Yes, I did the things I mentioned in the previous post about the 80s. And I did this stuff, too:

1. I discovered there was a nude beach just a mile and a quarter's hike south of the Edmonds city beaches. Yay! In the early 80s we, the neighborhood kids, had the beach pretty much to ourselves. Later, toward the 90s (and to this day) there were mostly gay men there. The beach had two creeks, was at least 3/4 mile from any road, and had decent southern exposure. We, the neighborhood kids, would take bean dip, chips, and my dad's Korean-War-era entrenching tool and hike to this beach. It was an afternoon's work to dig a huge pond, dam up the creek, and wallow around in our sandy shallows. I didn't get naked until after high school, when I had a real boyfriend and wasn't worried about what to do if a creep came on to me. There was only a creep down there once (not counting the gay dudes cruising each other, which was no danger to me), and he was so stoned as to be utterly harmless.

2. I pegged my Levis so tight I could barely get my legs through. I have a photo in my bathroom, taken by a friend's mom, of me in a gray-and-white striped sweater, jeans pegged within an inch of their lives and tucked into big woolly hiking socks, with laceless white Keds on my feet. Did I mention my weird-ass haircut, the one that I tried to model after the girl in the Esprit catalog? Mushroomy, undercut, and swept over my head like the most ferocious and tenacious comb-over. What was I thinking?

3. I snuck out a few times. We had a German-style A-frame with a balcony on the front, and that balcony was attached to my room. Conveniently, I was into gymnastics, and was able to climb over the railing, lower myself until I could tiptoe onto the railing of the front porch, and out I went. My neighbor and I would hook up with her boyfriend and his buddy and cruise down to Seattle Center to ride the rides. There was alcohol involved, of course. And the older guy tried to get in my pants. He was 21, I was 15. I wasn't going for it. I heard later that he "had to" marry a girl he went out with. (Good job, teenage intuition. You were absent so often as to be a veritable stranger most days, but that day you kicked in like the rockstar you are.) I also snuck out with my sorta-boyfriend Todd a few times, just to make out and walk on the beach. It was sweet, and not at all dangerous.

4. I worked at the Lynnwood Roll-A-Way as a snack-bar girl. That was my actual title: Snack Bar Girl. 1980, minimum wage was $2.85. I got a brand new pair of killer skates with my money, and I often cajoled my dad into waiting 20 minutes after my shift so I could get some skating in. I was the shoot-the-duck queen; I sometimes was the last one still rolling and would win a sundae. Ahh, fifteen, when it's perfectly harmless to work at the snack bar and live on Que Bueno cheese sauce, "graveyard" fountain drinks (all the flavors mixed together), cotton candy, and popcorn. Ahh, the thrill to skating to "Hot Child in the City" and knowing they played it just for Patty, the daughter of the rink owners. I'd try to guess what the final all-skate song would be each night. Stairway to Heaven, or Free Bird? Either way, it was the song that signaled the end of the night, and skating to it filled me with soaring, with life.

5. I sang in the jazz choir. I was the youngest person to get in, as the policy was that sophomores weren't eligible. A last-minute schedule change by a junior meant I was next to be asked. I was terribly immature, and had a good voice, so imagine the train wreck that was. But oh, to see the Hi-Los live; to see Manhattan Transfer four times; to sing the songs of Kirby Shaw and Dave Barduhn and Gene Puerling. To remember to this day the words and melody of "Go Lovely Rose". The choir had many "errant adventures" as Heather put it. Rocky Horror in the U District, too much rum, cruising in cars with other minors (it was legal then), partying at people's houses when their parents weren't home, peeing in the snow (that was the guys), making out with men who were actually gay but didn't want to come out, the stories are endless.

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I think that's enough for now. More stories later, when I'm able to focus. I'm at Doe Bay right now, and inclined to head back to the tubs (and Harreld, the GM, just offered me a summer's worth of work at about $1600 a month - I could do it for that price!). I'll keep everyone posted.