little black journal

It was a weekend full of so much goodness, from the overladen table of Indian food we plowed through with Jason and Nancy on Friday night, to the salmon we pulled off the grill for dinner just a couple of hours ago.  And all kinds of summertime perfection in between…

I told Shane on Saturday morning that I was in the mood for an adventure – the sun was shining, our day was wide open, and I was itching to do something out of the ordinary.  However, inspiration wasn’t striking me, and so I figured I’d settle for a stroll down to our favorite ice cream shop for a scoop of salted caramel ice cream (life on the edge!) and a glass of wine on the back patio.  There are worse ways to spend a summer afternoon…  But Shane had bigger, better plans brewing, and as soon as I made it back from my morning run, I was given direct orders to take a quick shower, grab a blanket and a book, and hop in the car.  We were heading east, bound for Rattlesnake Lake for an afternoon picnic by the water.  Not too shabby, for a last-minute mini-getaway!

We spent hours laying on our blanket in the shade, feeling little spots of sunlight make their way through the canopy of leaves overhead.  Shane dodged each ray like it was a laser-beam (he overheats easily), but I was in sunshiny heaven.

We made a couple of pit-stops on the way back to Seattle (one for a mini-spree at the Banana Republic outlet in North Bend, then another for self-serve fro-yo at Yogurtland), and arrived home with just enough time to squeeze in a solid nap before dinner.  It’s surprising how sleepy an afternoon of lounging/eating/shopping can make you (or maybe I’m just lazy?).

We spent last night with our friends Jordan and Belinda – they are moving out of the country in a few weeks and needed some help emptying their liquor cabinet before they skip town.  Shane, being the selfless and giving friend that he is, was quick to offer his cocktail-consuming services.  We kicked off the night with Cadillac margaritas, and I wish I’d snapped a photo before we sipped (er…slurped) them all down.  They really were a thing of beauty – if summer could be captured in a single drink, I think it would be in that fresh, citrusy glass of Tequila-laced goodness.  We sat around the table for hours, chatting and drinking and snacking on the lemon tart I picked up from Whole Foods.  Shane has a new appreciation for Tequila.  And for friends like Jack that let him off the hook when he’s not quite feeling up for a previously-scheduled Sunday morning training run.

I spent much of today in the office (a total travesty), but whipped through my deadline to-do’s quickly enough to still enjoy a couple of sunny hours sitting on the back patio and working in the yard (I suppose the one unfortunate by-product of all this sun is the couple of neglected, dried-out plants that needed replacing in our back planter).  An evening jog down to the lake, dinner on the grill, and it was time to say so long to another lovely summer weekend.  Cheers!  And, sigh…

We spent this weekend keeping tradition alive, taking part in our fourth annual c-group camping trip.  We all piled into our cars on Friday afternoon, and by sundown we had set up our own little tent city in Larrabee State Park as sixteen of us gathered around the campfire to kick off a weekend of eating, lounging, laughing, and outdoors-ing.  Shane threw a whole slew of bratwursts on the grill for dinner, and thus, the feeding frenzy began (good thing I’d spent the previous three days eating light…).

The rest of the night was full of s’mores, beer, and campfire chat.  Is there any better way to spend a summer evening in the Pacific Northwest?

The fire did double duty all weekend, as both heat source and food cooker.  We roasted, toasted, grilled, and flame-broiled, at morning and at night.  Flame-toasted bagels for breakfast?  Mmmm-hmmm…

After breakfast, we headed over to the little stretch of beach near the campground for playtime.  The agenda:  frisbee-tossing, wiffle ball, rock-skipping, lounging.

Shane was thrilled to discover that his best little buddy, the G-man, is a fellow rock-skipper.

We headed back to the campsite for lunch, and then staked out a spot in a nearby field where the boys (and the athletically-inclined women) could play a game of football, while the less-inclined women could stretch out on the sidelines in the sun.  I’ll give you one guess as to which group I was in…

All that playing put us in the mood for Happy Hour and so we headed down the road for a round of super-fresh oysters at Taylor Shellfish. Sprinkled with lemon juice and paired with a glass (er…red plastic cup) of white wine, these were perfect.  One slurp and I was rethinking my long-held oyster-aversion.  Maybe it was the scenery, maybe it was the smell of salt-water wafting through the air, or maybe it was the company of such good friends, but wowsers, those were some tasty little suckers.

The rest of the evening was passed back at the campsite.  Shane spent some quality time with his other little buddy, Zebo, Jack grilled a chicken and veggie-kebob dinner that rivaled the meals we’re able to prepare at home in our fully-equipped kitchen, and we toasted marshmallows and told stories until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer (all of that chillin’ had me tuckered out).

It seemed we were all a little reluctant to leave this morning – it was hard to coax Brian, Shane, and Nicole (that’s her feet) out of their tree-anchored cocoons (I’m adding a hammock to the REI wishlist).

We sat around the campfire talking until check-out rules required us to begrudgingly break down camp and let the fire die (but not until we’d ended  s’mores smack-down: round 3, in which Jack completely changed the game with a bacon-chocolate-marshmallow creation).

I’m washing the smoke smell out of my clothes with a sigh tonight, knowing it will be a year before we’re able to embark on another weekend like this one.  There’s some solace in knowing that I’ll shortly be drifting off to sleep in our soft, cozy bed, but there’s also quite a bit of sadness in knowing that toasted marshmallows aren’t on the menu for breakfast tomorrow…

Clearly, I love summer. I love basking in the sun, wearing tank tops and flip-flops, watching our garden grow. I really love ice cream, bratwursts hot of the grill,  and generous pours of white wine…  Fresh berries, crisp salads, and tall glasses of ice water are on the list, too, but my ice cream to lettuce ratio has been on the high side lately, leaving me feeling slow, tired, and a little…soft.  Most days, I tend to eat whatever I want, figuring that any not-so-healthy cravings are generally balanced by my healthy cravings and my regimen of regular exercise.  But somewhere along the way (probably right around my second ice cream bar and third glass of wine as I sat on the patio last weekend), I got off-balance, and have been feeling the need for a healthy reset.  I’m not one to diet, since self-denial is not one of my strong suits, but I am on board with new ways to increase my vita-intake, so I decided on Monday night to bust out the juicer I borrowed from La Verne last week and give it a whirl.  I got home from my run and tossed a few stalks of kale, a lemon, an apple, and a handful of grapes into the juicer, and wow!  Holy Green Juice, Batman!

I’m sure the boost I felt was psycholgical as much as it was biological, but I felt great.  So great, in fact, that I decided to embark on a little produce-intensive ‘detox’ for the rest of the week.  I’ve been replacing my morning breakfast (usually an Americano and a granola bar or muffin) with a tall glass of fresh-made green juice, and have replaced my lunch (usually a sandwich and chips from home, or calorie-rich Thai or Mexican take-out) with a heaping plate of fresh fruits and veggies.  I thought about trying a raw dinner as well, but I’ve really wanted a hearty, hot meal at the end of the past couple of days, so I’ve been making veggie stir-frys with brown rice after work, followed by a handful of berries for something sweet.  This is only a three-day trial, as a life without coffee or dessert sounds incredibly tragic, but I’ll carry a few of this week’s habits with me as I move forward.  I’ve got my eye on a juicer of our very own, and hope to make use of it at least four or five times a week.  I’ll (try) to limit my evening rummagings in our well-stocked chocolate bowl.  And I might let my friend Donna convince me to embark on a hard-core juice fast someday.  But I’ll also eat ice cream on hot days, order a latte when I want an afternoon boost, and visit our favorite pizza place when the mood strikes me, ’cause giving up that stuff?  That’s just crazy talk.

Our love affair with summer in Seattle continues…  Shane and I started our Saturday with morning runs (mine being a leisurely 3-mile jog around Jefferson Park, his being a 10-mile trek to Mercer Island and back), and then spread out a blanket at the park around the corner from us to catch the Blue Angels air show that happens as part of SeaFair every year.  I love this event – it’s loud, and it causes traffic, and it blocks our access to the lake for a couple of days, but the feeling of ‘wow!’ you get when you see those four planes fly right over your head in perfect formation is pretty spectacular.  As you get older, it seems that there are fewer things that really make you ‘ooh and ahh’ anymore, but these pilots never fail induce that childlike wonder in me.  And…that was really the extent of the day’s excitement – I passed the rest of the afternoon reading/dozing on the back patio.  And catching up on a few Grey’s Anatomy re-runs (seriously, how crazy was the end of season 6!?).  Good stuff.

After spending much of today indoors at a volunteer event, I was itching to get out and sun-soak this evening.  Shane suggested Lincoln Park in West Seattle – since we live so close to Lake Washington, I often forget about all the great places to walk along the shores of the Puget Sound, and look what I’ve been missing out on!

It was a perfect evening for a sunset stroll.  We walked, we chatted, we sat on a log and watched the fishermen throw their final casts of the day, and we wondered, is there anywhere more ideal than Seattle in the summer?

Another blessed weekend of truly ‘weekending’ – lazy mornings in bed, afternoons spent reading on the back patio, leisurely dinners with good friends… I feel like I’ve rediscovered the beauty of relaxation, and it. is. goooooood. It must be the weather that’s put me on such a high; after we each finished our morning run over to Lake Washington, Shane and I spent yesterday afternoon laying on a blanket in the sand at Ed Munro Seahurst Park, dragging ourselves up out of our sun-soaked sprawl only when we got so hot that we needed to go dip our feet in the frigid waters of the Puget Sound, and by the time we left, I was giddy. It just feels like such a treat to enjoy the outdoors without even having to do anything – I’m used to oooh-ing and aaaah-ing over the beauty of Mount Rainer, or being wowed by the lushness of a forest hike, but to feel totally in love with the Northwest without even having to stand up, or even open my eyes? That’s pretty rare. The special-ness of days like yesterday is not lost on me.

That said, we awoke this morning to cloudy skies and a misty drizzle, but I didn’t even mind – I suppose I was still riding my sunshine high from Saturday and was totally content to come home from church and enjoy curling up on the couch with my book and a cup of tea. And the weather gods rewarded my good nature with a late-afternoon bout of sunshine, so I was able to peel myself off the couch and plop down on our patio to catch a few more weekend rays. I’ve always prided myself on being one of those Seattle-ites that endures the clouds and the rain with minimal complaining, as I’m usually happy to retreat to a cafe or the sofa when the weather isn’t conducive to being outside. But I’m seeing the brighter side of life, and hot damn, it is bliss.

Almost nine months ago, I embarked on a new literary journey as I picked up Harry Potter Book One.  My original intent was to read all seven books back-to-back, but book club and general Potter fatigue prevented me from powering through – it took me much longer than I expected to jump on board and officially join ranks with the HP fan club.  The first couple of books were fun, but they wrapped up too quickly and lacked the drama I love in a good read.  Book Three picked up a little bit, with the introduction of Sirius Black (one of my favorites) and an ending that started to unravel the story of Harry’s beginnings.  Book Four was fun and exciting but dark and mysterious, with the first real twinges of tragedy.  Book Five was intense and maddening (seriously, have you ever hated a character more than Dolores Umbridge?) but so, so good.  By book Six, I was all in, ready to sign up for the Order of the Phoenix, wanting to plaster ‘Dumbledore for President’ stickers on the bumper of our Civic.  And then, 10 days ago, I picked up Book Seven.  Ohhhhhhhh, Book Seven – I can’t remember the last time I loved a book like I loved the Deathly Hallows.  I was so fully invested in Ron, Hermione, and Harry, cheering them on, fearing for them, praying that they would emerge from their journey unscathed.  Shane came home last night to find me clutching the book to my chest, gushing over how brilliantly J.K. Rowling was tying the long and arduous journey together.  This evening, I turned the very last page, and the journey came to an end.  And for complete closure, I joined my fellow Potter fans tonight for the final movie.  And now…it’s done.  Finito.  All tied up with a scarlet and gold bow.  It’s kind of sad to see it end – it’s been one heck of a ride, HP…

The past couple of weeks have been pretty low-key for us – we’ve stayed close to home, venturing out for game nights with friends or when pizza cravings call us to Tutta Bella, but other than that, we’ve been livin’ the slow life.  Hours have been whiled away reading on the couch (translation: napping with a book resting on my stomach) or watching old Harry Potter movies in preparation for our plans to see HP 7 next week.  These leisure-filled weekends and evenings have been nice, but a couple of days ago, I started to get antsy.  Itchy with the desire to visit someplace new, see something we’ve never seen before, get out and do some exploring.  So when a little instant message from Shane popped up on my computer on Friday afternoon with the words, “Should we go have an adventure tomorrow?”, I thought, “Hallelujah!  We’re skipping town!”  Granted, we use the word “adventure” lightly, as what we ended up planning was a day trip to Vashon Island (which is a 20-minute ferry-ride from Seattle), but still, I was looking forward to checking out this uncharted territory.

We woke to clear, sunny skies on Saturday morning – perfect ferry weather.  We drove right onto the boat after a short wait at the terminal, and we were off!

Shane had done a little research and we had a list of a couple of things to check out on the island, starting with the Saturday Farmer’s Market. Vashon is home to several small farms, and we were looking forward to perusing the local offerings.  I bought a carton of plump raspberries and devoured them with my morning coffee, admiring the piles of leafy greens and freshly-picked beans on the other tables, then feeling our hunger spike as we eyed the cheese stand and smelled the sizzling meat at the little taco booth on the corner.  And so we crossed the street for lunch at The Hardware Store, which we’d heard is the island’s most popular restaurant.  We settled into our table by the window and eyed the appetizing fare on the table next to us – the breakfast special and the fish tacos both looked super-tasty, so we ordered them both to share.  Verdict:  yum.  The food wasn’t fancy, but it was hearty, well-prepared, and just the fuel we needed for an afternoon of sight-seeing.

My expectations of spending several hours cruising a loop around the island were slightly unrealistic, as it turns out you can drive from one tip of the island to the other in 20 minutes flat, but we did stumble upon a jem when our meandering landed us at Point Robinson on Maury Island (the baby brother to Vashon Island, connected by an isthmus).  We walked down to the pebbly beach and found a perfect piece of driftwood from which we could soak in the sun and enjoy the view of Mount Rainer.  Then Shane threw some rocks (never gets old), we checked out the itty-bitty lighthouse (took all of 15 seconds), and walked one of the short trails that took us through the lush, fern-filled forests.  I love being able to experience sunny beaches and shady woods all in the space of 30 minutes – I suppose I was destined for the Northwest.

We hopped back in the car and headed over to the other side of Maury Island – Dockton was one of the larger words on the map, so I figured that must be where the town center is located, but in the 8 seconds that it took for us drive through Dockton’s main drag, I didn’t even see a post office, so we shrugged our shoulders and headed back toward Vashon.  We pit-stopped at Vashon Coffee Roasterie for ice cream sandwiches and a cold drink on the Mayberry-esque wood porch.  I think I saw Opie walk by (then again, I may have been delusional with the atypical dose of Vitamin D I’d gotten that day…).

We passed the rest of the afternoon visiting with our friend Michelle at her grandparents’ house on the island.  Michelle’s grandpa showed us around their impressive garden, full of corn and berries and quickly-sprouting beans, and then we all sat out on the back porch and chatted over cold lemonade and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies (seriously, her grandparents belong in the hospitality hall of fame).  Life out there seemed so peaceful, so un-rushed, so good.  Shane and I are already making retirement plans…  And honestly, who wouldn’t want to get their milk from a store that looks like this?!

Before long, it was time for us to catch our ferry back home, so we bid farewell to Michelle and to Vashon, knowing that our first visit wouldn’t be our last.  Our little “adventure” turned out to be of rather mellow proportions, but it turned out that just living the slow life island-style was still perfectly fulfilling.

Since my art show is all wrapped up, and since my hectic bout at work ended with my Wednesday deadline, I was left to a weekend completely of my own making – no place special to go, nothing pressing to get done, just 48 hours of genuine ‘week-ending’. I napped, I read, I dined outdoors, I napped a little more, I stayed up late playing True Colors with friends on Friday, and then again playing dominos on Saturday (yes, we are animals!), I curled up on the couch with Shane and watched old Harry Potter movies, and I reveled in the chance to enjoy quality, stress-free time both by myself and with some of my favorite people.

(photo from Jack)

And as icing on an already-fabulous weekend, I did some pretty satisfying cafe-sitting. This is one of my favorite afternoon pastimes, and it’s been too long since I spent a couple of hours with a book and a latte in a cozy coffee shop. And so I passed my sunny Saturday afternoon with the iPad and a raspberry Italian soda at All City Coffee in Georgetown, and my rainy Sunday afternoon with Harry Potter 7 and a latte (and a lovely little chocolate macaroon from Ines Patisserie) at Essential Baking Co in Madison Park.  This truly is the stuff weekends are made of…

I took my art off the walls of the cafe last weekend – a few of the pieces sold, which was exciting (though surprisingly difficult – I’ve found that I become way too attached to my work!), and the remaining prints will find a place somewhere in our house.  But before I tuck anything away, I wanted to share a few of my favorites.  All of the pieces are a mix of collage and print-making, with a little hand drawing thrown in here and there.  The collage comes from photos I’ve taken – I like the idea of abstracting images of skies or grasses or sandy beaches to form shapes and create gradients of color (for example, the mountains in ‘ice land‘ were made up of a photo of a cloudy sky that I snipped up and rearranged).  The printmaking was all done with inked stencils run through the presses (with a few handy tricks used for the spotty skies or the thin white lines of relief).  The final days of pulling this together were a bit touch-and-go (with only 5 days till show-time, I had yet to feel like anything was finished), but somehow everything came together in the end to form a pretty sharp collection.  And…voila:

desert city:

boardwalk:

ice land:

glacial view:

minnesota cabin:

kenzo:

horizon line:

one way:

sky way:

I’ve taken a break from any art-making for the past month, devoting my spare time instead to Harry Potter and old episodes of Friday Night Lights, but in the past couple of days, I’ve started to feel the creative itch again.  I’m browsing Pratt’s latest course offerings, picking up my neglected sketchbook, starting to formulate some new ideas about printmaking and drawing and collage.  I’m looking forward to spending some time in the studio just ‘playing’.  I want to pretend for awhile that I’m not actually a fine-lined perfectionist and instead focus on freedom and chance.  Could be good, could be completely terrible – either way, expect to see dried paint under my fingernails in the next few weeks (the mark of a quality day at the presses).

It’s been kind of a garbage dump of a week, so I’ve had my sights set on this three-day weekend for the past few days.  Since Monday, I’ve been making my Saturday plans:  sleep in, roll out of bed only for a latte and a scone, and then roll back into bed for an afternoon with Harry Potter and Season 6 of Lost.  I believed it was just what I needed.  But then my more adventurous, more fun-loving better half turned to me on Thursday night and said, “What if we woke up on Saturday morning in a different country, instead?”  We quickly Price-lined a hotel in Vancouver, packed our bags, and as soon as the whistle blew on Friday afternoon, we were Canada-bound.

It wasn’t until I started looking online for things to do near our hotel that I realized July 1st was in fact Canada Day, so we would be in the thick of the country’s annual ‘birthday’ celebration.  As soon as we got into the city, traffic slowed to a crawl, as the streets were swarming with people clad in red and white, waving their maple leaf-adorned flags as they danced to the music of any number of bands that had set up shop on the street corners.  We snaked our way to our hotel, gladly ditched our car at the parking garage, and set out in search of 1) good food, and 2) general merriment and festive-ness.  Jack and La Verne had recommended Zakkushi for dinner, a cozy little Yakitori joint just a few blocks from where we were staying.  We snagged a couple of seats at the bar and promptly began ordering to our heart’s delight – items on the menu were about two dollars apiece, and we wanted to try to try just about everything.  For the next hour, the waitress brought us plate after plate of pork-wrapped asparagus, grilled quail eggs, and miscellaneous chicken parts, paired with cold, refreshing pints of Sapporo.

Happy and well-nourished, we waddled out of the restaurant and followed the throngs of people to the waterfront in hopes of catching the big fireworks show.  We staked out a little spot at the harbor’s edge and watched bang after bang of red and white lights.  I marveled at how unknowingly perfect our timing had been in our last-minute decision to make the trip up to Vancouver – you don’t see this every night!

Post-fireworks, we headed toward Gastown to check out the Pourhouse – an allegedly ‘legit’ bar where bartenders respect and know their cocktails.  Shane was determined to verify such rumors, so we plopped ourselves on a couple of barstools and promptly ordered our fist round of drinks.  Shane was impressed with his Fernet-laced Toronto, and my Golden Fizz (gin, lemon, egg, soda water) was perfectly creamy-but-light. Verdict: this bar was indeed legit.

By the time we left Gastown, it was nearly 1 am, which is pretty late for an old married couple such as ourselves, so we cabbed it back to the hotel and fell into bed with a couple of food and drink-induced smiles on our faces.  It had been a very good night.

I was delighted to see sun shining through the curtains early the next morning – I peeked outside and took in the view of the harbor and mountains, pleased that it would be a perfect day for touring the city.

Shane threw on his running clothes and headed out for a jog around Stanley Park.  I thought about joining him for all of six seconds, and then decided instead to head back to bed for awhile – I just wasn’t quite ready to give up on my plans of a Saturday sleep-in.  Hunger eventually pulled me back out of bed, and we left the hotel mid-morning in search of breakfast.  I followed a recommendation for a good crepe place just down the street, so we grabbed a quick bite and then decided that the sunshine was calling us back toward Stanley Park.  We found a place that offered cheap bike rentals, hopped on our super-rad orange cruisers, and we were off!  It was an incredibly leisurely ride, as we stopped every few minutes to take in the scenery and snap a few photos.  Shane said it was the longest bike ride he’d been on without breaking a sweat – that’s what I’m talkin’ about…

We returned our bikes mid-afternoon and knew that we needed to take advantage of Vancouver’s culinary offerings at least one more time before hitting the road.  We settled on ramen at Motomachi Shokudo, another trusted recommendation from Jack and La V.  And wowsers – these Vancouver-ites don’t mess around when it comes to their noodle soup!  Rich, flavorful broth filled with soft-but-not-too-soft noodles and tender slices of pork.  I dont think I’ll ever be able to go back to those 25-cent packages of Top Ramen that I loved so much in college…

We ended our trip in Yaletown, for gelato and a stroll along the waterfront, then down the charming brick-lined streets.  I love this neighborhood – we’re looking forward to spending more time here next time we’re back.

And with that, it was time to hit the long dusty trail back to Seattle.  Thanks, Canada – our spirits were higher when we left than we arrived, so I’d say our little getaway was a smashing success.