Recently, I operated under the delusion that I could be one of those people who travels light. The kind who can move entire lives in an oversized van. The ones who don't accumulate much and don't feel like they're missing anything.
This evening, I'm collapsed on the couch wondering how I managed to fill a 12' moving truck with our stuff. Granted, I'm essentially moving an apartment that used to have two occupants, but still. Books and clothing, furniture and kitchenware...it's enough to embarrass me, and I'm still leaving all of the childhood memories (the schoolwork and yearbooks and well-worn stuffed animals) in my parents' garage.
I am exhausted and bone-weary. I do not want to leave my city, or my friends, or this life I've finally been cobbling back together. A thousand stupid worries stampede over my bed at night, keeping me awake: What if the neighbors are noisy, and I have to move? What if the commute is too long, and I have to move? What if this job doesn't work out, and I have to move BACK? I'm learning lately that I'm not a person who can turn off concerns like you'd extinguish a candle. My worries smolder in the fireplace. The biggest one, as always, involves leaving my friends and family behind. I'm tremendously insecure about losing friends, thanks I think to childhood traumas and adolescent ostracization. Every move scares me: maybe this will be the one. It's stupid, I know, but there it is.
I know I'll be back soon. You can't feel this strongly about a place and stay away for long, but I still leave another piece of my heart behind every damned time I go. I think it's just all happening too fast for me to feel comfortable yet. Hopefully, in a few weeks, it will be fine. For now, I just have to keep moving -- heh heh, like I have a choice.
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home. Show all posts
Monday, June 11, 2007
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Working on a post...
about women and horror films. For now, a random photo of the SAM, which re-opened yesterday in all its glory. (Bad lighting, bad!)
Favorite room? The Aboriginal Australia section, which houses a strong collection of contemporary work, video diaries from the artists, and a selection of funerary art with big, bold disclaimers stating that the exhibits were not taken without permission. Yay, SAM. Compared to the lovely British Museum ("Yes, we have your Marbles, and no, you can't have them back!"), it's refreshing. Haven't checked out other rooms to see if the claim holds true elsewhere. Also, the Jacob Lawrence exhibit is spectacular -- and I had no idea how talented his wife, Gwen Knight, was. Her portraits were superior to many other portrait painers who receive more attention, and she worked with several media throughout her career. Also loved (*loved*) the transitional Pollack piece, which sorta kinda made me want to live in that section.
Go see SAM. It is completely worth it now. Awww, our little city is growing up so fast!
Favorite room? The Aboriginal Australia section, which houses a strong collection of contemporary work, video diaries from the artists, and a selection of funerary art with big, bold disclaimers stating that the exhibits were not taken without permission. Yay, SAM. Compared to the lovely British Museum ("Yes, we have your Marbles, and no, you can't have them back!"), it's refreshing. Haven't checked out other rooms to see if the claim holds true elsewhere. Also, the Jacob Lawrence exhibit is spectacular -- and I had no idea how talented his wife, Gwen Knight, was. Her portraits were superior to many other portrait painers who receive more attention, and she worked with several media throughout her career. Also loved (*loved*) the transitional Pollack piece, which sorta kinda made me want to live in that section.
Go see SAM. It is completely worth it now. Awww, our little city is growing up so fast!
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
I never got cold wearing nothing in the snow
Can you believe this? In Seattle. In January.
At 9am, the streets were silent. Actually, silent is not the right word. They were devoid of everyday workweek sounds: rushing traffic, pulsing energy. Instead, side streets like this one became community centers, as if this modest snowstorm was our own little blackout, impelling our impersonal city to bundle up and come out to play, dressed in its brightest scarf and hat.
Everywhere I walked, throngs of children skidded past on anything slick enough to move: plastic sleds, snowboards, dinner trays. Parents formed casual phalanxes on the hilltops, using group strength to deter the occasional ambitious 4x4 driver who approached. Today, all of the streets in our neighborhood were for people. And even though you weren't here, I felt surrounded by friends.
We don't have snow like this in Seattle. Ideal snowball-snow. The satisfying, dull thock of compact powder as it strikes the alluring telephone pole, the electric stop sign. Perfect targets in a monochrome world.
Tonight, the rain returns, and great clumps of snow are plummeting from the roof as I write. The day itself was rather crap: job applications unanswered, evil British banks determined to dog me from abroad, creeping anxiety I didn't quite manage to ignore. But this morning? This morning was a gift to savor for every moment of my long, lingering walk up and down the slopes of our hill. Because for that deceptively brief stretch, I forgot that anything mattered at all.
At 9am, the streets were silent. Actually, silent is not the right word. They were devoid of everyday workweek sounds: rushing traffic, pulsing energy. Instead, side streets like this one became community centers, as if this modest snowstorm was our own little blackout, impelling our impersonal city to bundle up and come out to play, dressed in its brightest scarf and hat.
Everywhere I walked, throngs of children skidded past on anything slick enough to move: plastic sleds, snowboards, dinner trays. Parents formed casual phalanxes on the hilltops, using group strength to deter the occasional ambitious 4x4 driver who approached. Today, all of the streets in our neighborhood were for people. And even though you weren't here, I felt surrounded by friends.
We don't have snow like this in Seattle. Ideal snowball-snow. The satisfying, dull thock of compact powder as it strikes the alluring telephone pole, the electric stop sign. Perfect targets in a monochrome world.
Tonight, the rain returns, and great clumps of snow are plummeting from the roof as I write. The day itself was rather crap: job applications unanswered, evil British banks determined to dog me from abroad, creeping anxiety I didn't quite manage to ignore. But this morning? This morning was a gift to savor for every moment of my long, lingering walk up and down the slopes of our hill. Because for that deceptively brief stretch, I forgot that anything mattered at all.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Bouncing around
Ah, nothing like spending six hours in traffic getting over the pass to let you know you're back in the Northwest. We would pick the night of the major windstorm to drive to Wenatchee. Seattle streets? Not a pleasant sight in heavy rain. I'm pretty sure that the whirlpool on the corner of Corliss and 40th sucked down a bicyclist.
It took us an hour to get from Phinney Ridge to the I-90 entrance in SoDo, and then we spent an additional five hours rumbling up Snoqualmie with our new chains. Want to test the strength of your marital relationship? Try hooking up chains in freezing rain on a dark I-90 onramp, sandwiched between two snorting semis, sharing a single pair of gloves and relying on a trickle of light from one decaying flashlight. I'd also recommend letting the person with no snow driving experience remain at the helm so she can spin you halfway across the road just after you leave the summit. Hey, at least I remembered to steer with the spin in time to stop a foot away from the snow-encrusted guard rail. The guy in the SUV who blitzed past us earlier? Not so lucky. After I slowly steered the car back in the right direction, we found him facing the wrong way, up to his grill in snow. Apparently, he'd done this before: he had a shovel in his hands and was lustily working on the buried front wheels. Good to know our state has such fabulous drivers.
By the time we reached the east side, we were barely functional. We greeted our monster tortoise, who is about ready to outgrow the pen we thought capable of holding him for five years, and staggered to bed. Since then, it's been a lot of random errands, family time and job hunting. Let's not talk about that last one, mmkay?
Lots to write about regarding our L.A. adventures, but that will come soon. We're off to the west side again on Wednesday for a major basketball game, and hopefully my car won't pull any figure skating moves this time.
It took us an hour to get from Phinney Ridge to the I-90 entrance in SoDo, and then we spent an additional five hours rumbling up Snoqualmie with our new chains. Want to test the strength of your marital relationship? Try hooking up chains in freezing rain on a dark I-90 onramp, sandwiched between two snorting semis, sharing a single pair of gloves and relying on a trickle of light from one decaying flashlight. I'd also recommend letting the person with no snow driving experience remain at the helm so she can spin you halfway across the road just after you leave the summit. Hey, at least I remembered to steer with the spin in time to stop a foot away from the snow-encrusted guard rail. The guy in the SUV who blitzed past us earlier? Not so lucky. After I slowly steered the car back in the right direction, we found him facing the wrong way, up to his grill in snow. Apparently, he'd done this before: he had a shovel in his hands and was lustily working on the buried front wheels. Good to know our state has such fabulous drivers.
By the time we reached the east side, we were barely functional. We greeted our monster tortoise, who is about ready to outgrow the pen we thought capable of holding him for five years, and staggered to bed. Since then, it's been a lot of random errands, family time and job hunting. Let's not talk about that last one, mmkay?
Lots to write about regarding our L.A. adventures, but that will come soon. We're off to the west side again on Wednesday for a major basketball game, and hopefully my car won't pull any figure skating moves this time.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Meanwhile, back in my hometown...
What on earth happened? How do I always miss everything? First, I love the fact that most of my town appears to be gathered around this intersection. That there's the most exciting thing to happen since they put in that newfangled Starbucks up on the main road!
This is the highway I drove most days to get to school. The town's off in the trees, and I lived up a hill behind where the photo ends.
I'm pretty sure I know where this house is, and I'll lay you good odds that I went to school with their kids.
The river reportedly crested around 34 feet and ate most of the downtown area.
Note the "flood water area" sign. This is the second prominent photo I remember involving our signs. The first, from the big flood 10 years ago, showed a water-covered landscape with half a yellow sign poking out that said, "Warning: Flood --" Helpful, those government signs.
I used to drive this road to my volunteer jobs, although only during college -- when I graduated from the local high school in 1999, the road was *still * closed due to flood damage from 1995.
This is the highway I drove most days to get to school. The town's off in the trees, and I lived up a hill behind where the photo ends.
I'm pretty sure I know where this house is, and I'll lay you good odds that I went to school with their kids.
The river reportedly crested around 34 feet and ate most of the downtown area.
Note the "flood water area" sign. This is the second prominent photo I remember involving our signs. The first, from the big flood 10 years ago, showed a water-covered landscape with half a yellow sign poking out that said, "Warning: Flood --" Helpful, those government signs.
I used to drive this road to my volunteer jobs, although only during college -- when I graduated from the local high school in 1999, the road was *still * closed due to flood damage from 1995.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
RIP, Empty Space
I thought I was finished writing for the night, but now that I know one of my favorite theaters in Seattle is gone, I had to post. During college, I was lucky enough to see a few great shows at Empty Space, and when we lived in Fremont, we walked down to see a stunning production of 1984. This was small, independent urban theater at its finest: bold and polished with outstanding casts and a commitment to showcasing original work. ES helped keep Seattle's arts scene vibrant. A lot of small and mid-sized theaters have been struggling in recent years, and the loss of ES is a bad sign for the city. You'd think with all of the uber-wealthy people who are pouring in and making the city too expensive for the rest of us, they'd be able to support the places that made Seattle unique. Guess not.
Vaya con dios, ES. I'll miss you like hell.
Vaya con dios, ES. I'll miss you like hell.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Back in the rhythm
I've logged 40-odd miles on my bike since Monday and was actually somewhat relieved to give it to the shop yesterday for its annual inspection (file that under Things I Should Be Capable of Doing By Now). While I love riding it, my legs were starting to wonder if they'd ever be allowed to recover from the trauma of climbing Capitol Hill's backside every day. I managed to have incident-free rides the entire time, apart from one of those great drivers who slowed down and pulled across the lane into a parking space in front of me without signaling. Gotta love it.
I'm hitting all the spots I've missed since Christmas: Musashi, Agua Verde, Victrola, Pizza Pi, Piecora's, Star Life...it's pure bliss, and not something I get to do very often. I've also been walking around the neighborhood where my friend lives (Judkins Park) and enjoying it quite a bit. Much astir in my mind regarding housing, and hopefully we'll be able to get the ball rolling relatively soon.
Visited work on Wednesday and found myself missing the chaos, despite the fact that it used to drive me up the wall now and then. It was a good place to be. I hope I'm fortunate enough to find something like it again.
Now, we're off to Lummi for the annual mother-daughter retreat, and we'll be back late Monday. It is so damned good to be home. If I just had the Husband here, I'd be set for life!
I'm hitting all the spots I've missed since Christmas: Musashi, Agua Verde, Victrola, Pizza Pi, Piecora's, Star Life...it's pure bliss, and not something I get to do very often. I've also been walking around the neighborhood where my friend lives (Judkins Park) and enjoying it quite a bit. Much astir in my mind regarding housing, and hopefully we'll be able to get the ball rolling relatively soon.
Visited work on Wednesday and found myself missing the chaos, despite the fact that it used to drive me up the wall now and then. It was a good place to be. I hope I'm fortunate enough to find something like it again.
Now, we're off to Lummi for the annual mother-daughter retreat, and we'll be back late Monday. It is so damned good to be home. If I just had the Husband here, I'd be set for life!
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Goodbye, old friend
I can't believe that the Paper Cat is gone. P-Square won't be the same without this gem of a stationary shop. Robert Jamieson contributes today's eulogy.
The Paper Cat was the only stationary shop in town open past five on a Friday afternoon in December, when we were scrambling to find giftwrap for a last-minute donation to the Virginia Mason giving tree. I remember being completely enchanted as soon as I walked in the door. The atmosphere was uniquely Seattle: warm, laid-back, inviting. The shop was small but brimming with gorgeous paper, stationary and cards. I vowed I'd return in the spring to buy one of their beautiful journals...and now, it's gone. Like so many other local favorites, it fell victim to indifferent new building owners and obscene rent hikes.
Look, Seattle: I've been to Dublin. You do not want to end up like that, a soulless city that caters to tourists instead of locals. A new array of shiny buildings and expensive boutiques can't replace what we lose when we tear down the old churches, defoliate P-Square and drive out the mom-and-pop shops. For once, can't we decide that we don't want to be like everyone else? I want to come home to a city I remember.
The Paper Cat was the only stationary shop in town open past five on a Friday afternoon in December, when we were scrambling to find giftwrap for a last-minute donation to the Virginia Mason giving tree. I remember being completely enchanted as soon as I walked in the door. The atmosphere was uniquely Seattle: warm, laid-back, inviting. The shop was small but brimming with gorgeous paper, stationary and cards. I vowed I'd return in the spring to buy one of their beautiful journals...and now, it's gone. Like so many other local favorites, it fell victim to indifferent new building owners and obscene rent hikes.
Look, Seattle: I've been to Dublin. You do not want to end up like that, a soulless city that caters to tourists instead of locals. A new array of shiny buildings and expensive boutiques can't replace what we lose when we tear down the old churches, defoliate P-Square and drive out the mom-and-pop shops. For once, can't we decide that we don't want to be like everyone else? I want to come home to a city I remember.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
A mist-fine drizzle coats the sky...Dave Matthews muses on the radio...it feels almost like home today, and god, do I miss it.
I've been itching to travel for so long that I never thought I'd be so homesick once I left. Part of this has to do with the strange microcosm that is the Cambridge universe: not quite British, not quite international, a nice place to visit but a "just bigger than cow-town" village that gets stifling after a few months. Still, part of it is also the growing realization that somehow the damp and the rain and the mountains seeped into my blood until I couldn't separate from them without feeling like I'd pulled myself apart.
On sunny days, I'm transported back to the memories of spinning my wheels under blackberry cane fences on the Burke, cool breeze in my face, light and shadow turning Lake Union into a perpetually shifting tapestry. On damp afternoons, I think about curling up in our cozy Fremont apartment with a book, or nipping out to the nearby coffee shop for a drink and a few hours of tranquil studying.
It wasn't perfect or cheap, and sometimes the endless rain or the unsocial behavior drove me crazy...but it was home in a way that no place has ever been for me. Before this year, I always thought that all of my childhood relocations would numb me to future departures. Instead, I think that I finally found someplace I could settle into -- and see myself staying for good -- and I had to pry my feet from the floor at SeaTac to get on the plane.
Right now, I'm sure everyone's thinking, "What's wrong with you??? You're in Europe! I'd be thrilled to live there!"...and you're right, but at the same time, it's just not that simple. I think that the rapid-fire changes last year really threw me, and to have all of this happen at once is a bit overwhelming (marriage, move, sudden change of career plans, turn 25...). Too, I think that I'm more of a homebody than I knew...
I've been itching to travel for so long that I never thought I'd be so homesick once I left. Part of this has to do with the strange microcosm that is the Cambridge universe: not quite British, not quite international, a nice place to visit but a "just bigger than cow-town" village that gets stifling after a few months. Still, part of it is also the growing realization that somehow the damp and the rain and the mountains seeped into my blood until I couldn't separate from them without feeling like I'd pulled myself apart.
On sunny days, I'm transported back to the memories of spinning my wheels under blackberry cane fences on the Burke, cool breeze in my face, light and shadow turning Lake Union into a perpetually shifting tapestry. On damp afternoons, I think about curling up in our cozy Fremont apartment with a book, or nipping out to the nearby coffee shop for a drink and a few hours of tranquil studying.
It wasn't perfect or cheap, and sometimes the endless rain or the unsocial behavior drove me crazy...but it was home in a way that no place has ever been for me. Before this year, I always thought that all of my childhood relocations would numb me to future departures. Instead, I think that I finally found someplace I could settle into -- and see myself staying for good -- and I had to pry my feet from the floor at SeaTac to get on the plane.
Right now, I'm sure everyone's thinking, "What's wrong with you??? You're in Europe! I'd be thrilled to live there!"...and you're right, but at the same time, it's just not that simple. I think that the rapid-fire changes last year really threw me, and to have all of this happen at once is a bit overwhelming (marriage, move, sudden change of career plans, turn 25...). Too, I think that I'm more of a homebody than I knew...
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Winter views from the valley
These were taken in a wildlife refuge near my parents' house, at a lake where trumpeter swans winter each year. We spent about an hour down there one evening watching them fly in to sleep (on what apparently was the very last night evening before this record-setting run of rain).
Hometown valley at sunset
Sometimes the combination of fog and weak winter light at dusk make the valley so pale that it almost seems washed-out.
More from the same storm
These were taken just before sunset, when the rest of the sky was already darkened by storm clouds.
Double rainbow over the valley
These aren't digitally altered, and the light really did look like this.
And now, we resume our regular programming
Sorry about that...but I couldn't bring myself to blog when I was home, and I'm having a little trouble getting started here...Stupid, stupid jet lag -- who else but me could take three sleeping pills, pound a complimentary mini-bottle of wine, and STILL wind up staying awake through "In Her Shoes," "Proof" and "Dreamer"? (Look, by that last film I was getting desperate and actually thought the movie might bore me to sleep...but no, instead I managed to nod off as we prepared to land, thereby managing to sleep for all of 35 minutes.)
Anyway, wanted to post a few pics of home to let you know just why I miss it. I do actually miss the people, too, but I'd hate to put anyone's mug up here without receiving their permission to be associated with my ramblings (hey, can't be too careful after all that wiretapping nonsense -- in my case: hello, dear Gale Norton, I hear you breathing on the line. Don't you have better things to do, like become the first Secretary of the Interior to dismantle the very national park system you're supposed to protect? Or f'ing annihilate the entire Arctic in eight brief years?)
So, without further ado...
Anyway, wanted to post a few pics of home to let you know just why I miss it. I do actually miss the people, too, but I'd hate to put anyone's mug up here without receiving their permission to be associated with my ramblings (hey, can't be too careful after all that wiretapping nonsense -- in my case: hello, dear Gale Norton, I hear you breathing on the line. Don't you have better things to do, like become the first Secretary of the Interior to dismantle the very national park system you're supposed to protect? Or f'ing annihilate the entire Arctic in eight brief years?)
So, without further ado...
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Loving every minute
I wound up taking a break from everything over Christmas, including the blog. I want to spend every moment of these few precious weeks at home chilling with the family, catching up with friends and finishing my scrapbook (or trying to…)
The weather here has been nothing but typical Pac Northwest. On Christmas Eve, I awoke to the sounds of rain lashing the roof and wind sending shivers through evergreen boughs. It’s been absolutely beautiful. On more than one occasion, the sun sends inconceivably bright, amber-colored shafts between the clouds. Those rays etch the white branches of deciduous trees against the thunderheads like images on negatives. I have photos I’ll post later (the USB cord is in England). It’s going to be hard to leave again, since I’ll be away for close to a year, but I’m so grateful for the time I’ve had home between the mountains and Sound.
Coalescent Boy arrives on Friday after spending Christmas with his family in Wenatchee, and we’ll fill our last week with trips downtown to frequent familiar haunts. I’ll resume posting regularly soon – lots to write (New Year’s resolutions on the way), lots to report. Thanks for putting up with my absence!
The weather here has been nothing but typical Pac Northwest. On Christmas Eve, I awoke to the sounds of rain lashing the roof and wind sending shivers through evergreen boughs. It’s been absolutely beautiful. On more than one occasion, the sun sends inconceivably bright, amber-colored shafts between the clouds. Those rays etch the white branches of deciduous trees against the thunderheads like images on negatives. I have photos I’ll post later (the USB cord is in England). It’s going to be hard to leave again, since I’ll be away for close to a year, but I’m so grateful for the time I’ve had home between the mountains and Sound.
Coalescent Boy arrives on Friday after spending Christmas with his family in Wenatchee, and we’ll fill our last week with trips downtown to frequent familiar haunts. I’ll resume posting regularly soon – lots to write (New Year’s resolutions on the way), lots to report. Thanks for putting up with my absence!
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Sound bound
This time tomorrow, we'll be touching down in Seattle. Although I know the flight will be nine hours of sheer hell, complete with crying babies, teeth-cracking turbulence and food resembling radioactive waste, I don't care. I'm going home!!
Although, I don't know if I deserve to call it home anymore after abysmally failing my foreign flatmate's American test the other night. She's going to visit the States for the first time this summer, so on the way home from a Christmas party, she asked me a few questions. The conversation went something like this:
"So, is Los Angeles safer than New York?"
Me: "Well...um, that's a good question..." (frantic mental review of old news headlines) "I think, um, I mean, nowhere's really completely 'unsafe.' It all depends on how well you know the area..."
"What city is the best for shopping"
"..." (realization that I know nothing about shopping) "Ah, shopping. Do you mean, 'shopping' like clothes shopping? Or something else?"
"I just want to find somewhere that sells Garfield. I love Garfield!"
"Oh yeah. Garfield. Well, I think you can probably buy that anywhere..."
"And I want to find things that say 'made in America.' Everything's made where I live, and I get so disappointed. Why did I even leave?"
"Yeah, made in America..." (hating self for participating in this conversation. Had really thought she'd ask about landmarks, or food, or maybe museums...shit.) "You'll probably have to look for independent designers. But they don't even sell that stuff half the time. There is a chain called American Apparel, and they do sell things made in the US - but they're also run by a guy who appears to be a total perv, so..." (trailing off as I realize I've just managed to confuse her even more)
"So what about Stanford? Is Stanford safer than Princeton?"
"Well, it isn't cheaper! Hah hah...ha..." (suddenly decide that I need to go across the street to the nearest convenience store, where I could feasibly hide behind the upright freezers until she gives up and goes home)
So I know nothing about the country, at least nothing that anyone actually wants to learn. I also managed to get into a verbal shouting match with some uppity Irish guy last night who thought he knew more about Americans than I did, despite the fact that I AM an American and that he's been to the country once to visit somewhere like freaking Bismark, North Dakota, which hardly counts as an emblematic slice of Americana.
Anyway, uppity Irish boy decides that he can declare, with much waving of hands and sloshing of beer, that "All Americans are ignorant! Y'know wot I mean? No offense, but you just don't seem like well educated people."
I resisted the urge to ignorantly forget the laws of gravity and pour my pint in his lap. He proceeded to lecture me about Irish history, despite the fact that I'd told him, oh, a half dozen times, that I was Irish American and knew my facts fairly well..."We had a revolution, you know," he said. "Nooo," I gasped. "Did you really? And you lost, I take it?" Bad me. Bad.
At least the guy managed to insult everyone, telling my Scottish bud that Scotland wasn't a real country anyway, and being English or Scottish was the "same thing." Hell hath no fury like a Scotswoman scorned...
Before I can cause any international incidents, it's best for me to see the Northwest again. The internet service at home is still predictably tortoise-like, so I probably won't get to post until we're at my husband's house in Wenatchee next week. I promise lots of long-overdue pictures at that point.
Not much else to report here now. My entertainment value will skyrocket after a few days around friends and family. Hoorah! Seattle, here we come!!!
Although, I don't know if I deserve to call it home anymore after abysmally failing my foreign flatmate's American test the other night. She's going to visit the States for the first time this summer, so on the way home from a Christmas party, she asked me a few questions. The conversation went something like this:
"So, is Los Angeles safer than New York?"
Me: "Well...um, that's a good question..." (frantic mental review of old news headlines) "I think, um, I mean, nowhere's really completely 'unsafe.' It all depends on how well you know the area..."
"What city is the best for shopping"
"..." (realization that I know nothing about shopping) "Ah, shopping. Do you mean, 'shopping' like clothes shopping? Or something else?"
"I just want to find somewhere that sells Garfield. I love Garfield!"
"Oh yeah. Garfield. Well, I think you can probably buy that anywhere..."
"And I want to find things that say 'made in America.' Everything's made where I live, and I get so disappointed. Why did I even leave?"
"Yeah, made in America..." (hating self for participating in this conversation. Had really thought she'd ask about landmarks, or food, or maybe museums...shit.) "You'll probably have to look for independent designers. But they don't even sell that stuff half the time. There is a chain called American Apparel, and they do sell things made in the US - but they're also run by a guy who appears to be a total perv, so..." (trailing off as I realize I've just managed to confuse her even more)
"So what about Stanford? Is Stanford safer than Princeton?"
"Well, it isn't cheaper! Hah hah...ha..." (suddenly decide that I need to go across the street to the nearest convenience store, where I could feasibly hide behind the upright freezers until she gives up and goes home)
So I know nothing about the country, at least nothing that anyone actually wants to learn. I also managed to get into a verbal shouting match with some uppity Irish guy last night who thought he knew more about Americans than I did, despite the fact that I AM an American and that he's been to the country once to visit somewhere like freaking Bismark, North Dakota, which hardly counts as an emblematic slice of Americana.
Anyway, uppity Irish boy decides that he can declare, with much waving of hands and sloshing of beer, that "All Americans are ignorant! Y'know wot I mean? No offense, but you just don't seem like well educated people."
I resisted the urge to ignorantly forget the laws of gravity and pour my pint in his lap. He proceeded to lecture me about Irish history, despite the fact that I'd told him, oh, a half dozen times, that I was Irish American and knew my facts fairly well..."We had a revolution, you know," he said. "Nooo," I gasped. "Did you really? And you lost, I take it?" Bad me. Bad.
At least the guy managed to insult everyone, telling my Scottish bud that Scotland wasn't a real country anyway, and being English or Scottish was the "same thing." Hell hath no fury like a Scotswoman scorned...
Before I can cause any international incidents, it's best for me to see the Northwest again. The internet service at home is still predictably tortoise-like, so I probably won't get to post until we're at my husband's house in Wenatchee next week. I promise lots of long-overdue pictures at that point.
Not much else to report here now. My entertainment value will skyrocket after a few days around friends and family. Hoorah! Seattle, here we come!!!
Monday, September 12, 2005
More from Mount Rainier
The bumblebee triumphantly emerges from a tight fit inside a mountain flower...
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