I'm going to take Mikal to this play called "The Year of Magical Thinking". That in and of itself isn't that interesting until you know what the play is about. Here, read an excerpt:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/thearts/2009702020_didion21.html
Difficult to say the least, no?
We were on our way to Costco last Saturday on Third Avenue stopped at a light next to a bus with the advertisement to this play. I just started thinking about how wonderful Mikal is about Alistair. He never makes me feel uncomfortable when I'm talking about Alistair. In fact, he really makes me feel completely okay. I'm very lucky. I then started to feel really badly about "making" Mikal go to this play. . . And said as much. I even said that I would take someone else if he wanted me to.
The problem here, for me anyway, is that it's almost that time again (this is 10 days and counting - not nearly as bad as it was the last two years, but bad enough. I didn't realize when I bought the tickets to the show, that this play was about my life's most defining moment. So, it's not like I picked this time to go to this show.
A couple of days before I was reliving the day I found out. Where I was in the dealership, how the car salesman's card floated to the floor while Ciara and Gus came to collect me, how I can't really remember getting back to their house and how I remember the nice warm sweats they gave me to make me feel better. My eyes well now at these thoughts as I write them. But a couple of days ago, I was reliving them in my head - that isn't the big deal - it was that I was reliving them on my way back from a seeing a movie with Mikal.
He noticed my demeanor change and wanted to help, as he always does. He's a fixer, like me. I didn't feel the least bit weird telling him, but I did feel guilty about thinking after we'd had such a nice date and said as much. He always seems to say the right thing. That time, I think it was something like - it's getting close, you're going to think about it. You okay?
How great is that?
Which brings us back to Saturday. Mikal said he wanted to go with me. He said he knows I'm going to cry, but that he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. But most importantly, he said this, "you deal with it every day just like I do, but in my own way."
Can you believe how selfish I've been. I didn't even think he'd have to deal with my husband's death every day. But there he is, hanging out with me and there is this "thing" I have in my life that is a constant. There isn't a way around him not seeing it, knowing it, feeling it, dealing with it.
I didn't know. How could I not know. Most people would think that Mikal feels like he's got to live up to Alistair, but he knows it's not a competition and never can be. And it's not that he just says that, you feel it. His major concern is that I'm happy and that he can say the right thing when I need to talk.
It's interesting. . . I never thought that he lived with it too. But I guess, how can you not? I live with the fact that he has a daughter every day. But "live with" sounds so. . .so negative.
It's not negative. We both have very significant things in our lives that make us who we are. And those things are both very important to us. And I don't think we would be able to be with one another if we didn't accept or embrace those things (Alistair and Eloise). So, we both may "deal with" or "live with" these facts, but truly, it's like embracing the other person and their history.
Anyway, I'll let you know how the show goes. . .
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
And so it starts. . . or is continuing its cycle?
Eleven (11) days and counting. . . To what you ask? Well, to the day I found out my life changed forever. It kind of seems like a never ending journey. There's the death date (September 6), the holidays (all of them from Labor day through New Years - and even Valentines day), the anniversary (April 1 - we met that day), the birthday (July 28th), then the death date again. . . And the cycle begins all over again.
I think I'm getting better at it - well, in my opinion or at least my hope, I'm getting better at it. I think my head and sometimes my emotions are not necessarily in agreement with me. A couple of days ago I was reliving the day I found out. Where I was in the dealership, how the car salesman's card floated to the floor while Ciara and Gus came to collect me, how I can't really remember getting back to their house and how I remember the nice warm sweats they gave me to make me feel better. My eyes well now at these thoughts as I write them. But a couple of days ago, I was reliving them in my head - that isn't the big deal - it was that I was reliving them on my way back from a seeing a movie with Mikal.
It seemed so random. There wasn't any trigger. The movie we saw was District 9 (I'll have to do a bit on that as well), so, not really any triggers. And even a few days before I was watching Ghost Town and it didn't even cross my mind ONCE that it had to do with a spouse dying. These emotional outbursts are so random.
Sometimes, I'm not even sure why my emotions overwhelm me. Two examples - yesterday I was walking home listening to the Wicked: the life and times of the wicked witch of the west soundtrack (I'm going to the play on Sept 10th - super psyched!) and there is this song that Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) sings that talks about her having no limits and being able to fly. The words are stirring, but that's not what made me have an emotional break (I started to cry). It was the actual notes she was singing. The end of that song is AWESOME - the notes, the keys, the fullness of her voice, the conviction in the sound. It fills me with great feeling and makes me realize all over again how much I love musicals. But to cry over it? Seems a bit over the top. I'm the first to admit, I'll totally cry when I'm at the show, but before - I don't even know the story yet (I'm still reading the book).
The second example is even MORE random. I was watching Boston Legal (my new favorite show that doesn't exist anymore). Spader's character says to Shatner's character when asked if he likes the new fiance, "she makes my friend smile, and that's all that matters to me." WATERWORKS! Seriously? At that? And it's even more random because those two characters are total and complete ASSES in the show. So what that they have this weird and endearing fondness for each other (part of the appeal). . . But I kind of draw the line at crying for this show. . . NOT a show to cry during, really. . . Feel free to disagree with me.
So, not sure why I'm crying. I think it must have to do with the time of year, the stress of the job, and the fact that I'll be going to the mountain this year with Alistair's best friend. You see we have to deposit some of Alistair's ashes on Mount Rainier (again - I'll tell that story a bit later). Plus, I promised Al I would bring CJ up there too (his beloved cat that died 6 months after he did. . . At least Al was spared that). I haven't been up there since April of 2008. . .
Feeling a little guilty about that, but also feeling guilty because I'm not sure I'm ready to go back. But I promised Jason (that's Al's best friend). So, we'll do it. He needs it. He really does. And maybe it'll be good for me too.
I'm just hoping that the random and sometimes utterly unexplainable waterworks moments recede - even for just a little bit until the holidays.
I think I'm getting better at it - well, in my opinion or at least my hope, I'm getting better at it. I think my head and sometimes my emotions are not necessarily in agreement with me. A couple of days ago I was reliving the day I found out. Where I was in the dealership, how the car salesman's card floated to the floor while Ciara and Gus came to collect me, how I can't really remember getting back to their house and how I remember the nice warm sweats they gave me to make me feel better. My eyes well now at these thoughts as I write them. But a couple of days ago, I was reliving them in my head - that isn't the big deal - it was that I was reliving them on my way back from a seeing a movie with Mikal.
It seemed so random. There wasn't any trigger. The movie we saw was District 9 (I'll have to do a bit on that as well), so, not really any triggers. And even a few days before I was watching Ghost Town and it didn't even cross my mind ONCE that it had to do with a spouse dying. These emotional outbursts are so random.
Sometimes, I'm not even sure why my emotions overwhelm me. Two examples - yesterday I was walking home listening to the Wicked: the life and times of the wicked witch of the west soundtrack (I'm going to the play on Sept 10th - super psyched!) and there is this song that Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) sings that talks about her having no limits and being able to fly. The words are stirring, but that's not what made me have an emotional break (I started to cry). It was the actual notes she was singing. The end of that song is AWESOME - the notes, the keys, the fullness of her voice, the conviction in the sound. It fills me with great feeling and makes me realize all over again how much I love musicals. But to cry over it? Seems a bit over the top. I'm the first to admit, I'll totally cry when I'm at the show, but before - I don't even know the story yet (I'm still reading the book).
The second example is even MORE random. I was watching Boston Legal (my new favorite show that doesn't exist anymore). Spader's character says to Shatner's character when asked if he likes the new fiance, "she makes my friend smile, and that's all that matters to me." WATERWORKS! Seriously? At that? And it's even more random because those two characters are total and complete ASSES in the show. So what that they have this weird and endearing fondness for each other (part of the appeal). . . But I kind of draw the line at crying for this show. . . NOT a show to cry during, really. . . Feel free to disagree with me.
So, not sure why I'm crying. I think it must have to do with the time of year, the stress of the job, and the fact that I'll be going to the mountain this year with Alistair's best friend. You see we have to deposit some of Alistair's ashes on Mount Rainier (again - I'll tell that story a bit later). Plus, I promised Al I would bring CJ up there too (his beloved cat that died 6 months after he did. . . At least Al was spared that). I haven't been up there since April of 2008. . .
Feeling a little guilty about that, but also feeling guilty because I'm not sure I'm ready to go back. But I promised Jason (that's Al's best friend). So, we'll do it. He needs it. He really does. And maybe it'll be good for me too.
I'm just hoping that the random and sometimes utterly unexplainable waterworks moments recede - even for just a little bit until the holidays.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Relief
Some of you might have heard that I've been having some medical problems. How could you not, my facebook updates are always giving you my pain level. I've always had problems with my back (or at least for the last 15 years - especially when I burst that disc - what fun!). But over the last five years, I've had a bunch of problems with my arms. I've lost feeling, I've had lots of pain, swelling…all sorts of good stuff. I've been seeing doctors for it and they've mostly been treating the symptoms.
WELL! Three weeks ago I went to this GREAT neurologist, Dr. Lily Jung. She told me she thought I had some neck problems just from doing some reflex tests, so she ordered this MRI for my neck. I've never had that done before and if you have, it's a bit interesting if you don't like small spaces.
The MRI was scheduled for 7am, which meant I had to be there at 6:30 to fill out all the "I don't have metal in my head or neck' paperwork. Firstly, I check into the regular medical place and they say, go to "so and so" place. So, I go down this hallway, and I see all these huge x-ray machines and no counter, no check-in, just a bunch of dudes hanging around in scrubs by a couple of hospital tables. . .Very reassuring, I tell you.
I finally get the attention of one guy and he takes my paperwork and he's like "oh - we're doing a neck MRI with contrast". With Contrast? What is that? Apparently, it's an MRI with fluid that can be detected by the machines shot up in your arm. I'm not squeamish or anything, so I'm not that upset about it (yet).
The MRI guy (I think his name was Rob or something, but he didn't tell me and I didn't ask - I saw it on his tag - he was super nice. . . Sarcasm here. . . ) tells me to change into the gowns and pants, put my stuff in the locker and he'll come and get me. So, here I am in hospital garb (it's freakin' cold) in a hallway with other people in hospital beds (some moaning). . . I'm feeling really warm and fuzzy.
Finally, about 30 minutes AFTER I was supposed to start, the nice MRI guy comes and gets me. They put me on the MRI table (which I am intimately familiar with since my burst disc) and THEN ask me if I'm claustrophobic (now they ask me?). When I say no, he gives me some earplugs, puts this cage over my face, then really shoves in some cloths next to my neck to not make it move. I finally ask, "so. . . When do we do the shot?" He tells me that the shot doesn't happen until after they've done the first part of the MRI (okay - maybe it should have been clear that there would be two parts. . . I have to work people. . . ).
The MRI goes off without a hitch (except the sound makes me think the whole machine is going to blow up it's so loud). It took about 40 minutes. Then they slide me out and say, we're going to do the dye now.
Sidebar - I am not particularly squeamish as I said before, but when dealing with shots, needles, injections, and the like, I NEED to see the needle go in or at least know when the needle goes in or I kinda freak out. How you ask? Well, when I was getting an arteriogram way back in the day, they told me all the times they stuck me with stuff, but forgot to tell me when they were going to insert the tube. All I have to say is there was this tunnel. . . Lots of beeping. . . People yelling. . . Wash cloth and slapping occurred. . . I came back - basically I fainted and they didn't like that - so you NEED TO TELL ME WHEN YOU ARE GOING TO STICK ME!
Okay, sidebar over. I'm in this CAGE and CAN'T move AND they're going to stick a needle in me. I explain to the nurse (who doesn't introduce herself and I can only see her hair by virtue of the little mirror in front of my face on this cage. She tells me when she does it, but then proceeds to "dig" around in my vein. Then the coolness starts. . . It actually wasn't so bad, but kind of disconcerting. I'll tell you now, I had a bruise on my arm that made me look like a heroin addict for about a week and half. . . Nice handy work nurse.
Here's the Relief part (well part of the relief). I went to see Dr. Lily the following week and she showed me that I have a SERIOUSLY pinched nerve in my neck that is causing my pain, numbness, swelling. . . I am OVER JOYED at this news!!!!!!!!!
Why would I be overjoyed that I have a pinched nerve and it causes me pain? Perhaps it's because for the previous FIVE years, I've been told I most likely have AND treated for Fibromyalgia. If you know anything about Fibromyalgia. . . It's not pleasant. It's a "disease" that many don't believe exists AND it is debilitating and can get worse as you get older AND you have to be on medication for the rest of your life. Basically, something totally awesome - it made me sad and worried all the time.
BUT NO - I have a pinched nerve. Can you believe it!? I am so happy.
I was scheduled for cortisone injections the very next week.
Okay - joy on hold for a moment - cortisone kinda worked for my disc - it's arthritic now and generally unpleasant - I work out so I can continue to move and walk - but there are the bad days. Cortisone is to help swelling go down. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. But let me tell you, after FIVE years, I'm willing to do ANYTHING (shark piss up my nose anyone?).
The shot experience was MUCH more pleasant. Debra was my nurse (she introduced herself). Lynn was my nurse that administered my sedatives (love her for that) and Amy was my technician (they live x-ray you so they don't paralyze you when they're sticking needles in your spine - nice of them - very considerate. I'm loving Amy).
Mikal came to pick me up and pretty much laughed at my sedatived butt (or neck or whatever, I don't remember and don't care, because I was feeling pretty good). But very sweet and took care of me while I was recovering (not that long. . . Just a couple of hours).
Since I couldn't eat all day and my procedure was at 2pm, I was STARVING - and Mikal was super kind and got me my favorite (Chicken Tikka Masala from AnnaPurna). Gotta love it when you get your favorite food out of a deal and someone as wonderful as Mikal serves it up for you!
The sedative wore off, the numbing of the injection site wore off - I was sore. That's what all the "one-toothed vampire" posts came from. I have a picture, but will post it later.
Then for about four days I felt GREAT! I mean, no pain, no numbness. People at work noticed how much happier I was. Then it started to wear off. But that's okay. I mean, it's not nearly as bad and I have physical therapy with Randy (the best physical therapist on earth) to give my neck traction (if you haven't had it, you should try it - it feels AWESOME!). So, I'm optimistic. We will see though.
The relief is twofold. Number 1) I DO NOT HAVE FIBROMYALGIA. . . Can you believe how FABULOUS that feels to say that. At least I know what the problem is now and can attack it and try to get it fixed. There are so many options right now I don't even know what to tell you! And Number 2) I feel better. Let me say that again. . . I feel better. Even if these shots to solve everything - I know what "pain free" can feel like.
It's awesome.
WELL! Three weeks ago I went to this GREAT neurologist, Dr. Lily Jung. She told me she thought I had some neck problems just from doing some reflex tests, so she ordered this MRI for my neck. I've never had that done before and if you have, it's a bit interesting if you don't like small spaces.
The MRI was scheduled for 7am, which meant I had to be there at 6:30 to fill out all the "I don't have metal in my head or neck' paperwork. Firstly, I check into the regular medical place and they say, go to "so and so" place. So, I go down this hallway, and I see all these huge x-ray machines and no counter, no check-in, just a bunch of dudes hanging around in scrubs by a couple of hospital tables. . .Very reassuring, I tell you.
I finally get the attention of one guy and he takes my paperwork and he's like "oh - we're doing a neck MRI with contrast". With Contrast? What is that? Apparently, it's an MRI with fluid that can be detected by the machines shot up in your arm. I'm not squeamish or anything, so I'm not that upset about it (yet).
The MRI guy (I think his name was Rob or something, but he didn't tell me and I didn't ask - I saw it on his tag - he was super nice. . . Sarcasm here. . . ) tells me to change into the gowns and pants, put my stuff in the locker and he'll come and get me. So, here I am in hospital garb (it's freakin' cold) in a hallway with other people in hospital beds (some moaning). . . I'm feeling really warm and fuzzy.
Finally, about 30 minutes AFTER I was supposed to start, the nice MRI guy comes and gets me. They put me on the MRI table (which I am intimately familiar with since my burst disc) and THEN ask me if I'm claustrophobic (now they ask me?). When I say no, he gives me some earplugs, puts this cage over my face, then really shoves in some cloths next to my neck to not make it move. I finally ask, "so. . . When do we do the shot?" He tells me that the shot doesn't happen until after they've done the first part of the MRI (okay - maybe it should have been clear that there would be two parts. . . I have to work people. . . ).
The MRI goes off without a hitch (except the sound makes me think the whole machine is going to blow up it's so loud). It took about 40 minutes. Then they slide me out and say, we're going to do the dye now.
Sidebar - I am not particularly squeamish as I said before, but when dealing with shots, needles, injections, and the like, I NEED to see the needle go in or at least know when the needle goes in or I kinda freak out. How you ask? Well, when I was getting an arteriogram way back in the day, they told me all the times they stuck me with stuff, but forgot to tell me when they were going to insert the tube. All I have to say is there was this tunnel. . . Lots of beeping. . . People yelling. . . Wash cloth and slapping occurred. . . I came back - basically I fainted and they didn't like that - so you NEED TO TELL ME WHEN YOU ARE GOING TO STICK ME!
Okay, sidebar over. I'm in this CAGE and CAN'T move AND they're going to stick a needle in me. I explain to the nurse (who doesn't introduce herself and I can only see her hair by virtue of the little mirror in front of my face on this cage. She tells me when she does it, but then proceeds to "dig" around in my vein. Then the coolness starts. . . It actually wasn't so bad, but kind of disconcerting. I'll tell you now, I had a bruise on my arm that made me look like a heroin addict for about a week and half. . . Nice handy work nurse.
Here's the Relief part (well part of the relief). I went to see Dr. Lily the following week and she showed me that I have a SERIOUSLY pinched nerve in my neck that is causing my pain, numbness, swelling. . . I am OVER JOYED at this news!!!!!!!!!
Why would I be overjoyed that I have a pinched nerve and it causes me pain? Perhaps it's because for the previous FIVE years, I've been told I most likely have AND treated for Fibromyalgia. If you know anything about Fibromyalgia. . . It's not pleasant. It's a "disease" that many don't believe exists AND it is debilitating and can get worse as you get older AND you have to be on medication for the rest of your life. Basically, something totally awesome - it made me sad and worried all the time.
BUT NO - I have a pinched nerve. Can you believe it!? I am so happy.
I was scheduled for cortisone injections the very next week.
Okay - joy on hold for a moment - cortisone kinda worked for my disc - it's arthritic now and generally unpleasant - I work out so I can continue to move and walk - but there are the bad days. Cortisone is to help swelling go down. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. But let me tell you, after FIVE years, I'm willing to do ANYTHING (shark piss up my nose anyone?).
The shot experience was MUCH more pleasant. Debra was my nurse (she introduced herself). Lynn was my nurse that administered my sedatives (love her for that) and Amy was my technician (they live x-ray you so they don't paralyze you when they're sticking needles in your spine - nice of them - very considerate. I'm loving Amy).
Mikal came to pick me up and pretty much laughed at my sedatived butt (or neck or whatever, I don't remember and don't care, because I was feeling pretty good). But very sweet and took care of me while I was recovering (not that long. . . Just a couple of hours).
Since I couldn't eat all day and my procedure was at 2pm, I was STARVING - and Mikal was super kind and got me my favorite (Chicken Tikka Masala from AnnaPurna). Gotta love it when you get your favorite food out of a deal and someone as wonderful as Mikal serves it up for you!
The sedative wore off, the numbing of the injection site wore off - I was sore. That's what all the "one-toothed vampire" posts came from. I have a picture, but will post it later.
Then for about four days I felt GREAT! I mean, no pain, no numbness. People at work noticed how much happier I was. Then it started to wear off. But that's okay. I mean, it's not nearly as bad and I have physical therapy with Randy (the best physical therapist on earth) to give my neck traction (if you haven't had it, you should try it - it feels AWESOME!). So, I'm optimistic. We will see though.
The relief is twofold. Number 1) I DO NOT HAVE FIBROMYALGIA. . . Can you believe how FABULOUS that feels to say that. At least I know what the problem is now and can attack it and try to get it fixed. There are so many options right now I don't even know what to tell you! And Number 2) I feel better. Let me say that again. . . I feel better. Even if these shots to solve everything - I know what "pain free" can feel like.
It's awesome.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
First Endeavor to scope out the "Best Of" from the Seattle weekly 2009. . . I'm going with maybe
my first endeavor on the "best of" tour. Best seafood it says. I think I might go with best stripped bass, but not really best anything else. Well, maybe best wall design, but more on that later. Mikal and I walked into Anchovies and Olives around 6:30pm on a Saturday. It wasn't very busy and we were seated right away in a the very small corner behind the door. It was actually pretty intimate for us. The back wall was bench seating, so technically we were sitting right next to another couple with just a small enough opening for the waiter to stand in when he came to take our order. don't get me wrong, I really did like the area. I sat in the booth type seating and Mikal took the seat across from me. He was staring right into a mirror image of himself. He found this very annoying. But we did think the wall design was very cool.
Decor
The wall had sort of an Asian feel. But not completely. There were 6 inch wide strips of paneling-type dark wood and they were weaved in and out over about 2 inch light wood dowels. The dowels were not straight either, they were at odd angles which gave the room a kind of interesting look. The rest of the scene was pretty modern.
the kitchen is directly in front of the door and looks like a giant square. It has exposed hoods and large wood counters where there are three or four chefs cooking at a leisurely pace (as I mentioned, it wasn't that busy).
Service
Our waiter, and for the sake of what I'm going to say next, I won't tell you his name, came over and was very nice to me and when he turned to Mikal, TOTALLY checked him out from top to bottom (and we were sitting). We're on the hill people, and let's face it, Mikal's always getting checked out by the boys. What can I say, he's cute.
We had only been sitting there a few moments when he came over and we barely had time to look at the menu. Despite this, the waiter asked if he could get us some drinks. We told him we wanted to get a bottle of wine, but hadn't looked yet. That's when he really started to swing into action (it was a bit akwardo before this).
He told us that everything is served family style. And gave us some recommendations. I asked about the pasta because they were names I really had never heard of before. Like, Bigoli, which is a long tube made out of buckwheat. Well, I didn't want buckwheat. So, I decided to look more. Our waiter went on his way and Mikal and I took more looks at the menu.
What we ordered
We decided we were going to have two entrees and an appetizer with some wine.
I ordered the Malloredus (a pasta made with semolina flour and water) Clams, Green Beans, Spinach, Zucchini Pesto for $17 and Mikal got the striped bass (no description on the website and I can't remember how much - about the samish price as mine). We both ordered the Columbia City Bakery Focaccia Bread with Arbequina Olive, Sicilian Olive Oil for $2 and the Heirloom Tomatoes Marinated Mussels, White Corn, Arugula for $13
The wine list was a bit over priced for sure. Most of the wine was about $50 per bottle. There were only a few under that and least expensive bottle was probably something like $35. . . We ordered something about $40. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't fabulous. Our opinion (and it is ours as we agreed on it, the wine was very over priced and not that fabulous - they should have several selections under $35).
Did we like it?
The bread came and of course Mikal at most of it (if you saw his size and knew how fast he burns calories, you would not object). It was actually really good. The consistency and the taste was really inviting. I had high hopes for the rest.
When the heirloom tomatoes came, I was disappointed before I even put anything on my fork. They had a bunch of onions on top of the tomatoes. It didn't mention them in the menu so I didn't expect them. If you know anything about me, you'll know onions in their raw form do NOT like me at all. So, the tomatoes tasted like tomatoes and were good, but they also had that horrible raw onion taste I don't like. The SAUCE, though, was FABULOUS. The mussels and the tomatoes and the sauce together was really really good. It was something the waiter had recommended because of the sauce. Kudos on that, but I would have preferred them without the onions.
So, I did ask what kind of pasta the Mallordeus was (and it's misspelled on the menu) and I didn't think it would be bad. But the whole dish was pretty tasteless. I added salt and pepper, but meh. . . Wasn't that good. The bass, on the other hand, was PHENOMINAL! I loved it. Mikal, again has a, rightfully so, large appetite and at these restaurants you don't get large portions. So, I wanted him to eat the dish he had ordered. But alas, he likes to feed me and kept feeding me more and more bass. It was DELISH! So, kudos to the chef who created that little gem.
We decided not get dessert, mostly because we were disappointed in the one dish with the clams (and yes, I ate all the clams. . .still no taste). The waiter did offer me a different kind of pasta, but I wasn't in the mood. He didn't take it off the bill, but at least he did offer to have me try something else. They weren't offended by me saying I didn't like something, so that was good.
The Recommendation
Overall, I would say, the bass was good, but the other kind of seafood, not so good. Point being, if you're looking for the Best Seafood in Seattle, I'm not sure this is the place. I would say, so far, it's the best place in Seattle to get Striped Bass (and probably other fish too).
Let me know if you go! I'd love to hear your opinion
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
The Best of Seattle
On Sundays, when required, I go to a local java hut and read either the paper (though not my first choice), a book, or try to do a crossword puzzle (and I assure you this one only takes about three minutes since I NEVER get anything on the Sunday crossword puzzles). This last Sunday, I was at my local Starbucks (amazingly, I really only have one near me) reading the Seattle Weekly. I don't normally read the Seattle Weekly. I'm not sure why - I think I have a bias that was seeded long ago when I was trying to move here to Seattle and the only "book" that I could find on the city was done by the Stranger. So, I don't normally read the Seattle Weekly.
That aside, I was really amused with the short "articles" about "the best of" whatever the paper had asked the public to weigh in on. So much so, that yesterday I started cutting out some of these articles so that I could put them in my notebook and try some of these things to really see if they were "the best of" anything. I have done or gone to some of these things so I didn't cut them all out, but the pile actually got pretty big.
Today, I decided that I would put them in my notebook and try to do or try as many of these things as I could within the next year or two and within my budget. Then I thought I'd share with all of you whether or not these things are "the best of" what kp thinks is the best.
Seattle has so much to offer and often times I really don't go outside of downtown or Capitol Hill. Here's my chance. I also hope I can take some of you with me and perhaps share some of my city with you. Maybe it will make some of you want to come and visit me.
love all of you,
love me.
That aside, I was really amused with the short "articles" about "the best of" whatever the paper had asked the public to weigh in on. So much so, that yesterday I started cutting out some of these articles so that I could put them in my notebook and try some of these things to really see if they were "the best of" anything. I have done or gone to some of these things so I didn't cut them all out, but the pile actually got pretty big.
Today, I decided that I would put them in my notebook and try to do or try as many of these things as I could within the next year or two and within my budget. Then I thought I'd share with all of you whether or not these things are "the best of" what kp thinks is the best.
Seattle has so much to offer and often times I really don't go outside of downtown or Capitol Hill. Here's my chance. I also hope I can take some of you with me and perhaps share some of my city with you. Maybe it will make some of you want to come and visit me.
love all of you,
love me.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Gosh - has it really been that long?
I guess it has. I know, I'm a terrible liar (Shakira anyone?). At anyrate, I know I haven't been the best blogger in the intertubes, but I really was busy for a time. I mean, I finally finished doing theater in March and decided to take a break. It's been an interesting time. But I guess I haven't really told you about all that's happened since my last post. Or even before then!!!
Let's see, I'm looking at my pictures and the blog and trying to figure out what I've told you and what I've left out. . . it's a daunting task if you know how many pictures I take. And even more daunting when you know how many pictures I haven't posted.
I'm at work right now on my lunch break and only have about two minutes left, so I think I'll just leave it at "I've been itching to write". So, I think some posts are forth coming.
I know, I know - no promises this time. But I do like to write it all out.
besos to you all (as Ciara would say!).
Let's see, I'm looking at my pictures and the blog and trying to figure out what I've told you and what I've left out. . . it's a daunting task if you know how many pictures I take. And even more daunting when you know how many pictures I haven't posted.
I'm at work right now on my lunch break and only have about two minutes left, so I think I'll just leave it at "I've been itching to write". So, I think some posts are forth coming.
I know, I know - no promises this time. But I do like to write it all out.
besos to you all (as Ciara would say!).
Sunday, February 01, 2009
An overwhelming and heartfelt thank you
I am humbled by the response to my last post. I also want to assure everyone that I am good (though that word doesn't even come close to the feelings I am having today) and haven't felt this good in a long time. Writing this made me release it out into the wild and no longer hold on to it, letting it fester and eat me alive. It's a piece of freedom to me.
I am afraid to post more for fear that all will think I am terribly sad. I am sad I don't get to have Alistair anymore. However, if I write how this all went, I will be a much more peaceful person. I love sharing it with all of you because I have been INCREDIBLY blessed to have all of you in my life helping me through this.
I think you deserve to know it all. Some of you have heard bits and pieces of this and I'm not really sure how to present it in a coherent manner. I don't want to post only the sad parts of my life over the last year and four months, I want to share the great things too. The memories, the revelations, the difficulties. It's a bit of my therapy. The world is opening up to me in a way I never imagined or thought was possible and sharing each of these things opens it a bit wider.
Alistair and I always loved adventures. Even little adventures and so this experience is just another adventure. Some of it is wonderful, some of it is completely mundane, some of it is very sad and scary, and some of it is things I am not proud of. But all of it is me, all of it is true, and all of it is freedom. Freedom to be sad, freedom to be happy, freedom to dream, freedom to remember, and freedom to be open to the next adventures.
I love your support, feedback, comments, and I want you to continue to do so. But just to repeat and be clear - this is my therapy and it is my gift to you so you all have the whole story and not just the pieces I felt okay to share with individuals. Please don't be sad, please don't be burdened, please just share in my journey to the freedom of the next adventure.
gosh - that was a bit preachy. okay - done with preachy. Love you all, thank you all and I hope in any small way, it touches you to hold what you love close, always say I love you and often, and to know it's okay to let things go.
hasta la pasta - my next post? my blind date with genius.
I am afraid to post more for fear that all will think I am terribly sad. I am sad I don't get to have Alistair anymore. However, if I write how this all went, I will be a much more peaceful person. I love sharing it with all of you because I have been INCREDIBLY blessed to have all of you in my life helping me through this.
I think you deserve to know it all. Some of you have heard bits and pieces of this and I'm not really sure how to present it in a coherent manner. I don't want to post only the sad parts of my life over the last year and four months, I want to share the great things too. The memories, the revelations, the difficulties. It's a bit of my therapy. The world is opening up to me in a way I never imagined or thought was possible and sharing each of these things opens it a bit wider.
Alistair and I always loved adventures. Even little adventures and so this experience is just another adventure. Some of it is wonderful, some of it is completely mundane, some of it is very sad and scary, and some of it is things I am not proud of. But all of it is me, all of it is true, and all of it is freedom. Freedom to be sad, freedom to be happy, freedom to dream, freedom to remember, and freedom to be open to the next adventures.
I love your support, feedback, comments, and I want you to continue to do so. But just to repeat and be clear - this is my therapy and it is my gift to you so you all have the whole story and not just the pieces I felt okay to share with individuals. Please don't be sad, please don't be burdened, please just share in my journey to the freedom of the next adventure.
gosh - that was a bit preachy. okay - done with preachy. Love you all, thank you all and I hope in any small way, it touches you to hold what you love close, always say I love you and often, and to know it's okay to let things go.
hasta la pasta - my next post? my blind date with genius.
When a bus ride changes your life
I was married for almost 6 years. Then I wasn't anymore. An unwilling widow. One voice mail, one bus ride, one phrase, "he can't honey, he can't" and my life changed.
In case you don't know how I met Alistair, it was on a blind date. I knew that night I wanted to marry him and spend the rest of my life with this man. I married him exactly one year to the day that I met him - April Fool's Day. It was just right. In the same way I knew I wanted to marry him, I knew he wasn't with me anymore.
September 7, 2007 I was riding the 15 down to the car dealership. I was really excited because I was going to be signing the papers for the new silver volkswagen jetta and starting on my way to Montana to drop it off for my husband, Alistair, where he was finishing his PhD. He was so excited. It was finally a car he had picked out and it was the right color, the right car, the right everything. He always felt he never got the right anything. So it was a big deal in our life.
The bus was packed with standing room only and I had been lucky to get a seat near the back of the bus. My phone vibrated, screaming to tell me I had missed a voice mail. I hate voice mail, so ordinarily, I wouldn't have checked it, but I had been trying to call Alistair all day. I wanted to tell him I was on my way to get the car since the last thing I told him the previous day was that I would call him when I was on my way. I figured I had missed his call while I was in the elevator at work (it happens with really bad reception and thick earthquake proof walls). So although HE hated LEAVING voice mails, I had left him several that day and I thought perhaps he had at last graced me with his voice.
It wasn't unusual to not hear from him on a Friday. He had school: teaching, seminar, classes, pizza with "the group". So, when the voice mail turned out to be from his professor, panic set in, though I didn't really need to know much more.
When I heard Mike's voice, Alistair's professor, asking me if Alistair was home with me, I already knew my life had changed. My whole body had this horrible aware sensation. Every nerve ending felt alive, but only in a survival way like having been suddenly awakened out of horrific nightmare when you aren't really sure if the dream was real or not. I knew why I felt that way, but I was avoiding the reality, even in those first few moments. There is always a chance that I could be wrong. Even though I knew my husband, even though I knew how he lived, and even though I knew how he played with his life, still, I wanted to believe there was a chance. Never in my life did I want to be wrong more than in this moment.
A poor young man on the bus must have realized my distress since he bent over and stopped me from rocking in my seat and asked so very gently, "can I help you?". All I wanted was to get off the bus. I think I kept repeating that, "i just need to get off this bus, i just need to get off this bus." It was hard to breath and hard to see and I was very warm. There isn't much to remember from then until the phrase, though I know hours went by.
I do know I called two people. Ciara and then Derek. First Ciara - and in fact, I don't remember if I called her and then Gus or vice versa, but I talked to one of them and said something like, "something is very wrong and I need you to pick me up from the dealership." They were in the UDistrict getting groceries. But one of them said, "we'll be there."
Then I called Derek - I told him I knew Alistair was dead. Derek told me that I was over-reacting (and he was right to say that then). I just knew it. I just felt it. Nothing was more clear to me than that during that walk from the bus to the dealership. Bless Derek for his talk with me all the way to the dealership. I don't remember really what we talked about, but only that he was reassuring.
When I got to the dealership, John, the guy who sold us the car, came up to me and said, "ah. . . we had some problems with the paperwork." You see, he was trying to be funny. We had to have the papers fly all around the country to get the proper signatures and stuff. But right away he saw that I was in distress. I said, "I'm having a personal crisis right now and my phone is running out of charge. Can you find me a charger for a razor?" He went right away to find one. I don't remember seeing him until Ciara and Gus got there. They talked to him and then took me home, to their home.
Like I said, I think hours went by. Gus made me dress in some sweats. Ciara made me drink some beer (I think I needed a shot, but beer was good to start).
I hadn't heard from Mike after speaking with him on the phone on the bus. He asked permission to have the door knocked down to see if Alistair was in there. I gave it. I needed to know.
When I called back and Mike's wife Donna answered. I'm not sure how long she was on the phone with me but it felt like forever. Hours after I had spoken to Mike, hours after I had given him permission to have the police knock down the door, hours after I had called Alistair's parents, hours after I had called my best friend to come and pick me up from the dealership, hours after she and her husband kept telling me that I couldn't be certain since no one had seen him - sure there was another answer. Hours after I already knew what no one could tell me yet. Hours after; Donna was giving me a blow by blow (and yes, it felt like a blow by blow) on what was happening. "Ok, Mike's at the door with the police. Mike's in with the officers. They're still in there. Mike's on his way out. He's walking towards me."
"Donna, please can he tell me?"
". . .he can't honey, he can't. . . "
And I was falling. . . .
falling. . .
That tie I had felt on the first night was the same tie that told me he had left me. Something he had promised not to do
ever
yet here I was.
alone.
no more tie.
floating out in the blackness
alone.
In case you don't know how I met Alistair, it was on a blind date. I knew that night I wanted to marry him and spend the rest of my life with this man. I married him exactly one year to the day that I met him - April Fool's Day. It was just right. In the same way I knew I wanted to marry him, I knew he wasn't with me anymore.
September 7, 2007 I was riding the 15 down to the car dealership. I was really excited because I was going to be signing the papers for the new silver volkswagen jetta and starting on my way to Montana to drop it off for my husband, Alistair, where he was finishing his PhD. He was so excited. It was finally a car he had picked out and it was the right color, the right car, the right everything. He always felt he never got the right anything. So it was a big deal in our life.
The bus was packed with standing room only and I had been lucky to get a seat near the back of the bus. My phone vibrated, screaming to tell me I had missed a voice mail. I hate voice mail, so ordinarily, I wouldn't have checked it, but I had been trying to call Alistair all day. I wanted to tell him I was on my way to get the car since the last thing I told him the previous day was that I would call him when I was on my way. I figured I had missed his call while I was in the elevator at work (it happens with really bad reception and thick earthquake proof walls). So although HE hated LEAVING voice mails, I had left him several that day and I thought perhaps he had at last graced me with his voice.
It wasn't unusual to not hear from him on a Friday. He had school: teaching, seminar, classes, pizza with "the group". So, when the voice mail turned out to be from his professor, panic set in, though I didn't really need to know much more.
When I heard Mike's voice, Alistair's professor, asking me if Alistair was home with me, I already knew my life had changed. My whole body had this horrible aware sensation. Every nerve ending felt alive, but only in a survival way like having been suddenly awakened out of horrific nightmare when you aren't really sure if the dream was real or not. I knew why I felt that way, but I was avoiding the reality, even in those first few moments. There is always a chance that I could be wrong. Even though I knew my husband, even though I knew how he lived, and even though I knew how he played with his life, still, I wanted to believe there was a chance. Never in my life did I want to be wrong more than in this moment.
A poor young man on the bus must have realized my distress since he bent over and stopped me from rocking in my seat and asked so very gently, "can I help you?". All I wanted was to get off the bus. I think I kept repeating that, "i just need to get off this bus, i just need to get off this bus." It was hard to breath and hard to see and I was very warm. There isn't much to remember from then until the phrase, though I know hours went by.
I do know I called two people. Ciara and then Derek. First Ciara - and in fact, I don't remember if I called her and then Gus or vice versa, but I talked to one of them and said something like, "something is very wrong and I need you to pick me up from the dealership." They were in the UDistrict getting groceries. But one of them said, "we'll be there."
Then I called Derek - I told him I knew Alistair was dead. Derek told me that I was over-reacting (and he was right to say that then). I just knew it. I just felt it. Nothing was more clear to me than that during that walk from the bus to the dealership. Bless Derek for his talk with me all the way to the dealership. I don't remember really what we talked about, but only that he was reassuring.
When I got to the dealership, John, the guy who sold us the car, came up to me and said, "ah. . . we had some problems with the paperwork." You see, he was trying to be funny. We had to have the papers fly all around the country to get the proper signatures and stuff. But right away he saw that I was in distress. I said, "I'm having a personal crisis right now and my phone is running out of charge. Can you find me a charger for a razor?" He went right away to find one. I don't remember seeing him until Ciara and Gus got there. They talked to him and then took me home, to their home.
Like I said, I think hours went by. Gus made me dress in some sweats. Ciara made me drink some beer (I think I needed a shot, but beer was good to start).
I hadn't heard from Mike after speaking with him on the phone on the bus. He asked permission to have the door knocked down to see if Alistair was in there. I gave it. I needed to know.
When I called back and Mike's wife Donna answered. I'm not sure how long she was on the phone with me but it felt like forever. Hours after I had spoken to Mike, hours after I had given him permission to have the police knock down the door, hours after I had called Alistair's parents, hours after I had called my best friend to come and pick me up from the dealership, hours after she and her husband kept telling me that I couldn't be certain since no one had seen him - sure there was another answer. Hours after I already knew what no one could tell me yet. Hours after; Donna was giving me a blow by blow (and yes, it felt like a blow by blow) on what was happening. "Ok, Mike's at the door with the police. Mike's in with the officers. They're still in there. Mike's on his way out. He's walking towards me."
"Donna, please can he tell me?"
". . .he can't honey, he can't. . . "
And I was falling. . . .
falling. . .
That tie I had felt on the first night was the same tie that told me he had left me. Something he had promised not to do
ever
yet here I was.
alone.
no more tie.
floating out in the blackness
alone.
Three whole different people
So, I was looking at the last three posts I put out there and it seems like three different people. There is no context, no transition, no sense to the flow of time.
But is that really that surprising?
So, here is context to the time of flow. The Mariners win, Less than three weeks later, Alistair died. More than a year passed while I was trying to deal with Alistair dying. I spent most of it doing theater because it was something that kept me REALLY busy and where I felt needed, so the post after the "memorial" post (gawd, that sounds awful, but I can't think of another thing to call it), is the post about all my theater stuff. I have done so much in the last year in trying to heal. It really is three different people.
I suppose, if you know me, and you read my blog, you would probably put those pieces together, but those that don't, probably don't get it. I feel like I need to pick up from the Mariners game to really have anyone understand what I've been through. Though, I'm not sure I actually want to do that for others to understand. I want to do it for me. Every time I write about something, I feel better. And I want everyone to know how much I truly appreciate them for what they've done and how they've been there for me.
I know, I know, it's just another empty promise to keep posting, right? Maybe, but I figure, if I say it out loud, it's either TRUE or I'll have to make it true. I hate disappointing other people, so if some of you could keep me honest, that would be great. Though, you've all done so much for me already, I don't really get to ask anymore. I've dipped into the bank enough times over the last year and a half, I would understand if any of you thought I had over drawn a bit.
Next time, I want to tell you what it's like to have your life change on a bus.
But is that really that surprising?
So, here is context to the time of flow. The Mariners win, Less than three weeks later, Alistair died. More than a year passed while I was trying to deal with Alistair dying. I spent most of it doing theater because it was something that kept me REALLY busy and where I felt needed, so the post after the "memorial" post (gawd, that sounds awful, but I can't think of another thing to call it), is the post about all my theater stuff. I have done so much in the last year in trying to heal. It really is three different people.
I suppose, if you know me, and you read my blog, you would probably put those pieces together, but those that don't, probably don't get it. I feel like I need to pick up from the Mariners game to really have anyone understand what I've been through. Though, I'm not sure I actually want to do that for others to understand. I want to do it for me. Every time I write about something, I feel better. And I want everyone to know how much I truly appreciate them for what they've done and how they've been there for me.
I know, I know, it's just another empty promise to keep posting, right? Maybe, but I figure, if I say it out loud, it's either TRUE or I'll have to make it true. I hate disappointing other people, so if some of you could keep me honest, that would be great. Though, you've all done so much for me already, I don't really get to ask anymore. I've dipped into the bank enough times over the last year and a half, I would understand if any of you thought I had over drawn a bit.
Next time, I want to tell you what it's like to have your life change on a bus.
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