Bring on the Rain

July.


I mean, really, its July already? I just mean, wow, we've made it to July.  In January we packed up a house and in February we drove across the country.  In March, we started to settle into a groove; in April we started to explore; May we started working; June we started saving and planning, and now its July. 

That's unbelieveable.


Right now, it is 100 degrees where we use to live.  As I type, rain falls for the third day in a row outside.  It is no where near the Summer that I have experienced for four years.  This time last year, we were jumping in the Atlantic, dining on cannolis and soft shell crab, and generally wondering what was going to happen.  It was hot day and night, and it was so quintessential Summer.  Brightly colored umbrellas on the beach, salt water taffy, walking the boardwalk with sand caked sandals as teenagers on bikes rode by, Guidos with funnel cakes and corn dogs, the same top 40 song playing over and over, and the ocean horizon in the background.  We are certainly in a different reality right now. 


But, do not misunderstand me.  I am not complaining.  That experience will always be with us and there will be plenty of opportunities to have that back again.  Someday we will find our own version of Ocean City on the West Coast, and although I can guarantee it won't come with a B&B two inches from the boardwalk, it will have its own characteristics. 

In fact, not only am I not complaining, I have said outloud that I do not care if it rains all Summer.

Because it doesn't matter if it does.  We will work around it. 

It started raining on Friday, as I had just arranged chairs around the perfectly prepared fire.  Instead of moving the party inside, we improvised.

And as it turned out, chairs moved under a maple leaf canopy made things even better. 


It is still somewhat of an out of body experience being here.  Most of our belongings are sitting in a Pod in Pennsylvania, and I can only pray the warehouse is properly air conditioned.  We dream about how we will make our mark in this new land, but know that we have to pace ourself.  We are eager to branch out immediately, to have a place to call our own.  Its tempting to jump right in, but this economy and the uncertainties that come with life are slowing us down a bit.  Someday we will pat our old, younger selves on the back for this kind of responsiblity, but right now it can be frustrating. 

Still, we improvise again.  Clean off a couple of shelves in the makeshift room we've habitated.  Make that small space our own.  Or spend a Sunday afternoon tucked inside the room, with one dog who agreed to join us.  Rainy days make it easier to get away with this kind of behavior. 

It may not look like we expected it to in July, inside or out.  Gosh, it went by so fast.  We probably never expected it to look like this for us now when we sat in white rocking chairs, drinking god-awful Bud Light with lime, last July.  The idealistic bride in me probably figured we would have a new couch, wedding linens adoring our bed and the guest room, dinner on our new plates, and wine poured in our stemware.  We would go to concerts and travel, come home each night and talk about our day, and pop in the latest television show that we were catching up on.  We'd have dinner parties with themes, get to buy nice clothes when we wanted to, and have the careers we always dreamed of .  And for sure, we would be spending this weekend at the beach, with that elderly couple who makes a reservation a year in advanced for the ocean view room with the balcony.  For sure. 

This though, this is better. 

It makes us appreciate all of those little things more.  Like a Sunday afternoon nap, or how great it feels to wear a sweatshirt at night this time of the year.  We don't have the ocean in front of us, or sand between our toes, but seagulls are a daily sighting and I much prefer skipping rocks into the Puget Sound. 

And bigger than that, it will make us grateful when we can make a home and spend an entire weekend doing nothing.  I will love my stemware even more that I will drink orange juice in them. 


It does rain a lot here.  But here's the kicker:  we know why that's an important thing.  It makes the earth greener, it hushes the world around you and forces you to take your talents inside (or under the trees).

And above all, it makes you remember the sunny days even more. 

Summer with Sweaters

The first rule of blogging is this: if you promise something will be done by a certain time, it will (at least) take you double that.  For instance, I promised a Summer list AND new header last week.  Here, I sit, finally typing. 

When I lived on the East Coast, I always felt that Summer was rushing me.  It is a little pushy out there.  As the Summer goes on, it becomes almost a bully, what with its swealtering days and stormy nights.  I do miss the Summer storms, but all along, I missed this late June cold streak that I left behind in Washington.

The rest of the country celebrates the start of the season at the end of May, but for us Washingtonians, we know we need to wait a couple more weeks.  As I type, I pull a sweater over a night gown, because the window is open and it lets in a chill.  We embrace that chill, look for it, get a little anxious if its replaced by a humid heat. 

So while I put the Summer List off for a couple of days, and weeks by everyone else's standards, I know that I have plenty of time to type.  Its not quite here yet. 



But, it will be. 

(Last year's)

Weekly backyard fires with beer and pizza.  And smores from a smores basket. 


Freeze the dogs toys in water and watch them play with a giant ice cube all afternoon.


Run for the ice cream truck if it comes around.  Even if it is like three bucks now. 


Find your Summer song.


Visit La Push.


Jump in a lake fully clothed.


Eat a year worth of fresh tomatoes.


Try growing something from a Summer crop.


Camp at Larrabee.

Find a place on this side of the water that is almost as good as Larrabee.


Go clamming.


Lay on a near by soccer field and stargaze.  With boxed wine.


Buy these  and these.   Its about function, not fashion.  And those Keen's better not give me a blister.


Start running again.


Try a class at the Y. 


Pick some dahlia's and carry them like you did in October.

Throw a Bloom party.

Do the Puyallup.



Hike a mountain.


Take a nap on the porch swing.


Grill an entire salmon, filled with lemon and dill.


Go to the Lavender festival.  Or was it blackberry?  Let's do both.


Become a bocee ball champion.


Have a ridiculous tan line because I don't have to worry about a wedding dress this year.


Write my three year post.  Make it extra special.

We won't have fireflies this year.  That will be tough.  There will be rainy days when we look to the heavens and ask if they got the memo that it's July.  We will spend most of the Summer indoors working.

But, there will be moments, and I promise this, when Summer feels like it was originally created in Washington.  It happens every year.  And this year, I get to be there. 



Tell me friends, what are you going to do this Summer?

Recap: Spring List

So far in our cohabitation with my parents, I have moved my computer all over the house.  In hopes of inspiring writing, the late night variety preferred, of course.  Upstairs in my brothers old room, lilacs in a mason jar next to me--I am hopeful and sassy, but then I forget to write and the lilacs die and I don't go upstairs for a week because I don't sleep on a futon anymore.  We move downstairs, in the old office, on the mattress that I use to sleep on in Seattle.  I set up at the dining room table, a window cracked, rain falling behind me.  Headphones plugged in, I feel reflective and sensitive.  But, it feels too exposed, not intimate enough.  There are no doors to shut and the dogs keep bringing me throw pillows. 

Now, I clear a space in our room, the laptop rests on a makeshift drawing table, drawers consistently poke at my right knee.  It seems like the room is rushing me to finish.  And, I like that, because it prompts me to write and not think about it. 

We have now been back for four months, give or take a week.  Tonight is the Summer solstice, which I think deserves an extra spectacular time.  I have no idea what that means.  I have no idea what that looks like.  One of these Summer solstices-es, I'll figure it out.  Instead, I'm going to reflect on the Spring.  Our first Spring back.

I might say, this has been the most successful List to boot.  The lack of work and abundance of energy to constantly push myself to do better has inspired me, to well, push myself to do better.  You can see this computer position is really helping. 



 Plant lettuce, peas, beans, onions, beets, and herbs.  I did all of this.  I'm not going to say I did it well, but I did it.  I'll blog about my frustrations with Washington gardening a little later. 

Make one of those pea vine teepees.  Even though you're too tall to fully enjoy it. It still looks cool. See above. 

Read this book. Check.  It was a riveting story of a redheaded girl who fell hard for a man who's butt looked cute in Wranglers.  It also made my own relationship feel very dry and boring.  I think I actually was resentful of K during the time I read it.  Especially since I once wanted to marry a cowboy myself. But, I liked it. 

Get a legitimate pair of rain boots.  Not from Target, those ones don't keep their shape well. Not done.  Its not like if I buy them in August I'll have to store them. 

String lights in the backyard, like you use to back in PA.  Check. 

Spend an entire day at the Tulip Festival in Skagit County. Never again. NEVER AGAIN.

Have a date with the city, all by yourself.  Oh baby, I did this.  I did this right. 

Take her hiking, she's ready.  Didn't get to that.  But, we walk a lot.  And she doesn't know Spring is over.


Take her to the water, she's so not ready for hiking.  Yup, did it. 

See this movie on your birthday.  Don't judge, that shit is adorable.  And it was.  No seriously, don't you dare say anything until you go see it.  Tim Allen narrated.  A baby monkey tried cracking nuts.  K made three references about hierarchy and leadership using scenes from that movie. 


Read this book.  Actually, lay on the porch swing and finish it in one afternoon.   Oh, this was my favorite three days.  I couldn't wait til my birthday, so I bought my copy the day it came out.  And then later for my best friend. 

Swoon. 



Finish late wedding present thank yous.  And move on with your life.  Done! Except for one more.  Dang it. 


Make a new Easter tradition.  Check and check.

Have an epic wedding video showing in April.  Did it, epically.

Veto any future showings of this.  Enough is enough. Washington, you can officially thank me for no more snow. 

Participate in May Day.  For the first time.   I feel that I should clarify this.  I meant May Day as in the drop-tiny-pots-of-flowers-on-love-ones-doorsteps, not the one involving Nike and bricks. 

Fill the room with lilacs.  (That may be for the Summer List ). See above.  I also need to clarify that this does not mean leave them to die by themselves in a room with a futon. 

Start making a name for this new blog.  I'm on my way. 

Meet my best friend for a dog park date or dog walk once a week.  This was a fail, and something that I really want to work on in the next coming months.



I give myself an A.  But, I'm biased and there's a heavy curve.


Tomorrow, I promise you a Summer List and maybe even a new header.  This tiny desk arrangement actually works for me. 

In The Woods

In the woods,  bright green maple leaves mix with coarse pine needles.  Moss grows beneath your feet, up a branch, along fallen trees, and over your trail.  Sun peaks through the mixture, revealing pockets of golden light.  Shadows are created further down, adding to the feeling that you are hidden, covered, in nature. 

In the woods, muscles regain their memory. Once again can you hop over trunks knocked over from old age.  And climb hillsides leading to unbelievable treasures.  They remember how to control your ankles up and down the slopes.  They ache in warm delight. 



In the woods, everything makes sense.  Thoughts are clearer, problems are solved, paths are forged.  Writing is inspired.  Minds are rejuvenated.  Out there, you rely on your own instincts, learn to trust what you know, and promise yourself you will keep trying to discover more. 



In the woods, I'm back.  I feel like I did on my happiest days. Everything clicks into place.  Dew hits my shoulders and streaks my hair.  Cool pockets of air covers my skin.  Fingers glide over coniferous trees, their bark so different than back East. I am grateful to reach out and touch, even if it means an encounter with sticky sap.  Twigs snap at my feet, which are often covered with sturdy hiking shoes, but occassionally sandals as the woods are so close now.  That snap is satisfying.  I am alone in the woods, except for a puppy companion who eagerly runs ahead, then back to me, then ahead again.  Rarely do I see wildlife; they are deeper in than I'll ever be.  A hush follows around me.  I don't speak, and sometimes I don't even think.  Instead, I'm transfixed on the next step, not having to look around because I'm embedded in foliage.  I emerge from the green, covered in tiny leaves, whispy webs, and dirt.  

In the woods, I'm home.   

36 Hours: An Instagram Post

Last week, I had one day off. 

We went out to breakfast.  He laughed at the coffee to cream to sugar ratio in my cup. 

I filled the bathtub with bubbles and eucalyptus oil.

This came on.  Even though its not an Instagram photo, it deserves attention. 

I cleaned the side porch and made a little oasis. 

Lentil and kale soup for the family.

Not sure if this means she likes the piano playing or not. 

Italian dinner and K asking, why have I not been here before?

"Pull over, I've wanted to find out what a Fish Park is."

Wild daisies and aforementioned scar.

I wanted to sit here and drink coffee. But, they close at 5. 

Hi, yeah, I live here. 

Happy Day Off. 


I picked up full time, which means I work every other weekend now.  Which also means I have this weekend off.  Watch out. 


You can follow me on Instagram @cshutty. 

Happy Belated Tom Douglas Day

Argh.  Nobody told me. 

Don't they know how important I am to the Tom Douglas cause?

Yesterday was declared Tom Douglas Day.  And if I had known in time, I would have properly celebrated.  I'm not sure how, but that doesn't really matter because its over with anyway. 


I loved this article from Seattle Magazine on how to celebrate.

I also love that you can buy huge tubs of Rub with Love at Costco now. 

Its like the word is spreading. 

But, maybe that's a bad thing, because I'll never get a table again. 

I'll sacrifice for the greater good.



In honor of Tom Douglas Day (yesterday), I'm linking all of my TD writings into this post.  For your viewing convenience.  And, this is in no particular order. 



http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2010/07/our-tom-douglas-smorgasborg.html : the most TD food we've eaten in one weekend, until we got married and totally trumped that.  Like throw the mic on the floor kind of trumped.

http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-what-is-it-about-seattlewashington.html : aww, how cute.  My second post.  I sucked.  And he has a billion restaurants now.

http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2010/10/seattle-part-deux.html : Its actually called Seatown Seabar, super fan. 

http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2010/10/seattle-part-1.html : Lola PANCAKES people. 

http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2010/06/quickly-now.html : Hahahahahaaa.

http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2010/02/update.html : Our first trip to Etta's. 

http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2009/12/cravings.html : East Coast resident seeking TD food. 

http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2010/03/nat.html : Didn't get a tasting until August (see picture above).  And, why did I plan so many things to show people the week I was getting married? 

http://wainpa.blogspot.com/2010/08/seattle-check-in-first-time-for.html : Still called Seabar.  I was kind of a bitch to all of those moms, even though its true.  And, although I did a whole one post like this, was it a premonition of imwashington.com?  Huh,huh?

http://www.imwashington.com/2012/03/dear-tom-douglas-blog.html : I will take pictures for clam pizza. 

http://www.imwashington.com/2012/05/my-date-with-seattle.html : Hello, Lover. 

http://www.imwashington.com/2012/01/for-love-of-pie.html : I really, really, really hope I see this in the cookbook. 



There you have it. 


I'm going to check into rehab now. 

Alderbrook

A gray cat sleeps deeply on the chair, facing the door inside the lobby.

The windows are from floor to ceiling in that lobby, like the living rooms across the state which happen to face mountains and water. 

We check in quickly, letting them know we booked this an hour and a half ago.  We go up an elevator, then step outside to a courtyard, then into our room.  Its a garden room, but I can see the water and mountains just fine. 



We sleep.

We order room service of mussels and clams and crisp bread.  And clam chowder.  In fact, we really only eat seafood in the evenings.

The room has a daybed against the window.  In case the balcony wasn't good enough.  We're going to make sure we have one of those someday. 

At night, we prop the door open so that we can hear the rushing of the natural fountain just below our window, and the chorus of frogs. 

There are two of them, just like the cats. 


During the day, we walk the long stretch of the marina. 

We read on the leather chairs in the lobby, next to those windows. 

We spend two hours playing video games in their Xbox room.  Because we can.  And we should.  In fact, we have so much fun, we skip lunch. 

Then, we take a nap, and then go for a hike.  Because its right across the street, and gives us a peak of the Olympic Mountain range.  Its been hiding the whole time behind grey clouds. 

In the evenings, we watch TV and just veg.  Turn our minds off.  Laugh at stupid shows.  Order room service again because this is just too good to leave. 

Before bed, we swim and sit in the hot tub, then the sauna.  We talk about alot of things, including each trip that we took while we were dating long distance.  Its an amazing look back. We look forward to, talk about coming back here, with our best friends, maybe in the Fall.  We float in the cool water, all by ourselves despite the start of Summer.  The pool doesn't close like the hotel instructions say at 1030, so we stay a little bit longer. 

We try to have a fire on the shore, because we want to wear sweatshirts, listen to the frogs and the tide, and drink wine that I bought at a Walmart ten minutes from here.  But, there's a light rain, as there has been off and on.  So we go back to our room, rent a movie, and drink the wine in bed. 

In the morning, we reluctantly pack, and frequently step outside to breathe this place in a little bit longer.

On the drive home, we have the sun roof open and the windows down.  We drive along the Hood Canal for miles, smiling.  We leave renewed, refreshed, and ready for anything ahead.