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Summer comes in fits and starts in Seattle. You'll get some really hot weather as early as April, but the clouds and showers inevitably reinforce the fact that you still live in the Northwest.
Last weekend was really hot, so hot I had to run through the Seattle Center fountain before I could find the energy to trudge back to the car and get on with my afternoon. I, like the other hundreds of people in the fountain, got drenched. And, it was so hot, that I was pretty much dry within ten minutes.
The last few days have been saner. 70s. A bit overcast, but still nice enough on the fourth for us to be outside around a firepit until midnight, nice enough for me to go swimming in the lake last Wednesday, nice enough to sit in the park picnicking and listening to Hawaiian music last night for several hours.
Of all these quite summery activities, I have to say that swimming in the lake most effectively marks summer for me. There's something really wonderful about open-water swimming, and unless you are one of those polar bear people, the only time you can really enjoy it is summer.
I love getting super hot in the sun and then wading into the cool lake, slowly getting accustomed to the chill. I usually wait to get the water on my chest. It's the hardest part. I always imagine that my heart will grow icy, and even though immersion in the cold always threatens to solidify that core organ, it never does. My chest stays warm, my blood remains fluid, my heart keeps beating. And, as I swim out farther and farther into the open water, my body warms up, my heart feels strong, and and I feel quite limitless.
Cotswold Double Gloucester with Chives
I am working in the public library today after some DSL problems. This is a small regional branch, not the big downtown wonder, and I'm happy to say it is very busy.
For some reason, though, I have been inundated with foul-smelling young men whose odors have forced me to move seats three (seriously, three!) times.
The first could not stop farting in a small enclosed "Quiet Study" space we were sharing. Okay, I totally understand if you accidentally let one loose, but repeatedly? Dude, go to the bathroom or go let those things fly outside ... NOT in a small enclosed space with a stranger! Sheesh!
The second reeked of cigarette smoke. Again, not something that would normally bother me that much, but it was as if his clothes and body were still smoking. To make matters worse, there were five or six other seats available in my second small, enclosed "Quiet Study" space, and he sat right next to me. My eyes starting itching and watering almost immediately. I once again packed my things.
So, I figured, I'll move out of the small, enclosed spaces, and I'll be fine. But, no. Again, with many other seats available, a guy comes and sits right next to me. He is wearing so much cologne that not only do my eyes start itching and watering, but my nose begins to run. I try to stick it out thinking he'll move soon, but nope. He's in it for the long haul, and really, this is the worst of the bunch, so ... I move again.
Now, I am sitting at the most isolated table I can find. The closest person to me is about six feet away and is an older man. He is not stinky at all, but he does keep sniffing madly. Maybe he's allergic to me.
Heading to Vancouver with Nellicious for the long weekend and wishing my "stimulus check" would arrive so that I can spend it all in Canada.
Put that in your pipe Bush.
Whenever I write or think or read those initials, I inevitably start singing the song of the same name from "Annie." I actually like that song. Okay, I even like that musical.
But, this is not about a lovable curly-headed moppet, her little hellion orphans buddies, or her bald sugar daddy. No, this is about my upcoming trip.
I'm about to spend a little under a week in New York and am looking forward to visiting friends, looking at art, eating good food. I haven't been to the city since June 1997. I know it's changed a lot since then, but I hope to still get a whiff of some of the things I really enjoy about it.
I'll be staying near the park and hanging out at the Met and wandering over to Brooklyn. I'll get to see Little Miss Sunshine, Planbreaker, df.
I'll also be spending time with and my two oldest friends. I am actually amazed when I stop to think how long I have been friends with these two. To still be friends with someone who knew you when you had pink hair and wore ripped up tights and put transistors in your earlobes is a remarkable privilege.
The truth is, while I have lots of art outings planned and am eager to walk the city, I am mainly excited about seeing my friends. This seems a real change for me. Yes, travel is still vital to my well-being as it art and yummy food, but somehow, my relationships have superseded other items on the list of things that thrill and sustain me.
I think that's probably a good thing.
Last night, I made a really tasty and super easy pasta. Here's how.
Boil some penne and throw in bite-size pieces of asparagus at the last minute, drain.
Heat some olive oil in a pan (in this case I used the awesome new pan Nellicious gave me. Thanks Nellie!).
Add some chopped garlic and sauté until soft. Throw in the pasta and asparagus along with some smoked salmon and butter and flip it about in the pan for minute or two.
Remove from heat. Add salt, pepper and lemon juice. Stir. Serve. Garnish with Asiago.
Totally satisfies your salt craving. If you are scared of salt, you could use fresh salmon and/or not add salt or Asiago.
Sorry, no photo. I ate it up too quickly.
Little Miss Sunshine is visiting the state of rain, and we are all so delighted to have her here.
Last night we went out for dinner. I wore my Volcom cords. She was wearing full skater gear as usual. We talked about girls. We ordered beer. We got carded. It was rad. I was stoked.
I want to congratulate my dear friend on two recent accomplishments.
First, she just finished her Masters with a very fine thesis. Whoop! Girl has some brains on her.
Second, she has gone from someone who could do only about 60 sit-ups to someone who does 600 sit-ups every other effing day. We calculated this at 22,200 sit-ups in the last two-and-a-half months. You should see her freaking abs.
And, I'll tell you something else. She is now ready to kick some serious ass both physically and verbally. Do not mess with Little Miss. Shout!
Thing One: Good-Humored Bitching
I was reminded of the importance of including in one's life the utter joy of some really smart, funny bitching now and then. I'm not talking about whiny commiserating or ultra-negative the-world-is-shit misanthropic ranting although I suppose these have their place.
I am talking about what the Sandlot Poet and I got up to over good Belgian beer on Wednesday and what Random Girl and I spent much of our office hours in grad school doing. Just a well-considered cultural, institutional, or social critique filled with hysterical insight and likely solutions, none of which will ever be enacted because, sadly, we do not run the world.
Thing Two: Volcom Pants
My first pair of Volcom pants were purchased from a thrift store about five years ago. They were very plain, grey duck canvas chinos that fit me perfectly. Since then, Volcom has branched out, and I have purchased three more pairs of their pants, all of which fit me perfectly.
The mens pants are made for slender skaterboy types and are quite stylish. I am currently wearing my favorite pair, slate blue cords. I heart these pants. I also happen to love that their slogan is "Youth against Establishment."
You know as well as I do that honesty does not always pay, at least financially, but yesterday, for me, it did.
I was at my local market, trying to buy some salmon for dinner. They had three crappy tail pieces of previously frozen Coho for $14.99/lb. that looked pretty dessicated. They had lots of big moist fresh wild-caught filets of Blackmouth for $23.99.
I decided that since I had my 10% off coupon, I'd just go for the good stuff. When the nice butcher wrapped up my fish and handed it to me, I noticed he had charged me the Coho price.
I handed it back and said, "Oh, you charged me the wrong price. You charged me too little."
He looked at it, shrugged, smiled and handed it back to me, saying, "Honesty's got to count for something."
So, I got a nice chunk of $24 dollar salmon for $15 + 10% off. I was good, and so was that fish.
Apparently, this is vertically striped sleeves sweater week for me. I realized this morning that today is the third day in a row that I am wearing such a sweater.
I didn't even know I had so many. Sadly, I have only three.
Tomorrow, I will have to wear a vertically striped sleeves sweatshirt, which now that I think of it, I believe I wore on Sunday.
How will I manage to keep it up through Saturday? I may have to go shopping.
Mo'nonymous on Working in the Publi...
Mo'nonymous on Stimulus
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