Departing, Arriving

I am getting on a plane for the first time in 3 and a half years! Also leaving Washington State for the first time in the same.

Going to visit a friend from graduate school and her family in Grass Valley, CA.


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Listen

Cuz I depend on me

Lake Lahan, near Stevens Pass, WA

Where in the world went 2009?

2009 went to graduate school and work and teaching and many walks, bike rides, outdoor and indoor parties, coffees, dinners, swims, dances, yogas and (I admit it) posting to Facebook.

As for any travel, I know there wasn't much. I will look at my calendar.

• Port Townsend, WA (twice a year, for school, Feb and July)
• Camano Island, WA (a tiny cabin with 7 ladies in Jan)
• Marysville, WA (does that count?)
• Tacoma, WA: Point Defiance zoo
• Index, WA (nestled in the mountains by river and sky. performed at the art festival)
• Edmonds, WA
• Duvall, WA (poetry reading)
• Rattlesnake Lake, WA (hike with a view)
• Bellingham, WA

In December, I canceled a trip to Iceland.

I have been planning on traveling this summer as a graduation present to myself, but am not sure finances and circumstances will allow. If not this year, next year, I hope.

Cookie Monster Coat

When I was little I had a Cookie Monster coat, with eyeballs on the top of the hood, and matching Cookie Monster mittens attached via a string that ran through the arm hole of my coat. See my profile pic on this site.

Walking to the bus stop yesterday morning - 17 degrees! - I put my hands in my pockets to find...only one glove. That's it. The next pair of gloves I buy I am attaching with a long string and running it through my coat.

Bitter wind blew through me as I waited for the bus. Twenty degrees is cold for the PNW. It is currently unfathomable to me that I lived in Ohio and survived 10 winters in the Midwest.

Demon Possession

My cat has been possessed by the spirit of the printer. Day and night she tries to learn its secrets, dig them out of its interior.

Breviloquence

From 10-4-08, a blustery Saturday...

Reality is a sound, you have to tune into it, not just keep yelling. -Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

The bat is winking at me-you-me-you

Fountain of Sorrow

What I was seeing wasn't what was happening at all - Jackson Browne, Fountain of Sorrow.
Someone assumed the form of the great love of your life, only to reveal himself later as an alien who had to get on a spaceship and go back to his planet - Loorie Moore, Birds of America.

No, the other one

When I first went away to college, Seattle was still a small (affordable) city.

Where are you from?

Seattle. (blank look) In Washington.

Oh! Washington DC?

No, the other Washington. Washington state.

Thank you Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Microsoft.

Here are some photos of Capitol Hill...no, the other one.

On Broadway (I'll let you figure out which one)--temporary art installations in (empty) storefronts at the location of the future Capitol Hill Sound Transit light rail station.

Squirrel Man is on Prowl

He walks the streets outside my window, dressed in black, carrying a bag. Today he carries an umbrella. He is always dressed in black. The amount of time he spends varies, but today he keeps reappearing, summoning his disciples.

The first time I saw him wandering, looking back and forth, I called out the window to him:
Are you lost?
No, I'm looking for squirrels.

He feeds pigeons and crows, too. Sparrows are hangers-on. But I always think of him as Squirrel Man. I wonder what his life is like.

Once I saw him on the roof of a brick building a block away, surrounded by a spray of pigeons. Usually, though, I see him on the street outside my window.

Home

I want to speak without words

Sifting Sands

Life changes, right out from underneath us (sometimes several times a day). So do our thoughts. I'm now working part-time at a great non-profit and studying to get an MFA in creative writing, a labor of love, a gift I am giving myself. I bike to work on the Burke Gilman trail three days a week, 14 miles a day (and up one of Seattle's formidable hills!). This week has been beautiful biking weather.

Today on the way home I stopped in Gasworks Park and sat on the hill overlooking Lake Union. I haven't been up there in years. Bright light on the water, sailboats, seaplanes, kayaks, motor boats, bikers and walkers and natives and tourists and couples and families and individuals and friends flopped in the grass in the sun, readers and sleepers and sunbathers. A crazy guy using the hill as his pulpit. And me, feeling the earth tremble; part of grass blown by wind; troubles not so troublesome for a moment; small and brief my concerns, my life, but it didn't feel like something to grieve.

I've been having fun taking my new toy, the camera I finally bought myself, with me on walks. Didn't have it with me today, but here are some pics from other walks.

Bum Failure

No, I am not referring to gluteus maximus muscles giving out (although with each birthday I grow less surprised over what gives out. But I digress...)

I am referring to my general inability to do nothing in a vacuum of structure. I tend not to do well when unemployed. But, folks, I am coming into my own. Okay, okay, I admit I have many appointments and activities, I am a gym junkie, list-maker, and overachieving underachiever. But I am relaxing into the not-knowing a bit, practicing zen juggling in a material world. I do have to eat. And I like having a roof over my head. Obviously, I can't just give up. I cast my line out, but since I can't make the fish bite (wait a minute...what happened to the juggling metaphor?) I am enjoying myself, meeting friends for lunch, writing, napping, singing, allowing myself to be frivolous (obviously, since I'm blogging again).

Snowshoeing!

Map of Snoqualmie Pass, WA US


We tried a new thing on Saturday--snowshoeing! T, A, C, and I bought waterproof pants from Valu Village (accent on second syllable), rented snowshoes from REI, and set out with a class from the Renton Parks Dept. We drove past Snoqualmie Pass to Kachess Lake, about an hour east of Seattle. It was an hour going out, but longer coming back in the accumulated snow!

The parking lot was slick as a salesman. We slipped around, bared ass to cold toilet seat before donning our gear, going from land lubbers to abominable snowmen. It came kind of natural, though, trudging through the snow on new feet (except it was easy to step on your own shoes). After a lesson in climbing uphill, we set out like ducklings on first solo journeys. I found my assertiveness helped much more than caution; I kicked the balls of my feet into the hollows, engaging the metal cleats on the shoes, then pulled myself up with poles and arms. Going downhill was counter-intuitive, crouching forward like Groucho Marx, putting poles in the snow ahead (like putting out a cigar?). Lean back like you would walking down the very steep James St in downtown Seattle and the cleats would disengage and you would slide down the hill. Much of the snow was packed and therefore loud to walk on. Walking in the woods was a little quieter, since the snow stayed in the shadows it hadn't melted and re-frozen.

Excruciating pain in my fingers after lunch!! So cold I thought I would take the glove off and the fingers would stay in the glove! Warming them up on my body, under my shirt, helped a bit but not enough. Finally my blood was pumping enough to pump the blood even to the tips of my fingers. My hair was crunchy and my arms surprisingly sore. The toe warmers really worked, though! My toes stayed really warm. I paid $1.80 for two packets of iron, carbon, and water--like magic, man. Stopping to gaze around us (after we were warmed up) was very peaceful, quiet, with snow falling all around, and on our faces.

It snowed the entire time we were out there. Our guide guessed we covered about 4.5 miles. I-90 was covered in snow as we headed back to town. I couldn't stay awake in the van...zzz....

See Flickr for more photos.

"The author" at Kachess Lake, posing on request

Olympic Peninsula Retreat

My Olympic Peninsula retreat was lovely--the motel was sweet, simple--
just what I wanted. There was a cafe run by the family and some farm
animals in the back.



Locals stopped in to get their coffee and chat with the proprietors about the holiday, going into town ('PA' one called it; I've never heard Port Angeles referred to that way before), and how they were still clearing trees and chopping wood from the big storm. Apparently, the wind even knocked over a dumpster into the lake! They watched it float for awhile before it sank.

Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of the hot springs because the camera was charging. It was late afternoon and getting a bit dark, too. The hike to the hot springs was 2.5 miles and took about an hour going up the mountain. I had some vertigo on the climb, whether from elevation, exertion, anxiety, I don't know. I was scanning the rock faces for cougar faces (just-in-cases), and wondering what advice Ogden Nash would give on meeting a mountain lion (die tryin?). At one point I thought I heard a jingle and whipped my head around--did I think it would be wearing a big collar that said "Coug"? In defense of my cougar-paranoia, though, the sign at the trailhead on what to do if you meet a cougar said: avoid hiking or jogging alone. And yes, I volunteer at a wildlife center and know that wildlife does not usually attack unless provoked. I also know habitat is decreasing and there have been unprovoked attacks.

The path evidently used to be a road--it was paved, being reclaimed by the mountain. In places there were breaks between trees on the left and I could see the drop to the river below. More vertigo. Then there was a change in the trees with the appearance of a grove of leafless deciduous trees--some kind of birch? Tall, thin, white trunks. They were absolutely still and seemed to eradicate distance and perspective. The rushing of the river below contrasted with the eerie stillness of the birches, which seemed to exist near and far simultaneously. It was like looking at a still photo on television to which sound effects have been added.

I only passed a few people going the other direction. Afraid I would never reach the springs (there was a distinct lack of signs in that part of the Olympic National Forest), I asked a young couple if they've come from the springs.
"How are they?
"They smell terrible," says the boy. I expected that, the smell of sulfur.
"Are they warm?"
"Yeah. There's a group of hippies in the last one," the boy says.
"I can deal with hippies," I say (not bothering to explain I come from hippies).

The springs were a series of small, shallow pools. Most seemed to have water that spilled over the sides (water circulation being a good thing for the health of the water and the people soaking in it), leaving a pale, sulfur trickle across the path. I picked one that was a climb up from the path. It was only waist deep when sitting, with muddy floor and a stream trickling in that was hotter than the pool temperature. Getting in wasn't a problem, but getting out and back into clean, dry clothes proved to be tricky with the muddy slope. I had a plastic bag, but two--one to use as a mat--probably would have helped. I had a flashlight, though, and this came in very handy when heading down the mountain (and across a stream) in the gathering dark. I caught up to the hippies, who seemed to be unconcerned about night falling. I had a nice chat with one of them as we walked along in the dark. I didn't learn his name and just thought of him as "The Hippie". When I got back to my motel I was about to shower when I realized I could take a bath and not have to clean the tub. So I took a bath both nights I stayed there. I went to dinner in Port Angeles, came back to my motel room and plinked on the ukulele for awhile before I fell asleep.

Although I didn't spend much time in the springs, it was special to be soaking out there in the middle of the wilderness, surrounded by trees and fog. I would have liked it if the pool was deeper, though. I am curious to try other natural (undeveloped) hot springs. I will let you know when I do.

Other people's pictures of Olympic Hot Springs:
National Park site
http://www.idahohotsprings.com/destinations/olympic/index.htm
http://www.nwhotsprings.net/olympic.htm

Retreat

I'm planning a two-day getaway to a natural hot springs in Western Washington. More on this later.

November 6, 2007 National Strike

In Harpers, Garret Keizer suggests a national strike to *do* something to reclaim our country for its people, to show our government that we will not just go on with business as usual while a President claims more and more power for himself and acts against the Constitution, hurting us and not making us safer.

In a talk at Kane Hall in Seattle, Naomi Wolf suggested this strike be a sit-down, with music and banners, but not a march (which could be instigated into becoming violent).

I know very well how hard it is to overcome apathy and the sense of futility, but if we lose the sense that we can affect change then we give up our democracy and become victims. I am the first to admit that I am guilty of this. Keizer writes: "Of all the various depredations of the Bush regime, none has been so thorough as its plundering of hope."

This strike suggestion has been picked up by bloggers and indy-media, but there seems to be no one organizing anything. I am planning on writing my representatives to let them know I am striking and I am planning on voting.


What others are saying about the Nov 6 National Strike:
http://justmyideas.blogspot.com/2007/09/general-strike-november-6-2007-stop-war.html

http://whystrike.blogspot.com/2007/09/keizer-and-striking-on-blogs.html

http://www.dailykos.com/story/2007/9/23/141513/171

Green Party of Canada

http://youthinkwhat.com/we-think-its-time-for-a-general-strike.html



article by Jim Hightower

Famous Travel Photographer?

No.

But two of my photos of are now part of online travel guides:

Prague http://www.schmap.com/prague/sights_malstrana/. Click on Golden Lane; there are about 20 photos that automatically scroll.

Budapest http://www.schmap.com/budapest/sights_districtii/. Click on Matthias Church- Ecclesiastical Art Collection.