Constantly unfolding

Keeping busy is the name of the game these days, so I'm taking photography classes next month and starting a shoreline naturalist training program a little later. Not a lot else going on, but these did show up at work a few days ago:


He's a very smart boy. Not only are these flowers beautiful (and fragrant), but they're also sustainably harvested:


We aren't usually big on Valentine's Day, but this year I couldn't wait for a little bit of romance. Flowers and gifts do make a difference sometimes, especially when you know they put some thought into the why of the gift.


I've also discovered that we're a source of inspiration, which anyone who knows us should find unsettling. The maniacs wreaking havoc at Crate and Barrel? Inspiring? But I've had several friends tell me recently that whenever they're despairing over their LDRs, all they have to do is think of us. Presto! Instant mood elevator. Sure, this sucks, but at least we're not Eco and CB! These friends have spurred me to set a new goal: find a friend whose partner is even further away, ideally in a country where U.S. citizens can't enter legally.

Hmmm. Anybody know any couples separated by an ocean or two for at least three years?

I'll be right beside you, dear

So, how did that last night go?


That was the view from our hotel window, with lighting assistance from Picasa (thanks to Joanium for turning me onto the program). When I opened the door, CB went straight to the view; for two hours, we sat in front of the window as gulls swept past, their wingtips nearly caressing the glass. You live here long enough and almost fail to notice how beautiful it is. I remember now.

Dinner was amazing. We found a quiet Italian bistro tucked into a corner of Pike Place. On a snowy weeknight, the half-empty restaurant became a perfect place for lingering glances and easy conversation.


The next morning, as we sat at the window of a cafe across from the Market, I realized I hadn't let it hit me yet. It was just what I hoped I'd be able to say.

Jingle my bells, baby

I am so excited. For the first time, I actually was able to buy CB a "real" (e.g., something I know he'd want) present. I saved the dregs of my grad school stipend from the final term, which gave me enough to spring for a pair of tickets to a big-deal UW game that's happening over the break. Since it's our last long period of time together for awhile, I wanted to do some things that he'd remember -- and seeing our current b-ball roster play a top-10 team is about as good as it gets for him.

Alas, since he's my wheels this vacation, I had to tell him early...but I'm pretty sure he doesn't mind. ;) I just found out that the tickets arrived at home, safe and sound. Now, all I have to do is hope we don't have any more freak snowstorms on game day. 'Cause I would be leading a frontal assault over the Cascades to get us there by hiking trails, and I'm not too keen on getting my game gear all frosty.

One more from the Christmas dinner

How can you not love that face??

Feels like home to me

We're celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow, since we had a longstanding, unavoidable conflict this evening (and who really wants to eat their biscuits at 10pm with bike grease on their fingers after a maintenance class?). I'm actually attempting to cook almost everything from scratch: the cranberry sauce, the biscuits, the rosemary and olive oil-drizzled potato medley, and the veg. We gave up and purchased a nut loaf, although now we're both wishing we'd just tried making it, too. Then again, our oven is very willing but also the size of a breadloaf. Hence, we're already demanding more of it than we should.

This is the first Thanksgiving that CB and I get to celebrate together, snug under the roof of our little apartment, sharing food and enjoying the peace. I can't imagine a better way to spend the day. We will not think about how it is also the last Thanksgiving we'll share for a couple of years. Or at least, I will attribute my misty eyes to onions.

Someday, some year, we'll all be under the same roof for Thanksgiving. Until then, to my family on the west side and my family on the east, and to all of our friends in your myriad places, have a peaceful day.

Halloween Showdown

Overheard on the living room floor tonight:

Me: "So, you've never carved a pumpkin with official pumkin carving tools?"
CB: "Nope."
"Well, I guess you're at an advantage. Do you think I could use this short knife as a scraper?"
"A what?"
"You know, to scrape away the skin so parts glow."
"Oh, erm, sure."
"It's okay. All in fun, remember? It's not like we're having a contest."

Figuring that whatever I made would impress him, I set to work on a bird. Arguably, it is meant to be an English robin, but you try making one of those when all you have is a stubby knife and a potato peeler. A short time later, I showed CB my finished product:

For the record, I actually felt quite happy with my bird, considering I had not carved a pumpkin since sometime in high school. Meanwhile, CB fiddled in the corner, intent on his design, refusing to let me see. Finally, he finished and with one casual turn of the squash in my direction, he revealed my bird for what it was: a valiant effort by someone with the carving skills of a five year-old.

I looked at my pudgy bird as my artistic spirit shriveled.

"How the hell did you do that?"
CB, shrugging: "I'm good with geometric figures."

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Or not. Here's the latest sonnet from a personal poet:

"You're like, fuckin' Cinderella an' shit."

I guess I deserve it for being daft enough to talk to wood mice.

And now for a happy interlude

I've been a bit too caught up in self-pity lately to report glad tidings and the reason for the big grins above: the spectacular Coalescent Boy received word that his funding came through for the rest of his PhD.

CB is possibly the one reason I'm still standing right now. As the year's progressed, I've found that, more and more often, he's the one who always seems to know what to say when I'm down -- or, if he doesn't know, he still senses what not to say, or what gesture would be just enough to make me feel like smiling. Even when I'm at my worst, he always listens to the grumbling, the crying, the bitching. It's been almost three years since we started dating, and every day the way I feel about him becomes more integral to who I am.

I always shied away from the idea that it was a good thing to make someone part of you, because somehow I associated that with relinquishing my identity, or at least subsuming my life to someone else's. Instead, I've learned that he makes me more of a person. Better. Happier. Braver. Still me, but somehow new and improved.

Congrats again, mi amor. This hasn't been the easiest year, but there's still nowhere else I'd rather be.

Reaffirming the suspicion that men are evil

See this face? This is the Face of Panic, captured for all posterity so I can look back and remember the very moment when my hair began graying and my skin began wrinkling. Note the wide eyes, the deceptive smile (or is that an impending twitch?). Thank you, oh graduate school, for making this opportunity possible.



The Face o' Panic reached a new stage of alarm earlier this week when it learned that Ndugu, Disgruntled Tort extraordinnaire, has morphed into Ndugu, Disgruntled Tort Who Weighs Nearly a Kilogram. He knows he's not supposed to get bigger until we can afford to buy a new house in Seattle (oops, make that slightly used recycling bin, with housing prices climbing and all). Sure, he looks small in this photo, but this was before the impressive 200+ gram weight gain.


Just when the Face thought it could relax, a new reason for dismay arose, on her damn birthday no less (which is itself a cause for Dismay, thanks to the many, many people out there who still think the "quarter of a century" remark is somehow amusing). This, oh women of the world, is the husband. Sure, he looks innocent enough, but thanks to a mishap with some pasta sauce earlier, he is wearing MY DAMNED JEANS...and they fit him better than me.



Seriously. Can you blame the Face if it's a little perturbed by the cruelties of life?

Trekking up to Bellingham

Enjoying the late summer sun along Bellingham's marina.

FH and I at the summit of the Skyline Trail.