The rest of the love story

There could be all kinds of stories behind the photo from my last post. I freely admit having a crazy love affair with my house, Seattle, the Pacific Northwest, and the West in general, but this is different.
Two weeks ago, I was pressed into not-quite-emergency service as a chaperone to Her SeaScout crew for their Long Cruise. Long Cruise is a two week sail that has been a tradition for this group since the beginning and is a test of skill, self-reliance, patience and tolerance. I had never been on a sailboat before, never been out on a boat overnight before, have a goosey digestive system, and only knew one crew member--the one most likely to throw me overboard if she had the chance and a discussion of hair dye came up again.
Well, it was a raging success from my point of view. Sailing reminds me a bit of backpacking on water and the wooden boat we were on speaks to my love of lost skill and antiquated technology. I was pleased to recognize in the captain the same twitchiness for getting away from land that I get for getting out of town. We went places I had never seen before and would never have the chance via car or foot. The kids were amazing. There were moments of 14-year-old-wtf when I wanted to smack them, but when they were focused and working together, they had a precision and intiution that was impressive in such a young crowd. If this is our future, we might just be ok.
One thing that became painfully obvious is that, while the concepts of sailing are not difficult, the details provide a lifetime of study. To that end, I have signed up for a round of classes beginning (sigh...) in November. In the mean time, cue Josephine Baker:
J'ai deux amours...

I'm in love

the wedding

My friends' wedding (the reason for this post) was this afternoon and a lovely time was had by all. There was a Crystal Method processional, a Ramones recessional, and Weezer for the first dance. Dr. Seuss was read as part of the blessing and later there were keg stands done in suits and ties.

This gives me chills

Librarian and daughter shot on hike

A lovely weekend

Spent all by myself.

First, I went to the farmer's market and bought:


Then I went hiking at Talapus Lake:


And then I went to the Ballard Art Walk (actually, I went with a friend to this)and saw this lovely artist and also this one.

Sunday, I went to see this play (what a great advertising image!) with rtg. It is even better from the audience.

And then I went to bed early, exhausted and happy.

New and different

I attended a friend's bachelorette party a few days ago, which was a very educational experience. I had never been to such a function, myself. I didn't have one when I got married; instead all my female relatives and I sat up late in my office and sewed my wedding dress. It was nice and, clearly, I still remember it. Somehow, I have managed to unintentionally avoid these events my whole adulthood.

We started out on the boat, which was a nice way to include some of the boys who would not be attending with us for the rest of the evening. The bride was given various embarassment-inducing costume items, including a bikini top made with breakfast pastries (side note: it was cute, but did give me pause to think; this is what four years of careful undergrad study left me qualified to produce? Add it to the list of weird jobs and weirder projects). We then hopped in at the hotel where several party guest would later be staying, shots were consumed at the hotel bar (another first for me, and one I'm not sure I'll be revisiting). Finally, the troops were rallied, cabs were called, and we headed for this bar.

Trashy, trashy, trashy and not in the "trashy can be edgy" sort of way that an old friend once claimed. The combination of terrible, loud "young country" music and the just-phoning-it-in attitude of the staff (perhaps because it was a Thursday and they are saving their energy for the weekend?), added to an almost predatory air from the male patrons ogling the staff and the female patrons who are encouraged to dance on the bar (another side note: boys are not permitted to do this. Does this seem fair?), made the whole place kind of creepy. And it won an award from one of the local dishrags as the best place to have a bachelorette party.

We left and headed for a different place, which I was assured is a "plastic meat-market" on the weekends, but which we had all to ourselves late on a Thursday. The DJ played decent dance music and one could get away from the noise by heading back to the bar, much better. We danced and laughed at the woman who claimed to be an ex-Dallas-Cowboys-Cheerleader trying to infiltrate our group. And eventually, we all headed back to the old-standby pub where this crowd so often gathers.

We sat at the table and just chatted for a while until one of the other regulars brought our stumbling friend inside and said the it was time for her to go home. I gathered my friend and a couple of others who decided that party had gone on long enough and out we went. A cab was flagged; knees were squished, but we were all delivered back to the hotel. I navigated the lobby and got us all into an elevator. Back at the room, good-byes were said and I left them. The night clerk thanked me as I left, the drunkard's fairy godmother.

Not bad, but I'd prefer a night at Hell any time.

Things we know, but need reminding

With the warmer weather, most folks in my neighborhood live with their windows open, which means we are each privy to details of others' lives as it drifts in our bedroom windows while we rest. I think we mostly try to be courteous about not giving away to much, but we also try not to listen, either. The exception to this agreement, of course, are the children, who see no difference between an open window and a closed one and certainly don't give any thought to the invisible people in the houses next door. And so we hear all manner of playing and crying and squealing. While my next door neighbor was apologetic about her teething toddler, I actually enjoy it, both from a nostalgic/parental angle and from a lively-neighborhood-full-of-people-not-watching-TV point of view. The giggles and the fussing are sweet to me.

It seems to be a week of fussy babies here, though. One of the actors in the play was struggling a little with the sleep schedules (or lack thereof) at his house. It is hard, I remember, because you live inside the difficulty, so there is no way to gain perspective about whether the problem is big or small. I've discovered that this issue doesn't go away, the triggers just change and the negotiated solutions become more complex. Childrearing becomes less like a waltz and more like a tango.

So I see these parents with their young children at the park or on my street and I just want to walk up and remind them to enjoy this part while the steps are easy, and to smell their children's hair as often as they can. Small children have a wonderful, organic smell about them, like sweat and dirt and fresh air and laundry detergent. It is similar to the smell of early spring and growing things. It seems to last until they are about 11 or so and then age and chemistry change things.