Although the city wasn’t quite the disaster zone people had predicted, there were a couple of inches of snow on the ground by 8 am.  We were both tempted to call it a snow day and hunker down indoors, but Shane’s manager had said it was absolutely essential that he make it into the office, and I wasn’t too keen on using a vacation day to hang out at home by myself, so we boarded the ever-reliable Link Lightrail, simultaneously relieved and annoyed that getting to work wouldn’t be an issue for either one of us.

Downtown was quieter than I’ve ever seen it, with hardly any cars in sight.  The snow-laden trees and balconies gave a new vibe to the same streets I’ve walked down every day for the past several years – it was kinda magical…

I headed home a little early, instituting “snow hours” for myself at work, and settled into the couch with a hot cup of tea and a good chick flick.  Shane got home a couple hours later, and although it was dark by then, we were still eager to get out and enjoy our little winter wonderland.  We took a walk through the neighborhood, tossed a couple of snowballs at each other, and remarked over the glow of the sky and the quiet of the streets.

We were about to head inside when Shane eyed the big hill across the street from us with a mischievous grin on his face – 15 minutes later, he and our neighbor Justin were strapped into their snowboards, cruising down the road, whooping like little boys.  Justin termed it “urban snowboarding” – I like it.

Today brought more snow and icy roads.  Shane worked from home and I went into the office for a few hours, again leaving early when the City of Seattle put out a statement that commuters should try to get home before dark because of “treacherous” road conditions (“snow hours”!).  I rounded the corner when I got home to find Shane and Justin fort-building with the kids from sheets of ice that could be picked off cars – they had the start of a pretty good igloo going.

I know it’s Frugal January, and I know we said we wouldn’t eat out this month, but something about a snow day makes you feel like breaking the rules, so we asked Jack and La Verne (fellow frugal-ites) if they’d be up for making the trek over to Tutta Bella for a pizza dinner.  They agreed with minimal (errrr…no) arm-twisting, so Shane and I bundled up and walked down to Rainier Avenue to meet up with them.

And, wow, it was worth it.  We justified the evening by ordering off the happy hour menu (these pizzas are not quite so giant as they look) and reveling in just how good it felt to be “out”.  Turns out that a Tutta Bella dinner is a sure-fire cure for cabin fever!

It’s another cold night out there, and we continue to be so thankful for our warm home and steady supply of hot chocolate and fresh-baked muffins.  Tomorrow things should start getting back to normal, with warmer temperatures in the forecast.  I’ll be kind of sad to see this crazy weather come to an end – the playful afternoons and cozy evenings have added some variety to the seemingly loooooong Seattle winters.  Now if only I could afford to take up “rain hours”, life would be so much sweeter…

We ended the day with a hot pot dinner at Jack and La Verne’s – a January tradition I’ve come to associate with so much warmth and laughter and fellowship – a good-for-my-soul kind of meal for a good-for-my-soul kind of weekend.

We made one minor modification this time around and changed our “post-fondue 5k” to a “pre-fondue 5k”, so the festivities kicked off yesterday morning, when the tried and true met at Seward Park and set off on our 3-mile loop.  The guys left La Verne and I in their dust, but we were alright with that, as we enjoyed a good chat on our leisurely jog.  We spent awhile goofing off at the beach after the run with some photo silliness (we have all decided that Jack’s should win an award for his in-air camera poses), and then headed over to Empire Espresso to kick off our day-long calorie-fest with lattes and waffles.

(photo by Jack)

After a lazy afternoon, we gussied up and headed over to Jack and La Verne’s for the big party.  Shane and I took part in a friendly dual with Jason and Nance over who could make the more exquisite cheese fondue, and after much banter and taste-testing, we ultimately decided to call it a tie.  It’s tough to be super-discerning when you’re giddy with the goodness of wine-infused melted cheese.  However, Jason wins hands-down for best pose for a fondue ad – he could be Gruyere’s poster-child with a gaze like this…

or not…

The evening was pure bliss, full of so much food, drink, and laughter.

The fondue party wouldn’t be complete without our annual white elephant gift exchange.  There are a couple of particularly desirable gifts that pop up year after year – like this crystal-framed kinda-scary photo of Lee.  Jason is laughing on the outside, but inside he’s thinking, “Crap.  Where can I stash this for a year?”

Our active rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas is another old favorite.  Jack kept his role as the guitar-playing “goose a-laying”, and Daniel killed it with his improv version of the “Piper Piping”.

We ended the night with a little Kinect dance party, and finally made our way home just as the cheese-and-chocolate coma began to set in.  What a night…  Cheers, friends – already looking forward to next year.

(photos by La Verne)

I can’t ever get enough of these gals, which is why I proposed a little a getaway sans husbands to Nancy and La V a few weeks ago. It took all of three seconds to convince them we were due for a night away together, and so we promptly booked a room at the Willows Lodge in Woodinville, scheduled our massages, packed our bags with chick flicks and nail polish and junk food, and yesterday at noon, we were off. It. was. heaven. From the minute we set foot in our room and watched Nancy take a flying leap onto one of the big, fluffy beds, we knew we were in for something good. I think we would have been happy just to put our pajamas on mid-afternoon and hole up for the next 24 hours, but we all had appointments at the lodge’s spa, so we headed back out for our massages and a good, long soak in the whirlpool. Feeling super-relaxed and sufficiently prune-like, we headed back to the room, again thinking we’d be happy to put our pajamas on and call it a night, but instead decided to head down to the hotel bar, where we enjoyed a light dinner, fire-side. The rest of the night was filled with pedicures, Reese’s peanut butter cups, and chick flicks back at the room. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night – could have been the massage, or it could have been Ryan Gosling’s performance in The Notebook, but I’m pretty sure it was actually the time with my girls that had me so giddy. This morning was full of more lazy goodness, with breakfast in bed while we watched Little Women, thoughtfully debating which March sister each of us resembled the most, but ultimately deciding it didn’t matter- we really just wanted to end up with Laurie. Check-out time was at noon, and we grudgingly rolled our bags out the door at 12:01, feeling a little bummed that our epic little getaway had come to an end, but certain that there would be more of these in the future.

Our mighty lumberjacks chopped down the trees and we headed to the entrance to get them baled and sip our cider. See that little Honda Civic in the background with the tree perched precariously on its roof? Yeah, that’s us, and it was a slow drive home…

And now here I sit by the light of the tree, glass of egg nog in hand and Sufjan’s Christmas album playing on the stereo, and I am so full of thanks – for good friends, for our cozy home, for the Northwest’s natural beauty, and most of all, for the true reason behind this Advent season. God is good.

With our trip to France just a few days away, I’ve dusted off the old French workbook and have been spending my evenings making use of my Rosetta Stone access pass. And holy cow, I’ve fallen way off the wagon. I’m slowly picking things back up, but there have been bouts of shouting with the computer during the speaking portion of the lessons, when the computer rejects my pronunciation and I yell ‘Ecoutez-moi! That’s what I said!’. Yes, I certainly won’t be chatting it up with any Frenchies in their native tongue while on our trip, but I do intend to order our carafe of wine in French. And maybe catch a snippet or two of conversation from the table next to us. And I’ve made certain that I can say ‘Un pain au chocolat, s’il vous plait’ flawlessly. What else does one need, really?

Lava Gardner and Franklin Vinatra were far too classy to arouse even the slightest suspicion…

But maybe it had something to do with Gene Martin’s shady mob connections?

And what was up with Grant Cary and Lauren Sophia sneaking upstairs when no one was looking?  My lips are sealed (although don’t let Jordan’s aka Marlo Brandon’s kind eyes fool you for a second…).

Once the mystery was solved, we were free to transition back into our naturally nutty selves.  The rest of the night was spent eating, drinking, laughing, and toasting to Jordan and Bees, whose absence from the gang will be strongly felt as they’re off romping though Europe and Asia.

It was certainly a night to remember.  I won’t deny that we’re kind of an odd bunch, but damn, we know how to throw a party.

(photo by Daniel)

We spent Saturday evening out on Vashon Island, eating ourselves silly at Jack and La Verne’s garden dinner party, hosted by Michelle’s grandparents.  I could not have picked a better spot to enjoy a meal on one of the warmest days of the season – island living is so, so good.

The boys played on the lawn, chasing each other in circles and making me question our ‘urban dream’ – these wide open spaces are feelin’ pretty, pretty dreamy…

And seriously, is there anything that screams summertime more than an adorable dirt-caked face?

And the food, oooooohhhh, the food.  We always know we’re in for a treat when Jack and LaV are planning the menu, and they brought their A+ game to the table that night.  We started with perfect little cups of spicy gazpacho, and then feasted on prosciutto-wrapped figs, corn fresh from the garden, grilled steaks topped with fig-bacon marmalade, and rich chocolate cake for dessert (notice there are no photos of food after the gazpacho rolled out, since I was too busy stuffing my face with all that summery goodness to pick up my camera…).

We sat around the table in the middle of the yard and ate, and laughed, and drank wine, and soaked in the bliss that is a summer evening with good friends.  La Verne made the comment as we were driving home that evening that no matter how much time we all spend together, she never seems to get sick of any of us.  Ditto, girl…

Far too soon, it was time to catch our ferry back to Seattle.  As sad as I was to bid farewell to the island, I still left with a smile on my face, knowing that meal would go down in the books as the ultimate summer-time feast of 2011.

We were up early on Sunday morning to cheer on Jack, Jason, and Ben at the Mercer Island triathlon.  Again, more sunshine, more lounging on the grass, and, as a post-race treat, brunch out on the patio at Bennett’s (if I keep eating like this, I’m going to have to actually sign up for one of these races…).

(photo from la verne)

I set up camp on our back porch on Sunday afternoon with my book, knowing I won’t have many more chances to keep up the slight tan I’ve worked so hard for.  I suspect that in the not-too-distant future, I will already have forgotten what it feels like to actually be hot.  So when I do forget, I can look back and remind myself:  it feels dang good.

I tagged along with Shane and Jason as they played a round of frisbee golf later in the afternoon and then, determined to maximize our outdoor-hours, Shane and I grabbed dinner on the patio of a little Mexican restaurant in West Seattle.  Jumbo margaritas, anyone?

And with that, our weekend summer-fest came to a close.  Today I awoke to gray skies and didn’t once reach for my sunglasses or even think about taking off my long-sleeved cardigan.  Ah, well, it was a heck of a ride while it lasted…

We were up early on Saturday to grab breakfast in Lake Oswego and then head to Portland, to hit the famous Saturday Farmers Market that fills the Park Blocks.   Agenda: check out the food stands, lay on the grass, and grab a weekend supply of fresh fruit.

The nectarines were ripe and juicy – like summer wrapped up in a pretty, round, red-orange package.  And the raspberries…O.M.G.

The market’s entertainment offerings weren’t bad either – the Rust boys were entranced by a man playing the didgeridoo – if only I had a video of the way little G was stomping along to the music…

After the farmers market (and a quick stop at Barista – so, so good), we headed back to the house and spent the rest of the afternoon swimming, sunning, and making sure our runners were hydrating and carbo-loading with cold beer and home-made pizza.  The daredevils decided to use the second story porch as a launch pad into the river – Jack takes the prize for ‘best kung-fu dive’.

And Nancy easily won ‘smallest splash’.

As we all gathered on the deck to watch the sun go down, I was struck by how much I have to be thankful for – good friends, good food, and such a good, good life in the Pacific Northwest…

And good God, 10 hours later, I was up to see the runners off and watch the sun come up!  5:30 is way earlier than I’d ever choose to wake up on a Sunday morning, but this sky almost made it worth it.

A couple hours after our seven half-marathoners hit the road, the cheering squad set out for the finish line, ready with signs and grins and plenty of ‘wooooo-woooooo’s!”.  The runners had registered together for the race under the team name, ‘tuna kambia’, which means ‘we are running’ in Swahili.

And indeed, they were running.  Ten minutes before we expected to greet any of our friends at the finish line, Jason appeared on the horizon.  This man has a gift – he’ll swear he’s never been a long-distance runner, and yet he ran 13.2 miles in 1 hour and 35 minutes.  Insane!

Chris finished just a few minutes behind Jason, and then Shane trotted by, a tired-but-proud smile on his face.

Jack, Megan, Brian, and Nicole weren’t far behind.  Everyone ran a really stellar race, and there were high-fives and sweaty hugs all around.  It’s not entirely surprising that while most of the runners rejoined the rest of us with a water bottle in hand, Jack appeared out of nowhere carrying a glass of Rose.  He’s been telling Shane for years that studies have shown that the best way to re-hydrate after a run is with a pint of beer, and so I don’t doubt he’ll soon be be singing the praises of wine’s post-exercise restorative properties.

So proud of them all!

After a few visits to the wine-tasting booths that had set up shop near the finish line, we decided to head back toward the house.  But first, one short-but-essential pit-stop:

We had been wanting to checkout Winderlea Winery for awhile – we tried to visit this place when we visited Oregon wine country with Jack and La Verne last summer and were bummed to find that it was closed for a private event.  But this time, we made sure we were the first ones in the door – we gathered around the big table and began to watch the Pinot flow.

The wines were tasty, the setting was gorgeous, and everyone was just so…merry.

Although I could have spent all day sipping and sunning on the winery’s patio, the runners were tired and hungry (and in need of showers…), and so we headed back to the house for an afternoon of swimming, lounging, eating, drinking, swimming, lounging, eating, drinking, and so on.  That day will go down as one of my favorite days of this summer.

And just when the day felt like it couldn’t have gotten any better, Jack busted out this:

Yes, that’s a 3-liter bottle of wine.  When Jack uncorked it, I thought, ‘There’s no way we’ll finish that thing.’  I was wrong.  The rest of the night was spent stuffing ourselves on homemade chili verde, followed by roasted marshmallows for dessert.  We were one tired, fat, happy group by the time bedtime rolled around.

On Monday morning it was time to bid a sad farewell to our riverside home.  We ate a killer home-cooked breakfast together (seriously, our friends don’t mess around when it comes to eating), I soaked in the view from the deck one last time, Shane enjoyed a few more minutes of quality time with little Zebo.

And then we said our good-byes, not wanting to believe that the weekend was really over.  Life on the water was so good while it lasted…

Saturday was spent dawdling around Portland with the kids. We enjoyed a stroll down Alberta street and then popped into Helser’s for lunch. We waited longer than we expected for our food, but both girls were pleasantly patient – Elise was happy to color, and Morgan was happy to chew on Mitch’s keys (hey, whatever works…). And I embraced the opportunity to be in a restaurant and photograph something other than food (although my fluffy peach-laden German pancake was awfully pretty…).

After lunch and nap time and a number of persistent requests from Elise, my mom and I walked her over to the neighborhood park late in the afternoon. Temperatures were pushing 85 degrees, which is a bit of a heatwave for us Northwesterners, and so conditions were ideal for splashing around in the little water park. Mom and I sat on a bench and watched as Elise frolicked through the fountains, filling up her little plastic cups with water and then dumping them on the ground over and over and over (kids have the oddest forms of self-entertainment). Then we pushed her on the swings, teeter-tottered for awhile, and eventually let that little bundle of 3 year-old energy wear us out, before heading back to the house for dinner.

Friday evening and Saturday morning were full of mellow family-time at home. There’s so much joy to be found just in sitting on the couch and reading a book to Elise, or laying on the floor with Morgan while she giggles and chews on whatever toy she has at hand. She is quite possibly the sweetest baby in the entire history of babies. She smiles and cuddles without limit – one look from her and you will feel like the sun has changed its course to shine directly on you. I find myself surprised by how much I have come to adore these girls; I knew that being an auntie is a special thing, but I don’t think I realized my heart’s capacity for loving these little people that I only see every couple of months and that are just coming to know me.

And with one last round of hugs, it was time for me to hit the long, dusty trail back to Seattle. These dang good-byes just keep getting harder and harder…