Craving

I dropped my french friend off in downtown Seattle today, and when driving back to the freeway I experienced one of those moments when everything takes on sharper edges. It was as though the ripe July sunshine suddenly picked up every nuance that's normally blurred away in the overcast, and I remembered just how many people there are in the world, and just how many stories, and just how many wishes and hopes and disappointments and secrets.

I saw an overweight woman trip, and as her friends hurried to stabilize her, her expression indicated that it was a much bigger defeat than just a momentary stumble.

I saw a couple sitting on a wall's ledge in the shade, both in black, and the man had his bald head resting in the crook of the woman's shoulder and neck. He looked tired, and sad, and deeply contented.

I saw a young black man with aviator shades do a hip-hop move in the sunshine and then relax into a shaking of arms and legs. He looked bored, lazy and relaxed in the sun, but ready, his body taut with unspent energy. The wing tattoo on his deltoid moved, but not to movement.

I saw hobos arguing over a panhandling spot. The one with the perfectly lettered sign won; the other trudged off with a limp and eyes that were too squinted for expression.

And I wanted to get lost. Seattle's familiarity, which I normally cherish, suddenly seemed suffocating. I didn't want to be in a city that had no more hidden corners, that was all under the sunlight. I wanted to be drifting. I wanted to be driving down a desert freeway at 110 mph, the map thrown out the window. I wanted a near miss, and then a direct hit. I wanted to be turned inside out, and feel a shiver of the spine. I feel a restless ache of imagination, and I suddenly wished to be hidden, to be flying, to be in a tree, or in a canoe, or simply falling.

I have wings hidden underneath the skin of my arms and they itch for reaching.

Just a Bike Ride

Every once in a while I'm in the mood to-- what do they call it?-- work OUT. My muscles start getting an itchy feeling, and the only response is a big walk or a bike ride or-- if I'm feeling TRULY ambitious-- a run.

Today it was a bike ride.

Ironic twist of fate: I have TONS of hard core work-out clothes from when I worked at my running shoe company, but I never wear them when I actually work out. Why? Because people look at me and think that I'm going to be completely hard core. Once an old man stopped his bike next to me at an intersection. I was wearing my "Canada" technical tee, Brooks running shoes, and Brooks pants. "Did you come down from Canada just to ride this trail?" he asked.
I laughed. "No! I'm from here."
"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Are you riding all the way to the end?"
"No!" I said again. "Just-- home. Which is like, three miles away."
"Oh," he said, disappointed again. Then the light turned green, and he blitzed by me.

I've learned to wear cotton on my bike rides.

All this meant, however, that I had no fancy hidden pocket to stick my i-pod in. I tried first jerry-rigging it by putting it in a sock that I wrapped around the handle-bars, but that didn't work, and then I just held it, and that didn't work, and then I stuck it in my sports bra.

Anyway. The great part of the ride started when I was actually stopped, at Gasworks park-- one of my favorite spots in Seattle.


I saw a man flying his kite, and it fell. He tried to loft it himself, but it wasn't working, so I hopped over and helped him and that made me happy. Then it fell again, and I helped him again, and I felt happier.

As I was leaving, I spotted JOUSTING. I found men wearing silver armor, with shields and swords, and they were jousting with a jousting referee!!


That was hilarious, obviously, and also made me happy.

I began riding home, and saw blooms on the blackberry bushes, which means there will be blackberries soon. I saw a girl walking along and thought of my kids' Positive Propaganda Projects and hollered, "Have a GREAT day!"

I passed UW and decided to ride up to the fountain and smell the roses. They were ALL in bloom-- it was incredible!


I smelled about ten of them, and one fushia colored rose had the most incredible scent. I saw an old man sitting by himself and plucked one of the roses, hopped over the little hedge rose-garden-protector and gave it to him. "Here!" I said happily. "This is for you. It smells amazing!"

And then I got on my bike and rode off and felt sort of giddy.

I saw another girl walking and yelled, "You are lovely!" and I saw a little boy riding his bike on two wheels and called, "Good JOB!" I smiled at everyone, and loved the trees, and loved the flowers, and loved the overcast sky. I waved at people on their "Ride the Ducks" tours and they all waved back.


It was a very happy bike ride.

And now I am showered, and in a new sweatshirt that's just a little too big, and I'm just a little bit sleepy, and thinking that I ought to-- perhaps-- rev up the endorphins a little more often.

Making people happy is the happiest thing to do. I bet my students would be proud of me. :)

If I Was a Vampire, Things Would Be Different

This Seattle sunshine is killing me.

All I want to do is go OUT in it, and PLAY in it, and find a swing to SWING in it, and ride my BIKE in it.

And I have so.

Much.

HOMEWORK.

I'm playing serious catch-up after Nashville, and more than anything, I need to be diligent and productive, and... and...

Not spending five minutes gazing longingly out the window. This kind of weather in February is unbelievable!! I CAN'T, I just CANNOT let slip by me unappreciated.

This may be too much for me. I'll remember the bike-ride more than the online discussion posts, right...?

The Good Things

Last night, I had two dinners. The first was steak, baked potato, and corn with Grandpa. I'd remembered earlier in the day that I'd had dinner plans, but when I mentioned that to Gramps, he looked at me and said, "Well. I've already gotten out the steaks." I didn't have the heart to NOT eat dinner with Gramps-- especially the night before he was leaving for a big trip, so I ate First Dinner and we chatted.

And then I went to Keith's for Second Dinner, which happened to be Breakfast. Cam rolled in shortly after, and Cam gave me one of the best, longest hugs: Cameron gives GREAT hugs. Shay, Keith's 90 lb. Bull Mastiff, made her presence known first in Keith's arms, then on Cameron's chest, then under all our respective hands. Mary blew in: glamorous, cloaked, blonde, with offerings of turkey breakfast meats. Matt was next with two freshly baked coffee cakes: one which had been done just right, the other which had alarmingly domed up about 4" above the pan. Then my old friend Aaron and his new girlfriend Katherine arrived, who I've been dying to meet. Their contribution: a magnificent quiche, pulled out of a pizza box carrier, like a rabbit from a hat. Last was Mark, fresh off the mountain with stories of the day's skiing exploits, and with two giant bottles of alcohol for Blood Marys.

We nibbled and drank and chopped and mixed and prepared; Keith cracked 24 eggs, and at least two of them were split PERFECTLY down the middle. Mary made gut-buster pancakes, the biggest of which had cooled into a yarmulke-shaped dome. I put it on my head, and then stuck the rose in my hair on top of the pancake. Following the others' instructions, I sat down on the floor to tempt Shay, and she downed the garnish as well as the dish: gobbling up the rose and pancake off my head while I yelped and shrieked and laughed.

We listened to Ryan Adams, and the Kings of Leon, and the Cold War Kids, and Tom Petty, and so many others. Katherine and I bonded over protesting the stories that Aaron had told us about one another. ("You told her the motorcycle guy story?? Why would you tell her that?! I can't even believe I told YOU that!") When I heard David After Dentist roaring bloody murder from Keith's room, we all crowded in there and watched the poor kid reel ("Will this be FOREVER?"), and then watched the Japanese Sauna Prank, and then watched Ellen call Gladys. It's so much funnier watching those videos with a group of people-- we were rolling!

Played a game that involved yelling and guessing and hilarity and fierce competition. Katherine-- who had started the night out relatively quietly-- led the competitive trash talking. I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard-- I was holding my stomach, we were RIDICULOUS.

Then we somehow we segued into a talk about theology, which was intellectual, and interesting, and controversial, and impassioned, and at last, rhapsodic. The froth of the earlier silliness buoyed us into a place of greater depth where we then all knit ourselves together in deep conversation and questions.

And finally, at 1AM, I went home. Still giggling; still warmed and enriched by the conversation about God; still full from my two dinners. And so THANKFUL for a night and for friendships like those.

This morning, I dropped Grandpa off at the airport: he's off to take a train across Canada with one of his old college buddies. I hugged him goodbye and he grinned, and he looked so darling with his backpack on and his rolly-suitcase. And I drove home as the Seattle fog lifted, and Rainier emerged, and then the Cascades, and the Olympics, and I thought of how much I love this city. And I thought of my students, and how they've shown me such a more enriched picture of Seattle, and I loved them. And I listened to "Sunday Brunch" on the Mountain radio station, and they played acoustic, folksy songs that I love, and one of them reminded me of someone from the past, and I thought of him, and I hoped for GOOD THINGS for him. I thought of God, and the way I'd discovered Him last night, and I felt warm, and happy.

I felt SO HAPPY.

And that is really just the point of this post: life is GOOD right now. Grad school is easier this quarter, and my students are some of the best people to SEE every day, and I have friends that make me LAUGH, and that make me think, and that care about the world... I'm seeing Annie in only a FEW DAYS, and Grandpa is darling, and God is BIG around my heart, and I just feel HAPPY.

I just feel really HAPPY!

How To Attend Your Internet Classes on a Gloriously Sunny Day:

1.) Go outside with laptop, lunch, water bottle, and fleece blanket.
2.) Spread fleece blanket on ground.
3.) Sprawl.
4.) Open laptop. Find that the sun prevents you from being able to see the screen.
5.) Pick up laptop, lunch, water bottle, and fleece blanket, and move everything close to the shade.
6.) Put laptop in the shade. Arrange everything else so that it's still in the sun.
7.) Sprawl.
8.) Check internet connection. Find that you've only got one bar.
9.) Try it anyway.
10.) Wait.
11.) Consider other options.
12.) Pick up laptop, lunch, water bottle, and fleece blanket; go inside.
13.) Go upstairs.
14.) Go out on Grandpa's balcony.
15.) Set laptop on wide wooden railing; check connection.
16.) Find that you have a strong signal.
17.) Fist pump.
18.) Try to arrange fleece blanket in tent formation around screen to enable viewing.
19.) View floppy tent formation with skepticism. Consider other options.
20.) Go down to basement.
21.) Find large box.
22.) Bring upstairs and out onto Grandpa's balcony.
23.) Place box around laptop.
24.) View screen easily with brand new woman-made shade.
25.) Fist pump.
26.) Go get chair to complete outdoor desk set-up.
27.) Bask:

28.) Enjoy:

29.) Start on homework.
30.) But first, procrastinate by blogging.

Returning

I'm at this bustling, sunny, warm Queen Anne cafe right now-- achieving splendid success in my first grad school attempt at procrastinating. I was worried I might have lost the knack since being an under grad... But no. Still got it. Got it strong. Live strong. Like Lance.

Let me tell you something.

I have seen so many things over the past five weeks. You've seen them-- you've been looking at this blog. Heidi and I have clambered over mountain tops, we've slept on racing trains, we've roasted on Italian cliffs, we've gorged ourselves on the finest French delicacies, we've danced until dawn in small Irish towns, and we've guessed and soared and laughed and wondered and wept and sighed.

And now I am home... I am back to what is, supposedly, familiar. I honestly hadn't given "home"-- in the SEATTLE sense-- much thought. I thought of my family, I thought of grad school. I didn't picture what it would be like. I didn't consider whether or not returning would be good or bad or beautiful or new. I just thought, "HOME NOW, HERE WE GO." Better ramp up. Here we go.

This is what it is like:
I rode my bike to school yesterday, and I rode it home. I passed happy, fit Seattleites on the trail-- I was greeted by them and congratulated on the mutual enjoyment of the warm weather. I crossed the Fremont bridge and took in a big breath of water mountain view. I smelled the coming black-berries and remembered discovering that smell last year, and the huge host of sentiments attached to it. I realized that I've been BACK, in Seattle, for a year. I rode my bike, and I LIKED riding my bike, and I liked thinking of myself as a bicycle commuter, because that is what happy fit environmental Seattleites do, we ride bikes, and I was riding my bike, and I was in THIS culture, and I knew that I was a successful person in THIS culture, because I was Burke-Gilmaning.

This afternoon, I am in this sunny cafe, and there are "Adam" comic strips on the cafe wall because the comic that writes "Adam" comes here to drink coffee. I am drinking a macchiato, which is similar to the tiny espresso shots that Heidi and I drank in Europe, but it's stronger, because Seattlites have attitude about espresso and we like to be the toughest, most resilient coffee drinkers ever. This is MY culture-- these are MY people. There are people sitting outside in the adirondack chairs, because it's a sunny day, AND YOU DON'T WASTE THAT.

It's so heart-warmingly familiar.

I'm in school again, and I'm stressed again, and I have homework again. I have books to read, and skills to prove. This too, is familiar, and I love it. I love having my brain stuffed for six hours, and then leaving for some sweet Seattle spot to stuff in some more on my own. I love the intake-- I love returning to this. I haven't been a student for two years. I haven't been a Seattleite for five weeks. I'm back in both, and it's like returning to a hug.

It's such a surprise. I'd forgotten. I hadn't expected. I LOVE this. I do miss the traveling-- especially in the worst school moments when everything is crashing on my head-- but I'm blown away by how much I love what I've come back to. I didn't even do the reflection/analyzation that I usually do either! This warmth has totally snuck up on me-- like a friend holding a flower behind his back and then producing it with a grin and a flourish. See?? Like it?? And I do.

Circumstances are not easy-- I didn't return home to the lowest branch on the tree, I have a daunting climb ahead of me this year-- both in the personal and intellectual spheres. But there is warmth and familiarity and loveliness to cushion the difficulties. I'm so thankful for that.

This is MY culture. This is MY place. This is something new, and it's something I know so well. This is what's ahead of me. This is what I get to embrace.