Thursday, March 30, 2006
Seal Cruise
Sorry, John Fogerty, I'm gonna mess up your "Sea Cruise" song! But every time a tug boat pulls a log jam past our house, the lyrics and music of this song go through my head---only with the words changed slightly.
Now Old Man Rhythm is in my shoes, it's no use sittin' here singin' the blues,
Sorry, John Fogerty, I'm gonna mess up your "Sea Cruise" song! But every time a tug boat pulls a log jam past our house, the lyrics and music of this song go through my head---only with the words changed slightly.
Now Old Man Rhythm is in my shoes, it's no use sittin' here singin' the blues,
So be my guest, you got nothin' to lose, won't you let me take you on a seal cruise?
Ooowee, ooowee baby, ooowee, ooowee baby,
Ooowee, ooowee baby!
Won't you let me take you on a seal cruise?
So at 7 am this morning, a seal cruise went by my breakfast window. Actually, as a result, my daughter was late to school because I was looking with binoculars and taking pictures of a few seals enjoying themselves while cruising north in Puget Sound. She wasn't even bugged at me because she knows I'm crazy when it comes to these things. Ooooooh, they are so cuuuute jumping off and taking a swim and then crawling back on deck.
Usually, I help her get out the door with her lunch and backpack and socks and glasses and keys and we talk about what she has on her schedule for the day.....and next year, she'll be in charge of all of these things herself and without mom....and I'm gonna have to get a job because she's been accepted to Oberlin at $40,000 a year.....and oh, man...
it's no use sittin' here singin' the blues, because seals are goin' by on a seal cruise!
courtesy of Celebrity Seal Cruise Line
Plenty of space on deck for enjoying a little sun!
Ooowee baby!!
// posted by Janet @ 7:48 AM
0 comments
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
This Elephant is Too Big for Me!
Since Saturday, my heart has been heavy and the synapses in my brain have been firing like never before. I cannot wrap my head around this one. I like logical consequences and sometimes tragedies simply do not make sense. On this one, I am letting my fingers type my thoughts and feelings because I have to say something.
Saturday morning at 7 AM, a 28 year old young man returned to an after-Rave party that he had attended on Capitol Hill in Seattle, armed with a Winchester pistol grip 12-gauge shotgun and a Ruger .40-caliber handgun. Blasting away with both weapons, he killed six young men and women including a 14 and 15 year old girl. Upon being confronted by police, he placed one of his weapons in his mouth and pulled the trigger, destroying himself. More weapons and ammunition were found in his truck.
My daughter's choir teacher lives near the crime scene and saw the bodies being hauled away. My daughter's good friend has been complaining about her little sister attending these Raves. In fact, she complained about the issue in my presence a week ago. Luckily, her sister was not there on Friday night but three of her friends were and they are now dead. Violence touches all of us when this happens.
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/264597_huffarsenal28.html
So what does this all mean? What do we do? The young man who did this was from Montana. It was there where he obtained the guns. At one point these very same weapons were taken from him because he was accused of felony mischief for blasting apart moose sculptures in Whitefish, Montana. When he plead guilty to a misdemeanor, by law, the judge had no choice but to return his guns to him. The Seattle Police Chief stated very clearly after this happened, that the pistol grip shot gun was by no means a weapon used to hunt animals--it was designed to hunt humans.
Violence such as this in Seattle with so many victims involved is unusual. The Rave scene, though involving drugs, does not have a violent reputation. But America does. America has a violent violent culture. Ironically, two weeks ago, my priest had written an article for our local newspaper, the Mukilteo Beacon. He titled it "Homeland Security?" and here are some quotes and I agreed with absolutely everything he said--two weeks ago. And I especially agree with him today.
"During this year, 2006, some 28,000 people in the United States will die of gunshot wounds, even if Mr. Cheney gives up hunting. Every two years more people die by firearms than died in 8 years of war in Vietnam.
More than half of that number will be suicides, some 800 will die as a reult of being accidentally shot. About 10,000 people will be murdered with guns......
....These figures are projections based on previous years numbers. For example during 2001 there were 29,571 deaths by firearms....2002 there were 30,242 deaths from gunfire, during 2003 and 2004, the figure was closer to 29,000......roughly 75 people a day, everyday.
Can you imagine what we would do if some 28,000 people were killed in Iraq or by Al Qaeda each year?.....
No, I am not going to advance arguments about gun control or rationalize the need of defense of the individual. Rather I would invite you to comtemplate the reality of these numbers. Suicides, murders, accidents and a tiny amount of justified shootings represent monumental human suffering.
How can these numbers hold up year after year in a nation with a very high percentage of people who profess religious conviction? Why is not every person of faith and goodwill appalled at this violence? If we cannot come to grips with this terrible violence in our midst how can we preach peace to the rest of the world? Where is our moral supremecy?.....
.....[W]e as a people need to study the violence that mars our lives. We need to learn about its causes and manifestations. We need to know the statistics and allow ourselves to be appalled at this horrendous elephant in the middle of our living rooms......"
Reverend Peter Snow, St. Hilda St. Patrick's Episcopal Church, March 15, 2006 Worship Column, Mukilteo Beacon
To give this perspective, about 40,000 people die in motor vehicle accidents in the United States each year. And about 14,000 Americans die of HIV (Aids). America loves guns and I do not believe there will ever be any realistic restrictions that will curb this type of violence. Other western countries do not have this problem; it is uniquely American. For example, Canada and France have about 4 or 5 gun deaths per 100,000 people and the U.S. has triple that amount at over 14 per 100,000. Actually, the United States has the highest in the world and Japan is the lowest at .05. This is outrageous.
http://www.guncite.com/cnngunde.html
I do not have a solution; I do not have an answer. My own son likes guns and enjoys shooting at targets. There is no reason he shouldn't be allowed to continue with this activity. But, if he started to build an arsenal of unusual weapons designed to kill human beings, we, as his parents---yes, his PARENTS would be concerned and we would do something about it.
Since Saturday, my heart has been heavy and the synapses in my brain have been firing like never before. I cannot wrap my head around this one. I like logical consequences and sometimes tragedies simply do not make sense. On this one, I am letting my fingers type my thoughts and feelings because I have to say something.
Saturday morning at 7 AM, a 28 year old young man returned to an after-Rave party that he had attended on Capitol Hill in Seattle, armed with a Winchester pistol grip 12-gauge shotgun and a Ruger .40-caliber handgun. Blasting away with both weapons, he killed six young men and women including a 14 and 15 year old girl. Upon being confronted by police, he placed one of his weapons in his mouth and pulled the trigger, destroying himself. More weapons and ammunition were found in his truck.
My daughter's choir teacher lives near the crime scene and saw the bodies being hauled away. My daughter's good friend has been complaining about her little sister attending these Raves. In fact, she complained about the issue in my presence a week ago. Luckily, her sister was not there on Friday night but three of her friends were and they are now dead. Violence touches all of us when this happens.
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/264597_huffarsenal28.html
So what does this all mean? What do we do? The young man who did this was from Montana. It was there where he obtained the guns. At one point these very same weapons were taken from him because he was accused of felony mischief for blasting apart moose sculptures in Whitefish, Montana. When he plead guilty to a misdemeanor, by law, the judge had no choice but to return his guns to him. The Seattle Police Chief stated very clearly after this happened, that the pistol grip shot gun was by no means a weapon used to hunt animals--it was designed to hunt humans.
Violence such as this in Seattle with so many victims involved is unusual. The Rave scene, though involving drugs, does not have a violent reputation. But America does. America has a violent violent culture. Ironically, two weeks ago, my priest had written an article for our local newspaper, the Mukilteo Beacon. He titled it "Homeland Security?" and here are some quotes and I agreed with absolutely everything he said--two weeks ago. And I especially agree with him today.
"During this year, 2006, some 28,000 people in the United States will die of gunshot wounds, even if Mr. Cheney gives up hunting. Every two years more people die by firearms than died in 8 years of war in Vietnam.
More than half of that number will be suicides, some 800 will die as a reult of being accidentally shot. About 10,000 people will be murdered with guns......
....These figures are projections based on previous years numbers. For example during 2001 there were 29,571 deaths by firearms....2002 there were 30,242 deaths from gunfire, during 2003 and 2004, the figure was closer to 29,000......roughly 75 people a day, everyday.
Can you imagine what we would do if some 28,000 people were killed in Iraq or by Al Qaeda each year?.....
No, I am not going to advance arguments about gun control or rationalize the need of defense of the individual. Rather I would invite you to comtemplate the reality of these numbers. Suicides, murders, accidents and a tiny amount of justified shootings represent monumental human suffering.
How can these numbers hold up year after year in a nation with a very high percentage of people who profess religious conviction? Why is not every person of faith and goodwill appalled at this violence? If we cannot come to grips with this terrible violence in our midst how can we preach peace to the rest of the world? Where is our moral supremecy?.....
.....[W]e as a people need to study the violence that mars our lives. We need to learn about its causes and manifestations. We need to know the statistics and allow ourselves to be appalled at this horrendous elephant in the middle of our living rooms......"
Reverend Peter Snow, St. Hilda St. Patrick's Episcopal Church, March 15, 2006 Worship Column, Mukilteo Beacon
To give this perspective, about 40,000 people die in motor vehicle accidents in the United States each year. And about 14,000 Americans die of HIV (Aids). America loves guns and I do not believe there will ever be any realistic restrictions that will curb this type of violence. Other western countries do not have this problem; it is uniquely American. For example, Canada and France have about 4 or 5 gun deaths per 100,000 people and the U.S. has triple that amount at over 14 per 100,000. Actually, the United States has the highest in the world and Japan is the lowest at .05. This is outrageous.
http://www.guncite.com/cnngunde.html
I do not have a solution; I do not have an answer. My own son likes guns and enjoys shooting at targets. There is no reason he shouldn't be allowed to continue with this activity. But, if he started to build an arsenal of unusual weapons designed to kill human beings, we, as his parents---yes, his PARENTS would be concerned and we would do something about it.
// posted by Janet @ 12:49 PM
0 comments
Monday, March 27, 2006
Goosebumps!
A strange thing happened to me today. Well, it started over the weekend. I dug out an old journal I had kept from the mid 70's to 1980. I do not know why I felt compelled to find this journal in a musty old box after all of these years on this particular weekend, but I did. During that time, I chronicled our years in Kansas City and what it was like going to law school the first year any women had been allowed. Pretty much, the journal ended with my Dad's death in Helena. I wrote about my last conversations with him and the last time I ever saw him alive. Tears came to my eyes as I recalled clearly seeing him up in bed with his glasses on and reading. He looked fine but he wasn't. His heart was really messed up. I flew back to Seattle that day in May, 1980. Within two months, he collapsed at home and that was it.
Tucked inside the cover of this journal were various newspaper articles and quite a few announcements of the engagements and marriages of my high school buddies. Also, there was a card with a picture of mountains on the front. I opened it and realized it was a note from my college room mate who was also my Junior High and High School friend. Tina sent her condolences about my Dad's death. She knew my Dad well. All of my friends did because he was our Junior High Principal. The words were very touching and heartfelt which is why I must have kept it. It started:
"Dear Janet,
What can I say...nothing to lessen the pain, I'm sure. When I read your letter my first reaction was to cry..for your loss and mine and the world's. I told Paul [her husband] 'Mr. Lane was my friend, my principal, even my boss at one time..and he was so young, always joking.'....."
It went on to talk about faith and the death of her grandfather that same month. Tina was my Southern Baptist friend and though I was and am an Episcopalian, we agreed on the basics. We always respected each other's faiths. After all of these years, I value the letter she sent me at one of the worst times of my life. And this happened yesterday.
This morning, the first e-mail I had was from Tina. Goosebumps! The last I had heard from her was a card at Christmas time. Her e-mail was to inform us her father had died---of a heart attack. It was just so....weird that I had been thinking about her yesterday and had read her card. So I sent her back the same thoughts she had sent me 26 years ago. God bless and keep you and your family, Tina.
Or maybe it is not weird. Maybe some things are just meant to be.
My camelias bloomed for the first time--Spring's new life.
A strange thing happened to me today. Well, it started over the weekend. I dug out an old journal I had kept from the mid 70's to 1980. I do not know why I felt compelled to find this journal in a musty old box after all of these years on this particular weekend, but I did. During that time, I chronicled our years in Kansas City and what it was like going to law school the first year any women had been allowed. Pretty much, the journal ended with my Dad's death in Helena. I wrote about my last conversations with him and the last time I ever saw him alive. Tears came to my eyes as I recalled clearly seeing him up in bed with his glasses on and reading. He looked fine but he wasn't. His heart was really messed up. I flew back to Seattle that day in May, 1980. Within two months, he collapsed at home and that was it.
Tucked inside the cover of this journal were various newspaper articles and quite a few announcements of the engagements and marriages of my high school buddies. Also, there was a card with a picture of mountains on the front. I opened it and realized it was a note from my college room mate who was also my Junior High and High School friend. Tina sent her condolences about my Dad's death. She knew my Dad well. All of my friends did because he was our Junior High Principal. The words were very touching and heartfelt which is why I must have kept it. It started:
"Dear Janet,
What can I say...nothing to lessen the pain, I'm sure. When I read your letter my first reaction was to cry..for your loss and mine and the world's. I told Paul [her husband] 'Mr. Lane was my friend, my principal, even my boss at one time..and he was so young, always joking.'....."
It went on to talk about faith and the death of her grandfather that same month. Tina was my Southern Baptist friend and though I was and am an Episcopalian, we agreed on the basics. We always respected each other's faiths. After all of these years, I value the letter she sent me at one of the worst times of my life. And this happened yesterday.
This morning, the first e-mail I had was from Tina. Goosebumps! The last I had heard from her was a card at Christmas time. Her e-mail was to inform us her father had died---of a heart attack. It was just so....weird that I had been thinking about her yesterday and had read her card. So I sent her back the same thoughts she had sent me 26 years ago. God bless and keep you and your family, Tina.
Or maybe it is not weird. Maybe some things are just meant to be.
My camelias bloomed for the first time--Spring's new life.
// posted by Janet @ 3:11 PM
0 comments
Friday, March 24, 2006
Domestic Dispute
My husband called me an unflattering name this morning. Ok, ok, so he was still upset that Gonzaga lost last night in the last two seconds of the game. He was reading about it in the paper and listening to the King5 anchors on the television discussing it. We wanted Gonzaga to go further during this March madness. After all, they are located in Spokane and two of our nephews and two of our nieces attended Gonzaga Prep High School.
He was lamenting and the TV anchors were lamenting this tragic loss when the team had been leading the entire game and by 17 points at one time. But they are out so we look to the UW Huskies who play the UConn Huskies. I am not really following all of this except I notice strange things. For example, one of the Gonzaga players is pretty cute with long hair and a rather thin mustache. His photo is all over the sports pages this morning. One of the King5 anchors noted that this players fans were sporting fake mustaches at the games in the same way that Apolo Ohno's fans would wear fake soul patches on their chins. So I was sorry they lost to UCLA in such a heartbreaking way.
Anyway, on to my husband's insult. During all of this discussion this morning, the new weather person on King5, who I have never seen before, said she was torn between the two teams. She said she lives here now, so, of course, she should be supporting our local teams. But, she went to UCLA. "What?" I proclaimed. "Look at her. She is blonde, tan, and cute and doesn't belong here. She is from California and she made a statement on TV this morning when all local basketball fans are in tears that she was kind of for UCLA! Oh my. King5 is going to get letters, I bet."
Then it happened. My husband called me a name. "You know--you are a 'placist'." A period of silence followed for several seconds.
"What did you call me?" I asked.
"A 'placist'. You know--kind of like the 'r' word but 'placist'. You are intolerant of anyone from somewhere else but here."
"Have you heard that term before or did you just make it up......just now?" I replied with instant curiosity.
"No, I came up with it this minute. You are a 'placist'!" Ah, hubby had that twinkling grin on his face.
"Wow! Absolutely brilliant. This is an absolutely brilliant term. You are brilliant! I hate to admit it but yes, I think I am a 'placist'......along with just about everybody else in the Pacific Northwest, I might add."
That was three hours ago and I'm still thinking about it. Being a "placist" is not really a good thing. Because it means I am intolerant and prejudge other people based upon geography. I plead guilty and I am not giving excuses but I do believe the attitude is a part of our culture in this corner of the country. And that is exactly why King5 is going to get letters.
Oh and yea, our Huskies are more real than the UConn Huskies because we are the gateway to Alaska. In fact, Seattle's flourishing growth in its infancy was all because of Alaska. So who does East-coaster Connecticut think they are...........?
Om, sorry.
My husband called me an unflattering name this morning. Ok, ok, so he was still upset that Gonzaga lost last night in the last two seconds of the game. He was reading about it in the paper and listening to the King5 anchors on the television discussing it. We wanted Gonzaga to go further during this March madness. After all, they are located in Spokane and two of our nephews and two of our nieces attended Gonzaga Prep High School.
He was lamenting and the TV anchors were lamenting this tragic loss when the team had been leading the entire game and by 17 points at one time. But they are out so we look to the UW Huskies who play the UConn Huskies. I am not really following all of this except I notice strange things. For example, one of the Gonzaga players is pretty cute with long hair and a rather thin mustache. His photo is all over the sports pages this morning. One of the King5 anchors noted that this players fans were sporting fake mustaches at the games in the same way that Apolo Ohno's fans would wear fake soul patches on their chins. So I was sorry they lost to UCLA in such a heartbreaking way.
Anyway, on to my husband's insult. During all of this discussion this morning, the new weather person on King5, who I have never seen before, said she was torn between the two teams. She said she lives here now, so, of course, she should be supporting our local teams. But, she went to UCLA. "What?" I proclaimed. "Look at her. She is blonde, tan, and cute and doesn't belong here. She is from California and she made a statement on TV this morning when all local basketball fans are in tears that she was kind of for UCLA! Oh my. King5 is going to get letters, I bet."
Then it happened. My husband called me a name. "You know--you are a 'placist'." A period of silence followed for several seconds.
"What did you call me?" I asked.
"A 'placist'. You know--kind of like the 'r' word but 'placist'. You are intolerant of anyone from somewhere else but here."
"Have you heard that term before or did you just make it up......just now?" I replied with instant curiosity.
"No, I came up with it this minute. You are a 'placist'!" Ah, hubby had that twinkling grin on his face.
"Wow! Absolutely brilliant. This is an absolutely brilliant term. You are brilliant! I hate to admit it but yes, I think I am a 'placist'......along with just about everybody else in the Pacific Northwest, I might add."
That was three hours ago and I'm still thinking about it. Being a "placist" is not really a good thing. Because it means I am intolerant and prejudge other people based upon geography. I plead guilty and I am not giving excuses but I do believe the attitude is a part of our culture in this corner of the country. And that is exactly why King5 is going to get letters.
Oh and yea, our Huskies are more real than the UConn Huskies because we are the gateway to Alaska. In fact, Seattle's flourishing growth in its infancy was all because of Alaska. So who does East-coaster Connecticut think they are...........?
Om, sorry.
// posted by Janet @ 9:24 AM
0 comments
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
An Unbelievable Story
This is just one of those stories that makes you ask why. But then you realize there are no answers because it is just tragic. Of course, the hope is that there will be good that comes from it. The positive that I see is the spotlight on one of the saints in our midst who was doing wonderful things that I believe we are all called to do. Unfortunately, only very few of us actually have the courage.
A talented University of Washington doctor and professor lost his life in Africa. The University is a big place and Dave did not know him but we feel proud that people such as this are a part of the UW community. His name was Dr. Richard Root. While on a wildlife trek on the Limpopo River, a crocodile snatched him out of his canoe while his wife watched in horror from the canoe behind. I cannot even imagine. But Dr. Root was no ordinary tourist:
"I'd just talked to him on Saturday," said his son, David Root, a Seattle architect. His father, he said, spoke with great enthusiasm about the work he was doing -- training hard-pressed health care workers in the resource-poor hospitals and clinics of Botswana. The African nation has the world's highest rate of HIV infection, 40 percent of the population.
"He was like a kid in a candy store," said Root. His father, he said, happily described his work with staff at Botswana's Princess Marina Hospital in the capital city of Gaborone.
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/263742_drroot21.html
http://www.king5.com/topstories/stories/NW_032106WABdoctorkilledSW.48854e32.html
I heard his son say on TV that if the freakiness of this terrible accident opens people's eyes to the devastation in Africa that Americans just seem to be ignoring, then there will be reason and goodness from his father's death.
My prayers to this wonderful family.
This is just one of those stories that makes you ask why. But then you realize there are no answers because it is just tragic. Of course, the hope is that there will be good that comes from it. The positive that I see is the spotlight on one of the saints in our midst who was doing wonderful things that I believe we are all called to do. Unfortunately, only very few of us actually have the courage.
A talented University of Washington doctor and professor lost his life in Africa. The University is a big place and Dave did not know him but we feel proud that people such as this are a part of the UW community. His name was Dr. Richard Root. While on a wildlife trek on the Limpopo River, a crocodile snatched him out of his canoe while his wife watched in horror from the canoe behind. I cannot even imagine. But Dr. Root was no ordinary tourist:
"I'd just talked to him on Saturday," said his son, David Root, a Seattle architect. His father, he said, spoke with great enthusiasm about the work he was doing -- training hard-pressed health care workers in the resource-poor hospitals and clinics of Botswana. The African nation has the world's highest rate of HIV infection, 40 percent of the population.
"He was like a kid in a candy store," said Root. His father, he said, happily described his work with staff at Botswana's Princess Marina Hospital in the capital city of Gaborone.
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/263742_drroot21.html
http://www.king5.com/topstories/stories/NW_032106WABdoctorkilledSW.48854e32.html
I heard his son say on TV that if the freakiness of this terrible accident opens people's eyes to the devastation in Africa that Americans just seem to be ignoring, then there will be reason and goodness from his father's death.
My prayers to this wonderful family.
// posted by Janet @ 10:02 AM
0 comments
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
A Very Earthy Weekend
I am very pleased with my state and my county. I am happy with how my tax dollars were spent on a particular program. Right in the middle of trying to decide what to do about the back side of our property sliding down Big Gulch, flyers and advertisements were circulated in Mukilteo and Edmonds for a free workshop for bluff and waterfront landowners. The title of the workshop? "Is Your Yard Slip-Sliding Away?"
Well, as a matter of fact, yes. Wow! Was the Governor reading my blog? Needless to say, I signed up for the workshop which caused me to miss some Lenten activites at my church. Definitely, definitely, it was totally worth it. I learned all about the geology of landslides and the correlation with the number of days and amount of rain. Almost always in the Puget Sound area, if the conditions are ripe for landslides, it will be the month of January or February. I discovered ours on Feb. 2.
Most of the data gathered about our landslides has come from the railroad. The bluffs where our homes are located all along the water in Edmonds and Mukilteo rise above the railroad tracks. When landslides happen along this stretch, they threaten the railroad, people's lives, and commerce so the railroad people keep track. No pun intended--well, maybe. Our house is not perched right above the tracks on the bluff but we are perched on a steep slope along Big Gulch. Anywhere in the Puget Sound area where there is a steep slope which is most everywhere, there is a risk of landslide. Interestingly, it is mathematical and I can find a USGS chart online that predicts the likelihood of a mudslide in my back yard based on an equation. Throw an earthquake into the mix and whoa.....!
I had a chance to talk to geotech folks about retaining walls. Bottom line: retaining walls are astronomically expensive and they charge $2500 just to come and look without even a report. The geotech engineer told me if our house was not in danger, a wall was not an economical choice which corroborated the Mukilteo civil engineer's opinion about our property. We also heard from landscape experts about the value of native plants for stabilizing slopes and how bad invasive non-natives are. My blackberry bushes are non-native and are very very very bad. Rather than rooting deeply and holding things in place, they are shallow, top heavy and tend to tumble. Yikes! That is exactly what happened. Ivy is bad and so is English holly both of which have taken over the Northwest. Somehow, we need to get wild roses to grow in place of the blackberry bushes. When Vancouver or Cook or whatever English speaking person first sailed into Puget Sound, they named the Mukilteo area, Rosehill because the hillsides were covered with wild roses. The idea is to return to the natural state of things.
The workshop was followed up with a field trip this past weekend to the site of a huge landslide that happened in Edmonds in 1997--yes, in January of 1997. In the 1930's, a very rich Boeing executive built a mansion with a great view of the Olympics and Puget Sound on the bluffs above the railroad tracks in Edmonds. The mansion and its extensive gardens have been occupied for decades by Dominican Nuns and is a retreat center. After a wet and snowy few weeks at the end of 1996, the back part of this property collapsed sending trees, part of the tennis court, and mud down to the tracks below, knocking a freight train into Puget Sound.
Rosary Heights, Edmonds, site of massive landslide in 1997
The culprit was the swimming pool located near the bluff over the water. Evidently, the massive concrete structure interfered with the natural movement of water and in a way, acted like a dam. The excess weight in combination with water then rushing around and underneath the concrete caused massive slope failure. The tennis courts and the swimming pool have been removed and they have been pushing growth of native plants along with meticulous water monitoring. Even so, more of the slope failed this year and we were able to see it. Actually, it made me feel not so bad about our own little mudslide.
On top of all of this wonderful information and trip to the gorgeous Edmonds retreat center, attendees will be provided with 11 free native plants in gallon containers to plant in our slope sensitive areas. I have already ordered my Nootka roses. They even showed us on the Edmonds property how to plant and where in relation to the slope. Of course, our blackberry bushes are so massive, we are not sure how all of this is going to work. Our back property may be a work in progress for years to come.
After our landslide education weekend, we took our daughter out to dinner to celebrate her 18th birthday. She has a shellfish allergy and has become disdainful of meat so we took her to a vegetarian restaurant called Carmelita in Seattle. It seemed fitting after learning how to deepen our lawn roots to great depths without using chemicals. Oh my gosh, it was terrific. Dave and Kaley had stuffed ravioli type of things. I had a sauted chick pea patty, lentils, and pastry encrusted winter vegetables. Everything had so much fresh flavor. And desserts in such places are to die for!
Finally, to all of my friends and relatives who received blackberry jam from us in past years....well....you may be opening rose-hip jam instead for your Christmas dinner.
I am very pleased with my state and my county. I am happy with how my tax dollars were spent on a particular program. Right in the middle of trying to decide what to do about the back side of our property sliding down Big Gulch, flyers and advertisements were circulated in Mukilteo and Edmonds for a free workshop for bluff and waterfront landowners. The title of the workshop? "Is Your Yard Slip-Sliding Away?"
Well, as a matter of fact, yes. Wow! Was the Governor reading my blog? Needless to say, I signed up for the workshop which caused me to miss some Lenten activites at my church. Definitely, definitely, it was totally worth it. I learned all about the geology of landslides and the correlation with the number of days and amount of rain. Almost always in the Puget Sound area, if the conditions are ripe for landslides, it will be the month of January or February. I discovered ours on Feb. 2.
Most of the data gathered about our landslides has come from the railroad. The bluffs where our homes are located all along the water in Edmonds and Mukilteo rise above the railroad tracks. When landslides happen along this stretch, they threaten the railroad, people's lives, and commerce so the railroad people keep track. No pun intended--well, maybe. Our house is not perched right above the tracks on the bluff but we are perched on a steep slope along Big Gulch. Anywhere in the Puget Sound area where there is a steep slope which is most everywhere, there is a risk of landslide. Interestingly, it is mathematical and I can find a USGS chart online that predicts the likelihood of a mudslide in my back yard based on an equation. Throw an earthquake into the mix and whoa.....!
I had a chance to talk to geotech folks about retaining walls. Bottom line: retaining walls are astronomically expensive and they charge $2500 just to come and look without even a report. The geotech engineer told me if our house was not in danger, a wall was not an economical choice which corroborated the Mukilteo civil engineer's opinion about our property. We also heard from landscape experts about the value of native plants for stabilizing slopes and how bad invasive non-natives are. My blackberry bushes are non-native and are very very very bad. Rather than rooting deeply and holding things in place, they are shallow, top heavy and tend to tumble. Yikes! That is exactly what happened. Ivy is bad and so is English holly both of which have taken over the Northwest. Somehow, we need to get wild roses to grow in place of the blackberry bushes. When Vancouver or Cook or whatever English speaking person first sailed into Puget Sound, they named the Mukilteo area, Rosehill because the hillsides were covered with wild roses. The idea is to return to the natural state of things.
The workshop was followed up with a field trip this past weekend to the site of a huge landslide that happened in Edmonds in 1997--yes, in January of 1997. In the 1930's, a very rich Boeing executive built a mansion with a great view of the Olympics and Puget Sound on the bluffs above the railroad tracks in Edmonds. The mansion and its extensive gardens have been occupied for decades by Dominican Nuns and is a retreat center. After a wet and snowy few weeks at the end of 1996, the back part of this property collapsed sending trees, part of the tennis court, and mud down to the tracks below, knocking a freight train into Puget Sound.
Rosary Heights, Edmonds, site of massive landslide in 1997
The culprit was the swimming pool located near the bluff over the water. Evidently, the massive concrete structure interfered with the natural movement of water and in a way, acted like a dam. The excess weight in combination with water then rushing around and underneath the concrete caused massive slope failure. The tennis courts and the swimming pool have been removed and they have been pushing growth of native plants along with meticulous water monitoring. Even so, more of the slope failed this year and we were able to see it. Actually, it made me feel not so bad about our own little mudslide.
On top of all of this wonderful information and trip to the gorgeous Edmonds retreat center, attendees will be provided with 11 free native plants in gallon containers to plant in our slope sensitive areas. I have already ordered my Nootka roses. They even showed us on the Edmonds property how to plant and where in relation to the slope. Of course, our blackberry bushes are so massive, we are not sure how all of this is going to work. Our back property may be a work in progress for years to come.
After our landslide education weekend, we took our daughter out to dinner to celebrate her 18th birthday. She has a shellfish allergy and has become disdainful of meat so we took her to a vegetarian restaurant called Carmelita in Seattle. It seemed fitting after learning how to deepen our lawn roots to great depths without using chemicals. Oh my gosh, it was terrific. Dave and Kaley had stuffed ravioli type of things. I had a sauted chick pea patty, lentils, and pastry encrusted winter vegetables. Everything had so much fresh flavor. And desserts in such places are to die for!
Finally, to all of my friends and relatives who received blackberry jam from us in past years....well....you may be opening rose-hip jam instead for your Christmas dinner.
// posted by Janet @ 9:10 AM
0 comments
Sunday, March 19, 2006
My Son--Ah yes!
He is not in classes because the French students are on strike all over France and it is evidently escalating. But he does have time to read and write which includes keeping his Live Journal. Anyway, he has his own list of the top ten reasons why he is a Northwesterner in response to my post below---and I am proud that he, too, has become a combo. What I mean by that is he is a combined Montanan and Puget Sounder like his Mom and Dad.
Top Ten Reasons I am a Hardcore Northwestern:
10. I was terrified driving in California
9. I scorn Atlantic salmon and those who eat it
8. I consider Minnesota “back east”
7. I have seen Pearl Jam in concert twice in one week
6. I do not own an umbrella and have almost never used one
5. I have never really been to the east coast, but I have been to Hawaii and Alaska 7 times in my memory
4. If you said, “use a hoochie and a strip, clip it to the downrigger and drop it down to 55.” I would know exactly what you meant.
3. I shoot guns and drive two 4x4 vehicles, yet I am still liberal
2. I made a shirt that says “Washington Grown” in response to the Alaska version, and my friends get the joke.
1. I have actually taken a girl clamming
http://grizluke85.livejournal.com/
Cracked me up!!
He is not in classes because the French students are on strike all over France and it is evidently escalating. But he does have time to read and write which includes keeping his Live Journal. Anyway, he has his own list of the top ten reasons why he is a Northwesterner in response to my post below---and I am proud that he, too, has become a combo. What I mean by that is he is a combined Montanan and Puget Sounder like his Mom and Dad.
Top Ten Reasons I am a Hardcore Northwestern:
10. I was terrified driving in California
9. I scorn Atlantic salmon and those who eat it
8. I consider Minnesota “back east”
7. I have seen Pearl Jam in concert twice in one week
6. I do not own an umbrella and have almost never used one
5. I have never really been to the east coast, but I have been to Hawaii and Alaska 7 times in my memory
4. If you said, “use a hoochie and a strip, clip it to the downrigger and drop it down to 55.” I would know exactly what you meant.
3. I shoot guns and drive two 4x4 vehicles, yet I am still liberal
2. I made a shirt that says “Washington Grown” in response to the Alaska version, and my friends get the joke.
1. I have actually taken a girl clamming
http://grizluke85.livejournal.com/
Cracked me up!!
// posted by Janet @ 1:29 PM
0 comments
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
She Turns 18 Today---How Did This Happen?
Was it not just last week that Lucas and all of his friends were launching cantelopes in the back yard to celebrate his 18th birthday? Three years ago, almost. How does this happen?
Yesterday, I was shopping at Nordstrom as is my custom for her birthday. It used to be when she was a little girl, I'd buy her a pretty new dress that would double as her Easter dress. I fought back the tears as I passed all of the fluffy pink, white and yellow frocks to head for the teen section.
Her soul wanted to be born. We did not choose it and often I think of the mystery of it all. To this day, I am still not certain how I became pregnant with her. My husband laughs and says he is quite happy she looks like him otherwise he'd wonder. Back then, we were in our mid-thirties and we had Lucas. He was a difficult baby to conceive and a difficult newborn and we did not want to go through it all again. Several of our friends who were older parents settled on having one child. I had a career I thought I'd return to and one child made it all so much easier. But, one morning, in the summer of 1987, I was feeling sick in that familiar way. Off to the drugstore I went to buy a pregnancy test kit. The results confirmed my suspicions.
I did not tell Dave for two weeks. First of all, he had a colleague and his family visiting from Japan and we were entertaining and showing them Seattle for a few days. They, too, had a single child and I specifically remember my husband telling folks in an elevator at the University of Washington while showing our Japanese friends around that Lucas was probably it for us. Before Lucas was born, I had a horrific failed pregnancy that in my Grandmother's time would have cost me my life and we had had enough. I remember I almost burst out laughing at that moment but I stifled it because I would have come across as a complete lunatic.
Next, we had a niece come to stay with us to see Seattle. Again, we were playing the role of tour guide and the time was not right to tell my husband. For me, an open communicative type, keeping a secret such as this was agonizing. I kept waiting for the perfect moment but we were never alone together. Finally, in the middle of the night, I was feeling quite ill and having trouble sleeping. Dave asked me what the problem was and I said, "I'm pregnant!"
"WHAT? How did that happen? You can't be serious!" Oh man, it was great. He didn't have a clue after 14 years of marriage. I have never seen him so shocked about anything before or since. It was just like in the movies when the teen age girl tells her boyfriend. This moment will always be one of the greatest memories of my life. He still tells people the father had to be the mailman.
Not only was Kaley meant to be, but consistent with her personality, she chose the time of her birth in an effort to get the best of her mother. We had everything planned down to the minute which included a refresher Lamaze class and a sibling birth class. Little Lucas learned how he was a part of the whole process and practiced diligently putting diapers on Raggedy Andy. The due date was March 25 and since Lucas was 5 days late, I assumed I had until April 1. Our final lamaze class on pushing was scheduled shortly before the due date and our friends at the UW had a big baby shower planned for March 14.
Kaley chose otherwise. Frankly, I believe she wanted to be at her baby shower because she loves presents. At 2 in the morning, on March 14, 1988, 11 days early and one day after my doctor appointment where he told me nothing was going on and that I had at least two more weeks, Kaley decided she wanted to join the party. By three in the afternoon, Lucas had a new baby sister. Missing that pushing class caused me some problems but she was born, nevertheless, without so much as a Tylenol. And yes, she was physically present when we finally took her to the UW to show her off and open her shower gifts. One of her first gifts was a pretty pink dress and you know, I wouldn't be surprised if it came from Nordstrom.
Kaley at the UW Faculty Club (cheri pearl photography)
Happy 18th Birthday, Kaley! What a gift you have been for us.
Was it not just last week that Lucas and all of his friends were launching cantelopes in the back yard to celebrate his 18th birthday? Three years ago, almost. How does this happen?
Yesterday, I was shopping at Nordstrom as is my custom for her birthday. It used to be when she was a little girl, I'd buy her a pretty new dress that would double as her Easter dress. I fought back the tears as I passed all of the fluffy pink, white and yellow frocks to head for the teen section.
Her soul wanted to be born. We did not choose it and often I think of the mystery of it all. To this day, I am still not certain how I became pregnant with her. My husband laughs and says he is quite happy she looks like him otherwise he'd wonder. Back then, we were in our mid-thirties and we had Lucas. He was a difficult baby to conceive and a difficult newborn and we did not want to go through it all again. Several of our friends who were older parents settled on having one child. I had a career I thought I'd return to and one child made it all so much easier. But, one morning, in the summer of 1987, I was feeling sick in that familiar way. Off to the drugstore I went to buy a pregnancy test kit. The results confirmed my suspicions.
I did not tell Dave for two weeks. First of all, he had a colleague and his family visiting from Japan and we were entertaining and showing them Seattle for a few days. They, too, had a single child and I specifically remember my husband telling folks in an elevator at the University of Washington while showing our Japanese friends around that Lucas was probably it for us. Before Lucas was born, I had a horrific failed pregnancy that in my Grandmother's time would have cost me my life and we had had enough. I remember I almost burst out laughing at that moment but I stifled it because I would have come across as a complete lunatic.
Next, we had a niece come to stay with us to see Seattle. Again, we were playing the role of tour guide and the time was not right to tell my husband. For me, an open communicative type, keeping a secret such as this was agonizing. I kept waiting for the perfect moment but we were never alone together. Finally, in the middle of the night, I was feeling quite ill and having trouble sleeping. Dave asked me what the problem was and I said, "I'm pregnant!"
"WHAT? How did that happen? You can't be serious!" Oh man, it was great. He didn't have a clue after 14 years of marriage. I have never seen him so shocked about anything before or since. It was just like in the movies when the teen age girl tells her boyfriend. This moment will always be one of the greatest memories of my life. He still tells people the father had to be the mailman.
Not only was Kaley meant to be, but consistent with her personality, she chose the time of her birth in an effort to get the best of her mother. We had everything planned down to the minute which included a refresher Lamaze class and a sibling birth class. Little Lucas learned how he was a part of the whole process and practiced diligently putting diapers on Raggedy Andy. The due date was March 25 and since Lucas was 5 days late, I assumed I had until April 1. Our final lamaze class on pushing was scheduled shortly before the due date and our friends at the UW had a big baby shower planned for March 14.
Kaley chose otherwise. Frankly, I believe she wanted to be at her baby shower because she loves presents. At 2 in the morning, on March 14, 1988, 11 days early and one day after my doctor appointment where he told me nothing was going on and that I had at least two more weeks, Kaley decided she wanted to join the party. By three in the afternoon, Lucas had a new baby sister. Missing that pushing class caused me some problems but she was born, nevertheless, without so much as a Tylenol. And yes, she was physically present when we finally took her to the UW to show her off and open her shower gifts. One of her first gifts was a pretty pink dress and you know, I wouldn't be surprised if it came from Nordstrom.
Kaley at the UW Faculty Club (cheri pearl photography)
Happy 18th Birthday, Kaley! What a gift you have been for us.
// posted by Janet @ 9:15 AM
0 comments
Monday, March 13, 2006
Spring is Here!
We actually worked in the yard yesterday and planted some heather. I just love heather and particularly the dark pink kind. We have trouble keeping it going in certain spots because Apolo has a penchant for....you know....claiming it as his own.
New Heather, Old Heather and New Hyacinths
Anyway, I have seen this list before and it is completely accurate. Hubby e-mailed it to me this morning. It is attributed to Jeff Foxworthy but it would only be funny to a Seattle audience.
The Pacific Northwest according to Jeff Foxworthy:
1. You know the state flower (Mildew).
2. You feel guilty throwing aluminum cans or paper in the trash.
3. You use the statement “sun break” and know what it means.
4. You know more than 10 ways to order coffee.
5. You know more people who own boats than air conditioners.
6. You feel overdressed wearing a suit to a nice restaurant.
7. You stand on a deserted corner in the rain waiting for the “Walk” signal.
8. You consider that if it doesn’t have snow or has not recently erupted, it’s not a real mountain.
9. You can taste the difference between Starbucks, Seattle’s Best, and Veneto’s.
10. You know the difference between Chinook, Coho and Sockeye salmon.
11. You know how to pronounce Sequim, Puyallup, Issaquah, Oregon, Yakima and Willamette.
12. You consider swimming an indoor sport.
13. You can tell the difference between Japanese, Chinese and Thai food.
14. In winter, you go to work in the dark and come home in the dark while only working eight-hour days.
15. You never go camping without waterproof matches and a poncho.
16. You are not fazed by “Today’s forecast: showers followed by rain,” and “Tomorrow’s forecast: rain followed by showers.”
17. You have no concept of humidity without precipitation.
18. You know that Boring is a town in Oregon and not just a state of mind.
19. You can point to at least two volcanoes, even if you cannot see through the cloud cover.
20. You notice, “The mountain is out” when it is a pretty day and you can actually see it.
21. You put on your shorts when the temperature gets above 50, but still wear your hiking boots and parka.
22. You switch to your sandals when it gets about 60, but keep the socks on.
23. You have actually used your mountain bike on a mountain.
24. You think people who use umbrellas are either wimps or tourists.
25. You buy new sunglasses every year, because you cannot find the old ones after such a long time.
26. You measure distance in hours.
27. You often switch from “heat” to “a/c” in the same day.
28. You design your kids’ Halloween costume to fit under a raincoat.
29. You know all the important seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Raining (Spring), Road Construction (Summer), Deer & Elk Season(Fall).
30. You actually understand these jokes.
We actually worked in the yard yesterday and planted some heather. I just love heather and particularly the dark pink kind. We have trouble keeping it going in certain spots because Apolo has a penchant for....you know....claiming it as his own.
New Heather, Old Heather and New Hyacinths
Anyway, I have seen this list before and it is completely accurate. Hubby e-mailed it to me this morning. It is attributed to Jeff Foxworthy but it would only be funny to a Seattle audience.
The Pacific Northwest according to Jeff Foxworthy:
1. You know the state flower (Mildew).
2. You feel guilty throwing aluminum cans or paper in the trash.
3. You use the statement “sun break” and know what it means.
4. You know more than 10 ways to order coffee.
5. You know more people who own boats than air conditioners.
6. You feel overdressed wearing a suit to a nice restaurant.
7. You stand on a deserted corner in the rain waiting for the “Walk” signal.
8. You consider that if it doesn’t have snow or has not recently erupted, it’s not a real mountain.
9. You can taste the difference between Starbucks, Seattle’s Best, and Veneto’s.
10. You know the difference between Chinook, Coho and Sockeye salmon.
11. You know how to pronounce Sequim, Puyallup, Issaquah, Oregon, Yakima and Willamette.
12. You consider swimming an indoor sport.
13. You can tell the difference between Japanese, Chinese and Thai food.
14. In winter, you go to work in the dark and come home in the dark while only working eight-hour days.
15. You never go camping without waterproof matches and a poncho.
16. You are not fazed by “Today’s forecast: showers followed by rain,” and “Tomorrow’s forecast: rain followed by showers.”
17. You have no concept of humidity without precipitation.
18. You know that Boring is a town in Oregon and not just a state of mind.
19. You can point to at least two volcanoes, even if you cannot see through the cloud cover.
20. You notice, “The mountain is out” when it is a pretty day and you can actually see it.
21. You put on your shorts when the temperature gets above 50, but still wear your hiking boots and parka.
22. You switch to your sandals when it gets about 60, but keep the socks on.
23. You have actually used your mountain bike on a mountain.
24. You think people who use umbrellas are either wimps or tourists.
25. You buy new sunglasses every year, because you cannot find the old ones after such a long time.
26. You measure distance in hours.
27. You often switch from “heat” to “a/c” in the same day.
28. You design your kids’ Halloween costume to fit under a raincoat.
29. You know all the important seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Raining (Spring), Road Construction (Summer), Deer & Elk Season(Fall).
30. You actually understand these jokes.
// posted by Janet @ 1:22 PM
0 comments
Saturday, March 11, 2006
So so Sad!
Yesterday, I received a terrible e-mail from my local Orca Sighting network. I have written before on here about Luna, a little orca who became separated from his family, the L Pod. The L Pod is a Puget Sound orca family and Luna has been stuck up in Canada. One attempt was made a while ago to capture and reunite him with his pod but the capture was interfered with by native tribes. They said Luna was sacred because he was a reincarnation of their dead chief and they lured him by canoe away from the rescue boats.
Luna was lonely and in his efforts to gain attention, he greeted people and boats with great affection. I imagine he was a little like my Golden Retriever, Apolo, who sidles up to everyone to be hugged, loved, and petted. Unfortunately and foreseeably, Luna approached a tug boat and started leaping and communicating. The lonely little orca was sucked into the propeller and lost his life. The tug boat captain is said to be completely devastated. We all are; I cried when I read the e-mail. Call me crazy but as stewards of God's creatures, we have a responsibility to do what we are able to protect these beautiful brilliant endangered species.
Good bye little Luna. They said it happened quickly. At least for that.
Luna and Friend (DEBRA BRASH / VICTORIA TIMES COLONIST [sic] )
http://www.king5.com/localnews/stories/NW_031006WABlunakilledLJ.10d269e0.html
Yesterday, I received a terrible e-mail from my local Orca Sighting network. I have written before on here about Luna, a little orca who became separated from his family, the L Pod. The L Pod is a Puget Sound orca family and Luna has been stuck up in Canada. One attempt was made a while ago to capture and reunite him with his pod but the capture was interfered with by native tribes. They said Luna was sacred because he was a reincarnation of their dead chief and they lured him by canoe away from the rescue boats.
Luna was lonely and in his efforts to gain attention, he greeted people and boats with great affection. I imagine he was a little like my Golden Retriever, Apolo, who sidles up to everyone to be hugged, loved, and petted. Unfortunately and foreseeably, Luna approached a tug boat and started leaping and communicating. The lonely little orca was sucked into the propeller and lost his life. The tug boat captain is said to be completely devastated. We all are; I cried when I read the e-mail. Call me crazy but as stewards of God's creatures, we have a responsibility to do what we are able to protect these beautiful brilliant endangered species.
Good bye little Luna. They said it happened quickly. At least for that.
Luna and Friend (DEBRA BRASH / VICTORIA TIMES COLONIST [sic] )
http://www.king5.com/localnews/stories/NW_031006WABlunakilledLJ.10d269e0.html
~for Luna~MAGIC WORDS
(after Nalungiaq)(from Mind in the Waters by Joan McIntyre, from Shaking the Pumpkin by Jerome Rothenberg)
In the very earliest time,when both people and animals lived on earth,
a person could become an animal if he wanted to
and an animal could become a human being.
Sometimes they were people
and sometimes animals
and there was no difference.
All spoke the same language.
That was the time when words were like magic.
The human mind had mysterious powers.
A word spoken by chance
might have strange consequences.
It would suddenly come alive
and what people wanted to happen could happen
-all you had to do was say it.
Nobody can explain this:
That's the way it was.
// posted by Janet @ 10:12 AM
0 comments
Friday, March 10, 2006
He Loves Seattle! I Mean He Really LOVES Seattle!
Evidently, in France he goes simply by his initials, BHL and he is loved and astronomically famous. I am talking about Bernard-Henri Levy. He wrote a book about America after driving across our country and though he claims to like the United States, he was rather judgmental and shallow in his observations. Naturally, as a good Frenchman, he thinks Americans are obese and it goes on from there. The book is titled, "American Vertigo". Garrison Keillor, who I like and admire, hated it and so stated:
Thanks, pal. I don't imagine France collapsing anytime soon either. Thanks for coming. Don't let the door hit you on the way out. For your next book, tell us about those riots in France, the cars burning in the suburbs of Paris. What was that all about? Were fat people involved?
http://www.politicalnovel.org/keillor-levy-american-vertigo.html
I have not read "American Vertigo" and I haven't yet decided if I will or not though I am curious. At the moment, I am a little--ok, a lot--mad at France because we have paid $7000 for my son to study and receive credits at a French university this semester. But, the students have been on strike and no classes have yet been held; it is beginning to look like this semester will be a bust. Needless to say, I am quite unhappy about the situation.
Anyway, if I did read "American Vertigo", I'd jump to the parts about Seattle and probably Montana without reading the rest. My favorite magazine, "Washington Law and Politics", reprinted BHL's writings about Seattle so maybe I don't need to read the book. Ok, I won't buy it but I might just find it in the library and discover for myself what all of the fuss is about.
"Seattle Mon Amour" [tr. Seattle my Love] by BHL in WLP made me laugh out loud. I mean, I like Seattle and cannot imagine living anywhere else at this point in my life but oh my.... BHL really loves Seattle. "Seattle Mon Amour" first appeared in The Atlantic Monthly and then made it into the book. You cannot access the article in either the Atlantic Monthly or in WLP but because of the magic of the internet, I did find "Seattle Mon Amour" printed in a Seattle website. http://www.seattlest.com/archives/2005/05/09/a_frenchman_loves_seattle.php
Confused? Yea, me, too but I will take the quotes from the website. Enjoy! This is a popular (in France) Frenchman's view of Seattle:
Nothing is more striking about Seattle than the moment of arrival.
I loved the city itself, of course.
I loved that feeling of wide-openness on the Sound, the current of brisk air that touches you despite the summer heat..... [Yes, arrival in Seattle by airplane or car on I-90 or I-5 is spectacular.]
I loved Seattle's delicate, sun-speckled docks. Its pulsing, heterogeneous marketplace, where highly specialized bookstores, shops selling collectible posters, myriad bars, are all wedged between two shimmering fish markets.... [What? He doesn't mention coffee? Not even once?]
During the day I loved the breeze that rises from the water as if to widen the streets, and in the evening the summer mist, wispy, a little gray, which stops, mysteriously, at the waterfront.... [True, true]
I loved the city's hills and its interminable steps, the floating bridge over Lake Washington, the boats leaving for Alaska or Panama.... [True, true]
I loved those "boulevards without movement or commerce" around First Avenue, and I loved the "drunkenness of a big capital" that soars over Capitol Hill and its sidewalks inlaid with bronze dance steps.... [Ok, I didn't get this one. I mean, I have danced along the bronze feet on Capitol Hill but boulevards without movement? Does he mean we don't jaywalk??]
I loved the air of freedom, of nonconformism, that reigns over the economic capital of this state... [True, unless you are a republican]
In Redmond I visited that city-within-a-city, surrounded by pine trees, green lawns, little lakes, that is the headquarters of Microsoft. I met some of the engineers, from Mexico, France, and India, who are inventing the language and social fabric of the future. And here, too, I loved the feeling of imagination, youth, chic and atypical bohemian-ness, irreverence, cosmopolitanism, civilization, intelligence, that this strange group of people radiated. [Microsofties=Work-a-holics, believe me. This is why they retire as soon as they make their fortune.]
I visited the Boeing factories. I spent half a day in a landscape of girders and giant winches worthy of a larger-than-life Fernand Léger; of mini-buildings inside cavernous hangars; of walls of monitors, monstrous pipes and chrome caterpillars, immense jetways, colossal scaffolding, open bellies and steel guts, fuselages and armor plates, where occurs that miracle of high technology that is the assembling of a new plane. And I loved the fact that the officiants at this miracle, on whose shoulders rests a responsibility made twice as pressing by security issues and terrorist threats, looked like hippies with ponytails as they worked coolly to a Rolling Stones riff. [Ok, he came to my neighborhood. Yep, I see all these folks leaving work and causing traffic jams at 2:45 PM. Probably Rolling Stones in the car, too.]
I loved, on the corner of First Avenue and Virginia Street, the bistro Le Pichet, whose sign says in French that it's "a bar during the day and a café at night" and serves "regional specialties all day." [This cracked me up because it is a French restaurant run by French people--nothing Seattle about it. We go there to get our French fix. Why not mention Wild Ginger or some place very Seattle.]
I liked absolutely everything about Seattle.
If I had to choose an American city to live in—if I had to pick a place, and only one, where I had the feeling in America of rediscovering my lost bearings—it would be here, in Seattle. [Well, me too, this is why we are here.]
If I had to choose one moment in this discovery—if I had to say what the instant was when everything was settled and, in the blink of an eye, the genius of the place was revealed to me—it would be the moment when,.....
I saw, floating like a torch between two motionless clouds, in a dark-pink sky entirely new to me, the tip of a skyscraper, the Space Needle,...... [Ah yes, the genius of the Space Needle--a skyscraper?? Ok. LOL!]
Like I said, BHL LOVES Seattle. He really loves it. And he even loved the "blob" EMP built by Paul Allen at the bottom of the Space Needle. And, in my opinion, it is hard to love or even like.
Evidently, in France he goes simply by his initials, BHL and he is loved and astronomically famous. I am talking about Bernard-Henri Levy. He wrote a book about America after driving across our country and though he claims to like the United States, he was rather judgmental and shallow in his observations. Naturally, as a good Frenchman, he thinks Americans are obese and it goes on from there. The book is titled, "American Vertigo". Garrison Keillor, who I like and admire, hated it and so stated:
Thanks, pal. I don't imagine France collapsing anytime soon either. Thanks for coming. Don't let the door hit you on the way out. For your next book, tell us about those riots in France, the cars burning in the suburbs of Paris. What was that all about? Were fat people involved?
http://www.politicalnovel.org/keillor-levy-american-vertigo.html
I have not read "American Vertigo" and I haven't yet decided if I will or not though I am curious. At the moment, I am a little--ok, a lot--mad at France because we have paid $7000 for my son to study and receive credits at a French university this semester. But, the students have been on strike and no classes have yet been held; it is beginning to look like this semester will be a bust. Needless to say, I am quite unhappy about the situation.
Anyway, if I did read "American Vertigo", I'd jump to the parts about Seattle and probably Montana without reading the rest. My favorite magazine, "Washington Law and Politics", reprinted BHL's writings about Seattle so maybe I don't need to read the book. Ok, I won't buy it but I might just find it in the library and discover for myself what all of the fuss is about.
"Seattle Mon Amour" [tr. Seattle my Love] by BHL in WLP made me laugh out loud. I mean, I like Seattle and cannot imagine living anywhere else at this point in my life but oh my.... BHL really loves Seattle. "Seattle Mon Amour" first appeared in The Atlantic Monthly and then made it into the book. You cannot access the article in either the Atlantic Monthly or in WLP but because of the magic of the internet, I did find "Seattle Mon Amour" printed in a Seattle website. http://www.seattlest.com/archives/2005/05/09/a_frenchman_loves_seattle.php
Confused? Yea, me, too but I will take the quotes from the website. Enjoy! This is a popular (in France) Frenchman's view of Seattle:
Nothing is more striking about Seattle than the moment of arrival.
I loved the city itself, of course.
I loved that feeling of wide-openness on the Sound, the current of brisk air that touches you despite the summer heat..... [Yes, arrival in Seattle by airplane or car on I-90 or I-5 is spectacular.]
I loved Seattle's delicate, sun-speckled docks. Its pulsing, heterogeneous marketplace, where highly specialized bookstores, shops selling collectible posters, myriad bars, are all wedged between two shimmering fish markets.... [What? He doesn't mention coffee? Not even once?]
During the day I loved the breeze that rises from the water as if to widen the streets, and in the evening the summer mist, wispy, a little gray, which stops, mysteriously, at the waterfront.... [True, true]
I loved the city's hills and its interminable steps, the floating bridge over Lake Washington, the boats leaving for Alaska or Panama.... [True, true]
I loved those "boulevards without movement or commerce" around First Avenue, and I loved the "drunkenness of a big capital" that soars over Capitol Hill and its sidewalks inlaid with bronze dance steps.... [Ok, I didn't get this one. I mean, I have danced along the bronze feet on Capitol Hill but boulevards without movement? Does he mean we don't jaywalk??]
I loved the air of freedom, of nonconformism, that reigns over the economic capital of this state... [True, unless you are a republican]
In Redmond I visited that city-within-a-city, surrounded by pine trees, green lawns, little lakes, that is the headquarters of Microsoft. I met some of the engineers, from Mexico, France, and India, who are inventing the language and social fabric of the future. And here, too, I loved the feeling of imagination, youth, chic and atypical bohemian-ness, irreverence, cosmopolitanism, civilization, intelligence, that this strange group of people radiated. [Microsofties=Work-a-holics, believe me. This is why they retire as soon as they make their fortune.]
I visited the Boeing factories. I spent half a day in a landscape of girders and giant winches worthy of a larger-than-life Fernand Léger; of mini-buildings inside cavernous hangars; of walls of monitors, monstrous pipes and chrome caterpillars, immense jetways, colossal scaffolding, open bellies and steel guts, fuselages and armor plates, where occurs that miracle of high technology that is the assembling of a new plane. And I loved the fact that the officiants at this miracle, on whose shoulders rests a responsibility made twice as pressing by security issues and terrorist threats, looked like hippies with ponytails as they worked coolly to a Rolling Stones riff. [Ok, he came to my neighborhood. Yep, I see all these folks leaving work and causing traffic jams at 2:45 PM. Probably Rolling Stones in the car, too.]
I loved, on the corner of First Avenue and Virginia Street, the bistro Le Pichet, whose sign says in French that it's "a bar during the day and a café at night" and serves "regional specialties all day." [This cracked me up because it is a French restaurant run by French people--nothing Seattle about it. We go there to get our French fix. Why not mention Wild Ginger or some place very Seattle.]
I liked absolutely everything about Seattle.
If I had to choose an American city to live in—if I had to pick a place, and only one, where I had the feeling in America of rediscovering my lost bearings—it would be here, in Seattle. [Well, me too, this is why we are here.]
If I had to choose one moment in this discovery—if I had to say what the instant was when everything was settled and, in the blink of an eye, the genius of the place was revealed to me—it would be the moment when,.....
I saw, floating like a torch between two motionless clouds, in a dark-pink sky entirely new to me, the tip of a skyscraper, the Space Needle,...... [Ah yes, the genius of the Space Needle--a skyscraper?? Ok. LOL!]
Like I said, BHL LOVES Seattle. He really loves it. And he even loved the "blob" EMP built by Paul Allen at the bottom of the Space Needle. And, in my opinion, it is hard to love or even like.
// posted by Janet @ 8:46 AM
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Monday, March 06, 2006
Trouble in Dayton
I don't understand why it is we seem to have trouble with accommodations when we head east of the mountains but we do. About a year ago, when we took Kaley to the State Solo/Ensemble competition, we were unable to find a room in Ellensburg, the site of the event. So we made reservations 25 miles away in CLe Elum only to be turned away from a supposedly pet friendly place and sent to the railroad tracks because we had a dog. I wrote about it on here at the time.
This past weekend, Kaley had a full schedule at Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington. She had a tour, interview, class visits on Friday and most importantly, three auditions for every scholarship they offer on Saturday. Most prospective students had one or two auditions at most but Kaley had a voice presentation with two opera pieces, a theater performance with monologues and musical theater, and a grand finale of piano playing Mozart and Debussey. Of course, this is all without music or written materials--just Kaley alone on stage with her talents.
Two weeks ago, we attempted to make reservations for two nights in Walla Walla. Nothing--nothing was available in Walla Walla--not at the Best Western, Holiday Inn Express, La Quinta, Howard Johnson, etc. Every brand name roadside place you can imagine was filled without explanation in a small city in the middle of nowhere in Eastern Washington two weeks in advance. We even tried the most expensive place in town, the Marcus Whitman Hotel, with no luck. Visions of the Cle Elum railroad tracks danced in my mind.
Walla Walla, like Helena, Montana is a Victorian town so we started going through the Bed & Breakfast list. Yes, we struck gold or I should say purple. The Purple House B&B had two bedrooms available for two nights with a shared bath. It was a bit pricey and not in Walla Walla but it was the only thing available closer than 50 miles. Twenty-eight miles away in Dayton stands the Purple House Victorian. I am a little queasy about B&B's and I refuse to share bathrooms down the hall with strangers. Also, the breakfast time is a little too intimate for me, this cool and aloof Seattleite. But with the three of us sharing the bathroom with nobody else, I thought it would be just fine. Unlike a hotel room, Kaley would have her own room and we could ignore everybody at breakfast.
http://www.purplehousebnb.com/
It is a long drive to Dayton from Mukilteo--about 300 miles. This time we kenneled the dog so this wasn't an issue though I worried for a week about driving over Snoqualmie Pass. The pass was fine--32 degrees with slush in places but no restrictions. We arrived exhausted at the Purple House at 10 PM on Thursday night. We were gaciously welcomed by a nice woman named Christine with an obvious German accent into a spotless Victorian parlor. "This is good; this is ok," I thought. Our rooms upstairs were absolutely delightful with attractive wallpaper and expensive bedding. The bathroom was large and modern. Christine brought us ice water with lemon served in a crystal pitcher and asked us when we would like breakfast.
The Purple House
The next morning after the three of us taking our bathroom turns, we went down to the dining room for a lovely breakfast. Three adorable mop dogs curled up at our feet under the white linened table. Kaley said she slept like a rock and loved the room and the bed. "Whew!", I thought, "tomorrow is like a marathon for an athlete and she needs to be rested. Yes! Good choice, this place."
As we finished our quiche, French toast, bacon, kiwi and raspberries, Christine turned to Kaley and suggested, "Kaley, since you are the young lady, I was thinking you could sleep on the couch tonight in the sitting room." I froze; you do not know my daughter, Christine. I could feel my face flushing and wondered what was coming next. "I haven't made this mistake in 16 years but I have guests coming tonight instead of tomorrow as I thought and I need to put them in the room Kaley slept in. But since she is a young girl, I can make her comfortable on the couch. And since this is my mistake, I will not charge you for the price of a full room."
Kaley responded with her gorgeous smile and replied with Seattle politeness that she supposed that might be ok. Ah, she is such a good actress. I proclaimed as nicely as possible, "I am not sure about this. She has three grueling auditions tomorrow and she needs a good night's sleep." My too nice husband acted like this was perfectly fine.
At that moment we had to leave to drive the 28 miles to arrive in time for the tour and Kaley's interview. Upstairs, Kaley let loose, "I am so pissed! What's the matter with her? I'm not sleeping on a couch out in an open room with no walls and a big gonging clock. Is she crazy? We had reservations. I have auditions tomorrow. This is age discrimination!" Oh, I taught my children well. I was angry because I was thinking five people, two strangers, one bathroom 28 miles away on the morning of auditions when Kaley dresses formally with hair and make up to the nines. We left our stuff scattered in the bathroom and in the room Kaley had slept in and rushed out the door explaining we were not sure what time we'd return in the evening.
In the car, my sweet husband offered to sleep on the couch. Kaley was somewhat calmer with this plan because the bed was comfortable, she doesn't mind sleeping with me, and the room was very quiet. But this did not solve the five people, two strangers, one bathroom problem. We had no other options with nothing else available. As we passed llamas and vineyards and wineries on the way to Walla Walla, I was beginning to steam. "She has three rooms in that place! How hard is it to count to three? This is her business; prominent B&B's in this area, the Napa Valley of Washington, cannot and should not make mistakes like this. Word could get around. How in the world are five of us going to be able to share that bathroom in the morning when Kaley needs to be all dressed up? How dare she treat my daughter like that? To think she would have her sleep unprotected in an open living room with strangers around. I mean it is one thing when you are at Grandma's house and she announces the cousins are coming--this is no big deal because it is family. We can share a bathroom with family but strangers?? This is completely unacceptable. What are we going to do?"
Driving past a Wal-Mart, my husband stated we'd need to stop there so he could find some cheap pajamas made by starving kids in the third world. He only sleeps in his underwear. "Are you kidding?" I shrieked, "I refuse to shop at that..that...place under any circumstances. Besides I think it would serve Christine right to have a fifty-three year old very very hairy naked bald man sleeping on the couch scaring the other guests. No offense. I am used to you. But, it would serve her right."
Naturally, we were late for the tour which they actually held for us. They are so nice at Whitman. Briefly, we stated we had accommodation problems and were 30 miles away. A man with his daughter from Maine were driving back to Seattle after only one night; he explained there was a girl's soccer tournament in Walla Walla and they had been terribly inconvenienced as well. Another man and his daughter from Atlanta were staying 50 miles away in Kennewick. As we left Kaley for her interview, class visits and campus lunch, she instructed us to do all we could to find another place to stay. She did not ever want to see that Christine woman again if she could help it.
Our plans to visit wineries, pottery and glass shops, and antique stores vanished. Thank goodness Walla Walla is smallish without major traffic. We stopped at the Best Western to see if they had cancellations--no. Likewise, the Holiday Inn had no rooms still and they had information from all other places in town--nada. The fancy Marcus Whitman also was filled with soccer girls but they suggested we check again later in the afternoon. Walla Walla is right on the border with Oregon. Pendleton is 41 miles away and by cell phone, I called a couple of places there--nope. There was a room 60 miles away in Richland, WA.
Two motels were listed as 10 miles away right over the border so we decided to check them out. The Outwest Motel with about six units was perched right along the highway. I thought I had seen that place on "Cops" undoubtedly. We kept going because at least the Purple House is quiet. The Morgan Inn was also on the highway with a fairly nice front. It looked bigger with rooms off of the highway, so we drove around the back. "There--there look at that!" I laughed with disbelief. A large yellow sign was nailed to a door to one of the back rooms at the Morgan Inn and it proclaimed "Illegal Drug Lab on Premises. Unfit for Use." Ok, we were resigned to having to stay at the Purple House with five people and one bathroom or we could take the place in Richland. "Let's go eat lunch."
Lunch was quiet. I was feeling very stressed and I was bugged because we could have been having fun. As a Mom, I did not want my stress level to affect my daughter when she had such a big job to do the next day. She is fully aware of the financial strains of two kids in college, and scholarships would be so helpful. But there was nothing more to be done. "Let's go check at the Marcus Whitman again," I said, "They are the biggest place so there is more of a chance of a cancellation. I can't believe soccer teams are staying at that place anyway. At this point, I do not care how much it costs."
The gorgeous Marcus Whitman (they are so nice in Walla Walla) gave us a ray of hope. They had a cancellation of a room with a king bed but we needed a roll away. Once the rooms were cleaned, they would let us know if a roll away materialized. Dave promised he would sleep on the roll away so Kaley could have a bed. Oh, this would be so wonderful; I was afraid to get my hopes up---three people to a bathroom, privacy, and five minutes from campus. The teams might be noisy but at the Marcus Whitman unlike the Super 8, one could complain. I am never sure if I should pray in these situations because maybe tolerating the Purple House would have its benefits. Oh, what the hell? God knows me by now and he knows how selfish I am. It wasn't right what Christine at the Purple House did to us.
We met Kaley and told her all of the stories and that we had done all we could. A phone call about a roll away was the final thing we were waiting for. She loved Whitman and ate lunch with a very cute boy who has a friend who knows Lucas in Missoula. The music building had tons of empty practice rooms and she wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon working on her pieces so we dropped her off---alone. Whoa! Kaley was comfortable. She hates the UW; she hated NYU; she hated UBC; she hated Berkeley. "Wow! She likes it here. Let's go to the pottery place." In the middle of a purchase of a pottery mug to add to my collection, the Marcus Whitman called. They had a roll away.
We called Kaley and she was very happy to stay put so we sped down the highway 30 miles to Dayton--to the Purple House. "What if she wants to charge us for tonight? I mean it is 4 PM and our stuff is all over her upstairs. Sorry I said you were scary and hairy, by the way."
"Nah! She is an older lady who made a dreadful mistake that she has probably agonized about. My bet is she will be extremely relieved. And I know I'm hairy." Dave was right as usual. She greeted us warmly and had gathered our things together for us and she apologized again for the double booking and of course no charge for the last minute departure. I told her the place was beautiful and we were invited back. She had no idea the stress we had been through as a result of her mistake because she had no idea about the soccer tournament. It would have been wrong to make her feel more terrible than she felt.
At the Marcus Whitman, the roll away was actually a comfortable regular bed. In the elevator, we met one of the muscular soccer Moms with a clip board. When she got off, I said to Kaley, "Did you see her? Damn, she looked mean. I think we'll have quiet night." And I was right.
Marcus Whitman
We visited one of the million wine tasting rooms while Kaley vocalized before her auditions. As Dave tasted a cab, we spilled the entire story to the wine steward. He told us he'd had a guy visit the day before from Maine whose daughter was checking out Whitman, too, and he had trouble finding a place to stay. "Yea, we met him. Nice guy."
Kaley nailed her auditions and felt like she performed better than ever. This is something from a kid who can be self-critical to a fault. Kaley was tired, happy, pleased and relieved. The drive from Walla Walla was gorgeous and I had forgotten to bring the camera. We saw the sunset behind huge volcano, Mt. Adams to the left and huge volcano to the right, Mt. Rainier. Everything was pink, gold, white and spectacular. To celebrate the day, we stopped for dinner at the half way point in Yakima, WA. Yep, Miners Drive-in--the BEST hamburgers and milkshakes outside of Dick's in Seattle.
"Lucas hates us right now," Kaley said as she ate her salad and Dave and I scarfed down hamburgers. "Should we tell him we ate here without him?"
"I don't know. Should we? Yea, we should!" And we all laughed.
I don't understand why it is we seem to have trouble with accommodations when we head east of the mountains but we do. About a year ago, when we took Kaley to the State Solo/Ensemble competition, we were unable to find a room in Ellensburg, the site of the event. So we made reservations 25 miles away in CLe Elum only to be turned away from a supposedly pet friendly place and sent to the railroad tracks because we had a dog. I wrote about it on here at the time.
This past weekend, Kaley had a full schedule at Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington. She had a tour, interview, class visits on Friday and most importantly, three auditions for every scholarship they offer on Saturday. Most prospective students had one or two auditions at most but Kaley had a voice presentation with two opera pieces, a theater performance with monologues and musical theater, and a grand finale of piano playing Mozart and Debussey. Of course, this is all without music or written materials--just Kaley alone on stage with her talents.
Two weeks ago, we attempted to make reservations for two nights in Walla Walla. Nothing--nothing was available in Walla Walla--not at the Best Western, Holiday Inn Express, La Quinta, Howard Johnson, etc. Every brand name roadside place you can imagine was filled without explanation in a small city in the middle of nowhere in Eastern Washington two weeks in advance. We even tried the most expensive place in town, the Marcus Whitman Hotel, with no luck. Visions of the Cle Elum railroad tracks danced in my mind.
Walla Walla, like Helena, Montana is a Victorian town so we started going through the Bed & Breakfast list. Yes, we struck gold or I should say purple. The Purple House B&B had two bedrooms available for two nights with a shared bath. It was a bit pricey and not in Walla Walla but it was the only thing available closer than 50 miles. Twenty-eight miles away in Dayton stands the Purple House Victorian. I am a little queasy about B&B's and I refuse to share bathrooms down the hall with strangers. Also, the breakfast time is a little too intimate for me, this cool and aloof Seattleite. But with the three of us sharing the bathroom with nobody else, I thought it would be just fine. Unlike a hotel room, Kaley would have her own room and we could ignore everybody at breakfast.
http://www.purplehousebnb.com/
It is a long drive to Dayton from Mukilteo--about 300 miles. This time we kenneled the dog so this wasn't an issue though I worried for a week about driving over Snoqualmie Pass. The pass was fine--32 degrees with slush in places but no restrictions. We arrived exhausted at the Purple House at 10 PM on Thursday night. We were gaciously welcomed by a nice woman named Christine with an obvious German accent into a spotless Victorian parlor. "This is good; this is ok," I thought. Our rooms upstairs were absolutely delightful with attractive wallpaper and expensive bedding. The bathroom was large and modern. Christine brought us ice water with lemon served in a crystal pitcher and asked us when we would like breakfast.
The Purple House
The next morning after the three of us taking our bathroom turns, we went down to the dining room for a lovely breakfast. Three adorable mop dogs curled up at our feet under the white linened table. Kaley said she slept like a rock and loved the room and the bed. "Whew!", I thought, "tomorrow is like a marathon for an athlete and she needs to be rested. Yes! Good choice, this place."
As we finished our quiche, French toast, bacon, kiwi and raspberries, Christine turned to Kaley and suggested, "Kaley, since you are the young lady, I was thinking you could sleep on the couch tonight in the sitting room." I froze; you do not know my daughter, Christine. I could feel my face flushing and wondered what was coming next. "I haven't made this mistake in 16 years but I have guests coming tonight instead of tomorrow as I thought and I need to put them in the room Kaley slept in. But since she is a young girl, I can make her comfortable on the couch. And since this is my mistake, I will not charge you for the price of a full room."
Kaley responded with her gorgeous smile and replied with Seattle politeness that she supposed that might be ok. Ah, she is such a good actress. I proclaimed as nicely as possible, "I am not sure about this. She has three grueling auditions tomorrow and she needs a good night's sleep." My too nice husband acted like this was perfectly fine.
At that moment we had to leave to drive the 28 miles to arrive in time for the tour and Kaley's interview. Upstairs, Kaley let loose, "I am so pissed! What's the matter with her? I'm not sleeping on a couch out in an open room with no walls and a big gonging clock. Is she crazy? We had reservations. I have auditions tomorrow. This is age discrimination!" Oh, I taught my children well. I was angry because I was thinking five people, two strangers, one bathroom 28 miles away on the morning of auditions when Kaley dresses formally with hair and make up to the nines. We left our stuff scattered in the bathroom and in the room Kaley had slept in and rushed out the door explaining we were not sure what time we'd return in the evening.
In the car, my sweet husband offered to sleep on the couch. Kaley was somewhat calmer with this plan because the bed was comfortable, she doesn't mind sleeping with me, and the room was very quiet. But this did not solve the five people, two strangers, one bathroom problem. We had no other options with nothing else available. As we passed llamas and vineyards and wineries on the way to Walla Walla, I was beginning to steam. "She has three rooms in that place! How hard is it to count to three? This is her business; prominent B&B's in this area, the Napa Valley of Washington, cannot and should not make mistakes like this. Word could get around. How in the world are five of us going to be able to share that bathroom in the morning when Kaley needs to be all dressed up? How dare she treat my daughter like that? To think she would have her sleep unprotected in an open living room with strangers around. I mean it is one thing when you are at Grandma's house and she announces the cousins are coming--this is no big deal because it is family. We can share a bathroom with family but strangers?? This is completely unacceptable. What are we going to do?"
Driving past a Wal-Mart, my husband stated we'd need to stop there so he could find some cheap pajamas made by starving kids in the third world. He only sleeps in his underwear. "Are you kidding?" I shrieked, "I refuse to shop at that..that...place under any circumstances. Besides I think it would serve Christine right to have a fifty-three year old very very hairy naked bald man sleeping on the couch scaring the other guests. No offense. I am used to you. But, it would serve her right."
Naturally, we were late for the tour which they actually held for us. They are so nice at Whitman. Briefly, we stated we had accommodation problems and were 30 miles away. A man with his daughter from Maine were driving back to Seattle after only one night; he explained there was a girl's soccer tournament in Walla Walla and they had been terribly inconvenienced as well. Another man and his daughter from Atlanta were staying 50 miles away in Kennewick. As we left Kaley for her interview, class visits and campus lunch, she instructed us to do all we could to find another place to stay. She did not ever want to see that Christine woman again if she could help it.
Our plans to visit wineries, pottery and glass shops, and antique stores vanished. Thank goodness Walla Walla is smallish without major traffic. We stopped at the Best Western to see if they had cancellations--no. Likewise, the Holiday Inn had no rooms still and they had information from all other places in town--nada. The fancy Marcus Whitman also was filled with soccer girls but they suggested we check again later in the afternoon. Walla Walla is right on the border with Oregon. Pendleton is 41 miles away and by cell phone, I called a couple of places there--nope. There was a room 60 miles away in Richland, WA.
Two motels were listed as 10 miles away right over the border so we decided to check them out. The Outwest Motel with about six units was perched right along the highway. I thought I had seen that place on "Cops" undoubtedly. We kept going because at least the Purple House is quiet. The Morgan Inn was also on the highway with a fairly nice front. It looked bigger with rooms off of the highway, so we drove around the back. "There--there look at that!" I laughed with disbelief. A large yellow sign was nailed to a door to one of the back rooms at the Morgan Inn and it proclaimed "Illegal Drug Lab on Premises. Unfit for Use." Ok, we were resigned to having to stay at the Purple House with five people and one bathroom or we could take the place in Richland. "Let's go eat lunch."
Lunch was quiet. I was feeling very stressed and I was bugged because we could have been having fun. As a Mom, I did not want my stress level to affect my daughter when she had such a big job to do the next day. She is fully aware of the financial strains of two kids in college, and scholarships would be so helpful. But there was nothing more to be done. "Let's go check at the Marcus Whitman again," I said, "They are the biggest place so there is more of a chance of a cancellation. I can't believe soccer teams are staying at that place anyway. At this point, I do not care how much it costs."
The gorgeous Marcus Whitman (they are so nice in Walla Walla) gave us a ray of hope. They had a cancellation of a room with a king bed but we needed a roll away. Once the rooms were cleaned, they would let us know if a roll away materialized. Dave promised he would sleep on the roll away so Kaley could have a bed. Oh, this would be so wonderful; I was afraid to get my hopes up---three people to a bathroom, privacy, and five minutes from campus. The teams might be noisy but at the Marcus Whitman unlike the Super 8, one could complain. I am never sure if I should pray in these situations because maybe tolerating the Purple House would have its benefits. Oh, what the hell? God knows me by now and he knows how selfish I am. It wasn't right what Christine at the Purple House did to us.
We met Kaley and told her all of the stories and that we had done all we could. A phone call about a roll away was the final thing we were waiting for. She loved Whitman and ate lunch with a very cute boy who has a friend who knows Lucas in Missoula. The music building had tons of empty practice rooms and she wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon working on her pieces so we dropped her off---alone. Whoa! Kaley was comfortable. She hates the UW; she hated NYU; she hated UBC; she hated Berkeley. "Wow! She likes it here. Let's go to the pottery place." In the middle of a purchase of a pottery mug to add to my collection, the Marcus Whitman called. They had a roll away.
We called Kaley and she was very happy to stay put so we sped down the highway 30 miles to Dayton--to the Purple House. "What if she wants to charge us for tonight? I mean it is 4 PM and our stuff is all over her upstairs. Sorry I said you were scary and hairy, by the way."
"Nah! She is an older lady who made a dreadful mistake that she has probably agonized about. My bet is she will be extremely relieved. And I know I'm hairy." Dave was right as usual. She greeted us warmly and had gathered our things together for us and she apologized again for the double booking and of course no charge for the last minute departure. I told her the place was beautiful and we were invited back. She had no idea the stress we had been through as a result of her mistake because she had no idea about the soccer tournament. It would have been wrong to make her feel more terrible than she felt.
At the Marcus Whitman, the roll away was actually a comfortable regular bed. In the elevator, we met one of the muscular soccer Moms with a clip board. When she got off, I said to Kaley, "Did you see her? Damn, she looked mean. I think we'll have quiet night." And I was right.
Marcus Whitman
We visited one of the million wine tasting rooms while Kaley vocalized before her auditions. As Dave tasted a cab, we spilled the entire story to the wine steward. He told us he'd had a guy visit the day before from Maine whose daughter was checking out Whitman, too, and he had trouble finding a place to stay. "Yea, we met him. Nice guy."
Kaley nailed her auditions and felt like she performed better than ever. This is something from a kid who can be self-critical to a fault. Kaley was tired, happy, pleased and relieved. The drive from Walla Walla was gorgeous and I had forgotten to bring the camera. We saw the sunset behind huge volcano, Mt. Adams to the left and huge volcano to the right, Mt. Rainier. Everything was pink, gold, white and spectacular. To celebrate the day, we stopped for dinner at the half way point in Yakima, WA. Yep, Miners Drive-in--the BEST hamburgers and milkshakes outside of Dick's in Seattle.
"Lucas hates us right now," Kaley said as she ate her salad and Dave and I scarfed down hamburgers. "Should we tell him we ate here without him?"
"I don't know. Should we? Yea, we should!" And we all laughed.
// posted by Janet @ 8:08 AM
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