Life's Detours

En route to Cannon Beach this weekend, I made a slight detour through Vancouver, WA to see a very dear and wonderful friend of mine.  It's been quite a while since we've gotten together so I take every chance I get to see her.  As luck would have it, she was at her folk's house for the weekend, making full use of the pool.  Coming unprepared for a pool party, Kirby quickly outfitted me with a bikini and sun dress and I was set for an afternoon of sunbathing and splish-splashing.

As I drove away from MK's en route to see EJ, I thought how lovely if, on the road of life, all detours led to pool parties, with great friends, good laughs, and a little bit of sunshine.  And then I thought about it more and decided, that most of my life's detours usually have at least those things (except the pool bit) and how very very lucky I am.  Hope your detours are much the same.

Heat Wave

Seattle saw the first of it's heat waves, where temperatures reached into the mid 90s.  For us temperate bunch, this can be rather uncomfortable.  Having been raised in a household with air-conditioning, I rarely fall victim to the heat as I can cozy up under my down comforter in bed as the air-conditioner hums away.  However, as luck would have it, I spent that blistering week housesitting in West Seattle, were the master suite was equipped with 2 life-saving essentials: a giant soaking tub for ice baths and a window fan.  As the heat index rose, I did everything I could to soak up the sun while taking breaks to keep cool and refilling my cup with a variety of ice cold beverages.  I sunbathed and then took ice baths.  I sun bathed and drove to destinations with the AC up (and maybe the sunroof was open). It all looked a little something like this:

It got so hot even Max was trying his darnedest to stay cool.  

When I walked into the house on the last day of the heat wave I gave my dad a hug and he asks, "What the best thing about this moment."  I replied, "The air-conditioning."  He chuckled, "Yep, worth every penny."

Fire Mistress and S'mores

BBQ Round 2 was in West Seattle, where Nate and Melissa hosted quite the shindig to officially welcome summer on July 5th. At the end of the night we gathered around the fire pit and made s'mores.  Without kindling, a fire is tough to get started, unless you're me.  Due to my part human, part pyro-maniac, I can made fire happen in the dead of winter.

I turned this:

Into this:

And I was thus deemed the Fire Mistress.

At the suggestion of others, we also made open-face s'mores, which if you have not tried, prepare to have your mind blown.  After just a few more simple steps in this s'more process, your s'more making and consumption paradigm will shift to places beyond reality.  Just follow these simple steps:

1.) Roast the Mallow

2.) Place roasted mallow on top of chocolate, that is on top of graham

3.) Place open-face s'morewhich BACK ON THE FIRE, preferably on rack so as to make removal easier. 

See: 

4.) Watch closely as it becomes oozy melted goodness.

5.) Risk life and limb to remove open s'morewhich from bottom of fire pit

6.) Place other graham on top

7.) Squish with care, watching that no gooey goodness is lost off the sides

8.)  Consume.

Repeat until sick to stomach.

It's a few more steps, but it's worth the melted chocolaty goodness of this summer treat.   

God Bless America

There isn't a better way to ring in the season than with loads of food, friends and fireworks.  SH hosted a very patriotic BBQ complete with tattoos, flag cupcakes, BBQ meat, all presented in an array of red, white and blue. We made the 2 mile walk to Gasworks Park with the rest of Seattle and stood, huddled in mass awaiting for the show to begin.  Being of the generally nervous, easily-startled disposition, fireworks haven't ever been big on my list, but I must say, I quite enjoyed the show. Big, booming, choreographed, and beautiful.  I kinda loved it.

Mmmmmm......

Always keeping it classy.

Hostess with the Mostess

Mass Exodus: Gasworks, post-fireworks

Next year, re-do.

To Summer

I operate under no false pretense that summer arrives with the equinox.  Around these parts, the 5th of July the unofficial welcome to summer; this is after you've watched the fireworks in the drizzle and bundled up for the last time of the spring season.  This being the middle of July I am pleased to announce that Seattle has arrive in it's full glory. I'll be honest, summer is not an easy season for me.  I'm not a huge fan of the season's fashion (can't really pull off short shorts and I'm self-conscious about my arms so the rules out tank tops), not a big fan of sedentary sweating, the days are outrageously long which is nice unless you really do want to sleep in, most of Seattle is un-air-conditioned, and it leads directly into fall which is the most superior of all seasons so summer is like an endless Christmas eve waiting for the leaves to change color and the air to turn crisp.  

With that, if there is a place to spend summer it is the great Pacific Northwest.  And while I'm am on professional vacation mode, I'm making the most of it.  I've been all over from Manzanita, Oregon to Egmont, British Columbia and most places in between from Vancouver, WA to Vancouver BC.  

As I was listening to Stuart McLean sharing a story (The Vinyl Cafe) on CBC Radio one weekend, he concluded his story capturing the essence of summer. So eloquently talking about summers past, summer work and the lessons learned,  he says, "I learned something at all of them...you wouldn't expect it, but these things add up.  And what they add up to is away bigger than what you can possibly image. As another summer takes us in a warm embrace, heres you...to beginning and to endingss, to hellos and good byes, to everyone heading off into the wild blue yonder.  I pray that you will learn as I did, in your summer work, that work is prayer, that God is in the details and that it is a good life with so much happiness to be had when you can find it.  And where a summer job, like a summer love, can be much more than you ever imagined."   

So here's to summer of 2010 - May you be good to us.

Too Much?

Too Much?

Too Late.

Between Me and The Ocean

Sabrina : No one ever stops... The whole place. And it's like everything is asleep... and... I used to walk everywhere in Paris. I used to walk from Montmartre down into the center of the town. Along the Seine there is a 4-mile wall that goes from Isle Saint Germain to the Pontde Bercy. Takes you past all the bridges of Paris, 23 of them. Then you find one you love and you go there everyday with your coffee and your journal, and you listen to the river.
Linus : What does it tell you?
Sabrina : That's between me and the river.


I've never been to France, but I have my own Paris. Here on the Sunshine Coast there are artisan, bakers, craftsmen, woodworkers.  There are trails to hike, coves to discover and coastline to explore.  There are miles of windy highways that take to you far off remote places.  There is the old general store up the street and there is the local produce grower where you can buy your farm fresh eggs and salad greens fresh from her garden.  You pay by the honor system and it works. In town there are cafes and delis and art galleries and a Saturday morning farmers market. Ok, not actally like Paris, but it is to me what Paris is to Sabrina in a local closer to home kind of way.

Every morning I'm here, without fail, I walk down to Sargent's Bay.  It's about a mile down to the end of the trail where there is a bench I sit on and watch the bay, birds, tide, clouds, waves, whatever.

If I journaled I'm sure I would come down here to do it. Instead, I just think, send thoughts/questions out to the universe and get lost in my own intellectual wanderings.    

There is a log that jets out to the middle of the bay that have been there for as long as I've been coming here.   It's my Parisian bridge if you will.

I'm there most of August, you should come visit. You might just fall in love.

Status Quo

I hiked out to Smugglers Cove today. Pictures don't even do it justice. 

That there is the Canadian Pacific Ocean.  It's much like the United States' Pacific Ocean but it has universal health care, uses words like "compulsory," profusely apologizes for everything regardless of necessity, wins Olympic Hockey Gold medals and encourage world leaders at the G20 summit to reduce national debt while still maintaining a thriving economy.  So, it's almost like the United States Pacific Ocean, and yet totally different.  But I digress....

I spent a long while out on this rock ledge today.  I watched the boats go by, birds fly about and the water gently lap against to rocks.  I half thought about taking a dip in but it wasn't even noon and I not an idiot. Crazy? Yes.  Stupid? No. I thought a lot about nothing and a little about everything.  I came to no conclusions, had no revelations, just pondered more questions.

That seems to be the status quo these days.     

Why I Love This

Why I love this:

1. It's Eco-friendly: The US and Canada seem to be the only countries where we use energy to dry our clothes.  Just doing my part to reduce my carbon footprint.
2. The Ocean:  I could hear the ocean when I was hanging my clothes.  It makes doing laundry, the worst of all chores next to washing dishes, far more soothing.
3. OCD:  I can exercise my OCD by hanging my clothes in length order so as to create a strong visual image and create linear depth. Plus it looks organized, thus making my heart sing.
4. Shades of Gray:  Obviously, I wear a lot of black and it's varying shades, also know as "gray." Q.E.D.
5. Smells Like Fresh: There is nothing else quite like it; like how the wind smells in a field or something equally as cliche. 

Here's hopin' a seagull doesn't do a flyby crap on my favorite dress...

Ebb and Flow

There is a trail about an hour's drive from the house that leads to where the Jervis Inlet meets the Sechlet Inlet creating world class white water rapids.  It's called the Skookumchuck Narrows where you can find rapids over 6 feet high and the current raging at over 30 mph. These rapids are similar to that of river rapids except caused by the dramatic change in tide that rushes some 200 billion gallon of water into the area at it's peak. Some say it is the fast tidal rapids in the world, fast than Norway's Saltstraumen.  I say it's one of the most spectacular sights created by nature. 

It's been over 10 years since I was last here and today's tidal change was rated "XL" peaking at 7:08 pm so I thought it perfect timing to revisit.   Doused head to toe in mosquito repellent, I set off solo only quickly to become accompanied by an unaccompanied canine, wet and eager for companionship.  Dog and I walked along and as he'd trot up ahead he'd stop, wait for me until I caught up.  This continued for a ways until I began to worry that it's rightful owners might actually be looking for him. I tried to shoo him away but when shoo-ing calls were mistaken as invitations to play, I cleverly hid in the bushes like a crazy person until dog gave up searching for his new friend and headed back.

The trail was easier than I remember it being wide, clear, flat, rich in green moss hanging from the canopy.  Ferns grew abundantly along the edges and the spring foliage was in full bloom. On the way to the rapids, you pass Brown Lake, which is in fact, not brown. It's not long before you reach the Skookumchuck rapids which is not misnomered: Skookum meaning "strong" or "powerful", and "chuck" means water.  

After reaching the rapids I was surprised to find myself the only spectator out today. I climbed out on the barnacle encrusted rocks, crouching for a while to watch the waves increase in height, speed, crashing into each other and over onto themselves.  Perhaps a regular camera would have been more successful at capturing this, but alas the camera phone will have to suffice.

As I watched my mind wandered to the analogous ebb and flow of the the rapids to the ebb and flow of life.  It is easy to draw the parallels to life when watching the rapids, the flow of water crash into itself, watching currents collide, the glass smooth wave flow before turbulently crashing into an oncoming wave only to be absorbed and erupt.  All the while, when watching from a far, it is all very chaotically beautiful and beyond human control.  Beyond chaos, it is rhythmic, predictable, patterned and ceaseless. 

These last few days, and probably weeks, have been an exercise in solitude. It's been an exercise in searching and definition of identity.  It's been an exercise lined with introspection, loneliness, acceptance, sadness, change and growth. Perhaps, this is the ebb in life, here things drift away, moving away making space for new waters to occupy a vacant space.  Perhaps this is the flow where the next stage is moving in, creeping closer to shore. I'm not quiet sure. When I step back, remove myself from my situation and station I see how, rhythmically and predicable like the tides the rising of the sun, the waxing and waning of the moon, the changing of the season, that this season is although seemingly unplanned, completely necessary to participate in the fullness and breadth that is the experiences of life.