The. Oak. Table

This will be a glutenous post.   I can't help it.  This place is so good.  I'm almost hesitant to share because I want to get a good table.


The Oak Table was discovered on a business lunch in Kingston.  K had this incredible bowl of oatmeal and came home raving about it.  Oatmeal?  Who cares about oatmeal?  No, he said.  Porridge.  Its totally better.  They add all kinds of fruit to it, brown sugar, and this incredibly thick cream.  I have to take you there.  

He did.  I started with the fruit blintzes.  Next time, the german pancake,  after that visit, the 49ers.   We don't even flip the menu over for lunch.  It looks amazing too, but god they make the best pancakes.

This it their apple pancake.  Its smothered in caramel cinnamon goodness.  They make a lot of noise when it comes out.  Go ahead and embarrass yourself.  

Their egg dishes are divine.  K loves the egg benedict (not pictured, sorry, we always forget to take a good pic).  Their omelets are fluffy and perfect.  

But, as always, it comes down to the bacon.  Chewy and crunchy at the same time.  I don't get it.  I can't replicate, but then again, I always buy the cheapest stuff.  We always share an order, but make sure its completely even.

Besides the food, the staff is delightful.  A cheery, hard working group of girls (and such cute outfits).  They always make sure your coffee cup is full and you have exactly what you need.

The line is often out the door.  Those in line are bright eyed, happy to see you when you leave.  Not because you are done with your table, no.  They want to ask you, how was it???


Like they don't know.



I urge you to visit, but please leave some room for us.


(PS, the porridge really is amazing.)

Spring List 2.0

Yesterday, it snowed.  I think.

Actually, it was most likely just sleet, but it moved with a consistency and determination like a good snow would.   Thick, swift, and soft-- it fell to the ground, covered droopy daffodils, and darkened the sky.  K came home and we stared out the window, each blanketed with the sight of winter.  It stopped and the sun returned.  Spring has officially arrived.


In like a lion and out like a lamb is really more of a daily occurrence.  It's not the bookends of March in Washington.  Many groan at the soggy days, forgetting that Winter really wasn't that wet.  Today was beautiful.  Tomorrow may be a little bit of both.  Spring here is like a long awakening.  It stretches itself out until June.  While the rest of the country is still in Winter weather, our Spring will arrive and stay past the sweltering days of the East.  It's slow and steady.  Its touch and go.

Just how I like it.


Spring List.



--- Bake a beautiful, crisp ham on Easter.

--- Visit Northwest Trek and see some Spring babies.

--- Spend an afternoon in Poulsbo, sipping coffee and wandering through shops.

--- Run around the entire Island.

--- Plant vegetables in pots.

--- Get my hiking legs back.

--- Kick start bonfire season on the beach.

--- Finish unpacking (you gotta include some Spring cleaning!).

--- Meet our neighbors.

--- Resist the tulip fields .

--- Visit the Chihuly exhibit at Seattle Center.

--- And the butterfly garden too.

--- Write, write write.

--- Enjoy garlic fries at a Mariner's game.

--- Come home from work and get in the dirt.

--- Learn to do something new.

--- Savor the season.

Wish me luck.

A Year in Review: An Instagram Post

I intentionally pushed this post off for two months.  The new year started at the end of February for us.  I couldn't even tell you the date we hit the road.  The week leading up was desperately difficult.  It was a struggle to get going, but we made it.  And really, that's the lesson that this year produced.

Last February, the winter days seemed few and far in between, and that seemed like a good enough sign for me that we should go.  Travel West.  Make the big move.  See what else the world had to offer us.  I winced when we crossed the PA border.  I'm sure we didn't say much when we knew we were now in Ohio.  I felt guilty but hopeful.  He felt guilty but trusted me.  Married just four months.  Two dogs in the backseat, one who loved the car, another who would never trust it again.  Each morning we reset the GPS to a new destination, checked for the possibility of snow, and drove.  Not letting go of the world we grew in our old home, and yet almost at the point where we could dream about the new life.

I did feel what I thought I would feel once the mountains came into view.  My car had driven the same path in the opposite direction four years before, a girl in love, so sure about the future with her passenger.  When we saw the welcome sign, I was grateful.  Not because I didn't want to live in Pennsylvania, but because I accomplished something so great.  My husband with me now.  I knew that this would work too.


That first night, the lights flickered, snow fell, and the power went out.  I don't know if that's a metaphor for anything.  We moved to Washington in the most miserable of season.  The rainiest, the dampest, the coldest. We're in it again as I type and already its not as bad.  Its familiar again.

I know that K was heartbroken.  But he never showed it.  He hit the ground running.  Made connections, looked for new opportunities, and really tried.  I was never that brave.  He spent afternoons driving and learning his way around.  Found the back roads that would take him where he needed to go.  I made the most of the room that we shared at my parents house.  Tried to find Pennsylvania where I could.

The dogs transitioned amazingly.  They were just happy that there was more love to go around.

Slowly the days got longer and dried up a bit.  Flowers pushed through the soil and we formed new identities here.  We knew that we needed to do similar things here that we did back East.  It was important to find a bar.  That may seem silly, but I hold dear the late nights we found ourselves there, sharing a pitcher of beer, and talking deeply about how this move has effected us.  That booth was our  therapist.  Moving is so hard and its all so worth it, but there is a lengthy transition period that's required.   I was successful with the Spring List, though not so with gardening.  I'll learn to do better this year.

It did get easier.  We knew we missed PA, but also knew we could be happy here.  April rolled in and K returned to PA with his mom for a couple of weeks, the day after Easter.  He came back in time for my birthday, which was one of the best birthdays to date.  Things seemed to take off from there.  I got a job, K was busy working on campaigns.  Nights were just right for backyard fires.  We made it a point to go to the city often.  Life was starting to become full.

In May, I had a hot date with my city.  If you've never done that with yours, what are you waiting for?

Later that month, we just needed to get away.  Get out of the house and find someplace new.  Itching for our first home together, but fully aware that other things needed to happen first, we knew  two days away would tie us over.  We found Alderbrook.  Its almost as if the universe was giving us a sneak peak.  We now live twenty minutes away.

Our first Summer in Washington lived up to expectations.  Busy with work, we made the most of the moments in between.  I can't recall much from the Summer, but I can tell you I went to bed each night happy.  We didn't travel like the year before.  We didn't see the ocean, but could visit the Sound anytime we wanted.  I watched my husband excel.  I watched him make this place his own.  We checked in often. Really, we survived.  Thrived.  Made due.  And I'm proud of all of that.

Then, I almost killed someone.  But I didn't, kill anyone, that is.  We decided to be safer for the rest of the Summer. I threw a Bloom Party.  Let the dogs have their day. And found ourselves so wrapped up in our new life here that we forgot how fast time was passing.

Like a whole year, marked at the most magical time of the year. And I can only say now, what a difference a year makes.  What a difference a year makes for relationships.  Ours, others, ours with others; that's how we mark our strides with each passing year. We grew from October to October, but really grew into our own February to February.  Some grew with us, some stayed where they needed to stay, but all helped make it work.  I didn't blog much after October, which is really a shame because that's when we took off.  Our plans started falling into place.  We found a home, filled it with our love, and started to form our roots.

I think the most important moment was when we went back to PA in the Fall.  We indulged in our old hang-outs, soaked up each moment with our friends, and spent quality time with family.  Of course we miss it there.  And absolutely was this move awful at times.  But, I think we stood united and proud of the fact that we now live in Washington.  Born and raised in Pennsylvania, but still going strong here.

I loved living there.  I loved our friends and the strong community that the East Coast promotes.  I miss Gettysburg.  I miss fireflies.  I miss bars with really good wings (or mediocre wings, I mean, god, they are just awful here). I miss how men make fun of sports teams.  I miss our Italian restaurant where K took me on our first date.  I miss the covered bridges.  I miss how the grocery stores have turkey stock on the shelves in November.  I miss that buzz that the locust make in the Summer.  I miss our drives around the towns late at night.  I miss the boys who always make fun of the way I talk.  I miss all of it.

I hope he knows that I miss it too.  I hope he knows that I will never forget that those things are important.  They're just as important as Mt. Rainier.

I've known that we've needed to move for awhile.  I've believed in Washington and what it has to offer.  I've experienced its beauty and need to explore more.  This voice in the back of my skull has told me for a long time that something great is waiting here for us.  It wouldn't have been right for him to just move here in the first place.  I needed to bring Pennsylvania with me.  Not just sitting next to me in that same car, but in the form of memories, swagger, a hint of an accent, an appreciation for hockey, multiple Steeler tshirts (when did I get so many?), the understanding of heritage, two PA born Labradors, and a love of where he came from.


We're here.  We've been on this path for awhile.  We will get to where we're going soon.

(State)

A couple of weeks ago, a small tug-like boat arched deep across the inlet, pushed smoke into the air, and magnified the gleam of the setting sun off its shiny exterior.  I watched, mesmerized by the view before me.  The mountain stood proud in the background.  My mountain.  Its there every sunny day, and every so often when the clouds are still making up their mind.  I snapped into consciousness and ran for the camera.  The lens in place too short, I know.  Quickly, I switched out the caps, ran back, but missed the boat.  The puff of smoke remained.  The mountain would stay for another hour.  The water will always be there.  A memory cemented, nonetheless  because I took time to savor and record.

That's the balance I'm trying to master.


For too many weeks, the technology demons had been voodooing my blog.  A broken url, frustration over what to do, tumbleweeds in the form of google help center; well, it all lead to throwing my hands up in the air, shutting the screen down, and thinking, this isn't worth it.  None of this matters.  I'm going to move on.


But, I kept coming back.  That nagging feeling persisted.  And not the feeling you get when you know your oil is waaay overdue in your car or its about time to see a doctor for the cough that's been around for three weeks.  No, this was more of a inner harmony kind of thing.  Fix it, make it right, then write.  So I kept pounding away, and finally got a new domain to work.

Part of me feels guilty for adding state.  The part of me who gets annoyed when DC is referred to Washington exclusively.  We are better.


It seems like a small sacrifice.


The sun is here again.  I gasped at its warmth on my skin while in a patient's room at work.  My mountain is waiting, my state is calling, and I keep the larger lens on my camera at home now.  You never know when you'll need it.

Let's explore this great place together.