Stinging Workers

This weekend I did a bit of research on yellowjackets and I found the Schmidt Sting Pain Index. Is it real? Here is part of it:

2.0 Bald-faced hornet: Rich, hearty, slightly crunchy. Similar to getting your hand mashed in a revolving door.
2.0 Yellowjacket: Hot and smoky, almost irreverent. Imagine W. C. Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue.
2.x Honey bee and European hornet: Like a matchhead that flips off and burns on your skin.

I was stung by a yellowjacket a long time ago and it hurt really bad. I was a fully formed adult at the time and I'm not excessively wimpy about pain and I really wanted to sit down and cry. Even though the sound of wailing children is really annoying, don't you sometimes envy them? Haven't you ever been tired and rundown and nothing is going the way you want it to and wished you could just throw your head back and shriek in the middle of the grocery store? I know I have.

I'm glad adults don't do this because the social boundaries that keep everyday life tolerable are disintegrating fast enough as it is. There was an article in the NYT on Sunday about how liberating young people find it to talk about how much money they make with each other. Good for them. I don't talk about how much money I make with my husband. I think the world is just fine with things people don't talk about. Have you ever had one of those awkward conversations where someone you met 5 minutes ago starts telling you about their cysts?

Hm, I'm getting off track here. Back to the stingy thing: for some reason I thought that honeybee stings were negligible. I guess I've never been stung by one.

I finished another story this weekend which was why I did the yellowjacket research. It's hard to have a meal outside at my folks' house because of the yellowjackets but the university extension had a great tip which involved hanging a fish over a tub of water. I can't wait to try it.

This has nothing to do with my story. The story is one I've worked on and off on for quite some time and it's not a terrible story but I'm not sure it's especially creative or has a point but I'm trying to get in the habit of finishing things. Somewhere I have a quote from Ray Bradbury where he said he'd written at least 600 stories but only published 150 (made up numbers because I don't know where the quote is and besides, it's probably 20 years old and he's probably written another 600 stories since then) and he was still learning. At the rate I'm going, it'll take me 85 years to hit 600 stories.

Update: I found the Ray Bradbury quote and it's from 1967 and it says he wrote 2,000 stories but published 300. At my rate it will take 200 years to write 2,000 stories.

We Got the Beet

I know this is a photo of carrots and doesn't match my title but I usually never plant carrots and these were so cute that I had to try them.

Yesterday I put a garden in. I'm know I'm going to be gone for six weeks but I can't do nothing. I did decide to skip the tomatoes, mostly because Sunset magazine reminded me that you aren't supposed to plant them in the same place every year. I don't plant them in the exact same spot but always in the same general plot so maybe a year off would be good for everyone.

The other reason I went ahead and planted is I bought a bunch of seeds before I knew I would be gone. Plus I found a stash from last year which included about 5 envelopes of beet seeds. I mixed a ton of beet, turnip, carrot, chard and lettuce green seeds in a little plastic dish and then scattered them over half the garden. Then I went to find a rake. When I came back there was already a cheeky bird, going to town. I raked everything around.

Then I went and found all my peas and lemon cucumbers. The past two or three years these have done nothing for me so I planted them all in the hope something will take. I used the same scatter method. I have cages but there are tons of wasps around the shed and I'm afraid to go in there right now so I haven't set the cages out for the peas, should they decide to grow.

If you've arrived at this post looking for gardening advice, I'd suggest you move on. I don't think you'll find anything to help you here.

I raked the whole plot and shoved a few wayward seeds under with my fingers and went in the house and announced to Bob that just about the time I leave he will have all the turnips and beets he can handle. This is a joke because Bob will eat vegetables but the idea of him harvesting root vegetables from the backyard is ridiculous. At least the bugs will have something to eat.

Distractions
This is my new favorite snack. I keep a box in my desk at the office. I almost tried the cheese crackers, too, but it seemed like an absurd amount of money to spend on mini-crackers.

Trader Joe's really let me down this weekend. I have a large number of Spanish wines in my rotation and they didn't have squat. Not even my third tier choices for when my favorites aren't available.

While I stood in front of the display, trying to figure out my next move, a lady who works there asked if she could help me. I said I couldn't find any of my regulars and she asked what they were and since I don't know my wines by name, I know them by the design on the label, I told her I usually get Spanish wines and she points to the place where I'm looking and says, "This where the Spanish wines are. We don't have anything else. This is all we have."

It reminded me of when your Mom and Dad yell at you for something your sibling did. It wasn't like I was complaining. I tried all new things so it's not like all was lost.

I [Heart] The Seventies
This is the piggy bank I got for my birthday around the 3rd grade from a kid named Kenny who lived two houses down from us on Aldea Avenue in Encino California. One time he got hit by a car on our street and had to wear a cast. I also remember there was a pool at his house and it was absurdly warm.

This sits next to my bed and I open it once every five years with the thought, "I wonder what's in this thing."

Lots of very old foreign coins from various adventures. My parents went to Greece when I was a small tot. My Dad did a job in Kuwait. Lots of European coins that have been replaced by the Euro.


I had some dollar coins and they wouldn't fit so I made a slot so that you could fit them in. I'm sorry this sounds like an inappropriate euphemism. One of the dollar coins looks gold. Because it is.

Just kidding. It was a necklace which I guess was really bitchin in the 70's. It had a heavy gold chain. I think I got this as a birthday gift as well.


We have some extended family on my Dad's side in Virginia and we visted them once. They gave us some civil war bullets and buttons. A lot of those pennies have nothing interesting about them and I'm not sure why I saved them. Maybe for good luck?

Blue Hawaii Go Home
I think probably everyone can relate to the experience of having someone in your household wake up before you. Thus, while you're still fuzzy headed and not in the mood for talking, smelling, seeing, hearing or otherwise relating to humanity, your spouse/parents/children/roommates/pets and/or other are all energetic and dancing around excited by the new day.

This happened the other morning. My husband boogied into the bedroom while I still had my face pushed into the pillows.

Him: Honey! Do you want me to sing some Elvis for you?

Me: Presley or Costello?

Him: Presley!

Me: No.

I'm Bernadette
Yesterday we were talking about high school and I mentioned that where I went to school there was an alternative high school. I don't know exactly how it worked but it was for kids who couldn't deal with regular high school and they could at least stay in school and get a diploma.

But that's not the story. The story is that I was explaining what this school was like and saying it was more informal and they have, rap circles and stuff. Then I had to explain that back then "rap" was used to mean talk. Then I said, you know, like on Zoom they'd say, "Let's rap," then they'd sit around and talk about their troubles with their siblings and how no one understands kids.

My co-worker said he didn't know what Zoom was.

Then I started singing the theme song for him, and the mailing address ("Zee double-oh em, Box three-five-oh, Boston, Mass oh-two-one-three-four") and I did that arm thing for "I'm Bernadette" and then I started speaking ubbi dubbi. Then he asked me to stop.

The opening credits to the season I remember are here.

In other ancient history news, one game show I can't believe hasn't been resurrected yet is Name That Tune. I liked it a lot when I was a kid and it seems like it could be adapted into one of these big ticket high pressure type games shows that are so popular now. What do I know? Nowadays, I do not watch game shows of any kind. Ever. Even if I was in prison I would not have time to watch game shows.

Half Dome



I've been to Yosemite two times. The first time I was very small. How old do I look in this photo? A few months? My Tante Hilla came from Germany and they all did a trip of California-y things. I know they also went to Hearst Castle. Or we, I should say. I've only been to Hearst Castle that one time and remember, well, nothing.

This was in 1964 so make sure to dig the little bit of the cars you can see. As I was preparing this it occurred to me that this was probably Tante Hilla's first visit to California and the occasion was to see me.



We went again when I was in high school. There's no major point I'm making here, just falling back on old photos for today's content.

In other news, I just clued in to the fact that Prince Capsian comes out on May 16. That's less than one month away. I thought I had to wait until December.

To celebrate I did a quick detour to watch the official trailer, fan teaser (first typed fan taser, I think there's a joke in there somewhere), production blog (nice accent, sounds like Narnier), moneybags slap themselves on the back promo, and the dreamy Prince Caspian promo. Didn't the book Prince Caspian have the faintest whiff of wuss? I must remember that wrong.

Your Hair is Big
The weekend weather wasn't quite as doodoo as predicted. It was cold, but yesterday afternoon the sun came out and sitting at the computer was giving me a headache so I worked outside. We had our tree pruned back in January and I got all but three big branches into the yard debris bin. I planted a bunch of flower seeds that I bought impulsively at the beginning of March and I raked the garden spot and turned over some of the soil. Maybe next weekend I can get the manure and plant a few things. Because all danger of frost must have passed by now. Please?

My neighbor was out, too and he said possibly the squirrels were into the tulips. Maybe. While we were talking a shiny red car stopped in front of our houses and a wail came from a person in a ball in the street. At first I thought they'd hit him but no, the car had been pulling the kid on his skateboard. Another kid got out of the car and scoffed and dragged wailing kid to his feet. The driver was a blonde girl. They very pointedly did not make eye contact with the grown-ups standing on the curb looking on with concern/scorn.

Last night I caught up on my shows. Am I the only person who tears up during almost every episode of Doctor Who and Torchwood? Last night I was sniffling into my tissue during the end of Torchwood and Bob came upstairs. He said, "Your hair is big" which was true because I had washed it but not applied 10 lbs of product nor done any styling except for the bangs so they wouldn't stick out.

I Was A Grade School Brownie
I was in Girl Scouts until I started sixth grade. I think. I seem to remember even in fifth grade my interest was wandering.

I was in Brownies in elementary school. At the end of second grade I got a prize because I wore my uniform, brought my dues (.10¢) and attended every meeting.

This was my prize:



It's a pin and I still think its cute. This is one of the few relics I have from the early-70's prehistoric era. Another one is a piggy bank that a kid named Kenny gave me for my birthday one year and I'll have to take a photo and put it up later this week because it is awesome.

Two other girls also won a pin. One of them was Beth Rosenfield. I remember because here's our school picture that year:



Yes, we were the two girls who wore our brownie uniforms to school pictures. Even the beanie. The beanie really cracks me up. The third girl must have been in a different class.

Thanks to the miracle of the Internet, I think this is my elementary school which back then was called Rhoda Street Elementary School and now is a school for special needs kids. At least it was in 2003. It doesn't look that different. I wish there was a photo of the cafeteria. I can still remember how it smelled. Sour milk and creamed corn.

We (me and my sister) usually brought our lunch and we had cream cheese and jelly sandwiches, and/or cream cheese on celery sticks. Sometimes big hunks of lettuce and giant zucchini that our babysitter grew and sliced very thin and we dipped them in a sugary vinaigrette.

I was going to put the entire school photo up and brag about how many of those kids names I can remember except that the name I remember for about 7 of the boys is Stuart. And according to this popular names of the 70's chart, that's unlikely.

I walked to school with my friends or my babysitter (But not my sister? Why do I have no memories of going to school with my sister?) and then in 3rd grade I was allowed to ride my bike.

In first grade at the end of school there was this fad (?) called scrubbing and older kids would chase the younger kids and write on their arms and legs with red crayons or lipstick. I was *terrified* of getting scrubbed. Terrified as in jelly knees and knotted stomach. I didn't get scrubbed.

Tulip Bandit Strikes Again



This is what we saw when we got home from the grocery store last night.

I can't believe I thought tulips didn't last very long. These have been going strong for at least a couple of weeks although they're looking a tad straggly at this point. It's hard not to think someone is messing with me.

Here's the before photo again.



I don't know what to think. These flowers are right by my front door. My neighbor has a big patch of pretty tulips in her yard right by the street. I checked and no one has been picking any of those. If it was kids, why would they just target these?

I'm not really outraged as much as curious. Did the same person come back for more or did someone else see these and think they needed to take some home? I haven't seen any in this color around. It might be hard to tell from the photos but they are a very dark velvety red. I'm going to dig them up in the fall and put them out back with the pink ones. I'll get some more daffodils for the front.

This morning I did a tons of errands. I put on my work clothes so I could pick up some manure and stuff for the garden that I'm planting even though I'm going to be gone for 6 weeks. I know the weather is supposed to be doodoo all weekend but I figured there would be time to sneak out and do a little work.



Right when I got to the garden store it started pouring rain and everything was covered and I said screw it. Better luck next weekend.

Celebrate Compost
We have a compost bin where we throw all our fruit and vegetable scraps, eggshells and occasionally moldy bread but never cooked foods. I never do anything to it like stir it or add layers of grass clippings. Every other year, or so, I drag the bin over to the garden and dump whatever's in there out into the dirt and rake it around or dig it under. Usually the bottom is a nice sludgy brown and I guess magic for the garden and the top is usually carrot peels and apple cores.

Every time I read anything about composting, this is never how they describe doing it. But if it's going to be more complicated, it's not going to happen at our house.

Yesterday I got my new tooth which I love. It fit like a dream on the first try so they glued that puppy in and I'm chewing mastadon bones for dinner. (Just kidding, they're so difficult to find around here.)

Almost everyone at the dentist office asked me if I had ever thought about getting my teeth straightened. There's some new process that I guess is like some sort of invisible retainers. I didn't ask a lot of questions. I don't hate the idea but it's not a big concern. Especially not right now when I just emptied out my wallet for Uncle Sam, the state of Oregon, my new tooth and Clark County is going to get my property tax payment in another week.

Tooth vanity doesn't fit in the current spreadsheet.

Busy and Exhausted
I had 2 super busy days at the office plus Monday night my yoga teacher tried to kill me. I was so tired last night I went to bed at 8:30p. As in, turned the lights out and went to sleep the minute my head hit the pillow.

Now I have time but nothing to say.

I'm going to link to this Gawker thread on this completely stupid article in the NYT food section today about microtargeting and how what you eat somehow relates to how you might vote.

Where is all the time going?

Another photo post because those are fast.

We enjoyed a fantastic walk yesterday that included a swing by Espresso Wizard which I thought I'd posted a photo of before but now I can't find. This is a lame shot but it's the reserved parking space for Espresso Wizard customers.

I should add that Espresso Wizard is a drive thru coffee stand.



This is photo of the rest of the parking lot. This is all empty space for lease.

Do You Think We Have Enough Phonebooks?
I don't understand why there are so many phonebooks. In the electronic age are phonebooks a growth industry? I think that's 4 different phonebook publishers. And why do Verizon and Dex each give us two (2!) phonebooks, one big and one small? (I already recycled the small Verizon so it's not in the photo.) The beer is for reference and also to look foward to later.

I had planned to do a big post on a great article in Tidbits about why introverts may be ill-suited to instant messaging.

A couple of years ago I read Caring for your Introvert by Jonathan Rauch. I had always thought that my need for time and quiet to myself on a regular basis, my dislike of big crowds and discomfort in large groups of people I don't know was some sort of personal failing. Turns out: it's just how I work. Other people work this way, too.

I'm not sure if I get "worse" as I get older or I'm just better at understanding how I function and take better care of myself. I'm going to go with the latter.

The Tidbits article is by Joe Kissell and he has a lot of interesting insights that I would love to discuss, but I have had a marathon long week including working late yesterday and not getting home until after 7pm. I worked on a massive research project yesterday and spent so much time with Westlaw we're talking about having children together.

I'm going to stay off the computer and go enjoy the sunshine.

So my short comments about the article are, he must be onto something because I haven't the slightest inclination to even try IM.

Two choice quotes:

From considerable reading and from personal experience, I've learned that introverts have a number of other tendencies. And taken together, these traits may shed some light on why I (and numerous other introverts I know) have a hard time with IM, Twitter, and the like. For example, introverts typically need to concentrate on just one thing at a time, and are often particularly sensitive to interruptions and distractions. Now, I happen to think "multitasking" is a concept that should never, ever be applied to human beings (regardless of personality type), but be that as it may, I can certainly say that I'm easily distracted, and having more than one thing to think about actively at any given time is sure to make me both ineffective and grumpy.

My comment: I'm not sure what his definition of multitasking is here. I'm actually pretty good at multitasking in the domestic realm and do okay at the office depending on the circumstances. If the phone rings a lot while I'm trying to draft something I begin to feel insane but in general I can juggle a number of things at once.

The introvert trait of not dealing well with interruptions comes into play in a couple of different ways with IM. First, naturally, is the whole notion of something popping up on one's screen demanding an immediate conversation. Let me give you a personal perspective on this. Unlike many people, when I'm in front of my computer, I'm working, which means I'm concentrating on something. I'm writing an article, or a book, or an email message, trying to come up with exactly the right way to phrase some sentence or express a certain point. Or I'm programming, trying to solve some logic problem. Or I'm reading an article. Whatever the activity, it's something to which I am predisposed to devote my entire attention. If the phone rings, or my wife asks me a question, or an iCal alarm goes off, it breaks my concentration in a way that's frustrating to recover from. I lose my mental place, and it takes me a long time to get back into that same train of thought and finish whatever I was working on.

Last comment: When I'm working on writing at home, this is exactly why I hate being interrupted.

Taxation Calculation

I do our taxes myself with a sheet of graph paper and a pencil. I use a calculator to check my work. Obviously, our financial situation isn't complicated and based on my, admittedly limited, personal interactions with accountants, I'm not sure they're worth the money for us.

I've also tried a tax program on the computer and after filling out 10 million screens it told me we owed a horrifying amount to the state and I couldn't figure out how to explain to the computer that only a portion of our income is subject to Oregon tax. I decided could do the job more quickly with my prehistoric methods.

I usually do all the calculations and pencil-in the forms in February so I know how much we owe and then in April I re-do everything and check all my numbers and finalize everything with a ballpoint pen, attach a check and send off. It's hard to believe that someone who loves computer technology as much as I do does not embrace it for tax filing.

This year, for no particular reason, I put off any tax calculations until Tuesday night. We ended up owing more than I thought but not horrifically more.

Last night I attempted to finalize before I picked up my sweetheart from the airport because I had all the stuff spread out on the kitchen table and I wanted to clean it up before he came home. I found a big booboo having to do with the kicker so turns out we owe another big chunk.

Still doesn't qualify as horrific but definitely hits depressingly large.

Outrage!
Every night when I get home from work (assuming it's still light out and not raining sideways), I go to my flower bed and admire my flowers. I often go to the backyard, too. Why grow them if you're not going to enjoy them?

Tonight was I was startled to find this:



What? You don't see the problem? Count the flowers.

Now here's my shot from Sunday:



Yes! There is a tulip bandit on the loose in my neighborhood.



What giant turdhead.

Process
I told the writers group I would give them a draft of my story by last night, no matter what, so they'd have enough time to review before our meeting Saturday. I'm not a perfectionist but I don't like to throw something out there if I feel it isn't ready. It was a good lesson in how hard I can push myself when motivated. The story is thin in spots but it has a beginning, a middle and an end and I stuck to my self-imposed deadline.

I very rarely write after work, especially days like yesterday which was very busy and research intensive. I was tired and fuzzy headed but as soon as I got home I went to the computer and hammered away. Later I did my taxes on my dinner break. It's nice when you can surprise yourself.

I often hear writers talk about having a daily word goal. I've even seen widgets on blogs for tracking word counts.

Word counting, in terms of a daily goal, doesn't work for me since I have very little trouble writing words. That can't be a big surprise if you're here. The 13th of this month is my 12 year anniversary of starting my website and for the most part it's all original words.

The discipline for me is sticking with it until the story and characters work and sometimes that means writing in circles for a little while. (Or longer.)

A typical writing cycle for me goes: get new idea, rabid excitement, research and tons of writing, get stuck, dread the writing chair, avoid writing, hate myself for avoiding it, despair, force myself to go back to it, find what interested me in the first place, finish story.

For the record, there's a bale of stuff in my files that's still waiting for the part that comes after "despair."

Some writers talk about outlining first and others talk about just sitting down and writing it and see what comes out. I do both. I write a bunch and then sit back and look at what I'm doing and where I'm going and try to map things out a bit and then jump back in and write some more.

The story I finished this week is one where I knew how I wanted it to end but wasn't sure how I was going to get there and who I was going to take with me. Last Friday I worked all day especially on the protagonist. But later as I was thinking about the story, I realized that this wasn't the right protagonist for this story.

Saturday I scrapped more than half of what I already had and started all over with a new take on my protagonist and worked with that until last night when I got to the end.

The story before this one I had a title I really liked but no idea what was going to happen. At first the story that came out didn't fit the title. Also I had intended to use it for my Clarion West submission so I was trying to fit it into a specific length. In the end, I made it fit the title and keeping it shorter eliminated a stupid side part that wasn't working so I guess the advice is: find what works best for you and trust your instincts.

There's A Party in My Paella
I've never made paella before so my strategy was to read as many recipes as I could find and then distill them into the easiest possible procedure. I ended up printing out 4 recipes that looked promising.

I worked on my story all day Sunday and the last thing I wanted to do at the end of the day was cook something more complicated than frozen pizza but I had all the ingredients and I was hungry so I went for it. None of the recipes was easy and they all seemed to demand that I get a lot of pans dirty and do a lot of processes and I was having none of that. Try to spot my short cuts.

I warmed up my new pan and, in this order, I threw in: chopped onion and red bell pepper, cubed chicken breasts, chopped spicy Italian sausage (no chorizo and I didn't want to go to another store) and then a half bag of Trader Joe's frozen mixed seafood surprise which what they get at the end of a fishing expedition when they clean out the bottom of the boat.

I realized I should have saved the vegetables for later but never fear. When done, I scraped all this stuff into a bowl and set aside in the warm oven and then made the sofrito which is onions, garlic, tomatoes and in my case, the last 3 spoonfuls of salsa in the container because it needed to be finished up. Once that smelled delicious I added my rice and mixed everything together and then added my saffron infused Swanson's chicken broth. I had bought smoked Spanish paprika specifically because I thought I needed it for paella and none of my recipes called for it so I added 1 teaspoon.

I waited until the cooked rice started pushing up in the middle of the pan and then spread the meat mixture plus some peas and shelled edamame because why not? over the pan. Then I moved the pan around on the burners to make sure it was getting thoroughly heated and after a half hour I turned the heat down and covered with foil and let it sit for a bit.

Keep in mind that I had been writing since I woke up so in addition to cooking I was running back and forth folding laundry and scrubbing the bathroom sink and generally enjoying the life of a woman who has it all (except for children, pets and a ski chalet in the Austrian alps).

The end result: delicious! My recipe needs work including being less timid with the saffron and paprika and I think I have some hot paprika somewhere and if I can find it, I'll throw some of that in next time, too.

Meanwhile, I was so tired on Sunday night I read 2 pages of my book and then turned out the light and then tossed and turned ALL NIGHT LONG. It was clinically awful. I thought it was because Bob wasn't home but three people in my office reported terrible sleep the same night so now I think the aliens are wearing us down before they start their invasion.

Last night I saw Marjane Satrapi at Arts and Lectures and she was fabulous. I very highly recommend Persepolis 1 and 2. But that means that I left the house at 6:30a and didn't get home until 9:30p which is close to the world's longest day.

Now it's Tuesday and I'm feeling tired and frazzled but apparently still capable of writing a long rambling blogpost. Is this a marketable skill?

I've never been excited about planting tulips. It's not because I don't like them. It's because they look pretty for about 15 minutes and then the wind blows and there are petals surrounding a green stem.

This year I thought I planted two batches. These little pink ones in back and the red ones (with one lone cream colored one ?) below that are in the front. But there's another bunch coming up in back and I'm not certain where they came from but I'm going to guess that they're purple and from an Easter gift last year.


I had another productive writing day and I would write more about that but I'm too tired so perhaps tomorrow. Other than that I got a couple chores done but the taxes are still waiting and a few other things I wanted to take care of have been ignored.

Busy Saturday

One of my favorite lunches is paella at Southpark. I've been talking about learning to make paella forever and coworker was going to buy me a pan and then decided to give me a gift certificate instead. I went back and forth about getting an actual paella pan v. getting a multi-purpose pan that I could also use for paella. I went for the paella pan and I'm going to give it a test run tomorrow.


I've been admiring all the gorgeous trees in the neighborhood. Dogwood and other flowering trees I don't know the names of. Finally our tree is blooming. I don't know what it is but I call it a Weeping Cherry.


This photo makes it look like our backyard is a sunny field of daffodils. This particular bunch was a gift from Bob's Grandma's house in central California. We got a bag of bulbs and I planted them together in one corner so we'd always know which ones were Grandma's.

Two amazing days of productivity. Going for Day 3 tomorrow.

Seattle Trip: March 28-30, 2008
I end up in Seattle about every other year and usually for something specific.

I married a man who was all things Bumbershoot when I met him. I think he went for something like 18 consecutive years. We even went there on our honeymoon. (We also went to the San Juan Islands and Victoria, BC. It's not like Bumbershoot was our only destination.) We've gone up for that. We've visited family and friends and gone to soccer games. I'm too lazy to look it all up.

I always love Seattle when I'm there. But when I'm home I think: I don't want to go to Seattle. The biggest reason is that I hate being in the car. At 2am it's probably a 2.5 hour drive. Any other time it's more like 3.25+. It was raining giant snowflakey drops on this trip.


We arrived Friday afternoon and checked into our hotel and sat around reading (me) and blogging (him) and then we went to Ballard to meet some friends who took us to a fabulous meal at Cocina Esperanza.



The next morning we slept in and on our way to the Frye Art Museum we discovered the Yesterday Cafe.

Really it was called The Corner Cafe and it looked like your typical espresso/scone breakfast, quick roast beef sandwich and chips for lunch kind of place.

It turned out to be much better than that. We sat down as Paul McCartney crooned "Yesterday" for us and we ordered and then we split the paper. The Seattle P.I. is an awesome paper.

We'd been sitting there awhile when I commented, "Wow, this is a long song."

Then again 5 minutes later. "This must be the extended disco remix."

Finally, "Is this song still playing?"

"Seven times in a row," my husband said. The song ended and we listened. Silence. "Whew," we sat back in our chairs.

"Yesterday," sang Paul.

Finally a lady got up and stomped over to the counter and complained and Bob and I burst out laughing. We weren't laughing at her, we just thought the repetition of Yesterday was part of the ambiance.



Bob doesn't like potatoes. I'm just learning this after 100 years of marriage. I like potatoes but it wouldn't hurt my feelings if he said he didn't like them. I'm not sure why he was so vague about it before now. He asked to substitute for a pancake. He said he didn't mind paying extra.

"One dollar?" the woman said. "Perfect," Bob said.

Later she brought out the world's biggest pancake and said, "The cook surprised me with a big pancake. I told him it was for a big man."

Of course we had to take photos and then the cook came out to see what we were doing. Bob was thrilled with his breakfast.

After breakfast we went to the Frye Museum to see the Robert Crumb exhibit.

My Bob captures the mood of the thing pretty well so I'll give you the short version. Stuffy museum, counter-culture hero: weird but good. I loved seeing the drawings up close and seeing how much white-out the artists used. This should be a D'oh! moment but I always think creating things is easier for everyone else.

After the museum we hiked downtown. In case anyone reading this has never been to Seattle, downtown is built on the side of a steeply sloping cliff. If you fall down you'll probably bounce a few times and then fall into Puget Sound.

We went to Pioneer Square and Bob said good bye to Bud's Jazz Records which is closing and I'd love to find a good link but wikipedia is letting me down. I feel bad for the kids of the future that they'll never know what it's like to hang out at a cool record store and flip through the inventory and chat with people in the store and see in-store shows. I understand the evolution of music, but I have some fabulous memories of hanging out in record stores.

While Bob was at the record store I went to Elliott Bay Books to buy books by all my instructors at Clarion West this summer.

Then I met him at J&M Cafe for lunch. This picture cracks me up because in my head I always think I look so stylish. Then I see a photo like this and think I look like an unmade bed.

J&M Cafe is way yummier than you might guess from the front door. And it was late afternoon so very slow and we got super A+ service. Bob had some plank salmon that was fabulous and I had a roast turkey sandwich and a big salad. And we both had beers.

Then we hiked straight uphill back to our hotel and had a killer nap.

That night it was rain/snowing sideways for our big old people night out. It was completely miserable. We chose our hotel because it was convenient to downtown and to Neumos where we had Bob Mould tickets.

We braved the insanity and found some Vietnamese food that was pretty good. I was still sorta full from lunch. And when we were done, it was way too early for the show because rock and roll doesn't schedule itself for old people. So we took our leftovers back to the hotel (and forgot about them, oh well) and read for another half hour and then went back out into the sideways ice monsoon AGAIN to get to the club.

Upstairs there was a bar and a coat check (yay!) and some tables and an place where you could see the stage below and a sort-of seat-step thing against the wall where you could sit. This is where we parked.

There was an opening band that I forgot the name of. Sorry guys! I liked them. They started at like, 9:30p and finished at 10:20p. Have I ever mentioned that my bedtime is 9pm? So we sat there and I was thinking: This is exactly why I hate going to shows and I was shooting my beloved the stink-eye because this was all his idea.

But I should say that I've been a Bob Mould fan for a long time — I have 3 or 4 artists that I've loved consistently since the 80's and Bob is one of them. My Bob was there because of me.

Mould came on at about 10:45p. And as soon as he started, all was forgiven. We'd chosen a strange place to sit but I could stand on the step and see Bob perfectly and he played tons of fabulous songs including tons of Sugar stuff and I Apologize from Husker Du.

Very fun. Glad I went.

The next morning we were back in Ballard for breakfast with more friends and then back on the road home dodging the snow.

Posting will be light for the rest of the weekend (I imagine you'd be relieved) so I can do tons of writing.

City and Nature

Yesterday afternoon I saw a bald eagle from my office window.

I ran to one of the attorney's offices. He has some binoculars that are more often used to look at accidents on the Morrison Bridge. He was talking to someone so I had to elbow my way in and as I dashed to the window he said, "What is it?"

Me: "Bald eagle! Bald eagle!"

I was not even a teeny bit embarrassed about my excitement. And it was contagious because he went down the hall and pretty soon half the people on our side of the office had their faces pressed against the glass. I think that's the 2nd or 3rd time I've seen one downtown.

And I don't know how the fishing works around here but this morning the Columbia River was filled with boats on either side of the bridge. And what a great morning for it. Cold but clear. Mt. Hood is out.

The forecast says it's going to be doodoo all weekend. 50 degrees and rain. I'm going to load up on firelogs and keep the garden tools in deep storage. My sweetheart is going out of town and I'm going to have the most amazing weekend of productivity ever seen.

Focus Watch: Day 3

Look at my adorable scrawny little girl arms. This is 1972-ish in Hawaii.

Well, I'm still not focused or productive. I'm going to have to figure out a different approach.

Also, super busy day. I had a new project before I even put my purse down and poured my first cup of tea.

I still haven't organized the Seattle stuff. Big surprise. If you can't stand the suspense you can read my sweetheart's take on the Bob Mould show and his thoughts on the Robert Crumb exhibit at the Frye Museum.

The new season of Battlestar Galactica starts this weekend and Sci Fi Channel ran some pre-show cylon-nerd-porn last weekend that I've been catching up on. One is a show history. If you've never seen the show, you're really lucky because you still have that to look forward to. Don't start in the middle. Go back and start with the mini-series from 03 and then work your way through the seasons. Even if you think space shows are stupid I think there's a 99% possibility you will love this show.

The second pre-show was this complete waste of time nerd group hug of all these unlikely people like Brad Paisley, Scott Ian and Oz talking about how much they love the show. When Joss-is-my-master-now-Whedon appeared on screen my toes curled in geekish delight. I sat there thinking how there was no reason to continue watching, yet I couldn't turn it off.

I just had a meatloaf sandwich that should have its own national holiday.

In honor of its amazingness I've written a poem.

The Lunch of A Lifetime

O! Meatloaf sandwich.
How I savored
Our short time together.

On day #2 of maximum productivity I've spilled my tea on my desk twice. I now have papers and my mousepad spread out all over the floor to dry. Maybe I should go back to maximum slacker.