My Date with Seattle

Lately, I've been craving some serious me time, in both little and grand ways.  Little as in taking a perfect temperature bath in the morning, complete with a white mug filled with purple berry tea.  Little ways as in painting my toes a Summery coral shade. Or walking around the backyard, barefoot at dusk, inspecting tender pea seedlings, wrapping them around handmade trellis branches, while breathing in the sweet, cool, Washington air.  All. By. Myself.

And when those little ways just don't cut it, its important to venture out and plan a grand day.  Especially when you're starting a new job the next day and you know its going to seriously cut into your venturing out time. 

So, keep crossing off the Spring List, because sista had a date with her city on Friday. 

I didn't exactly have a plan, except for where I would have lunch and which ferry to catch.  But, then I decided to catch the next ferry, and then the next one, until I found myself once again rushing and praying to catch the one about to leave.  At 10:24, I set foot on the 10:25 ferry.  That, my friends, is a Washington miracle. 

You think I would have gotten better at that by now. 

It was a glorious of glorious days.  Which by the way, happens most often around here.  Beautiful, thick clouds in the blue sky.  Glittery water which I cannot seem to fully capture on my expensive camera.  Canon should have a glittery water function.  The ferry was hoppin too, and I soon discovered that tourist season is in full force in the city.  I didn't mind though, I had my cowboy boots on, sunglasses in my purse, and me.  That's all I wanted.


If you haven't noticed, there is a new addition to the waterfront.  A ferris wheel, that's right.  Something I snickered at when it was first mentioned, but now I'm kinda growing fond of it.  After all, its a Seattle ferris wheel, so what's not to love. 

Not finished yet, but pretty spectacular.  Anything that points to the mountains is okay in my book. 

I walked the Waterfront, cut across the Aquarium, took the Pike Place elevator through the Market, and walked the cobble stone street to my lunch destination.

Are you ready for this?


I think its official.  Seatown Seabar is my favorite Tom Douglas establishment.  True, I have not dined on the potstickers at Ting Momo, nor the divine pasta at Cuoco.  I haven't even had a Bravehorse pretzel.  For shame, I know.  I just moved back.  I'm working on it.  He opened a lot up while I was gone. 

Still, Seatown has a special place in my heart.   

Sure, the restaurant is beautiful.  But, its more than that.  There's an atmosphere there that fully captures the electricity of the city.  It feels like an extension of Pike Place.  The place where true Seattle lovers go to get their taste of the city.  A restaurant that showcases the seafood, from the waters that make this place our home.  Simple and laid-back, but extravagant in warmth and flavor. 

Some of the restaurants focus on the region, others far away locations; Seatown is just as its name.  It's the Seattle restaurant of the Tom Douglas kingdom. 

There was just something about ordering a hard apple cider with a bowl of mussels and clams, and sitting at the bar with the buzz of the market around me. A group of out-of-towners came in, unsure of what to order, and unaware of the gem that they happened to stumble upon.  Finally, they loosened up, ordering coffee and crab.  Which, I only now realize is kind of stereotypical.  I gave an encouraging nod their way.  "Because, I'm from here," I thought, "I live here and I know whats good." 

It was the perfect lunch, and maybe on my next date with the city, I'll just stay there for a little while longer. 

After, I walked up the hill, to Westlake and did some recreational shopping. And, I'm not going to lie, an hour later I walked down the hill and bought a rotisserie chicken from the Tom Douglas Rub with Love Shack, next door to Seatown.  I needed to come home with the goods, it was only right.  I have a family to consider. 

At this point, I had shopping bags, chicken, bread from Three Girls, and produce from the market. 

Flowers, I thought.  You can't have a date without flowers. 

Plus, I wanted to be that girl, walking off the ferry, who everyone envies. 

Shopping bags, chicken, bread, produce, flowers. 

I bought these beauts.  Complete with rhododendrons.  There's nothing that comes close to a Pike Place bouquet.  Part of me was tempted to visit the market the day before my wedding and pick eight bouquets for our flowers.  This, like all of their bouquets, was ten bucks.  And, it will last over a week. 

I got a lot of "oohs" and "aahs" walking the Waterfront on the way back.  And my arms really hurt. 


By the time I got to the ferry terminal, I had ten minutes before the next one would leave.  Another Washington miracle, only a littler one. 

Coming back to Washington is a full blown reality now.  I savor the days.  I literally count the blessings from this land.  While I no longer live in the city, I consider myself from Seattle.  Its the city where I experienced heartbreak, renewed love, a sense of self, and an understanding of roots.  (And learned how to be a really amazing urban driver).  I feel the life of the city the next county over, even though I don't have a delightful Market bar to sit at while I drink cider. 

Its nice to spend a day with yourself once and awhile.  Whether its across the water, living the high life, or running barefoot on a large backyard, it doesn't matter because its all in front of me now.

Where I Am

Sometimes, the writing conditions are just so perfect.  Tonight is one of those times.  The window is cracked letting that pitter patter of raindrops inside, a blanket is around my shoulders, Pandora is playing exactly what I need to hear, the yellow dog is silent and still, but most of all, I feel the need to write. 

At this point, I'm not sure that I would call myself a writer.  A writer seems like someone who has studied, who writes to live, who thinks of every word, and scribbles constant notes on thick paper.  I don't know if I'd call myself a blogger either, because sometimes that has an outdated connotation. When people hear "blogger", they think of moms, political rants, or some guy in his basement spouting his point of view on everything.  I want so much more for this blog, but I don't know how to take it there. 

When I look back on things, I'm sure that my 26th into the 27th year will be that of the most reflection.  That is probably par for the journey for most people.  I look back now and see how much growth there has been in the last year.  Not that we were necessarily that different, but now we are so much more aware.  I put work in the last year to force myself to look for the positives.  And in turn, it created a reflective life. 


I was thinking today about how different life has turned out for me. I'm surrounded by history, writing, and a grassroot way of being.  I feel more inspired to cook, to dig in the dirt, and to type.  It feels more organic this way.  More natural.  And I guess, sometimes things have to fall in place before you really figure out what you're suppose to do. 

Still, there is that constant, constant, constant desire to do better.  To think greater.  To jump higher and leap more.  To stand barefoot in the water and really feel how that feels.  To dance to more songs.  To breathe in more mountain air. 

So, maybe I'm not necessarily a writer or a blogger.  But, I'm definitely a reflector.  Not like those things that you wear when you jog at night though. 


I want to live a good life, full of love and without negativity.  I don't want to have wars with other people or to hold onto grudges and resentment.  I want peace between those I interact with.  I want to challenge others to be their better self and I want the same in return.  Nobody has the right answer or everything figured out.  But, I want to write about how I'm getting there.


Something greater is waiting for me in my life.  I'm sure that answers will be revealed when I have children, and when I grow in my years.  There is this desire in me to sit down and talk, to find your story, and to share mine. 

Mine is a story that does not have major catastrophe, just some minor heartbreak, and many life lessons.  When I look back at these chapters, I think I will be happy that I wrote it all down and that I shared it with you. 





I haven't figured out what else I can do with this blog yet.  Of course it is allowing me to venture deeper into the land that I love, and to force myself to search for goodness.  But, there is more than I need.  I want to connect with more people and to have a longer conversation.  This medium is a beautiful thing. 


If you're reading, thank you.  It means so much.  If you read regularly, let me know.  Share this.  Share with me about what you like about this corner of my heart.  Let me know you're there, whoever you are. 

Armed Forces Day

Oh, how proud I was of our little community this weekend. 

I'd been away for so long, and had forgotten how great it is to be from an area that is so heavily infused with the military.  I grew up with friends who's parents were in the Navy, and had a rotation of new buddies every two years or so.  New ones would come in, then they'd leave.  It was the only heartache of my childhood.  I probably screamed to the heavens that I hated living here, so close to the bases. 

I was wrong, as most children are.  We can hear taps played nightly, at sundown, from our back porch.  Flags are proudly hung from doorsteps each holiday, and for what seemed like years after 2001.  Most people you meet around here are retired Navy or Army, who had never lived here before, but visited one time and fell in love. 

Now that I'm back, I find myself falling in love with this place all over again. 

And its official, the Armed Forces Day Parade is my May boyfriend.  I have a standing date with him from now on.


The parade was fantastic.  Filled with school bands from all over the county, proud veterans, local businesses, and the men and women who continue to serve our country.  They spruced up their cars, put on their finest, waved to the crowd (that makes or breaks a parade, you know), and put on a show. 


We started the day with a pancake breakfast, hosted by the Lions Club.  It's their 52nd time doing this, and baby, they've got it down.  These two precious boys flipped pancakes to perfection.  I kinda wanted to go back in time and make them my friends.  But, I'm 27 and that's inappropriate. 

No seriously, how cute are they? Such good boys.  Didn't call me ma'am or anything.  Thanks for the pancakes, Jacob and Bobby.  Stay cool.

No one told me they have a fly over. You better believe next year I'll be ready. 

This reminded me of reserving parking spaces with lawn chairs, like they do in Pittsburgh. 


It was a great day. We walked, we talked, we got a decent farmer's tan, we blinged ourselves out in patriotic colors as you should for a parade.  We saluted, we waved back, and in a way we became citizens of this area.  We belong here, after all, we have our own parade now. 

The Viewing Party

Last week, after seven months of waiting, our wedding video showed up on the front door.  It was one of those moments when, if you stop looking for something, it'll show up.  Like Love.  I was driving home from work when K called and said it was here. 

I was a little disappointed I didn't get to hug the mailman, I'm not going to lie.  Especially if he turned out to be cute. 

Anyway.


Our friends and family were basically on call for the last two weeks, in order to prepare for a viewing party. 

This felt like our first party since we've moved.  And since our last party was probably the Halloween party, and well, nevermind.  What I'm getting at is, I wanted to make it a big deal.  I bought bamboo toothpicks, made my own aioli, found beautiful drink dispensers, and picked up a champagne cake.  Yeah, I didn't even know those exhisted.

We snuggled into the living room, closed the curtains, passed around Kleenex, snacked on whiskey flavored meatballs and bacon wrapped chicken bites, and hit play. 


Our videographer created a highlight reel, set to about ten minutes of music that we chose. 


They captured me sitting on the bed, letting out a semi-nervous sigh.

And the pride on my face when I received my wedding earrings from K. 

There he was, on another floor of the hotel, reading a letter I'd stayed up and wrote the night before.  Filled with inside stories that the photographer didn't quite understand.

It showed him kissing his mom after she put on his boutineer.  Which ended up breaking in front of the church, quickly replaced by an orange rose. 

The video perfectly timed dad entering the room, us walking down the aisle, the vows exchanged, and us newlyweds walking towards the waterfront on our beautiful, perfect day.

It had the towel waving (which, was featured this week on this website), the bouquet toss to the cousin who happened to get engaged weeks later, the four special and unique toasts, and a decent amount of polka dancing.

We laughed when T struck the perfect, passionate pose on the dance floor. 

We cried when our voices so slightly cracked during those holy vows. 

There was everyone from our wedding in the video, laughing, crying, and dancing.  Enjoying the love in the room and the energy from that night. 



Our viewing party lasted longer than I anticipated.  We watched part of the ceremony and most of the raw footage.  I forgot how much this day meant to others and how so many wanted to recapture the spirit that evening. 


It was another reminder how blessed we are in this little life of ours. 


(I wish I could post the video the internet.  I'm sure I'll figure it out someday.  In the meantime, if you want to see it for yourself, let me know and I'll make it happen.)




Sometimes I'm hesitant to keep the wedding going.  Its months behind us and I worry that people will get tired of it.  But, then I think, why not continue to celebrate this life that we have and what we are doing with it?  We are not in our wedding attire, but we should still be as happy as we were that day, especially with the people who are around us now.


So, horrah for wedding videos.  And wedding video viewing parties.   

The Rhododendron Cafe

Ode to the Rhododendron Cafe


Oh, Rhododendron Cafe, you are marvelous, darling. 

Tucked away in the Skagit Valley, open Spring thru the Fall, I suggested we visit you and it made me look like I was really smart and cultured.  I remembered how great you were before, and my memory turns out to be pretty sharp. 

Let's start with your entrance.  I adore the love notes that cover your walls. 

I much appreciate your garden room.  It makes me feel like I'm eating in a garden. 

And I love your menu.

First up, Sopa de Quattro.  Spanish inspired soup, with a tomato based broth, clams, mussels, ham, and probably crack, because its amazing.

Next, roasted peppers with goat cheese and crusty grilled bread. 

And finally, Salted. Caramel. Ice. Cream.

Otherwise known, as Heaven. 

I mean, let's just take a moment here. 

I'm not exaggerating just for creative purposes.  This ice cream ruins all other ice cream. 

We even wrote our own love note in its honor.

I don't know which one is suppose to be me. 

I fully endorse The Rhododendron Cafe, located in Skagit County.  Each month features a new cusine from around the world.  I hope it always features Salted Caramel Ice Cream.  Otherwise, that would be cruel.

Go get some.

Busy Living

If I could describe everything right now, I'd have to go with rich.  Rich in blessings, rich in rewards for hard work, and rich in substance.  Our life is as sweet as the lilacs that are blooming outside the window that I write in front of.  Our days are colorful and fulfilling.  We go to bed with aching muscles, which reflect the days of gardening, running around with puppies, and stomping the pavement as we build upon the people we are trying to become in our new hometown 

I would have written more, but I've been busy living.  In fact, I've been meaning to write, yearning to write, and dreaming about writing.  No really, I dreamt I was reading blog posts which I didn't write yet, a la a Carrie Bradshaw style book reading.  Pictures have been shot, with words in mind describing their contents.  Still, we've been busy, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. 


Its been a couple of weeks, so let's do an old fashion four in one post. 




The Skagit Valley Trip or Why I'm Not Going to Let the Tulip Festival Break My Heart Again.

Before I loved to Pennsylvania, my mom and I visited the Tulip Festival in Skagit Valley.  Probably because we didn't think we'd ever get to do that again, ever.  And now we're living with her for a while, so ha to that! 

It was a sad little trip.  Dead tulip fields are so depressing, people, especially when you've been promised colors upon colors of vibrant flowers.  We maybe saw a total of four tulips that trip.  "We were too late," we rationalized.  Although, I think we went in March, so not so sure of that justification. 

But now, I have reemerged as a new citizen of this great land, and I just knew that all of my years in PA would produce a welcome home party at the fields this time.  So, K, N, and I ventured again, hopeful, excited, to the Valley. 



And you know what?  I think that the Tulip Festival is a grand hoax orchestrated by farmers and also the Seattle Times because they produced bogus aerial shots the week before.  Again, no tulips, except for their dead skeletal remains. 

The only thing we did find was a Tulip Field tourist trap that granted you access for 15 dollars. Roozengaarde, I think you're very wrong.  15 dollars.  You can't buy my love. 

We got a shot of the field from the parking lot.  And then drove home. 

Photo courtesy of @tnkoviak

On the way back, we stopped at The Rhododendron Cafe before we got on I-5.  Its so good, and so much better than its hometown festival, that it deserves its own post.  Stay tuned, I'm promising you pictures of the best Salted Caramel Ice Cream ever.  EVER!


Point-no-Point: Of Sand and Sandy Dogs

Feeling ambitious, and probably some sort of super mom to dogs, we packed up a picnic and headed out to my favorite beach with the pups for the day.  Point-no-Point is my little sanctuary, and one of the destinations I've missed the most since I was a PA resident.  Within five minutes, we were regretting fully our decision to bring both dogs.  The oldest dog was nervous because we were not at home, and the youngest followed suit because she's slightly more stupid than the oldest.  After twenty minutes of yelling "don't eat that, stay here, don't eat that, and why can't you just sit down?", I let them loose and showed them the way to the water. 

And then, everything was right in the world.  The water was unusually warm, full of tiny crabs, guppies, and green starfish.  The dogs ran in and out, splashing the salty ocean, pulling out bunches of seaweed, and searching earnestly for driftwood sticks.  We walked up and down the shore, each dog staying close to my side without the need to hold onto their leash. 

So many familiars sights, sounds, and smells flooded my body.  For the first real time, I felt fully back.  I'm here, doing something that I regularly day dreamed of, literally feet first living life.  It was one of those moments you wish you could bottle up. 


They got pretty wet, and then very sandy.  But, the great things about labs is that they were designed for such adventures.  They were dry by the time we got home. 

I'm hesitant to bring both of them again.  I think there was one point during the day when K said, "We should get them shirts that say I'm With Stupid."  I'm sure I'll forget though, just like I forgot how dangerous that mother f'in yellow rope is. 


Backyard Camping: Part One

I haven't used my tent in four years, so I figured I'd air it out, check for leaks, and sleep in it.

We had a ceremonial fire, complete with beers and local pizza.  I layered clothing and made a cozy bed inside.  K stayed inside, content with a bed to himself, while the dogs and I settled in for the night. 

Then the oldest dog started to get nervous because we weren't inside the house, and the youngest started wrestling with her, and then a dog from two miles away started barking, which prompted tent barking.  And it was like 39 degrees outside once midnight hit. 

Needless to say, we stayed for an hour and went inside.  K wasn't really content anymore.


Backyard Camping: Part Two

A couple of nights later, after an 80 degree day, Maggie and I stayed in the tent, while Lilly stayed inside the house.  We slept very well. 

Birthday Date Night and the Comedy Underground

We've decided with our other married couple couple that we will do activities, rather than gifts,  for our birthdays.   We had a bowling date for their birthday in March,  and they treated us to a Seattle date this weekend.  Not really balanced, if you'll notice.  They like to one up us. 

After dinner in Bremerton, we took the ferry over and walked to the Comedy Underground, in Pioneer Square.  Great place, great comedians.  I highly recommend it, although I have no idea how much it cost because our best friends spoil us so.  But they are deliciously wonderful people, so its all good.

Oh, how I love you, Seattle. 






We will probably have a busy upcoming Summer.  But, we're doing a good job with everything.  I promise more starry nights around a fire, more time laughing on the ferry with friends, more happy hours, more yelling at dogs to be good, more soul searching, more writing, and more living. 

Because we're so good at it.