chaque jour

2007-08-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

How I spent my summer vacation, Part II:
(the Interlude)

Work like mad to make up for lost time (my 6.2 hours of vacation aren't doing me any good yet, but I probably couldn't keep taking time off like this is I was a full time employee).

Take suitcase to work and leave immediately to make it to that wedding. Leave at 3am to catch a flight home so I can go to work on the way. Eat as much as possible while in NC and feel queasy the whole time. Go straight to work. Swear I'll never do that again.

Work like mad to make up for lost time (boy, that sounds familiar). Take suitcase to work so I can leave immediately to visit my folks. Pick up dogs and daughter (and baggage), swing by summer bbq for visiting relatives on the way out of town. Arrive in Oregon later than I hoped, but still before my sister's delayed flight.

Pack 18 months worth of visiting into 66 hours:

Leave the dogs behind.

Work like mad to squeeze hours into this pay period since I'll be taking off the following week. Swear I'll never do that again.

2007-08-18T09:05:00.000-07:00

How I spent my summer vacation, Part I:
(it sure wasn't sleeping...)

Here it is, my home away from home for the summer:

You'll note that this little stove is tipping. This is very exciting. When sailing, the boat tips and when one changes direction, the boat tips the other way. This makes cooking a bit challenging with a fixed stove, and scary when cooking in large, heavy, full-with-simmering-chili pots. But the new stove is gimballed, so it stays horizontal regardless of which way or how much the boat heals. Oh happy day! So, I cooked. Spaghetti, dumpling soup, fish and potatoes, pancakes and sausage, cobblers, brownies, and lots of hot coffee, tea, and chocolate.

The weather was suprisingly cool, although it gave us some lovely days, like this one at Sidney Spit in British Columbia:

2007-06-24T20:20:00.001-07:00

I recently made the prettiest birthday cake ever:

2007-06-23T16:55:00.000-07:00

Swiftsure II
I realize that writing this post three weeks after the fact does not give it the breathless immediacy it deserves, but the penalty for taking four days off was three solid weeks of work. Luckily, I'm off one job for the summer.
So, Swiftsure is a yacht race in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, leaving from Victoria, BC. We sailed overnight to get there, rested a day, raced (poorly) a day, and returned home over two days.

Take a look at this picture:

I did not take this picture, nor is it of the boat on which I was, but it is an excellent illustration of what sailing hard looks like. See how far over it is tipped? Intellectually, we all know that this will make daily duties (like making sandwiches or using the head) much more difficult. It is hard to explain, however, how nearly impossible these duties become, because there are no flat surfaces on which to set anything. Or to walk on. Learning experience indeed.
That said, this was the most intense, real-life, no-shit sailing I have ever done. I have now buried the rail on the boat and recovered. And while it was scary at the time, She and I agree that we can't wait to be able to do it again.

2007-05-30T19:56:00.000-07:00

Swiftsure post I

I'll give a real rundown later, but here is a snapshot of my holiday weekend...

Eleven people bunking in a space approx. 20X7. On the last night, She pokes her head out of her sleeping bag while I brush my teeth around someone else's elbow:

A quelle heure est-ce que nous rev...rev..

Nous allons reveiller? I ask.
No, its in the future. Reveilleions?
No, that's what the allons is for. We're going to get up.
Mom, reveiller is reflexive.
Ok, then nous allons se reveiller?
Whatever. Go to bed!

2007-05-03T13:08:00.000-07:00

Plans

I am quite looking forward to the Opening Day Parade this year, my first on a boat. In fact, we'll all be on boats as both She and rtg have crew assignments, as well. But mostly, I am looking forward to seeing this:

With less fanfare, a single boat will slip out near the head of the fleet, powered by a single rower. His craft will be one long wisp, 26 feet of nearly pure waterline displacing less than 36 pounds.

You can read the rest of the story here: Wooden-boat heritage gets a boost with revival of historic Pocock shell

2007-05-01T17:16:00.000-07:00

Closer
We have doors, drawers, dishwasher, sink and faucet. All we need is the counter, water reconnected, and we're back in business.
Check this out...

That boy of mine has got some skills!

2007-04-24T17:22:00.000-07:00

In other news
We just wrapped up the first ever Celebrate Seattle dance festival here, which was an exciting opportunity to see some companies and choreographers that are otherwise left to others. Most of the festival was quite good, if a bit difficult for an audience used to tutus and tiaras. And even I have to admit, Merce Cunningham may be one of the most influential choreographers of the 20th century, but I just don't like the work. I try, but it reminds me of watching dancing brussels sprouts. However, there was excellent fun in having dancers from my mom's company in Oregon performing up here. Hooray for the mother/daughter wardrobe team.

Speaking of Brussels Sprouts (which I have eaten and eaten, but never liked), it is planting time here in the beautiful PNW. I have filled our yard waste bin (4x2x2) six times in as many weeks. It is amazing that two years fallow can erase five years of cultivating. This year I am getting on top of it early, before I get overwhelmed. I usually only grow salads, and this year there are lettuces, carrots, radishes, beets and herbs like normal. I am adding green beans and tomatoes (3 kinds), but also collards and dry beans for minestrone in the fall. There are finally enough strawberry plants to make something from (although who am I kidding, those get pinched while walking past strawberry plants on the way to the bus). If the squashes (zucchini, pattypan and pumpkin) come in, we'll eat very well this year. But my pride and joy are the three (count them!) tiny figs on my fig tree this spring.
I can't wait.

2007-04-21T15:33:00.000-07:00

Beauties
Here's one

and here's the other

2007-04-13T18:25:00.000-07:00

Progress, albeit slow
I have to move out of the kitchen this evening. Time for the real demolition to begin. rtg tore out the upper cabinets two weeks ago and built and installed the new ones. So far, we have been dancing around each other as I cook and he builds, with only a few conflicts (in the future, all clean dishes should be put away before we start sanding: ick).
Here is a picture for layout:
And one for style:

So far, my job has been to pick stuff out, which compared to rtg's fine craft, seems a little lowly. Having a lot of style really pales in comparison to having some real skill.
Choosing materials and finishes is more complicated than I expected, however, mostly because there are more options than I realized, although most of them are crummy. After many dispiriting trips to the Enormous Hardware Store (both the orange and the blue one) and the Holy Crap Expensive kitchen boutiques, I found a (big!) apron front fireclay sink that we both like and this lovely faucet at a reasonable price. rtg found the only under the counter microwave available these days (what do people in apartments do?) and we decided on a dishwasher which we will not use. Finally, we came to a detente on the counters. Pretty, no? And paint, which I'll have to show you in a month when it is in place.

With all these details of construction rolling into our house, I knew that I'd have to move down to the auxiliary kitchen (which I am starting to call the scullery) sooner or later. rtg has to cut out the sink and rewire the north wall before he can install the cabinetry. So I have been cooking up a storm to try and get it out of my system. This week I bought a bottle of port for the first time and made pate. And it is pretty tasty. Unfortunately, rtg doesn't like liver and is a little squicked by the whole process. And She is in India for spring break. So there is no one but me here to share with; I'll have to eat it all by myself.
Pity.

2007-04-01T10:21:00.000-07:00

Hear that?
That low, rumbling buzz that can only be the sound of spring? We've heard it around our neighborhood for weeks. Not bees, not lawnmowers. That is the sound of a router. Specifically, a router given for Christmas in 1996 or 1997, never out of it's box until now.
After the winning success of the new cabinet in our kitchen, rtg has decided what-the-hell-nine-years-is-long-enough, and has started remodeling our kitchen. I am beside myself with glee. Counters raised to modern heights (the old ones were installed in the 1930s and are lower than normal; so low that I can't touch the bottom of the sink when standing upright to wash dishes)! Cabinets with doors that shut! Paint that goes all the way around (and not red, sorry Jane)!
We plan on celebrating the centenary of our house this summer and I was wondering what we would have to show for it (the poor place hasn't been painted in 20 years). While the work we have done previously has stabilized this house for the next 100, it isn't much to look at (now THAT's some ductwork! And is that a new sewer line? Look's good!). Building this kitchen ourselves, in the style of what we are removing, is a great step towards the greater stewardship of this house.
And yes, I'll post pictures.

2007-03-19T17:59:00.000-07:00

Yet another reason why rtg is the greatest

It is hard to believe it has been more than a whole year since he was hiring a diver to fetch his wedding ring out of the briny deep, but check out what rtg built for us this weekend:

2007-01-11T07:21:00.000-08:00

Can you bear another photo?
A little dark, but....

Last night's snow before dawn.

2007-01-10T19:30:00.000-08:00

Some years it doesn't snow at all

But not this year.

2007-01-08T22:59:00.000-08:00

Trying to get this written for days...
The new year has been wreaking havoc with our internet and wireless connections. Grrr. I thought these were labor saving devices.

Anyway, a clarifying photo was requested, but first, an explanation:
Usually, rtg and I work hard over the holiday, but still see each other and there is a good deal of mystery afoot at our house as each family member ferrets away their gifts and projects for the month of December. We usually start in late October when life is slow since December is so busy. This year, there was no slow October. We went away, but it was busy before we left and slammed as soon as we returned. Wacky. This is all I really wanted to do:
But wacky it remained. Until New Years Eve. Last year, as a graduation gift from my neighbors, I received several nice bottles of wine and champagne (I mean *sparkling wine*) from a good local winery. I saved the last bottle of champagne sort of until New Years, but also until I could find flutes that I couldn't wedge on my nose. Victory, flutes and holiday arrived the same day, so all reviewing and planning was held until I could finish my last bottle:
Unfortunately, I poured this glass at nine, fell asleep shortly there after, and took this photo the next morning. Mmmmm, flat champagne for breakfast. At least my nose didn't get stuck.

2006-12-31T12:31:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve

Day two of my three days off and I am still in my jammies. I have work to do, but until I am wearing pants, there is no rush. The last two weeks have been a doozy: parenting issues, double shifts, gift availability, surprise family visits, and scouts. I think I'll finish my graduation champagne before I try to un-knot all of it.

2006-12-14T07:40:00.000-08:00

How the Roman Empire fell

--Is that where you are putting your Advent calendar?
==Yeah, why?
--Covering my Carl Larsson tray? There was no other place?
==I'm staging a coup d'etat. That nail is mine now.

2006-11-20T19:30:00.000-08:00

About that trip (finally)

Our trip to the Virgin Islands was initiated by my friend who passed away in December. She spent her honeymoon there and promised my daughter that they would snorkel in St. John before graduation. As she was dying, she decided she wanted her ashes spread in the sea off St. John and that my daughter should be there for it. So what else could we do?
I was apprehensive from the beginning. Rtg doesn't travel well and this trip was so emotionally charged that I wasn't sure that I had the reserves to keep us all even keeled. Luckily, my friend's husband made nearly all the arrangements. We just had to show up.
Three fourths of St. John is national park, which means it is largely unbuilt and under-populated, which is nice. We could go to beaches and snorkel and not see many other people, which was nice. We rented a house for all of us so we cooked at home and watched movies and did homework, but mostly we sat on the patio and watched the boats go by. It was very restful. My friend is still greiving for his wife and as a result, the conversation flowed more freely into issues of values and creed and legacy than it usually does.

Here are some photos:
This is the view off the patio

And of a beach

And of a still soggy family

There were many things historic, geologic, and meteorologic that surprised me, but the greatest thing was my willingness, after having discussed the real meaning-of-life stuff, to start disassociating from my stuff. There is a large live-aboard community on the east end of the island who make it sound so easy.

2006-11-16T19:18:00.000-08:00

Back on our heads

We are back to our work-a-day groove after a rest in the Virgin Islands. I had never been to the tropics before and was aprehensive about what I might find, but now I know:
I like it. More about that trip next time.

The YA novel "Dicey's Song" mentions a grave stone inscribed, "Home is the hunter home from the hill and the sailor home from the sea." Or something like that, which has always stuck in my mind. We returned from our trip to the "worst storm of the year" according to the TV & news. There has been a good bit of rain, but then it is NOVEMBER. Should we be surprised?
Anyway, back from vacation and back to work. The holidays are upon us, which means rtg and I are gearing up for our annual bout of holiday industry. We are the people who work during others' recreation.
I started sailing lessons two weeks ago. So far they have been very wet and very cold (November, right?), but also very exciting and anxiety inducing. This last lesson was the first time I had the greater sense that I could do this by myself. With a lot more practice, of course, but soon. Hopefully there will be more to say about this soon, too.

2006-11-04T07:53:00.000-08:00

Abandoned blog recovered (for now)

Working and traveling, exploring the joys of geometry, cooking and teaching, learning a little about the world (and more than I wanted to about myself).
Here's a traveling photo from St. John:

2006-09-02T09:43:00.000-07:00

The end of the summer

"The summer ends and we wonder where we are
And there you go my friends with your boxes in your car."

I have always liked those lines, from a song by Dar Williams. I have lived near a university since I was 18 and recognize the ritual shifting of the roomates as a seasonal change. They are in the midst of it on our street, so many scrambling to be out by the first and into their new space later the same day. Several people I know are leaving their old situations for new ones and this adds to the sense of progress and expectancy a sense of rootlessness and uncertainty.
I have been viewing the annual angst over "the stuff" with a bit of a twinge this year. Three years ago, I did the same thing, trying to dissociate my identity from my stuff (do you bring the books you haven't read, or the ones you read and loved?). I decided the art would come along before the furniture, that there was no reason to study if I couldn't do it at the beautiful desk rtg made for me, under my great-grandmother's lamp; that She could bring only one box of books (but stuff as many as possible into her suitcase). We fit everything we needed into six feet of truck space; a coup when you consider the quantity of stuff still in our basement waiting to be given away.
All this was on my mind last week when our property tax assessment arrived. The same day, a group of Lord Nelson Victory Tugs arrived in Seattle, including this one. Rtg spent some quality time trying to figure how many years of moorage our equity would buy. Amortization was discussed**.
We're on a 12 year track to giving up everything we own, but what will we take with us? Where will I put art on a boat?

**a side note added later: I countered with the first boat on this page.

2006-08-12T10:18:00.000-07:00

Interns rule!
On the phone today, trying to buy tickets to a show, I was stuck in an endless loop of time-killing advertisements for other events from this ticketing agency. As I sit on hold, I notice in the voice-over background entreating me to attend the Oregon State Fair, the unmistakeable opening riff to the Decemberists’ song “Los Angeles, I’m yours.” Interesting choice, but nice; I always assume it was the intern's job to find the background music, and I do enjoy hearing something clever. Until the voice-over intrudes again saying “This year featuring TED NUGENT!”
I wonder what they would have to say about each other…

2006-08-07T22:42:00.000-07:00

When I'm in charge...

Dear Colleague,
You're swell. Really, our meetings at the copier bring a sunbeam into my lonely days. Which is why I have to tell you to knock it off. While I recognize the whimsy in having a distinctive ringtone and the convenience of coding them according to whomever is calling, having a phone that plays anything with a cha-cha beat, especially if you are going to leave your phone at your desk, ringer turned on, while you spend the day in meetings (I'd hate to have them interrupted...) is bad form. Gauche, gauche, gauche.
And while the library shelving looks solid, much like our cubicle walls, it is not actually soundproof, so I get to listen to your phone over and over again. So, please either carry your phone, turn off the ringer, or tell your spouse to figure it out on her own. Because the next time I spend a day listening to Tico Tico each hour, I will break that fucking thing.
Thanks,
CSG

2006-08-02T19:15:00.000-07:00

More photos

From the trip may be found here. Click on "Long Cruise 2006."

2006-07-31T08:13:00.000-07:00

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...

2006-07-27T19:18:00.000-07:00

I'm in love

2006-07-16T19:43:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-07-15T12:18:00.000-07:00

This gives me chills

Librarian and daughter shot on hike

2006-07-11T18:14:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-07-10T22:05:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-07-03T22:32:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-06-29T23:19:00.000-07:00

"The world is grown so bad that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch"

I couldn't sit still for so long, so I took another call to work a show in the evenings. This time, an excellent production of Richard III. I am enjoying it.
I love Shakespeare's histories although they are not produced as frequently as the comedies or as well known as the tragedies. The Henry cycle, laying out the whole War of the Roses, is one of my favorite moments in literary and European history.
With this production, there has been the usual press describing the incredible relevancy of this story of a unstopped power grab, given today's state of affairs. And while Richard's determination to just make everyone go his way by manipulation and then by force does have some resonance with current politics, I think the press has it a little wrong. They always write this about Shakespears. The reason Shakespeare is still produced at all is because his work is ALWAYS relevant to the current state in some way. The comedies will ring true as long as people fall in love and make fools of themselves; the tragedies as long as folks fall to ambition and avarice. And the histories until our memory grows long enough to stop making the same mistakes.
In the mean time, it is the playwrite's and actors' gifts to make us see and understand the action of the time and hopefully reflect on our own. Given how dark and brutal and lawless the time was for these characters, kings, clergy and nobility, how vicious daily life must have been for the general population. When Marguerite d'Anjou curses Elizabeth to live long enough to bury her children, I am thrummed.

2006-06-22T21:03:00.000-07:00

Warm and well fed
I love this time of year for eating. The vegetable are finally coming in, the cherries have arrived (with a still-to-come season each for raspberries, apricots, peaches, blueberries, raspberries again and strawberries throughout--although the little wild ones are only available in early July, and only from the one guy at the farmer's market). The good wild salmon has finally come down in price. Which means I am cooking again. The combination of not having six different things all pulling my attention and not having to work as much has left me time to get acquainted with that new stove. So I give you (for el Jefe and Justin):

Copper river salmon grilled over whole sprigs of thyme (no need to plank or sauce with fish this good), garlic and mushroom risotto and fresh peas.

And birthday cake (chocolate with cherry filling, merengue icing):

It was really good.
And if you come to visit me, I will feed you like this, too.

2006-06-16T19:40:00.000-07:00

My day
Today I slept in until 8am. Got up. Had a donut (raspberry jelly filled powdered sugar, of course), drank tea and read the paper. Chatted with my mom for an hour. Watched a movie. Decided at 2pm to get dressed. Mowed the lawn (side note: don't wait until it is knee high) and chatted with my father-in-law until She came home. Chatted with her about her day while she got ready to leave with her grampa. Waved good-by. Returned to mowing for another hour. Washed all the grass clippings away and made pretty. Walked up to the Ave to return movies and get some dinner. And now I am resting before going to fetch Rtg and see a show.
And what, you might ask, is the reason for all this delicious sloth? I have only one job now and today, no one needs me to do anything.
Dreamy.

2006-06-11T07:37:00.000-07:00

Quote of the day
From the theater last night:

Prismatic, like athsmatic. You know...Don't stick lights up her nose or she can't breathe...

2006-05-17T18:03:00.000-07:00

Perfecting the finest art of wasting hours

RTG gave me my first Jayhawks album for my 17th birthday. Actually, he gave me a homemade tape with Eric Clapton Unplugged on one side and a band called the Bluchunks on the other. Two weeks later he asked me how I liked it and I confessed that while Clapton was fine, I did not dig the Bluchunks at all. He demanded the tape back and then returned it to me with the Bluchunks gone and the Jayhawks in place.
I was in love.
So this weekend, when RTG and I went to see Mark Olson and Gary Louris play a little accoustic show, it was with a bit of twitter that we are old enough to see a re-formed former band (sort-of). Isn't this a little like when my folks go to see Peter, Paul, and Mary? Maybe, but as the evening unwound, the songs continually reminded me of places I've been and decisions I've made. She told us that the "Smile" album sounds like driving across the plains. And I'd say their six albums together sound like going home.

2006-05-10T18:15:00.000-07:00

Did I say tomorrow?

Well, I really meant next week. A quick note to all of you...When you are parents and your second daughter gets married, and your first daughter flies her whole family halfway across the country to be there, and there is family all over in a very small place, and your first daughter invites you to come visit the very next weekend because your grand-daughter is participating in a civic event for the first time, Don't Do It. She means it now, but won't later. Actually, she'll love having you visit, but her ass will be dragging for the next week. And then she'll put it on her blog.
Still waiting on the "real" wedding photos, so you can see some "taken from the gallery" shots here, and here.

2006-05-02T22:36:00.000-07:00

I want to be a Sea Scout!

Wedding recap tomorrow. In the mean time, enjoy these pictures from Monday's sail. She was mortified when she realized the crazy, waving-woman was her mother.

2006-04-26T18:54:00.000-07:00

You asked and asked, so here they are (finally!)

Design:

and Build:

There are two others, but they had to be sent on before photographing, so you'll just have to wait until after the wedding to see those.

2006-04-20T19:40:00.000-07:00

My world is changing

As I illustrated recently, my little sweet pea is growing up. And is dating a girl. Which I find a little jarring somehow. Upon consideration, I can only think of my favorite fairy tale from girlhood at the end of which the prince and princess decide not to get married; he goes to sea, she goes to school, and the king goes home to think about how the world is changing.

2006-04-19T20:45:00.000-07:00

No time to post

So enjoy these photos:

We are the queens of egg decoration.

My baby's growing up. Hmmm, at least the Easter Bunny still visits our house. Although he left her the new Pretty Girls Make Graves disc in her basket. The Easter Bunny has good taste!

2006-04-10T00:06:00.000-07:00

The week of weird quotes

Overheard on the bus Friday evening:
"Nine of them were weapons charges, but one of those was totally bogus. I only hit that cop with my fist..."

2006-04-06T20:48:00.000-07:00

Quote of the evening

From Happy Hour with the Spanish Teachers:

"I'm not terribly interesting myself, but I do laundry for people who are..."

2006-04-03T21:34:00.000-07:00

Ow ow ow ow ow

I know I have said this before, but it bears repeating...Two jobs at a time is ok, but three is too many.
I finished a 72 hour week yesterday evening and celebrated today by....
Going back to work.

Please be patient with me; I am tired and crabby.

2006-03-30T22:19:00.000-08:00

Don't ask me about my business, Kay

Today I went to work in my contractually dictated uniform: black trousers and sweater. And since I was going to another job first, I had my non-contractually dictated black heels, black scarf, black bag, green leather trenchcoat, thermos and sunglasses. As I ducked in down the alley to the stage door, the homeless man on the corner hollered, "You work for the mob, sweetie?"

You know how dangerous and mysterious those backstage folks can be.

2006-03-29T23:11:00.000-08:00

Tap dancing in the kitchen

Because she got into her first choice high school. Hooray for secret rites in condemned buildings!

2006-03-26T16:28:00.000-08:00

A short walk around my neighborhood

In the last two weeks, suddenly spring has arrived here in the northwest. I took this picture at the UW during the first week of March. It is a pleasant campus, yes?

While UNC has the Pit, UW has Red Square. There are fewer skateboards in the Pit, but fewer raging truck drivers in Red Square.

Two nights ago, while I walked the dog, the air was dense with the scent of hyacinths, mahonia and cherry, so I thought it might be good to double back to campus and see if the cherry blossoms were open yet. Today is the last day of spring break--students returning, parents and families everywhere. I have made this same visit every year since 1995. It's still pretty.

2006-03-21T17:03:00.000-08:00

Post consumption contentment

I love, love, love my new oven.

2006-03-15T07:27:00.000-08:00

Beware

Et tu?

2006-03-12T22:40:00.000-08:00

Hubris, take one

When my sister announced her engagement over a year ago, I agreed, in a fit of fillial affection, to design and build the bridesmaids' dresses. It seemed smart at the time, since two of the bridesmaids are living right here in my own house and since she asked while I was writing my Master's paper, I agreed immediately, if distractedly.

I sat on this project a long time, "researching," before I actually started drawing. But then this fall I saw a bit of magazine photography that provided just the spark I needed. The designs were complete in four hours, including color.

Then Christmas came and with it my 30-odd day working week, so I felt entitled to take January off. And in February I did a substantial home improvement project, and then in March I had to visit my parents and then they had to visit me, which means that now my sister is getting married in 5 weeks and I still have four bridesmaids' dresses to build.

Since I have just agreed to another backstage slog, I realized this weekend that I need to have the patterning and prototypes done by Wednesday. The first set of patterns and prototype for my dress resulted from this afternoon's frenzy. Phew! I make a point of knowing exactly how long I can wait before I really have to buckle down. And I love the satisfaction of working through a craft that I could do underwater, blindfolded with the energy of a deadline behind you.

I was so excited about my extraordinary skill (it comes back so quickly!) and the progress I was making that I decided to try the sample on right there in my office. Strip down, toss the frock over my shoulders, pin on the straps and...tug...oh dear...it doesn't seem to fit over my butt...*wince and frown*...maybe...No, it's wrong. Not just a little, by the time I ripped out the seams to make more room I had to add four inches.

It's going to be a long week.

2006-03-05T18:31:00.000-08:00

Where's Alexander when we need him

When She was little we had a favorite book in which the protagonist has a wretched day and as he is telling his mother about it he gets to the end and says, "And there were lima beans for dinner and I hate limas." Well, I'd take limas at this point, although freely admitting that I hate them, too.

This week started with taking my dog to the emergency vet to discover that she has a fractured tooth and needs oral surgery. Tuesday I ordered the fabric for my sister's wedding, which I am paying for because I was less than clear when we first talked about what I was providing. I have cancelled the trip I was planning for the summer so I can send Her instead and got a call today from Her friend's mother who has bought tickets for a short excursion the girls planned and needs reimbursing. And now, when I was looking forward to dinner and a glass of wine to woo my frustrations, the oven has finally quit working.

I can't think of a less pleasant way to blow through six weeks' pay in six days, except maybe raw lima beans.

2006-03-05T07:40:00.000-08:00

This pains me

Seattle is a boom/bust town. As a consequence, it has grown in fits and starts; raging in the boom times (20 month wait right now for a construction crane) and decaying during the bust (see the abandoned remodel across from my local pool--there is moss growing indoors because the owner only got half-through reroofing). Demonstrating an irrational devotion to the American ideal of progress, the city has gentrified, tearing out the old, small, or unfashionable to build new and shiny. In my own neighborhood, one property which was derelict has been advertised as a "tear-down special." What is going in is a two storey box, within the property line by ten feet on each side, on a corner, but with no facade detailing anywhere but the front. And I am sure it will be advertised as being in a "charming, well-established neighborhood." Well, it WAS charming when I moved here.

While I resent this move in my own neighborhood, this article in today's paper makes me unbelievably sad. Selig, like Hausman, will build something grand, but the record of the neighborhood will die once this church goes. What gets me more, though, is that churches can't be declared landmarks in this town. So often a community would pour its money into building a sturdy and dignified church while the residents were left to fend individually for themselves (take a look at St. Fidelis in Victoria, Kansas). In many towns near where I grew up, the churches are the only expression of architectural distinction and longevity in evidence, and they are integral to the civic health of their town.

Stupid, short-sighted progress.

2006-02-27T18:02:00.000-08:00

Redeemed

With the assistance of a diver and some cash to pay him, the ring has been retrieved.

2006-02-21T22:54:00.000-08:00

Perhaps more traditional than I thought

I just finished her applications for high school. I hate, hate, hate that we live in a district where you have to compete to get into a public high school. It isn't even a merit competition; it is a super-secret "decision process" carried out by school administrators in a building that looks condemned. I'm pretty sure it also involves the blood of virgins.
What has been entertaining, though, is engaging her in a (not) very serious conversation about her college goals. She's thinking Stanford, UNC, UW, although she has recently become enamored with a friend of our family who did her undergrad at Dartmouth and her masters at Harvard School of Ed. I told her to keep studying, because our friend's parents footed the bill for most of that and we won't be able to.
This has given me a chance to revist those heady days when I was writing to colleges to request info (writing! those were the days), dreamy about Bryn Mawr until the tuition statement came and Stanford until I didn't get in. I'm torn between hoping she goes far, far away for school and hoping she stays right here at home. Mostly, I just hope she doesn't end up in Pullman.

2006-02-21T19:16:00.000-08:00

Not traditional

We all knew it had to happen sooner or later, what with being married to a sailor. Rtg's wedding ring sleeps with the fishes.

2006-02-14T19:44:00.000-08:00

Whoops...The time just got away from me

My short list of wonderful things just got away from me. Justin, I'm working on the boat photo, but it may take a couple of weeks. They are busy doing "non-civilian" work (or maybe it's just that old sailor's rule about no girls on the boat).

Here's one of the wonderful things: it snowed here too! Just enough to make everything pretty, but not enough to mess up the bus schedule.

And another wonderful thing: Friday it was nearly 60 and sunny and clear. Take a look at those mountains! (For the geographically puzzled, that is the Olympic range--timely, no?--to the west of Seattle, across the sound, not to be confused with Mt. Rainier and the Cascades to the east as in this picture).

And one more from Friday, just because I like the juxtaposition of the old building salvage, the nice view, and the obvious construction:

2006-02-02T20:11:00.000-08:00

A short listing of wonderful things

So, it has been raining for something like 45 straight days (wait, we had one day that was only cloudy, not wet, about a week ago...) and our basement has started to leak. In all the time we've lived here, we have never had water in the basement, which is why we had carpet installed a couple of years ago. Well, Rtg spent most of the evening de-installing the carpet and finding a place off the floor to lay it out to dry. Needless to say, we're all a little short-tempered and after my maternal meltdown this weekend, I have been composing a short listing of wonderful things, lest you should all start to think that our household is at its collective throat:
Here's one to start:
Today I had an outing that satisfied my yen for community planning, design and craft, and fried potatoes all in one sitting. Rtg has been working at the shipyard for the last month, directing the repair of his company's historic, wooden-hulled ferry boat. He's been telling me for years that I needed to come see the boat when it didn't have passengers to look at its beautiful, turn-of-the-century internal structure. So today, with the boat partially layed open, I went over to have some lunch and take a look.
The shipyard is in a portion of the Ship Canal called Fisherman's Terminal. It is still a place for working boats. It can be a bit rough and I had to step over part of a dead salmon that some bird had swiped from one of the boats and left on the dock, but it is the site of a great deal of hard work and community history, a community that has managed to resist that siren song of upscale condos and high-end waterfront restaurants to remain an area populated by smells and radio music and boats needing work. I am always struck by the complexity and beauty of the rigging systems used to haul nets and pots up out of the water. Design that allows one to see how a tool is perfectly matched to its job is elegance to me and these boats, with their block and tackle systems uncovered and unadorned are beautiful.
Before we went for lunch, Rtg hauled up the floor boards in the engine room so we could see the ribs of the boat. There are timbers in there that are nearly two feet across and fit together with astonishing precision. The fact that the whole thing is watertight, used to transport cars, and was mostly constructed without the aid of electricity is amazing. Again, elegance. I'm a pretty lucky kid to have access to all this.
Plus, now I can say the captain invited me below deck to show me some wood.
And I got french fries for lunch.

2006-01-28T13:09:00.000-08:00

Eating crow

The best part about reading that last entry is realizing how much I sound like my father.

2006-01-27T18:45:00.000-08:00

I'm a stranger here myself
Over the years, my friends and I have joked about the trials of childrearing and the various frights we forsee as our children age: strangers, cars, boys, cars again (but in a different way), college tuition. But what is never discussed is the greatest threat, the one that no one can articulate. Which is why, after 13 years of always having an excellent reason for why or why not to do something, I find myself nose to nose with my daughter, all rationality cast aside, hoping like hell that she gets through this phase unscathed because I am no help.

The frustrating part is that I can't explain what frightens me. She has found a group of friends at her school, a far more worldly crowd than that to which she used to belong. Kids of the hair-dye and piercing set. She says they are helping her figure out "who she is," whatever that is. Here's the thing: I was friends with those kids when I was her age, too. And now we're all a little older and mostly still friends. So why do these children frighten me? My guess is that I see a hollow protest against conformity that ends up being its own conformity. Throw into the mix some poor decision-making concerned controlled substances and you have kids that seem to be a great waste. They aren't raging against the machine, their raging against the easiest target, the one that costs the least to maintain (my god, kids with a social policy that mirror's Bush's foreign policy). I have to guess that we were that shallow and tunnel-viewed at that age, too, but how did I learn otherwise? How can I show her?

2006-01-20T16:52:00.000-08:00

Married life

How can he possibly think my tea smells worse than his Bac-Os? What?

2006-01-10T21:14:00.000-08:00

Treat me like a piece of meat
A photo journey through culinary love, loss, transformation and redemption

It all started back in October when Justin came to visit at which time we lamented the abundance of beautiful food here in the west, but the paucity of Barbeque Joint-like pork. I was reminded again at the end of November when recalling the swell pig-pickin' held in honor of my friends' birthdays a year previous.
And then the meat went on sale.

Who can know what, besides collegial homesickness, made me think I should buy a six pound shoulder roast, but there it was. So I took it home with me. A bit of research later, it looked like this:

And six hours later, with a little homemade sauce, it looked like this:

And when added with some cornbread and sweet potatoes, looked like this:

I was disappointed with the results however. The meat wasn't falling off the bone tender like I was dreaming it should. I resolved to try again. But in the mean time, what to do with multiple pounds of leftovers and a quart of sauce?

It turns out that the perfect use for imperfect barbeque is a pork pot pie made of leftover pulled pork, sweet potatoes and onions, with a little extra vinegar sauce cooked in. It is also the perfect foil for today, the 23rd rainy day in a row.

2006-01-03T19:36:00.000-08:00

On the right truck

So we carry on. One of the hardest things about grieving is the funhouse magnification of your own grief that one must endure as one cares for others. I am tired and upset about Casey's death, but the knowlege that my daughter is in similar pain and that Casey's husband is hurting still worse, amplifies my own hurt and sense of frustration. You find yourself running around in little circles because your body cries for action to drain away some of the angry energy and little circles is all you can think of at the time. Bleah.

My friend's husband was asked to arrange a viewing even though his and her preference was to avoid that sort of thing. Still, some folks needed it, which made me think of how strangely we individually deal with death. I freely admit that my family is funeral-adverse (and rather burial and gravestone adverse--genealogists hate us), so I don't fully understand the concept behind any funeral-like production. My personal hope is that everyone will spend a morning remembering me in the way that seems most appropriate to them. Which is why we will be bowling and drinking beer and eating macaroni and cheese directly from the pan this weekend.

2005-12-30T20:30:00.000-08:00

Remembrance

This is a picture of my beautiful friend Casey whose death this morning has left us all feeling like the sun has gone out.

2005-12-20T17:58:00.000-08:00

Ask and ye shall receive

Mt. Rainier for Justin.

2005-12-18T18:36:00.000-08:00

On the phone, talking to her uncle

"Ha, that's funny. It sounds like Marcel Proust."
...
"Proust. He's an author."
...
"He...nevermind."

I'm so proud.

2005-12-15T21:25:00.000-08:00

Glad that's over
Boy, you take a seven-day-a-week work schedule for a couple of weeks, throw in some sort of sore-throat-producing virus, some insomnia-producing-anti-throat medication and a pulled muscle in my thigh (ask me about THAT sometime...) and the whole working world seems out to thwart you. Once I got my knickers out of the the complicated twist I'd created, I requested a meeting with my new temp boss and his boss and we ironed out most of my concerns. I didn't bring up the raise, but my hours are better and I have permission to proceed on the projects most dear to me. Now I am just looking forward to the 22nd, which I am taking off and am not getting out of bed before 8. I can hardly wait.
In the mean time, winter has snuck up on me. We have had several nights in the 20's and clear (which is unusual for us this early). The result has been watching the sun rise over Mt. Rainier the last few mornings. I have never seen a dawn so rosy as this morning's and I wish you all could have seen it. While we were at the beach this past spring I meant to get up to see the sunrise over the ocean once, but couldn't quite do it (although I did almost stay up late enough). Another time perhaps...but when?

2005-12-08T21:37:00.000-08:00

Small frustrations and patience has never been my strong suit

On my desk I keep two fortune cookie messages from my first two meals in Seattle after returning home.
They say:
Your genuine talent will find its way to success.
AND
You may have the be patient; think, listen, and heed signs.

In the last two weeks my boss (who was new-ish and very progressive within our organization) was fired and my only regular coworker decided to retire. Next week. So my big plan for building a new catalog is on hold until the new boss is hired (as is the raise that former boss agreed to give). What's more, temp boss is a challenging personality. I am trying to get a better handle on him, but it mostly seems that he sees the library as a passive institution, the repository for dead works. When I asked him about the budget for materials and mentioned that former boss agreed to "agressively expanding" the collection by buying three books a month, he told me that didn't seem cost effective, better to wait for someone to ask for materials before we buy them. My coworker seemed to have some sort of kindred understanding of this man and now she is leaving, too.
And I am currently making more money doing laundry part time than I am at the library.
So, I guess my strategy is to build a compelling reason for why we MUST modernize and why we should have the funding and staffing to do it well. It is just going to take more work than I thought to convince the status quo that progress is needed.
It would just be so much easier if everyone did it my way to start with...

2005-11-25T16:58:00.000-08:00

The path to my heart

They were talking about Kierkegaard and Snoopy on the radio yesterday morning...

2005-11-19T15:25:00.000-08:00

Wow

I went down to fetch my mowing shoes from downstairs and found them covered inside and out with cobwebs. I guess it has been a while since I cut the grass.

2005-11-19T10:30:00.000-08:00

The calm before...

This morning is the long inhale before the epic race to the end of the year. We sat and plotted out when and where we need to be for the next 35 days, and I think we'll be ok.
This is my last weekend (and two days in a row) off until Christmas. Nutcracker dress rehearsals start Monday. Luckily, I will rarely have to work nights and honestly, I enjoy the work (although sorting socks for the toy soldiers does have its moments of existential comedy). The library has let me shuffle my schedule around so I may do both.
RTG's season doesn't officially start until Dec. 1, but with the company Christmas party and decorating the boats and finishing some last minute home maintenance (six years with no bathroom fan, but he finally installed it a couple of weeks ago, hooray!), he's staying busy. He is also running a half marathon next weekend which is still amazing to me. I wish I could be there to cheer him on, but I'll be working.
My family is coming up to my house for Christmas this year, the first time I've seen them for the holiday in 10 years. I have delegated the planning to her to keep her busy and also because her baking skills are getting better all the time. This may be the first year in which I don't make cookies.
Throw in a couple of shows, movies, Christmas present projects, hiking maybe, and time to see friends from far afield, and I think we are ready to go.

2005-11-13T14:11:00.000-08:00

Quote for the day, courtesy of a co-worker:

"This ballet is like an elegant math problem."

and it is.

2005-11-07T08:00:00.000-08:00

Where we've been recently
Denny Creek Trail off I-90

Denny Creek water slide (sight of a suture-needing gash in her chin when she was 4)

and further up the trail not quite a mile.

2005-11-03T17:41:00.000-08:00

The threshold of ineptitude

I so hate it when a question requiring fine shadings in judgment comes up at 4:15 in the afternoon.
So, project management..HD69.P75 or T56.8? Can anyone explain the difference to me?

2005-10-31T19:54:00.000-08:00

Boo!

2005-10-29T23:30:00.000-07:00

We should do this more often

We went and saw the Decemberists on Friday night as a grown-up outing. It reminded me of Justin's one-time post about the Arcade Fire rocking his face off. It was the best show I've been to in a long while.
At the beginning I had a twinge of apprehension because as I stood in the packed auditorium, I realized that I only knew three people at this show (four if you count the acquaintance who was clearly on a date and pretending not to know any of us), while I would have been part of a much larger crowd if this had been Cat's Cradle instead of the Showbox. The opening act, Cass McCombs, was pleasant if unremarkable.
The Decemberists set began with The Tain and built steam from that point forward. I had previously declined an offer of earplugs thinking that accordians couldn't possibly be that loud, which was a mistake. An old professor of mine (Performance Studies) used to encourage us to be "thrummed" by art--to let our guard down, be in the moment, and transcend the room, the floor, the instrument, etc., both in creating and consuming art. At the point at which Colin Meloy had the audience silent, sitting on the floor in the aspect of eager kindergardeners at story time, I knew we had been thrummed.

2005-10-25T21:55:00.000-07:00

Design/build

This year's Halloween
costume. I owed her a
good one.

2005-10-21T21:12:00.000-07:00

When I'm in charge, things will be different

Working for a state agency means that many of the features that I always thought were intrinsic to an office are not in evidence. Like the communal coffee pot and the occasional all-office-burrito-lunch. Not so here, apparently. To remedy this, the office has several "clubs" in which folks who wish to participate may pay and then enjoy the perks of the "club." The coffee club, for example, is $5, which was used to buy a coffee pot and coffee. Those who paid are allowed to drink the coffee, but those who didn't pay are supposed to forage for themselves.

I never took this system very seriously (although I did pay my $5 for coffee) until this week. There is a "birthday club" which charges its members and then buys birthday cakes for the members on their birthdays. Cakes which are only to be consumed by paying birthday club members. This week, the cake was purchased and left still sealed in its box in the kitchen with no note, to be eaten later. Well, somebody was heating up their lunch and must have thought--"Hey, cake!" removed the shrinkwrap and cut themselves a slice. So then many folks who came into the kitchen to heat up their food must have thought--"Hey, cake! I wonder if it's available? Well, somebody already had some, so it must be. I'll have some too." So when the birthday club members came back later to enjoy their cake, it was well massacred. Much angry emailing and muttering and gusty sighing resulted, all of which I enjoyed since I have the cube closest to the kitchen.

All of which has made me realize that I am a cake socialist. Who brings cake, leaves it out in the kitchen where everyone can see it, and then tells folks they can't have some?

Down with the cake bourgeois!

2005-10-17T22:20:00.000-07:00

Procrastination
Oh, I'll admit it; I'm stalling. So far I have made three cups of tea, done two loads of laundry, one sinkful of dishes, made a batch of rice crispy treats, and restored the hard drive on our old desktop computer. And what am I so agressively avoiding? Well...belts.

So, due to a scheduling quirk, I am working extra at all of my 2.5 jobs for the next month. To accomodate this, I have been allowed to work at home (and not in the telecommuting sense, Monsieur Jefe). I have a stack of boned, tie-front cumberbunds in a screaming shade of yellow waiting to be assembled to complete the ensembles worn by the mice in our local holiday production. These are not difficult to construct; I have the tools and skills to complete the project. What am I waiting for?

The obvious answers: I'm still reveling in the lovely visit this weekend by a dear friend, Halloween costumes, pink wool just crying for transformation into a pair of trousers, yard work, the book. But none of these quite touch on the point. I think time wasting is just more satisfying when you know you have something that must be finished.

And since these are not needed until Wednesday at noon, I still have plenty of time.

2005-10-11T21:17:00.000-07:00

Snort

sniff sniff, cough.
Snort, cough, Cough.
Check to make sure no one is around; this is silly.
Ppth. Spit behind the bushes. Twice.

I hate being sick.

2005-10-01T17:43:00.000-07:00

What bears already know
Today was a banner day at the farmers' market. Our fish guy had some beautiful smoked salmon for half off (because it was overdone--my favorite!). And this is the time of year when you can get a good tomato in Seattle. Beets for her, even though they are gross. Some flame colored dahlias because there is more than one way to feed yourself. And, straight from the Shuksan...wild huckleberries. The last time we had these, I used them as a reward on the hardest hike we ever did. Mt. Pilchuk, to the watchtower, is only three miles, but much of it is over scree fields with ankle-turning shifty rocks. It took us three tries to actually make it, finally at the end of the season, with the promise of even more huckleberries if she would just keep going a little further.
So today, we had salmon and huckleberries for breakfast and then compared our purple tongues. She won. And I told her we were eating like grizzly bears and roared at her, at which she nodded and excused herself. Apparently that's not funny anymore.
Since we are on day three of a five day rainy streak (today was squalls, while yesterday was hard rain, and the day before, drizzle), we stayed in and cleaned the house. And now that all my dishes are clean, I will proceed to dirty every one of them making a tomato tart for dinner.

2005-09-28T21:30:00.000-07:00

From the bus today...
A workman sitting on top of a five foot step-ladder, peering in the window of the Big Time Brewery, hands shielding his eyes to cut the glare like a small boy staring in at a Christmas window display, oblivious to the six inches of butt exposed above his belt.

2005-09-23T07:36:00.000-07:00

Joy!
The Top Pot Donuts next to my neighborhood library is finally open.
Where else in the world can you get a raspberry jelly-filled powder sugar donut?
With actual raspberry jam inside?
Not at Krispy Kreme...

2005-09-19T18:06:00.000-07:00

Oh the variety!
This weekend has been an exercise in opposites, but in the nicest sort of way. Saturday, after working at the ballet making beautiful things, I went home. She and I put on our gowns and headed out for dinner and then the opening night gala at PNB. We had a lovely meal at a local diner with a friend of mine from work and then we all gathered up our taffeta and headed to the show.
I love dancing. It seems to be the art form that speaks to me most clearly; music in physical form. So we saw a great show: several Balanchine pieces and a great piece called Red Angels which was hold-your-breath amazing. After the performance, there was a band and dancing and champagne. It was a lot of fun to see all the swanky people in their swanky clothes and to be out and doing some dancing of our own. She kept teasing me about the champagne and I kept elbowing people on accident. Different rules than at Hell, I guess.
The next morning, I took some aspirin and we all headed to the Puyallup Fair with some friends to look at the animals and the 4-H projects. I can now report authoritatively that animal smell, hay and elephant ears are no cure for a hangover. Nonetheless, we admired the cows and horses, dragged the boys through the quilts and knitting, and ate a lot of starch. I declined to go on any rides, caving to my goosey stomach, but the Ferris wheel and giant slide were enjoyed by others.
I love that we could go from the ballet to pigs in 12 hours.

2005-09-15T19:12:00.000-07:00

Apology

Today, after a miscommunication that led to a 1 1/2 hour bus ride on three buses, I called my mother to apologize for ever having sighed, gone to my room, and then played the same song over and over and over again. And then I apologized to the universe for ever having told her that if you can't sing well, sing loud.

2005-09-10T09:41:00.000-07:00

Miscellany

School: After transforming myself into a thorn and wedging thickly into the side of anyone who I thought could help our situation, she is in school. Not school A, nearest and dearest to us; not school B, far from home and family; but at school C, part way in between. I am torn about announcing victory because it isn't really what we wanted, but it is so much better than it could have been. She can catch the bus close to home and not so early. So she is re-waitlisted at school A and they have to make a decision before Nov. 1. In the mean time, I am nagging the teachers to see about moving her into honors/advanced classes since school C is not generally as rigorous as school A. I never wanted to be one of those antsy, domineering mothers, but I fear it is unavoidable for the next couple of months, especially since it is her way to back down from conflict and challenge when it comes to school.

Travel: Good lord, we're home for a while, although the social obligations are stacked up in a pile right now. Wedding this afternoon, season opener for the Washington Ensemble Theatre next week, starting back at the ballet on Monday. However, she and I have decided, having seen New York from the plane on our way into Newark this week, we have to go. As a girl, I always assumed I would live in New York (I was going to be a ballerina, after all...), but that idea faded with age and circumstances. But now I think I have to go and see what's there. Plunk--that's the first nickel in my coffee can.

Weather: I knew it was near, but last night confirmed it. Summer is over here. We have had two chilly mornings in the last week, but last night, when walking the dog, I could tell. In the spring, if you go out in the evening of the first warm day, the air remains warm, but the ground is still cold and you can feel the cold radiate out of it. So you know it is a trick and that the next day will be cool again. In the fall, the situation is reversed, with the earth maintaining the last warmth of the summer, but the air cooling to whisk the heat away. That is how last night was. So today the rain has started and against the grey, you notice the red tinge in the vine maples. And we can wear jackets.

2005-09-08T07:30:00.000-07:00

The plane lands

And we get back to our normal lives. We (she and I) spent the holiday weekend in NC, visiting old friends and reliving our glory days. There was a dance party, a beach trip, a visit to Carrburritos, some barbeque, and a cookout--everything I could want. Or alternatively, there were a couple of movies, a bat mitzvah, dancing, a pillow fight, a visit to the old school, and attention from an older boy--everything she could want.
More tomorrow about the trip, the resolution of our school issues, and the end of the summer...

2005-08-31T19:18:00.000-07:00

My heart hurts

Looking at pictures from the hurricane...It is so unjust. Why must the most vulnerable always bear the greatest suffering?

2005-08-25T08:30:00.000-07:00

Bureaucrats 1, me 0

Warning: grouchy complaining to follow
For the most part, our little family tries to go through life avoiding joining organized groups of anything: clubs, sports teams, churches-- specifically because it requires relinquishing autonomy and having to accept choices with which we may disagree strongly. However, some interaction is inevitable and I am currently banging my head against the computer desk, raging against a machine designed wholly to facilitate the movement of paper between central office and branch outpost and to make my life harder. The Seattle public schools
Now, we do our part. I vote for every school bond. We pay our property taxes with a smile knowing that we will reap what we sow and she will get a good education provided by the funding we offer up twice a year. I kept her in city schools as our peers bought in the suburbs believing that there was nothing wrong with our school district that a little parent involvement couldn't fix. Hence the sense of betrayal.
I went to register her for school as soon as we got back from NC, only to discover that the registration office was closed until mid-August. I was annoyed that I had driven all the way out there only to be turned away so unceremoniously (isn't this kind of thing exactly what the "news section" on their website is for?). But, I returned the day after arriving home from France (bloody-eyed and jetlagged) to register her for the new year.
We live 15 blocks from the middle school she has always assumed she would go to, well within the walk zone. Part of the appeal of our house is that it is 4 blocks from the elementary school, 15 from the middle school, and a mile from the high school. Unfortunately, the middle school is full. Unfortunately, every middle school in the northern half of Seattle is full. Unfortunately, every middle school in the northern part of the southern half of Seattle is full. Unfortunately, our choices are between a school 10 miles away and 13 miles away. I chose the ten.
But wait, there's more-
Unfortunately, due to a missing $20 million, the district no longer busses middle and high school student who chose schools out of "zone," they ride public transit. Unfortunately, both of our options are out of "zone." Unfortunately the school day starts at 7:35 so she has to catch a 6:15 bus to get there in time and wait around, downtown, before the sun comes up, for a transfer. I didn't like doing that when I was a freshman in college, let alone to a middle school kid.
This can't possibly be safe or healthy.
Rat bastards.

2005-08-23T20:41:00.000-07:00

Home again, again.

Paris was lovely and nostalgia has already set it. I apologize right now for peppering all my conversations for the next six months with, "well, when I was in Paris last..." I'm sorry; I can't help it.
Highlights: Chartres, the Cluny museum, the objets d'art section of the Louvre (especially the tapestries), having our portraits done, skipping down the stairs along the quays with ice cream and giggling, the Django Reinhartdt band playing on the bridge, teaching her how to wear makeup, pain suisse.
We delved far more deeply into the medieval history of France on this trip, leading up to the Renaissance, which was very satisfying. I was reminded that it was the fall of Constantinople to the Ottomans that triggered the Renaissance and suddenly found evidence of Byzantine design in everything dating later than 1500. Also, at Chartres, preparations were being made for Assumption Day. It was cool and cloudy when we arrived, and the cool interior, organ music, offeratory candles and darkness helped to really cement the idea of spiritual mysticism that inspired the art from this time period. It was lovely.
It was also nice to know our way around and what we wanted to see and do a little better. The only thing that displeased me was that we didn't have such a dreamy view from our hotel room. Because we would be out walking for 6-8 hours each day, we tended to head in early to rest. The lack of view meant that we watched more TV than I would have liked, but as she pointed out, it was French TV.
The only downsides to our trip were an unpleasant run in with a couple of street hustlers who tried to intimidate us into giving them money and the bad poke in the eye that I received on the way home.
I think I may be done with Paris as a complete destination. While I would always be content to visit, I think I am ready to branch out into the French countryside and travel to other places. My old friend assures me that this is the same trajectory that her own traveling life has followed and suggests the next trip be Mont St. Michel, Normandy, Bayeux and the Loire valley. I think that sounds just right. Four years?

2005-08-01T20:40:00.000-07:00

We're off to France

And the weather looks like it won't be hot this time. So far we are committed to the Cluny Museum, Paris mosque, sailboats at the Jardin de Luxembourg and I promised her great-grandmother that we would go to the top of the Eiffel tower. Here's to luggage that comes home with us!

2005-07-24T10:22:00.000-07:00

Wow

Yesterday afternoon I was at my local junk shop looking for a kitchen table. I asked the proprietor to come look at a piece that had no price visible. As she walked past, she patted me on the ass.
I wasn't quite sure how to react. I'm still not.

2005-07-20T22:12:00.000-07:00

Slowing up

My first week in my new job is done and I have a second meeting with the guy I am "consulting" with to help him get his fashion ideas constructed, so I have a little time to reflect. My dad always says "slowing up" rather than "slowing down" and it has struck me as odd since I was little. Still, it seems to make sense, as slowing up makes me think of a temporary rest while slowing down sounds like the end. And this is just the first week.

Working will be fine. My initial concern that I wasn't nearly qualified and that my employers would soon figure this out has been allayed by a little training and their request to put my degree to work and make some suggestions to take the space into its next permutation. So far, so good.

In the mean time, I have been back in home repair mode, weeding out the vegetable bed and the patio and getting the clothesline put back up (although I must admit that the extent of my effort on that was complaining until Rtg relented and sunk some bolts for me). She comes home from her most recent trip tomorrow and we have big plans to watch movies (in French!) and bake cookies. Until then, I have more unpacking and a bathing suit to finish.

2005-07-13T18:30:00.000-07:00

Addendum

I got the job!

2005-07-13T08:57:00.000-07:00

Waiting

I have to catch a bus to a job interview in 30 minutes, so I am writing to kill time and to take my mind off my very stylish and very uncomfortable shoes. Luckily, the suit and the shoes will be reserved for company functions only and I can wear regular clothes the rest of the time.

In the mean time, we are all finally back in our place, although she will leave on another jaunt soon, but with her grandmother and great-grandmother this time. Would that I had her social life! The rest of us are just working, or looking for work. Today I have resolved to overcome the ennui that has stifled my great plans for the last three days and get back to the task that always waits for me. That's right...laundry. And I'll work on my French homework while things are in the dryer. If I don't end up napping.

Wish me luck

2005-07-06T09:03:00.000-07:00

Moving on

A little more than a week later and I am back home again after a thousand mile goodwill tour to see my folks, my dear friends in Oregon, and her biological father and his family. Folks and friends were great, even if the circumstances were grim. Dropping her of with her b-f was fine, too; I long ago came to terms with how it is uncomfortable and puts me a little on edge. An opportunity to practice grace, but boy is it exhausting fighting back the petty, pissy part that wants to feel smug and superior.

Last night, after an invigorating dinner at Thai Tom (the Ave's finest), we set to bringing up the rest of the furniture from the basement. Conveniently, all that was left was too heavy for me to lift and belongs in my office on the second floor. I helped with the old Chinese trunk, but my worktable was way too big and a bit of challenge on the stairs. Rtg had to get my brother to come help as I was termed "too little" to be useful.

So now all the raw material is up in my office, which is a space I love (although it is currently painted pink, which, while not dreadful, I'll be happy to change). It faces the front of the house and is up higher than anything else in the neighborhood, so I can look out over the rooftops to other parts of town, the freeway, the university, and sometimes the mountains. On days like today with the clouds and wind running past, it feels a little like an eyrie.

Which distracts from the piles of boxes all over the rest of the room.

2005-06-25T14:26:00.000-07:00

Arrival

There is nothing like driving cross-country to make one realize how broad and varied the US is. The drive was uneventful, which was lucky given that the steel belts of our steel belted radials were showing by the time I pulled in front of the house. Uneventful, however, makes for a boring story, so here are some of our observations from the road.

-auto focus is a difficult feature in a moving car. We wanted to take a picture of each "Welcome to..." sign along the way, but got a lot of mileposts just past the the "Welcome to..." sign.
-we have exquisite taste in music, as do our friends in Chapel Hill who made us CDs. What a pity we can't sing, or alternately, thank goodness our lack of tunefullness doesn't deter us from belting along with the songs at 85mph.
-you need to wear sunscreen, even in the car.
-there should probably be more U2 in our daily lives. Noticed when, west of Salina, Kansas, she turns to me and says, "this is good, who is it?" as we sang along to "Sunday, bloody Sunday."
-relatives are a great opportunity to practice patience and tolerance. I love them, but I would not make their choices.
-I thought I could go the whole way without washing the bugs off the windshield, but we only got as far as Twin Falls, Idaho.
-when you are traveling, diet soda and fritos are a perfectly appropriate meal.
-she's a great kid.