4th of July

Happy 30th of June. I saw fireworks all week from my living room window, compliments of Cheney Stadium who ended each evening's baseball game with them.

Lots of boats on Commencement Bay on the 4th.

As in any city, there is no parking anywhere near a major 4th of July event. Since I live only 2 miles from the Ruston Way waterfront, I walked there and back. I had a fair amount of people around me on the way there (pictured, on McCarver St.), and a huge, interesting mix of people on the way back (interesting as in nice young families with babies in strollers and drunken troglodytes whose vocabulary consisted of approximately three words, two of which were fuck and fuckin') Christy and I met up at the waterfront then walked to The Ram to join her friends who had procured a table on the patio. There was a good band playing before the fireworks started. The fireworks included some beautiful, glittery effects, but it was one of the shortest fireworks shows I've ever seen. The whole thing lasted about eight minutes at the most.

This is a firework with a lamp in the way. I prefer to think of it as an interesting idea for a street lamp. A whole city block with color pulsing firework-like lamps could produce a Fremont Street Experience-like effect. I'm not going to hold my breath for it to happen in Tacoma.

No, It's Not a Beauuuuutiful Day

It's 92 degrees. Ugh.

While I'm irritable from the heat, I'd also like to complain about people who demand that I "Make it a great day!" If you'd like to wish me well with the well-worn 'Have a nice day' (which I've always thought should be condensed to the acronym HAND) that's fine. But do not Tony Robbins me and mandate my attitude.

Some people's demands are downright unrealistic. A woman once told me to "Have a rainbow day!" How does one do that? March in a gay pride parade? I mumbled "Thanks, you too" to which she self-righteously replied "I WILL". Ok then. May she and Roy G. Biv live happily ever after.

Not That You Asked...

I've been a lazy blogger lately, so I feel compelled to offer up something.
How about something you don't care about? Ok, fine then.

Five All-Time Favorite Songs (in no particular order):

1. The Crystal Ship (The Doors)

2. Love Reign O'er Me (The Who)

3. Conquistador (Procol Harum)

4. Paint it Black (Rolling Stones)

5. Layla (Eric Clapton- Ok, technically Derek and the Dominoes)

But it's a Night View

When will I stop with the photos of my view? Not anytime soon. The windows in my apartment have been a portal into a new world for me. The highlight of my day is what I have come to think of as 'The Show'. The sky goes from powder blue to cobalt to indigo and a thousand amber lights come on. It's gorgeous.


In my last post I wondered if 26 year old Tony could name all of The Beatles. Not only could he do so, he knew that it was Eric Clapton on guitar on 'While my Guitar Gently Weeps'. Going for the genius round question, I asked him who the song 'Layla' was about. Without hesitation he correctly answered Patti Boyd, George Harrison's girlfriend. Amazing.

I did my little Vashon Island ferry ride again today. It's less than 20 minutes each way, but it feels great to be out on the water.

John, Paul, Ringo, and...Tom

My friendships at work are based not on age, but on synastry. The two people I happen to mesh with best are 25 and 35. Sometimes I forget just how young the 25 year old really is; at other times it is profoundly apparent.

Today I asked him how many of the Beatles he could name. "Um...John?" Veerrry good I sarcastically replied. Ok, now what was his last name? "Um...Lennon?" Wow, amazing. Ok, name another. "Uh, I think there was one named Paul, and another named...Tom?"

My response to that was something to the effect of Ohmygodforgetit! accompanied by a dismissive hand wave.

It's fun to share music from the 60s and 70s with people in their 20s. One day at work Tony, who is 26 and has a recording studio in his home,and I went into the computer lab and pulled up Youtube. I introduced him to the glam rock bands of the early 70s: The New York Dolls, Sweet, Sparks, and T Rex among others. I loved his observations. Why had I never realized how much Russell Mael of Sparks looked like "That guy in The Doors"? Tony genuinely liked a few of the bands and made notes in his Blackberry. Tomorrow I'll have to ask him if he can name all four of the Beatles.

Tacoma Museum of Glass

After 14 months in Tacoma, I've finally been to the Glass Museum. And after 14 months of mostly-horrible dates, I had a 2nd date today with someone I think I like. More on that later. For now, some quick snaps of the Bridge of Glass:


It was a gorgous day today- sunny, but not obnoxiously so. About 70 degrees. We've been having mostly 50s and rainy, so it was a nice change. My date and I (ok, he has a name- it's Dave) spent a lot of time walking and sitting by the waterfront behind the musuem. We also sat in the 'Hot Shop' theater and watched glass workers take molten orbs out of hell-like furnaces, trim them with scissors (who knew?) and do more firey things to them until they became graceful works of art. All of this took place to loud music ranging from Wagnerian-type opera to Stevie Nicks. More than a little surreal.

Too Tired to Think of a Title

Who wants to see random photos? You do, you do! The first one was taken in Bellingham (Bellingham Bay with the San Juan Islands in the background).

My apartment needs a few finishing touches. Here's a partial view of the living room:

I know you're probably getting sick of views from my apartment, but I'm not. Isn't it amazing that the building in the foreground is a high school in Tacoma, Washington? I think this picture looks like it could have been taken in a European capital.

As far as what's going on in my life, work has been...odd. Our corporate culture is becoming frightningly aggressive. We WILL have fun! We WILL have fun in the way we are told to have fun! We WILL be happy! We WILL be the most powerful enrollment entity the universe has ever known! No wonder I'm tired. What I'm not sure how to explain is why I'm having food cravings that border on the surreal. I mean, what non-pregnant woman (or any human on the planet for that matter) craves things like grapefruit sections with hot fudge? Two or three times a day at work, I'll walk into the aisle and announce my latest craving: I want...watermelon with Bacos. In a parfait glass, I want sauerkraut, no, I want a Whopper. Wait, I've got it, a Whopper with sauerkraut. I want the grapefruit and hot fudge I mentioned earlier to be on a base of pound cake. No, wait, pound cake that's been soaked in Frangelica! I hardly know what Frangelica is. I think I had it once, in 1993 or something. Where am I coming up with these things?

So Adorable

American Idol Finale

Have I mentioned that I now live in the world's coolest apartment? Every time I look out the windows I'm amazed that this place is mine. My friends' reaction tonight confirmed that yes, it really is all that. I hosted a small American Idol finale party tonight. I've had two glasses of wine, which is a night of heavy drinking for me, so I'm aware I'm being even less linear than usual. Anyway, check out my mountain and the ship barging (wha ha) into my bedroom.



Tonight there were a lot of good laughs, and shrieking when David Cook won. We were sure it was going to be David Archuletta. This is the first year I've been pleasantly surprised by who won. In attendance tonight were Christy, Faauu, Robert, and Faauu's boyfriend Gerard who sat at my desk and taught an online class while the rest of us were acting like happy idiots.



So, you're wondering, how is the Atkins diet going? That's a rhetorical and mean-spirited question. And you didn't even ask it. Of course it's not going. How can anyone over the age of 20 possibly survive on it. The one sacrifice I've made is I've stopped eating bread. And I've lost...I don't know. 15 ounces or something. This really is going to be a tough journey, but I'll make it somehow. In the meantime, I've got a great new goal: I'm going to start drinking more wine. What do you think?

More Views

This is what I look out on from my desk. Double click on the photo and you'll be able to see Stadium High School, mountains, and other cool stuff.

This is the view from the other set of windows in the living room.

When you walk to the end of my street, this is what you see.

At Your Own Risk

"Atkins??! Noooo. You don't want to do that. Just go on the Brittney diet!"

These words of wisdom are dispensed to me from the Penelope's coffee shop girls, one of whom - a sweet 23 year old artist- has a swingy chalk-white ponytail. Feigning interest, I ask for an explanation of the Brittney diet. "Half!" I'm told. "Just eat half of whatever you want!"

Next she'll tell me to try 100-calorie packs of Oreos.

I want to tell you this seriously: Do not ever give me a 100-calorie pack of Oreos. Giving me a 100-calorie pack of Oreos is like giving a lion a meatball. It's just not enough and you could encounter a dangerous reaction.

Do not give me little feather-weight packets of anything unless you plan on giving me six or seven. Granted, if you give me multiples I will proceed to do what I did with my one-week supply of daily, Barbie-sized, Jenny Craig chocolate bars: I will eat them all within 10 minutes. Actually, probably more like 5. The Jenny Craig incident happened well over 10 years ago, but I assure you I have not changed.

What it comes down to is I am not capable of moderation when it comes to anything involving sugar and / or flour. Yeah, I know, you are and that's great, but sugar and flour are my heroin. You don't tell someone to just cut back on their heroin usage.

Yes, I know the Atkins diet has risks. Yes, I know many gain all the weight back after they stop. Yes, I know it's gross to live on animal carcasses and celery, but going low carb is the only way I've ever lost weight.

So if Wendy's (ugh, I'm referring to myself in the 3rd person) Incredible Weight Loss Journey is ever going to start in earnest low carb it will have to be.

Let's just hope I don't eat seven bunless cheeseburgers.

Views from New Apartment

Light

Winery Tour

Faauu, Christy and I went on a day tour of two wineries and Snoqualamie Falls. First Stop was Silver Lake winery, where the event host was not pleased to see our group of 17 people ("I have a huge group coming but, um, ok, well hold on..."). Ten minute wait followed by a rather rushed tasting of four wines. My favorite was the raspberry wine (ok, I don't have a sophisticated palette. I'm nice to dogs and needy people. Leave me alone). They had many flavors of fruit wines. I say how wonderful.

It was the first warm day of the season, so the Chateau St. Michelle tasting was conducted outside. To be honest, I don't remember the wines that well but the setting was gorgeous. After the tasting, we sat under a tree and just relaxed and talked, which was of course lovely.

I have no idea what Faauu and Christy are doing, but when I saw them like that I told them to hold the pose. Why am I not in any of the photos? Because I'm unhappy with my weight, that's why. I'm contemplating doing posting a photo every week so all of you can watch my amazing weight loss journey (I'm aiming for 35 pounds), but first I want to be sure there will be an amazing weight loss journey.

Snoqualamie Falls was waterfall-y as waterfalls tend to be.It was hard to get the full experience by competing for space against the railing. There is a lodge just above the falls, visible in the photo above. If the falls can be heard with the windows open at night, I'd like to stay there sometime.

Comfortably Dumb

The Pantages Theatre is three blocks from where I work and seven blocks from where I live (well, ten blocks now that I've moved). When I saw that The Pink Floyd Experience was coming, I knew I had to check it out. So check it out I did.

What I sought was a conditioned response. I listened to Dark Side of the Moon hundreds of times in college dorm rooms, and probably saw the midnight movie of The Wall eight or nine times. Needless to say, few (if any) of those times involved keen mental acuity. Those experiences were soft, mystical and dreamy and I figured the music was so imprinted to that state of consciousness that just hearing it again would reprise it.

Nope.

At one point I was so bored, I entertained myself by coming up with scathing review headlines (Comfortably Dumb being my obvious favorite, with Shine On You Crazy Cubic Zirconia in 2nd place). I worried about things I'd forgotten to do at work that day. I rolled my eyes at the poorly executed "If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding!" Damn. Couldn't they have gotten that right? I love that line. I've been known to walk by someone's desk and say that line just because I feel like it.

One segment, an unexpected one, was brilliant. It was a tribute to Syd Barrett. I didn't recognize the song, but it was gorgeous and the accompanying visual effects were water color-y and sublime. If the whole show had been like that I would have been in heaven. Unfortunately the lighting was garish and overdone, consisting too often of shining woken-from-a-nightmare glaring blue light into the audience, producing a "Stop it, dammit!" reaction (perhaps the less high strung perceived it differently).

Take a second and try to picture the audience. If you are picturing 60 year old men in tie dye t-shirts and long gray ponytails you've pretty much got it right. You can't go back again, but perhaps they never left. I have in no uncertain terms moved on from who I was 30 years ago. I've had to. I hate to say it, but The Pink Floyd Experience underscored for me the fact that I am so centered in the harsh reality of the real world that I can rarely, if ever, relax. I miss the times when I could not only relax but float to the edge of a world so vast, so beautiful, and so mysterious that just a glimpse was an enormous priviledge.

Busy

When I have time to catch up, I'll post pictures from the winery / Snoqualamie Falls day trip I took with Christy and Faauu two weeks ago. I'll also post pictures of the new apartment. Maybe I'll even write something.

New Apartment

I'm moving in April 25th. The building is 4 blocks from my current one. My new building has better views, a dishwasher (a year with no dishwasher was more than enough), and a nicer caliber of residents. I'd taken to calling my current building "Crack Whore Gardens". It was time to move.

Downtown Tacoma Waterscape

This waterscape takes up the majority of the block of the Commerce Street Transit Center. It's water, it flows; needless to say I love it. I'm happy to announce that I am no longer in need of transit centers since I have bought a new car (ok, a new old car). It's a shiny champagne-gold Saturn, very pretty, and in good shape mechanically.

Smoke and Mirrors

A Random Day

I'm sick of my job. I'm sad about this. I love the building I work in, love downtown Tacoma, and love my coworkers. Well, almost all of my coworkers. Sadly, I share office space with one of the most diabolically egotistical women on the planet.She's a silly, stringy-haired thing in her mid 20s. It says bad things about me if I let someone like her bother me, so I usually do a fine job of ignoring her. I think you know where this is going.

Saturday morning obnoxious coworker started in on how she's "Leading the pack" and "In line for an amazing raise!" and "The shining star of Tacoma!" I know this doesn't absolve me, but I'd only had a few hours of nightmare-infested sleep. I...wasn't feeling well. My responses to her were something to the effect of "Grrrowl!" "Grrrrrr!" and "Rooarrrrrrrr!" I sounded like something from a horror movie. I may as well have been carrying a chainsaw. She actually flinched at one point, and yes, I liked it. No, I'm lying. I loved it.

I walked out the door at noon as calm and relaxed as a rabid kangaroo on crack. I was walking with Robert to his car when he decided to accompany me on a walk. That was the start to the Random Day.

Here's a list of what happened on the Random Day, which was, by the way, very enjoyable and which possibly stopped me from leaving a Wendy-shaped bas relief in my 14th floor living room window:

1. Sat and talked for an hour and a half in a zen-like hospital lobby
2. Walked through a hail storm to get back to Robert's car at work.
3. Had lunch at Anthony's at Pt. Defiance
4. Drove into Pt. Defiance park. Passed through groves of lime-green phosphorescent
trees. Drove by the logging museum. Wandered into a covered picnic area surrounded
by majestic trees, amazing Puget Sound views and pristine fresh air. I decided
in earnest,that it's where I'd like to get married.
5. Saw a sign for "Blacksmith demonstration". I fantasized that the
blacksmith was a 6'2, 50 year old dentist who did the blacksmith thing on
weekends to build up his already-impressive biceps. Alas, we were too late
for the demo.
6. Rode the ferry round trip to Vashon Island
7. Made the same wrong turn onto the highway leading to the Tacoma Narrows Bridge
that resulted in a ticket New Year's Eve.
8. Went to the T-Mobile booth at the Tacoma Mall to find out how to load photos from
phone onto my computer.
9. Went to Dairy Queen
10. Passed a "Quick Test" booth on exiting the mall, staffed by one guy with a crew
cut and the other with the kind of gigantic, two-foot high spikes in his hair
that were radical 30 years ago. Both men were behind a full-walled glass enclosure
like a zoo exhibit
11. Exited Tacoma mall trying to figure out what they were testing.
12. Passed a "Learn How to Ride!" sign and saw motorcycle neophites buzzing
in a circle around a parking lot.

I think the highlight of the day was the Vashon Island ferry. We've had bizarre weather this week, with snow of all absurd things. We headed out to Vashon Island around 4:30 pm and got some delicious late afternoon sun on the way over. With my eyes closed and the sun on my face, the horrible morning was far from my mind. Watching the sun sparkle on the water, feeling the wind blow back my hair, and taking in the panoramic views was not only therapeutic but divine. I live only three miles from the ferry dock. I need to get out on the water more often, whether it's part of a random day (which I need more of) or a planned one.

Rainbow Lightning

More El Paso (Read previous post 1st, if orderly type)

International Bridge. These people are walking from Mexico into the US.

How wonderful is this? I'm a condiment freak, and it doesn't get much better than chopped onions and cilantro, lime wedges, whole roasted chilis, and mole sauce. Hopefully I didn't abuse.

Downtown El Paso

Juarez, Mexico as seen from the highway. Texas on one side of the highway, Mexico on the other. Very cool.

A mile or two from New Mexico. I love this sort of barren landscape.

El Paso

Sometimes you just have to see what a dot on a map looks like in all its sprawling glory. I have a friend in El Paso, so off I went.
Here is a 4th grade geography lesson: El Paso is on the border of Mexico, and only a few miles from New Mexico. It is over 80% Hispanic.


In ways the city looks like Phoenix- blue skies, palm trees, taupe mountains. I think El Paso is prettier, maybe because it's at a higher elevation.

Since my friend Gil is an El Paso native, I got to go to the type of Mexican restaurant the natives frequent. The food was wonderful, but this Margarita was made with wine and tasted like...watered down wine. I also got to sample Horchato, a sweetened rice drink. It tasted like the milk at the bottom of a bowl of Cinnamon Life cereal.

When the Holiday Inn shuttle driver was driving me from the airport, I asked about Mexico. He pointed and showed me the lights of Juarez. He may as well have pointed out the rings of Saturn. I am fascinated by borders. As border cities go, Juarez is a bit challenged. Over 100 people have been murdered there so far this year due to the drug cartels.

El Paso Zoo

Gil had to work on Saturday, so I went to the zoo. A lot of the exhibits were being renovated, so while talking to Peter in Sweden (I decided I needed some company. and liked the idea of being on the border of Mexico and talking to someone in Sweden) I proclaimed the zoo "The worst zoo in America." After more of a look around, I upgraded it to decent.

When I told Peter I was looking at a donkey, he asked if there was a little Mexican man next to it, taking a nap under his sombrero. Interesting that such a 60s type of iconic sterotype would find it's way to Sweden.

I'm at a loss for how to caption this...

27 Years Later

Twenty six years and ten months ago (May 10, 1981) I finished my bachelors degree. Now I have my masters.

I finished with a 3.9 GPA. I'm proud of this simply because it took a lot of self discipline to do this while working 40+ hours a week.

Now that I have some free time, I'm contemplating what I am going to do and learn next. I'm going to work as much overtime as I can because the more money I have, the happier I am. I'm planning on taking dance lessons again. I'm probably going to join some kind of writers group. Other than that, I'm not sure. Maybe one night- just one- I'll sit in front of the TV and do nothing but stare at it. Hopefully I can find something worthy of this mission. Are there any channels that show Beavis and Butthead reruns?

Planet *uckin'

An auto salvage yard paid me $150 for my car and towed it away. I was sad to see it go. I'd fantasized that it was the miracle disposable car. One day, I dreamed,it would reach the half a million mile mark. Perhaps I should have fantasized further and given it retractable rotoblades to whirrrr me up out of traffic all together.

I haven't started shopping for a new car yet. My village lifestyle and my capacity to walk fast and far have made securing a new vehicle a less-than-urgent matter. I may even choose to not have a car for a while. What may make me cave is the idiots with whom I must share my occassional public transit foray.

I am becoming convinced that there are an increasing number of Americans whose practicing vocabulary consists of 200 or fewer words. Why, they must rationalize to themselves, bother with tedious adjectives when the word fuckin' can be substituted for just about anything?

At the bus stop I encountered three groups of people. Young man in group #1 " I hate it when people fuckin' text message me cuz I have to pay for that fuckin' shit. They're fuckin' idiots." Woman in group #2 turning to man with her "Hey, what the fuck're you doing? I fuckin told you not to fuckin' do that." The verbiage of group #3 contained roughly the same number of fuckins.

When I lived in Portland, I had next door neighbors I thought of as The Fuckins. They were three construction workers in their 20s who smoked their countless cigarettes on their balcony, thus unwittingly treating me to their witty repartee: "Yeah my fuckin' boss, my fuckin' girlfriend, fuckin', fuckin' fuckin'..."

I told my friend Tracy that the Fuckins would end up setting the building on fire. They did. This was not a psychic prediction, just one based on the fact that they balanced their cigarettes on the ledge of the wooden balcony.

Anyway, America is full of fuckins and I'm having a hard time daaling with it I'm starting to see all these fuckins as being something less than human. Perhaps one day when a toddler answers "moo" and "baa" to the questions what does a cow say and what does a sheep say, he will also proudly answer "fuckin'!!" when asked "What does an uneducated,apathetic, vocabulary-impoverished idiot say?"

I think I better start carrying my Ipod with me when I take the bus.

Tacoma It Is

This afternoon I told the regional director that I want to stay in Tacoma. She emailed back something about the Tacoma office continuing to benefit from my performance and leadership. It was nice. I feel very good about my decision. There's something 'just right' about Tacoma for me, and I won't have to give up my village lifestyle. I adore having most everything I need in walking distance. I can't stand a car dependent lifestyle. Especially now that I don't have one. Wha ha.

My coworkers had good ideas as to what to do with my car. I called an auto salvage place and am waiting to hear if the owner is interested in paying me $500 for parts. I'll take whatever the want to give me- they'll tow it away, and I'll start looking for a new car. Fair enough. It's hard for me to get excited about a new car. Cars just don't thrill me. I see them as merely a way to get from point A to point B.

One more week of school. Proud of me? Buy me a Rotato!

Actually I have no desire for a Rotato. A minimalist at heart, I am disdainful of unnecessary gadgetry. I do, however, think Rotato is a fabulous word, and quite possibly the greatest (as in most ridiculous) Ronco product ever. Or is it K-Tel? One of the companies sells horrible 70s album complilations Get up and boooogie and the other sells Rotatos and the like.

Only you know for sure.

Famous Last Words

"I think my disposable car will last another year!" I raved in a recent post.

Wrong.

It sputtered to a smoke-spewing stop three feet from the Sears Automotive Center at the Tacoma Mall. Never mind the smoke spewing and the sputtering. Did you catch the part about my car dying right in front of the Sears Automotive Center? I really am a ridiculously lucky person. Years ago when I was in photography school in Santa Barbara, I drove up a remote mountain pass somewhere around Ojai. As the sun was starting to set, I packed up the 4 x 5 camera I never made friends with and got ready for the 45 minute drive home. Only my car wouldn't start. And it was starting to get dark- and I was on a pretty remote mountain pass. Keep in mind this was in the days before cell phones. Five minutes into my quandry, a car pulled up. The driver was a mechanic. He fixed my car. Off I went.

The Sears guys first checked the oil. It was full. They sniffed and poked at a few other things (ew, that sounded gross, didn't it?) before deciding it was the transmission. Or as they first put it "This isn't good."

It's not that bad either. As mentioned, it was a disposable car. Eleven months of driving for approximately $1,500 isn't bad.

They pushed my deceased Buick into a parking space and I took a bus home. Now I have to figure out how one disposes of a disposable car. I'm hoping someone will tow it away and pay me a few dollars for parts. I'll have to ask around at work tomorrow to see how this is done. Needless to say, I'll be walking to work. Yet another reason why I love living one mile from my place of employment.