Emerald City Weekend

Seattle may not be home to the Wizard of Oz, but it is the "Emerald City."

While looking out over the city from the 73rd floor of the Columbia Building, both mom and I remarked about how green it was, how many trees softened the lines of the city.

But Seattle has some real gems and this last weekend I was able to enjoy several of them. The backdrop for the weekend was the Rock n' Roll half marathon, which was the perfect opportunity to be a mother-daughter weekend.

We were treated to a coffee date with the adorable Micah. A guy I'm just getting to know, but has been one of my brother's good friends for years. He is quickly becoming another "lil' bro" which makes me happy.

I had a food revelation at Cuoco with  their vegan carrot soup. Seriously. I want to go back to Seattle right now for more of that soup.

Saturday morning I woke to clear blue skies and a bright shining sun, not a shred of clouds left from the night before; perfect race weather! Since I was in corral 41 (and that wasn't even the last corral!) the estimated start time for me was 8:26 am, so I didn't even plan to be up at the start line until 8 am - an hour after the first corral started the race. As I was leaving the hotel, a gentleman looked at me and with a tone of pity asked, "Oh, could you not finish the race?" Panic set in - was I too late?? I quickly responded, "I have an 8 am start time." And then took off as fast as I could in the general direction of where I thought the start line was at the Seattle Center. As I topped the hill of Denny Way, approaching 5th Avenue, there were a stream of runners in front of me, mostly with bib numbers in the 35-38 corral, but low enough that I panicked even more - the waves were going faster than anticipated. I finally found my way to the start line and walked a little ways down and just jumped in a corral. I was warmed up from running to the start. With a few minutes to wait until starting I tried to stretch a little, but in no time I was off and running.

My goal for this race was simply to finish; I haven't been training like I should be for an event of this length. As long as I finished, I could pick up my "heavy medal" - the "Pacific Peaks" medal only available to those who completed the Portland and Seattle Rock n' Roll events. I do like my bling. :) But the only requirement was finishing, there was no need to go all out. But I am me, once on the course that hyper-competitive side comes out. I was keeping a great pace, my splits were looking good for setting a record (or at least matching my best time) - that is until mile 9ish. My second toe on my right foot started cramping and curling under, pulling on my Achilles so that I couldn't run.  It was the strangest sensation. I had to slow up, my pace slipped, ambition had to surrender to wisdom. Regardless, watching my average pace time grow on my watch with each mile split was disheartening. Although slowing down allowed "Dr. Dribble" to catch up with me. Have you heard of him? He is trying to set a record of some sort for doing the most marathons while dribbling two basketballs (or the fastest, or something). I kid you not, look him up. He didn't even stop dribbling at the water station, but had a gal pour water down his gullet all the while dribbling. And I thought I was crazy.

I ended up finishing right about my average time. I still got the Seattle finishers medal, just like the first person across the line; I still got the Pacific Peaks medal. (But dagnabit!! I was doing better!) Aren't they pretty?

Post race I indulged in not one but TWO venti iced coffees from Starbucks. Have I told y'all lately how much I love coffee and miss it horribly? Because I love coffee, in case you were wondering. And it was as delicious as I was anticipating for 13.1 miles. I may just possibly be back on the coffee wagon. We sat outside and ate our lunches from Whole Foods, basking in the glorious weather, and making new friends with Travis and his dog Daisy. With a touch of sunburn, we finally went up to the room which had an enormous soaking tub, perfect for muscles already sore and tightening up.

With an hour to kill before dinner plans, we headed downtown to the Columbia Building which has an observation center on the 73rd floor. Even though clouds and haze obscured the peaks of the Olympic range, the views were really great; it was a fun new adventure.

For dinner we met up with Julie and Rob for a fabulous evening of drinks, chips n' salsa, and conversation. Rob is one of those "lil' brothers" whom I have known since he and my brother became friends their freshman year of high school. He has grown up a lot over the years, but he still calls my mom every Mother's Day which makes him truly a gem in my book. Even though he and Julie have been together for years, and married last year, I haven't had a chance to get to know her, but Saturday evening was a great opportunity and I just adore her. I'm so thankful they made time to visit with us.

Sunday morning we were up and out of the hotel early to get across town to meet another gem of a friend at Starbucks. (More coffee!!! :} ) We blitzed through the highlights of the last year or so getting caught up on each others lives in the one hour before church started. Michelle and I decided to do a walk together sometime soon; I'm looking forward to having her delightful company for the miles - if you know of a good event coming up, let me know.

Church filled my heart with joy, because this church is the blessing of God on precious friends who started it last fall. Darren and Kelly have been through some rough times, and periods of uncertainty where it wasn't clear what God was doing. But He was preparing them and making the way for Imprint Church, where they are thriving and it is obvious God is blessing this work. I just love that family!

With one more Starbucks stop, we started the trek back south. A short detour in Tacoma to the Museum of Glass gave me my Chihuly fix that I missed in Seattle. We didn't go inside, except the gift shop, (and to use the facilities, after all that coffee, you'd need to go too!), but there is enough to see in public spaces to satisfy my art loving side for the time being. Although, I am planning to go back to Seattle this summer to see the Chihuly exhibit at the Seattle Center; who wants to join me?

It was a wonderful weekend, filled with wonderful people who I truly love. But the best of them all is my momma. We stopped in Lake Oswego for dinner at Burgerville and I sat there delaying the end of our quick trip, not wanting to drop her off. I'm so thankful to have such a great friend in her. Watch out San Fran - we are hitting you next - with my Momar as well!! I'm so excited I can hardly wait for October! Now that trip will be epic!

What Tells of a Life?

I have been sorting through photos of my recent European adventure over the last week. A co-worker insisted that I put together a slide-show and do a "brown bag" lunch for a small group. I would have resisted but this is also the same co-worker who arranged free lodging with extended relatives in Krakow and lent me two camera lenses for the trip. I could hardly refuse such a simple request after all he had done for me.

The trouble is, I took pictures through my point of view, with my interests in mind, we all do. But as I sort through my 1700 photos I realize what interests me probably isn't very entertaining for others. Photos of my friends, who mean nothing to my co-workers.  Lots of doors and architectural details, kinda geeky. Photos of places that I want to remember for the memories they trigger, but objects that are not too special in their own right (the clock at Ceska for example). I take some fairly random pictures too. I am not very pleased with the bulk of the photos - bad composition, poor lighting, lack of focus. So that eliminated quite a few photos right there, but there should be enough remaining to get through a lunch show n' tell.

In the sorting and sifting I noticed another category of photos that I tend to snap, they are some of my favorites, photos that show life. Faces, hands - the signs of life lived. Pictures taken on the sly.

While on the tram I look down at a woman's hand holding her bag of produce and admire its wrinkled speckled beauty. Noticing the large knuckles and slight deformity, I wonder what has caused it. Perhaps it is rheumatoid arthritis, maybe my hands will look like this in 30 years. What have these hands seen and done? How many potatoes have they peeled? Whose hands have they held? What stories can this woman tell?

These gentlemen intrigued me. The lines on their faces, the dapper hair, the style of clothes. How much have they seen? Have they had trouble negotiating the transition from Communism to Democracy? Are they among the ranks that long for the 'good ol' days'? What yarns could these men spin?

And there are several more photos that I wish I could hear the stories behind the lives represented in the images. But what tells the story of a life? The lines on a face? The scars and marks that remain? What do people think of my life when they look at me? What will they think in 30 years? In 50 years? Can I cultivate a life that creases my cheeks and etches signs of love and joy so that people will look at me and think 'she lives life well.'

Proverbs 27:19 "As water reflects the face, 

   so one’s life reflects the heart."  

And what is in your heart will be reflected on your face. So what does your face say about you? Is it an accurate reflection of your heart? What do you want it to say?

Curious to see more? I uploaded all of my photos (and I do mean all) to Flickr.  I will start to weed out the ridiculous, eventually. For a more condensed overview, check out the slideshow I put together for the brown bag at work. 

My trip in pictures

Cultural Lessons

Friday Janelle and I decided to take our studying to the beach. It was a beautiful day and I had been craving the beach and thought in central California I might have a chance of being warm at the beach. We found a spot around Bodega Bay and staked out a spot not too near anyone with a big log that ran parallel to the beach so we could use it as a back rest. It was great for about a half hour. That is when the Hispanic family decided to have lunch just a few feet in front of us obstructing our lovely view of the ocean. There was wide open sandy beaches for quite some distance beside us either way, so why did they choose to plop down right in front of us? Janelle and I were a bit mystified. I made the comment that "We are in the midst of a cross-cultural lesson, but I'm not getting it." And I still don't get it. What made it more amusing is that after they had finished eating lunch they started wandering off, but left their stuff. All the guys had congregated for a game of soccer down the beach away from people, and several of the women were down there watching. Two kids were left to keep watch over their belongings which we helped out with when the seagulls attacked and the kids were playing down by the water. Can anyone explain this behavior to me? I'm really quite curious.

Janelle received some other cultural lessons during my visit. Apparently the concept of using honey to sweeten coffee was new to her. What was really new was malt vinegar and dousing french fries with it. I don't think she believes me that it's really tasty. Honest J - it's really good! :)

Girl seeks sun!

It always happens about this time of year. I develop a need, an overwhelming need, a compulsion, a driving desire, to see the sun. Unlike my brother who actually likes the drab overcast drizzly days I crave the sunshine. I crave it with a ravenous hunger. And not just the sun but sun and warmth. Don't get me wrong, I am a proud Oregonian, it is just the time between end of February to the beginning of July that I have a hard time with. I chalk it up to being born in Southern California. While I only lived there for my first two years, those early years are a very impressionable age and I believe all that sunshine imprinted my genetics with a need for sun. Further proof is my brother, he was born here in Oregon in March so it stands to reason that he loves the drippy days, that was his first experience in life.

This year I am going to soak up the vitamin D in Santa Rosa, California while I visit with two of my roommates from the Israel trip. I'll be staying with Janelle who lives just a short distance from the last house where my paternal grandparents lived. I haven't been back in over a decade so I am expecting some weirdness/sadness on that front. One day we are going to visit St. Helena and one of my food Meccas - the CIA - the Culinary Institute of America. I was hoping to take a morning cooking class but I dilly-dallied too long debating whether I should spend the time with Janelle and Debbie or take advantage of being in the area and take the class. Procrastination is the thief of opportunity. The class was full by the time I went to sign-up. Another place on the must visit is Bouchon Bakery owned by Thomas Kellar of The French Laundry fame. For the next few days I'm going to imbibe in the foods I enjoy and forget about my allergies, well, almost all of them. There is no food so tempting that I will knowingly eat bananas or mushrooms, it isn't worth the hospital trip. Yes, I'm a foodie and while the area is known for it's wine, I plan on enjoying the food. Most of all I'm looking forward to seeing Janelle and Debbie, just hanging out laughing and having a good time, being away from work and a computer, snagging some of Janelle's pics from Israel and ohh-ing and ahh-ing over Debbie's scrapbook.

The next five days are going to be great!

Better yet, I got bumped and stayed an extra day! I don't know how Janelle put up with me for so long. :) Love you J!

Concoction

Did you know that taste buds have memory? They do, I'm convinced of it! While remembering the trip to Victoria, BC on which I took the picture below my taste buds started salivating. They were remembering something. It wasn't the high tea at Butchart Gardens, nor was it the beer battered fries at the Sticky Wicket Pub (which the Pelican Pub at Pacific City has much better ones). What those little buds were remembering, screaming for, was the strangest concoction I've ever imbibed at The Next Chapter bookstore & coffeeshop in La Conner, WA. I can't remember the name of the drink, but I remember asking what was in it and thinking that it sounded so strange that it had to be tasted. It was a combination of Coke, espresso, fresh squeezed orange juice, a slice of orange, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Weird? Yes! Absolutely! I wasn't sure what to except and after the first noxious sip I questioned the choice of trying something so peculiar. I was tempted to dump it but the after taste was strangely good. I took another sip and my face involuntarily winced at the bitterness, but again after the initial shock the flavor was good and my taste buds were asking for more. It was a compulsion to keep drinking despite the initial taste, but it grew on me too. And as the ice cream melted it became very tasty. I have not attempted to recreate it - not yet that is - I think it may need to be attempted very soon. Have you ever heard of such a drink? Any guesses on proportions? It needs a good name... hold on, I'm going to try and make this thing and see what it inspires.

Update: I have since attempted to recreate the drink. It wasn't good. The coffee was leftover from the morning, the orange juice was from a container, and the ice cream was to little. It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad. I'm on the right track.