I got inside, I turned around and walked out.  It took less than a minute for families with young children and couples holding hands and laughing to swarm upon me.  My scarf started to choke me like a turtleneck on a day when you're nauseous.  I was close to being trampled, moms with screaming children trying to escape the cold...more people talking about how cold it was...coughing and loud talking in small space...and I was all alone.  I couldn't handle it.  There was no one to grab my hand and lead me through the crowd, no one to save my seat when I had to walk around to survey the crowd like I love to do.  I knew that mom with the screaming child would be cut-throat when it came to seat pickin'.  I burst through the side door and took a loud breath.  Freedom.  Sometimes it feels so good to be dramatic.

Funny thing was -- after all that, I wasn't the least bit disappointed in myself.  I was only disappointed I didn't get the charming experience of seeing Charlie Brown at the Stiefel.  I think we have to know our limits.  If I was with another person, I wouldn't agree to do something that made me uncomfortable.  Or would I?  I think peer pressure can be positive and negative.  The power of company.  An interesting social experiment at the very least.  

The night ended with me running back to my car (I couldn't get mugged holding my new holiday purse!) and locking the doors as soon as I got in.  I was energized enough to accept the offer from my sister to come to Wichita and hang out with her.  Which I am so happy about.  I got to spend time with her that I'd been missing, and my brother even drove us to and from the fine drinking establishment where we danced the night away.  Then, all three siblings together, we ate an entire Spears pumpkin pie we bought at Quik Trip.  You can take the girl out of the country...but she keeps coming back after semi-failed attempts at being independent.

the cinema

Typical movie theater experience for Tabatha:  Pay for overpriced ticket, mull over the popcorn vs. candy decision, then just decide to eat the Raisinets/grapes/taco that I brought in my purse (it varies). Sit down, remember I have to pee, leave and come back, then make a big show out of searching for my friends who I must have lost in that time I was gone to the bathroom.  They usually wave their hands wildly while I squint and block the imaginary light from my eyes, scanning each row, then walking out the door again "looking" for them.  Obviously.

This time was a little different.  I am usually pumped to go to a movie and participate in the culture...this was more like nervous.  Wearing a new risqué blouse-nervous.  Is everyone looking? Do they know I'm alone?  Maybe they'll think I'm meeting someone...

Here's where I went, in the booming metropolis that is Salina, the only movie theater -- in the mall.

Yes, the prestigious Cinema 10.  Where the girl behind the concessions walked away from her open drawer, not even completing her last transaction with me next in line, to talk to a very tan and make-upped girl about why she "quit school."  I almost cleared my throat, it was so rude.  She left me standing in line for two minutes while she carried on a personal conversation, with her money drawer wide open.  So unprofessional, these children.

I almost forgot to mention how I made the decision to see "Easy A."  I did what any 20something might do -- I trusted the internet.  

Naturally, I didn't choose "The Town" because there's someone I'm saving that gem for.  I had heard of "Easy A" a while back, but wasn't entirely sold.  But...I love Emma Stone and especially love Penn Badgley.  So there I was.

I loved it.  It was clever, well-timed, and full of interesting language that I was immediately proud of.  I love when other people impress me with vocabulary.  I laughed out loud more times than I can count, and it was so new not to look around for validation of that laugh.  Typically I would throw my head back with laughter and glance from side to side making sure my friends knew it was funny, knew I thought it was funny, and I knew they thought it was funny too.

On a side note -- you will hate Lisa Kudrow in this movie.  At first, I thought, "Yay!  Lisa Kudrow is in this?! And look at her cute dress/belt combo!"  Then I thought, "I hate you Lisa Kudrow."  And suddenly her nose looked larger than it ever has to me.  A side effect.

Moments I loved about being alone at the movie theater include, but are not limited to:  noticing when the man in front of me needed a penny for his bill of 12.01, and then giving it to him; studying the dreadlocks of the man near me intensively, laughing and not missing parts of the movie because of the need to see if everyone else thought it was funny too, running into a friend and still sitting by myself (triumph!), and laughing loudly period.  Whenever I wanted.  Even when the gaggle of girlfriends and distracted couples were silent.

Moments I did not love:   walking in a parking lot at night by myself, getting caught taking pictures of myself, and not finishing my concessions.  Just remember -- a medium popcorn is too much for a Onederful date such as this.

Oh, the waste.  I cringe.  So I brought it home.  And I probably won't eat it.  But at least I attempted to not be wasteful.

And then I took an awkward photo of myself.  I was being secretive, not only because I was in public, but I was afraid they'd confiscate my camera, mistaking me for a bootlegger.  Never.  Nevah, nevah.

Safely back in my car, I could take a picture of myself, anything at all...and this is the nugget I came up with.  

Go see a movie by yourself.  At the late show.  Not the matinée, because that seems like it could be okay to go by yourself in the middle of the afternoon.  Do it when it's the most shocking, and when you normally would have needed a friend.

That's what she said.

Adventure Two -- Montani semper liberi.

Mountaineers are always free, says Latin.  There aren't many mountains around Salina, but Lakewood Discovery Center/Park might just be the next best thing.

You can check out a little bit of it here:  http://www.naturalkansas.org/lakewood.htm

The actual Discovery Center was closed, so I went on a hike!  I'm always a little nervous to go into a wooded area alone.  It's a little too Law and Order for me (SVU).  At first, all the little noises scared me.  I purposely didn't bring music so that I wouldn't get pounced upon by wild animals/predators of the human kind without keen sense of hearing.  :)  The lack of music was refreshing.  Rather than focusing on my usual daydream, I could pay attention to the crunch of the wooden mulch beneath my feet, the sound of the wind high above me moving through the trees...and the butterfly that hitched a ride on my t-shirt for a solid minute.  

Before going on this hike, I admit I was a little distraught.  It had not been a great 15 hours preceding the hike.  My head was swimming and I needed the solitude.  It was 91 degrees.

Luckily, I left my horse at home.

A fork in the path -- you can always find something relevant to your life in nature.

I call these next photos "adventures in self-photography."  At the very least, when I get married, we'll be really good at using the timer on our honeymoon so that innocent bystanders won't have to suffer and all our pictures won't be of us awkwardly alone.

This was the most whimsical part of the woods -- Puck could have come around any corner.

This afternoon hike was filled with glorious alone time.  My mood immediately improved after being in nature -- and spending a little me time. It's hard to be unhappy in the woods.  Unless it's dark.  And there's a Blair Witch involved.  

I wanted to leave you with a little something from Henry David Thoreau, a man who did great things alone...most appropriately about the woods.  But he wrote something else that I love to think about.  

"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live."  

How correct, HDT, how correct.  

Which is exactly what I plan to do.