Keeping Up

First Days of Fall

A visit to the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in Ballard. And an incredible sunset.

An evening paddle in Lake Union and the canal.

S, The Capitol, and Jellyfish

A couple of weeks ago I flew to Baltimore to visit S. I have been intending to write about the weekend, but think I will settle for pictures. We spent most of the weekend with our matching cameras around our necks, visiting museums and walking a lot.

 

I arrived mid-morning Saturday, having taken the red-eye from Seattle through Cincinnati. We visited the Baltimore Museum of Art. Walked through the Johns Hopkins campus. And had dinner at The Brewer's Art.

Sunday, we took the train down to Washington DC, where we managed to squeeze in an entire family vacation into one day.

 

The National Botanical Garden had a really cool exhibit featuring art inspired by nature.

 

The last day of my visit was pretty much all about jellyfish. We took the bus from S's apartment down to the Inner Harbor and walked around a bit, but spent most of the day oohing over the jellyfish at the National Aquarium. They were so neat!

It was a great trip. Really fun to see S, to catch up. And to visit a part of the country to which I had never been. Though, I realized I am definitely a West Coast girl.

0.99

I am oddly fascinated by a story I heard on NPR's Marketplace Money yesterday. A story about nine couples who were married at a 99-Cent Store on September 9, 2009. All of the decor for the ceremony and reception was made from items that can be found for purchase in the store. After the ceremony, they went through the check out, paid ninety-nine cents for the wedding, and were given a receipt. I am not sure why the fascination, I mean, there are all kinds of ridiculous wedding locales. But really? The 99-Cent Store?

It could be that this story was preceded by a story about a resort in San Diego offerring rooms without beds, electricity, or toilet paper for nineteen dollars. The great thing about this particular story, was that a tent was used in the room. Urban camping. It seemed quite obvious that, lacking a bed, you would use a tent. Though I am not sure I follow the logic, I was amused.

From Rancho Rernado Inn's website:

Survivor Package
Your Package Includes:

• Deluxe accommodations
• Breakfast for two

$219 per night*

OR...

• $199 without breakfast
• $179 without honor bar
• $159 without A/C or heat
• $139 without pillows
• $109 without sheets
• $89 without lights
• $59 without linens
• $39 without toiletries
• $19 without bed

Currently SOLD OUT

[ Pictures from the 99-Cent Store wedding can be found here. There is even a video here. ]

Puzzle, Week Two

I have spent the last week cooped up in my apartment, with a bit of a head cold. Home from work yesterday and today, I've done little more than sleep, read The Time Traveler's Wife, and drink tea.

Oh, and work on my puzzle. And maybe watch a few episodes of True Blood.

Puzzle, Week One

Okay, I am a huge nerd. I am posting a picture to show how much progress I have made on my puzzle since last Thursday.

I. Am. A. Nerd. 

Thursday Night

My soccer game yesterday was canceled and I was left with a sunny evening free to do as I chose. After work, I made my way downtown, chatting with Dad as I walked. I sat at a park on Virgina Street and Western Avenue, overlooking Elliot Bay. I purposefully chose this park because it always seems to be filled with people. 

I sat reading for quite some time. I am really enjoying Curtis Sittenfeld's American Wife. I think the fact that I had had plans, and then was left with free time was just what I needed. I did not feel pressure, I felt okay being anonymous in the city in which I have lived for six years.

After dinner at the Virginia Inn, passing Barnes and Noble on the way home, I stopped in to buy a puzzle. Quite out of the blue, really. I just had this nostalgic yearning to do a puzzle. Back at home, I turned on Entourage (Season Six is so good. Thanks, C!) and dumped the pieces onto my coffee table.

Though my apartment now looks like it is inhabited by someone many years older than I, with a jigsaw puzzle spread on the coffee table and a book of crosswords next to the bed, it was an unexpectedly pleasant evening. And, I suppose, if this were to be a Thursday night fifty years from now, there is not much I could complain about.

Rowed

Tonight was my last Introduction to Rowing class. Though through the entire course felt I a bit like a huge uncoordinated disaster, I Graduated, with blisters on my hands.

 

Headlamps

I have come to the conclusion that great climbs, maybe even great times in general, involve a headlamp.

A few weeks back C and I started out from the trailhead to climb Mount Baker at ten in the evening. Well after dark. Wearing our headlamps. We hiked through the night and watched the sky change colors as the sun rose onto the Easton Glacier. Though we did not reach the summit, it was a beautiful climb. And my first climb without one of our Boealps instructors along, unofficially leading the climb.

 

Then, Sunday, after waking at the trailhead, A, T, and I headed up the trail toward Mount Adams at four in the morning. The sun yet to rise, we adorned headlamps. The stars were bright, the moon a sliver. We hiked up beyond the treeline and watched as Mount Hood became illuminated to the South. A dark night turned to a pink dusk which turned into beautiful blue skies.

 

 

 

Though the route had very little snow and talus field after talus field, we successfully summited the second highest peak in the state. A and T were excellent climbing partners.

There is something exciting about climbing in the dark. And being keenly aware of each little bit of light as the sun rises is so great. And relieving. Seeing the landscape slowly light up is pretty amazing. 

On another note. While sunrises may be best seen from somewhere on a mountain, sunsets are maybe best from the water. The sun sets just as rowing class is nearing its end. Today, Kip had us row out onto Lake Union to see the colors of the city. And it was so pretty. Made me happy to be out on the water. And in Seattle. Watching the sunset.

[ Photos from Mount Baker are here. C's are here. Photos from Mount Adams are here. ]

Midwest

From my current read.

' Admittedly, the area possesses a dowdiness I personally have always found comforting, but to think of Wisconsin specifically or the Midwest as a whole as anything other than beautiful is to ignore the extraordinary power of the land. The lushness of the grass and trees in August, the roll of the hills (far less of the Midwest is flat than outsiders seem to imagine), that rich smell of soil, the evening sunlight over a field of wheat, or the crickets chirping at dusk on a residential street: All of it, it has always made me feel at peace. There is room to breathe, there is a realness of place. The seasons are extreme, but they pass and return, pass and return, and the world seems far steadier than it does from the vantage point of a coastal city.

Certainly picturesque towns can be found in New England or California or the Pacific Northwest, but I can't shake the sense that they're too picturesque. On the East Coast, especially, these places - Princeton, New Jersey, say, or Farmington, Conneticut - seem to me aggressively quant, unbecomingly smug, and even xenophobic, downright paranoid in their wariness of those who might somehow infringe upon the local charm. I suspect this wariness is tied to the high cost of real estate, the fear that there might not be enough space or money and what there is of both must be clung to and defended. The West Coast, I think, has a similar self-regard - all that talk of proximity to the ocean and the mountains - and a beauty that I can't help seeing as show-offy. But the Midwest: It is quietly lovely, not preening with the need to have its attributes remarked on. It is the placed I am calmest and most myself. '

- Curtis Sittenfeld, American Wife

Contributing Factors

A few things that contributed in no way to our team's two goals tonight.

Happy hour. The last (first and only, as well) time I played soccer after having three (or more) beers I was naked. And it was two in the morning. On the library lawn at Luther. Happy hour with MP and MM was fun, but was certainly less than helpful on the soccer field. Turns out, beer maybe slows your reaction time a bit. Just maybe.

Five miles. An after work jog felt great, and was key in attempting to over-come my two day stint of general crabbiness, but wore my body out a bit before the game. Probably less than fresh even as I stepped onto the field.

The striker position. I do not play striker. It is easily the position on the field in which I feel least comfortable (besides, obviously, keeper). I run around, in circles mostly, trying to stay out of my teammates' way. And I played striker for the first half of the game. This did not bode well for scoring liklihood.

Machismo attitude. The opposing team is by far the most machismo team in the league. They have one guy who dribbles the ball (and also wears red shoes, and no shin guards). And sometimes passes to another guy, in the middle of the field. The team has strong girl players, but the boys never pass to the girls. And, one of the guys, often uses the phrase 'atta girl' when one of them does well. 

My underwear. Some people may have heard me complaining about my glissading underwear. Horribly uncomfortable for sliding down the snow on my rear. And also, it turns out, for playing soccer. I could not stop thinking about how annoying my underwear felt.

Olympic Games 2009

When I was called in, off the bench, as a substitute for R+C's second annual Mason Lake Beer Olympics I was a little nervous. But who could turn down an opportunity to play in the Olympic Games? Not I.

The stakes were high. Beds rather than sleeping bags and tents for the winners. And breakfast duties for last place.

 

There were six events:

Blindfolded Rowing

Air Mattress Relay

Football Toss

Beer Pong

Holy Boards

and Flip Cup

The whole day was quite the production, but carried off flawlessly by our hosts. There was so much laughing. And drinking beer. But mostly, laughing. We competed, ate perfect outdoor food, and had a bonfire. 

And we didn't get last place. Almost, but not quite.

It is (Almost) Never the Boat's Fault

I am taking a Learn to Row class.

The whole idea sort of came a bit out of the blue. While home in Minnesota, I was surprised to see the Rosemount High School lacrosse team walking in the Leprechaun Days Parade. I quickly decided that had we had a lacrosse team at the time I attended RHS, I would have been on such a team. Sadly, high school lacrosse had not yet reached the Midwest and I was destined take part in the parade as a member of the marching band. I can think of few things as mortifying as marching in the parade, pretending to have my music memorized, hoping to hide in the middle of the row, avoiding any sort of recognition from anyone in the crowd besides my parents. If only we had had lacrosse. 

I arrived back in Seattle semi-determined (okay, far less than determined, it turns out) to find a beginners lacrosse league to join. And here, Google failed me. Though I consider myself a fairly apt internet searcher, I was unable to locate any such opportunity. And, if the possibility of learning to play lacrosse on a team as a grown-up could not be found with the help of the ever-powerful Google, certianly no such thing exists.

My afternoon of searching the wonderful world wide web was (how's that for alliteration?) not completely in vain. I could not help but take notice of the fact that searches for lacrosse often led to results involving crew and rowing activities. A similarly ivy-league-white-collar-type of sport. 

My wheels began to turn. Rowing, after all, is my favorite of the many simulated gym activities. I would rather fake row than fake bicycle, fake climb stairs, or fake cross country ski. Maybe I would enjoy rowing on water. In a boat. I like canoeing. And kayaking. But rowing could be a workout. And it lets you go way faster. I like faster.

And my searching took a turn towards rowing. And led me to the class at Pocock Center for Rowing.

The first class was on Monday. We spent most of the time on the machines inside. Learning the basic stroke. And little bits of the esoteric terminology. Like 'weigh enough', which means stop. And is one I think I might begin to use in my every day life. We toured the facility and carried a boat from the boathouse to the water. And of course, watched a cheesy safety video. All of this with our coach, Kip.

I left class Monday feeling like I would learn something in the upcoming three weeks. Like when I fake row on the machines in the gym I might have a better fake stroke than before I Learned to Row. I had fun, but I was not bouncing off the walls.

Tonight, though. We were on the water. And it was great. We were in the boat called The Barge, which is like a double wide crew boat. And which is pretty much impossible to tip over. (Compared to a normal crew boat in which letting go of your oar could cause the boat to flip. We were not yet ready for the responsibility.) As soon as we were all settled into the boat and Kip pushed us away from the dock I felt like a little kid. Excited.

And we rowed. Not very far, or very fast. But we rowed. I rowed. Not well, but well-enough. I have a hard time concentrating on the many things that are supposed to be happening, not all at once, but all at once. Arms, body, legs. Legs, body, arms. And feathering. Yikes. Starboard. Port. Inside. Outside. Weigh Enough. Yikes.

I left class today feeling like I would learn something in the remaining two weeks. And that I might like to row on the water more than I expected.

And really, though I am far from bored as the end of summer approaches, I think rowing might be a good activity to continue through the winter. I will need something to keep my body moving. So that I am ready to climb once spring rolls around. Rowing is a lot about your arms and upper body, as you would expect, but also your legs. We will see, but I am kind of hoping that the class leads to a motivation to keep active in the gray months ahead. 

So it is not lacrosse. But, it is not marching band either. Rowing.

[ Completely Unrelated Side Note: There were also several young unicyclists in the Leprechaun Days Parade. I left the parade that afternoon also quite motivated to learn to unicycle. Which seems like a fairly straightforward Google search criteria. 'Unicycle Lessons Seattle'. I will keep you posted. ] 

Reading

A recent post by Cousin E has inspired me again. I love the photo. And could not express her sentiments any better.

The last two months I have rediscovered reading in a vigorous way. I remember the pleasure in being so caught up in a place, a story, a life that is not my own. A pleasure that lasts longer than a TV episode. Several good books in a row have kept me turning and turning pages.

Let Me Stand Alone - Rachel Corrie

The Year of Magical Thinking - Joan Didion

That Mad Ache - Francoise Sagan

On Chesil Beach - Ian McEwan

What is the What - Dave Eggers

The Stranger - Albert Camus

It is so unbelievably rare to read six books in a row that I would recommend without any reservations. And yet, each of these has been so remarkable.

Continuing with the reading.

To Knit

It rained in Seattle tonight (as I waited for the bus, coincidentally). The first real rainfall in eighty-three days. And also, the most wonderfully soft and lovely wool yarn arrived today intended for Wenlan Chia's Shopping Tunic. Certainly, it has been an amazing summer. But, a bit of rain and perfect yarn remind me of the cozy fall days ahead. With a bit of time to laze inside. Beginning projects. Making soup. Watching movies. Knitting. So ready to knit.

[ As I was taking a photograph of my new yarn, I noticed the same colors in a bowl of sand from Mexico which I keep on my coffee table. ]