Chihuly

The Saturday before my birthday, K and I spent the afternoon in the city: we visited the glass museum, sat on a park bench watching tourists, drank hard cider in the corner of a favorite bar, then grabbed dinner with good friends.  It was a perfect day.

I still dream of the swirly glass. This was of course not my first Chihuly rodeo--I fondly remember the time my parents took us to the glass museum in Tacoma and we watched them create giant displays with the flick of their wrist. I took a class my freshman year of college in the building that had the classic chandelier in its lobby.  The first time K visited Seattle, we sat a table away from Chihuly himself one late afternoon while eating pasta.  Just us and him.  I didn't approach, it was enough.

The museum twists and turns like the strong arms who form the glass.  Some rooms dark except for the back lighting shining through.  Others bright and airy.  It spills out into the garden, the Space Needle proud and tall behind.  Everywhere you look, patrons are snapping pictures, hoping to capture the experience with their lens.  I tried.  It doesn't compare.  Even the coffee book we bought afterwards isn't just right.  You'll have to see it with your own, talented eyes.

All throughout, boards tell the story of what inspired every piece.  You are reminded of the past shows--San Francisco, Venice, Japan, Singapore, and stop and think about how lucky you are to experience it right here.   Not to mention he is from here.

K mentions to me that this is something he would have never seen if he hadn't met me.  I tell him you are very welcome.

Happy glass hunting.

28th

Last night, we topped off a pretty remarkable weekend with a beach fire.  The first beach fire of the season, the first since we moved in.  I knew that he was tired and didn't want to go anywhere at dusk on a Sunday night.  But, he didn't hesitate to say yes and within twenty minutes we were sitting on the rocky beach, drinking cheap beer, and listening to the last of the birds turn in for the night.  I ended the year the same way I started it: smoke in my hair, happy, and full of life.


I woke up this morning wanting to do two things: write and be outside all day.  It is Earth Day, you know, and boy the Earth is out in its birthday suit today.

A year makes all the difference.  Last's birthday was special, filled to the brim with friends and family, adventures, and homemade cake.  A Monday birthday promises other things and today I find myself in a big empty house, the company this year the dog.  And that's okay because it gives me time to slow down, reflect, dig in the dirt, and sit in the sun.



I am very blessed and also very grateful.  In my 27th year, I became a better wife, nurse, daughter, and friend.  I made mistakes and had days not worth repeating, but overall had a quality year.  This year will most likely be the same, as most days are the same for all of us.  But, I'm confident that next April 22nd, I'll be typing away, satisfied with the progress I've made, and better by the new things I've discovered in the year.




(Last year's list)

1. Dogs who make a full recovery.

2.  A day when the windows are open until it gets dark.

3.  Sitting at the corner bar at Seatown, drinking hard apple ciders and sharing shrimp cocktail with my husband.

4.  Legs still strong to carry me up mountains.

5.  Glittery water outside my bedroom window.

6.  Friends who are making babies and all of the possibilities that baby will bring.

7.  Herbs in windowsills.

8.  Sunday brunch at Mo's.

9.  Kayak rental gift cards.

10.  Parents who support me, love me, and hide Easter eggs around the yard for the dogs.

11.  Instagram.  It made the list last year.  Pictures are worth more than characters.

12.  Seagulls guarding bridges.

13.  That its just the two of us right now.

14.  Flowers from Central Market.

15. Sports documentaries.

16.  Neighbors who bring in our trash can.

17.  How much he has accomplished in a year, away from everything he knew.

18.   The side of Washington that he has shown me.

19.  Lilac bushes outside bathroom windows.

20.  This. And how I'm not perfect at it and the computer doesn't always work, but the chance to write and share never goes away.

21.  The trees, the water, the dirt--how each smell flashes my life before my eyes.

22.  Our new pace.  Everything is far now, so we have to plan and prioritize.

23.  The flowers that keep popping up outside.  We don't know what's coming next.

24.  5:00pm.  I'm home from work, the sun is strong, and he is on his way.

25.  Birthday dinners at Alderbrook.

26.  Overcast Seattle days.

27.  A brother who is babysitting the rambunctious yellow dog so I can type and hike.

28. And beach fires.

If you need me, I'll be outside.

I Heart Macklemore

You're probably yay or nay on this subject, but I absolutely love the guy.  But then again, I feel like its a legitimate love.  I was cruising to work one morning, listening to 107.7 (I missed that station almost as much as I missed the water), and Thrift Shop came on, and then they said that he was from here and that was it.


By golly gee, it's all about the videos though.  The love of the city shines throughout each one.  How can you not love it, not even a little bit, if you're from here?  It's about time someone was proud.

Thrift Shop aside (oh please, it's still good) I was hooked as soon as I saw the following video.  The fifth grader in me, who use to spend hours memorizing the 1995 roster, who wrote in when they were going to GASP trade Joey Cora, who had a crush on A Rod before he became an asshole and dreamt of double dates with him, Edgar Martinez and his wife, well she loves this song very very much.

Your city's got you.

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.