I'm Dreaming of a White Trailer

This morning I was going to go snowboarding with one of my friends who has left the area for a job, but was back home for Christmas. I knew that her mother lived in a trailer in a rural area not far from Everson. You know, one of those little country roads dotted with tidy farms, not-so-tidy farms, and small, patched up trailers surrounded by mud.

My friend usually meets me at a grocery store along the highway and we go from there, but since her truck was full of her belongings she asked if I would come and pick her up at home mom's. Her mom's home is literally over the river and through the woods, and although I sense that most of the woods have been cleared for those farms, there were remnants of what looked like at least second growth stands of very old trees along the road. Some sections of the drive gave stunning views of Mt. Baker and the surrounding hillsides, today with a light coating of powdered sugar.

At first I missed the turn off from the dirt road; the home is set back from the gravel road via a very long driveway. The driveway had some big pot holes but was otherwise navigable. There was a fenced area to the right, a chicken wire contraption with some sort of shelter partially wrapped in Tyvec; a few chickens in there barely noticeable amongst the piled debris and things that clearly need to be taken to the dump. The trailer was a long single-wide ramshackle affair surrounded by untended earth. On the porch to the trailer I was greeted by two humongous goats. They stood there blocking my way until my friend called them off. "Guardians of the castle?" I asked. "They used to live in the caged area. Now they're everywhere, and their shit is everywhere. It's disgusting. My mom just lets them go anywhere."

I had to use the restroom so I went inside, greeted by rank, uncirculating air, unmistakable as eau d' wet-dog (my friend has a dog, but her own places have never smelled like this). Piles of presents were stacked up against a wall in what looked like a living room. My eyes averted the rest of the place, its mess shrouded in dim lighting. I didn't want to have the image burned on my retina any more than it had to be.

My friend said it had gotten worse there recently and she is a little worried about her mom. I've met her mom, and she is a nice lady, very down to earth, low key, probably not educated, kind of hippy-ish. There's another home in the back (I didn't see it) under construction that her brothers have started to build but it sits there unfinished. My friend figures it's going to be just as bad in there once it is finished, because of the goats.

By that time the sore throat I'd awoken with was not going away and my head felt as light and icky as it did earlier. Sometimes these things clear up, but today this was not the case. I've been fighting something since Wednesday, so I left my friend there and went home. It was just as well for her; she was hung over. I had to call another friend I was going to pick up further down the road, and while standing with my back to my open car door chatting on the phone, I turned around to find both goats sniffing around my steering column! They seemed to know "NO" and "GET OUT" very well.

Heading back, still in the same area I missed a turn, and decided to turn around rather than risk a lengthy detour. I spotted a driveway and turned into it. There was another single-wide patch job surrounded by earth and five older vehicles. I wondered if it was as much of a disaster inside as out.

Blowing Up at the Computer

My bank decided they needed to up their security policies for online banking. They explained it was due to the increase in identity theft. I can understand the need to cover their electronic asses, but the selection of "carefully researched" questions lead me to having a hissy fit on the phone with some bank employee. I had three questions to provide a security answer for; each question had a choice of eight questions to choose from. The first set of questions wasn't too hard to choose; one asked me which college I went to (so they assume I went to college). This was out of 8 choices, and all the others asked me about my spouse or my child. The second set of questions was more bothersome. Four out of the eight asked me questions about my child. One asked which city my parents were married in. (I have no clue and they are dead.) One asked me about my spouse. One asked me about my father's youngest sibling (what if he was an only child? actually he was a twin.) And the last one asked what is the nickname of my youngest sibling. Well I'm the youngest, and I sure as heck am not going to put my own name down for a security question.

I didn't look closely at the third set of questions; I figured they were as biased as the first set.

Whoever "carefully researched" these questions all had a close-knit, multi-sibling extended family, none had pets, all were married and college educated. Surely, everyone who uses online banking must have all these common attributes.

After getting nowhere on the phone with these assclowns I went ahead and made up answers for all the questions. The answers had nothing to do with the questions and everything to do with profanity. Certainly that is an answer I can remember.

Of Words and Spelling

Most of my adult life I've wanted the Official Scrabble Dictionary. I had visions of an entire new source of words to play the game, words that normally wouldn't fly but "it's in the Scrabble dictionary!" I finally purchased a paperback version during a sale at my campus bookstore. Words I discovered were in there like "zzz", meaning the sound you make when snoring. I figured "ss" should be in there for the sound made by a snake, but it wasn't. Strike one. Then Paul found a word that was spelled incorrectly. INCORRECT SPELLING OF A WORD IN A DICTIONARY. A scrabble dictionary, published by Merriam Webster. How could I trust it now? How? I could not. Strike 2. I'm playing 2-strike baseball.

I brought the book back to the Western Washington University bookstore where I'd picked it up for under $7. Brenda, the self-described "walking dictionary" behind the counter, wanted to know which word it was. And anyone reading this probably does too. The word was lagniappe. The scrabble dictionary spelled it without the "i". It's not even an alternate spelling. It's a mistake. Oddly the Merriam Webster full version had it spelled correctly. Are these even the same publishers? Is this some Brazilian version that's snuck it's way into the US market?

The current dictionary I own was purchased for college, which was decades ago. I'm sure it's completely out of date, as language evolves with cultural changes and new discoveries. How many new species of reptiles have been discovered over the past 20 years? How many of them are now useful high-scoring Scrabble words?