What is the opposite of 'tech savvy'?

 This blog obviously attests to the fact that I love new things: new tastes, new sights and sounds, new places, new people, new sensations.  And that's true about almost everything - except tech.  The tech/digital world depresses the hell out of me.

Sweet Hubby recently asked if I'd like a new Fitbit.  I love my Fitbit, and use it for counting steps, telling time, and occasionally as stopwatch.  It has served me well.  I imagined a new one would simply be a shinier version of the one I had.  Such naivety, such innocence, such ignorance.  The new one arrived, and of course, as any 9-year-old in the modern world could have warned me, the new one is much more complex.  It looks different, does more, has more alerts and an seemingly almost endless offering of functions.  I took one look at it and my spirits sank.  It speaks a language I am not at all comfortable with.

I know some people, maybe a lot of people, get excited about the latest, newest gadgets, but I'm an old fashioned gal.  I like what I already know, what I'm familiar with.  To have to learn a new gadget, learn how to use it properly and get the most of it, just depresses me.  I think part of that depression, way in the background, is the anticipation of how lost I will feel if SH dies before me and I'm left to contend with this digital world by myself.   Part of it is because I don't like to interrupt the anticipated flow of my days to learn something new.  Part of it is simply because I haven't reconciled myself to living in a world where new new new is the trumpet call of the day, because I don't need new new new.  I can make do for a long time with something that works, whether is an electronic device or an article of clothing, or a kitchen utensil or small appliance.  I find the new new new mentality to be distasteful; all that garbage, all that avarice, all that jostling for the latest.  

I suppose my mood about all this might also be exacerbated by having watched a documentary called "Buy Now".  Very informative.  Very disturbing.  One of the messages of that movie is that when we throw things away, there's actually no such place as away.  Everything goes someplace, and that someplace is into the air, the water, or the soil.  

I don't want to go down that preachy tunnel.  'Nuff said.  I know that I will get used to my new Fitbit, or at least become familiar and comfortable with the functions I actually need.  But I'm keeping this one for a long time, maybe for the rest of my life.  The mountains of garbage and waste are doing fine without any more contributions from me.

Earthy woman?

When I was in grade school, my favorite books were Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books.  I read all of them several times.  I also loved Baby Island by Carol Ryrie Brink, in which two girls are shipwrecked and land on an island with four babies in their care.  I have always imagined myself as a pioneer, someone who would thrive while living off the land, living a simple, elemental life, growing and preserving my own food, making what I needed, needing only the basic supplies.  This has been a big part of my self-image.

When Sweet Hubby and I bought this house, my first to own, I was delighted that it came with a large backyard, full of potential.  SH got right to work and planted a patch of raspberry canes, and later a row of blueberry bushes.  He build four garden boxes and planted lettuces, onions, cucumbers, strawberries, scallions, tomatoes.  When he built our deck, he planted all kinds of herbs and flowers in boxes.  It turns out he can be quite a gardener.

Imagine my surprise to find out that I am not.  I was happy to go out and pick what he grew, but I never got my hands dirty.  Not once.  I am, I fear, not a woman of the earth at all.  If I had to survive in the wild, as in my fantasies, I would last maybe 2 days; 4 if there were fresh water available.

Eventually SH's attention turned to other interests.  The raspberries still come back every year, and the blueberry bushes are doing well.  But the garden boxes have, for a long time now, been nothing but dirt covered with black tarp, and the wood forming the boxes has begun to rot.

Recently I crossed paths with a neighbor of ours who runs a landscaping business, and I impulsively asked her to come to our house to advise me how to get a garden going in those sad, neglected boxes.  I figured I ought to give gardening at least a one year try on to see if my image of myself is a complete sham or simply unexplored.

What I got from Sally Ann turned out to be a lot more than I had bargained for.  She immediately saw the possibilities in this big piece of land, and helped me imagine, bit by bit, what a glorious place it could be.  She addressed not just the garden beds, which will need to be completely rebuild and reconfigured, but imagined a hedgerow along the back of the yard, a rain garden, meadow plants to replace the sad, rough grass, paths curving throughout the yard, cleaning up the mess around the shed.

I am absolutely thrilled with this new vision of what our yard can be.  Not only will it be so much more beautiful and fruitful for us, but it will no doubt add greatly to the resale value of the house, should we decide to move at some point.  It has been in the back of my mind for a long time to make this one of our home projects, but neither SH nor I have ever taken the initiative to get it going.  That moment of casually bumping into Sally Ann has turned out to be what might possibly be the start of a new (and probably expensive) chapter in the years-long project of turning this house and its grounds into a home that it truly ours and truly beautiful.

Yes, it's green

This morning I made avocado bread.  Not the toast spread with avocado which is so popular these days.  This is an actual loaf of bread with mashed avocados as one of the main ingredients.  It's quite good, very rich and moist and lightly sweet.  I got the recipe from a friend of mine, and immediately bought two avocados, then waited until they ripened to soft.  I couldn't quite imagine how this would taste, and it does, indeed, have an avocado flavor, which I happen to like.  Here's the recipe:

2 C flour mixed with

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

2 very ripe avocados, mashed

3/4 C sugar

3 eggs

Oven to 350.  Beat together the avocados, sugar, and eggs until well mixed.  Fold in the dry ingredients.  Bake for 1 hour in a greased or sprayed  loaf pan.

Easy and good!  It might also be good with chopped nuts added in.

Another follow up - Bye-bye bridge

I have bowed out of bridge lessons.  Each lesson was 2 1/2 hours long, twice a week.  There was a LOT of information during each lesson, what the instructor called "a firehose of information", very dense and using an argot specific to the game.  Because I had to miss a few sessions, I felt I was falling further and further behind, not understanding the principles, not really learning.  I began to feel tense and uneasy about it, not looking forward to the sessions, and foreseeing that I would have to miss even more of them in the coming weeks.  So I gave my notice to the instructor, who was, predictably, very understanding.

I learned that new rookie lessons will begin in January, so I figure between now and then I can study the information I already have, as well as playing practice games on a couple of the apps and websites I've found.  Then, when I start again, I won't be starting from scratch and might be able to keep up and learn, even if I still have to miss some sessions.  

It was such a relief to let it go.  Why on earth keep doing something I'm feeling anxious about when there is a path to better understanding in the future?

However, when I reflected this experience, I realized that I have never really learned to knuckle down, to study in a deep, committed way.  I breezed through high school with little effort, relying on native intelligence and casually gathered knowledge to get by.  I suppose if I had applied myself I could have had a sterling GPA, but that wasn't really important to me.  And when I was in college, all I wanted to do was theater and dance, so I would get As in those classes and a C in whatever required class I was taking to round out my education.  I left college after 2 years to move to Hollywood to pursue an acting career and never earned a degree.

I enjoy my relaxed, loosey-goosey, impulsive, free spirited approach to life.  There has never been a time I have regretted not having a college degree.  But I do see that, in this one arena of trying to learn something new that is challenging and requires a fair bit of effort, I don't have much strength.  I would read the pages handed out at each bridge class and my eyes would start to close and my attention wander because I just wasn't getting it.

It's way too late in life for me to be hard on myself about this.  Mostly I'm just noticing something about how I move through life and reflecting on how I feel about it.  Actually, I feel all right.  But I do want to learn bridge, so I'm going to keep at the practicing, get myself some foundation so as to be ready for the next round of classes.  And then I'll either catch on or I won't.  And, loose goose that I am, I'm sure I'll manage to be all right about that, too.

Follow up on new classes

Tai Chi: 2 sessions so far.  Sweet Hubby and I are taking this together.  I'm really liking it, and like the teacher and that he is going slowly, going over the moves multiple times.  As gentle and easy as it looks, the moves are quite precise, and I'm happy to go over the same section of moves many tines.  I'd like to get this into my muscle memory.

Clogging: 1 session.  I think I'm really going to like this, enough that I'm planning to get the special tap shoes cloggers use.  (Regular tap shoes have one tap on the toe, clogging shoes have double taps.)  If I keep up with it and want to do it more, I'm not sure where to go for that.  I'll have to look up if there are clogging groups in the area.

Bridge: 3 sessions.  Bridge is kicking my butt.  Every session is 2 1/2 hours, and by the end, I've usually at least somewhat understood a few of the concepts (how to read one's hand, how to make an opening bid, how to respond to an opening bid, how to read one's partner's signals, etc), but I also end up feeling cotton-headed and lost.  Fortunately the other players who are as green at this as I assure me that they are also feeling lost and stupid, and the more experienced players promise us that we actually are learning and all will become clear eventually.

Essentrics: 2 sessions.  This is a wonderful all-over workout for seniors, focusing on strength, balance, stretching, joint care, posture.  I'm enjoying it and, because I workout so often, am able to follow the teacher's moves really well.  Still, it shocked me when, in the last class, I noticed how difficult it is for me now to get up from the floor to standing.  I've been working out regularly almost my entire life and have always taken great pride in my strength, but now I have to get off the floor in stages, carefully, one move at a time, with effort.  How is it possible that I'm so strong but am struggling with this?  Well, the answer certainly must be that I'm 72 and simply am not and will never be as strong as I used to be, no matter how many classes I take or workouts I do.  And that's just how it is now.  I'll keep working out, both at home and in whatever classes sound interesting, but I have now as another goal to accept and honor where my body and I are, what we can and can't do together, how much to expect and what expectations to let go of.

Days full of new

Well, this has been quite a stretch of days.

Today is Wed.  On Monday I had my first mock interview as part of my training for the program in the criminal justice system in which actors portray children who are either witnesses to or victims of some kind of crime or abuse.  Mock interviews are part of the extensive training the actors receive before being put into the rotation, to be interviewed by lawyers, social workers, and police.  I'd been preoccupied with preparing for this interview for a few days.  I know I'm good at playing adults in similar sorts of scenario trainings, but playing a child is a very different sort of challenge, and I didn't know if I would be good at it.

The mock interview went really well.  The woman in charge of the program coached me through the interview, and I found myself really getting into the spirit of this little 6-year-old girl.  At the end of the session, my trainer said I'm ready to start being used in the program.  I'm thrilled about that.  In the upcoming programs, I will continue to play this particular little girl.  It's a fairly easy assignment.  She has not been the victim of abuse, only witnessed it, so she is not particularly traumatized.  The program materials describe her as "upbeat throughout the interview".  

Now it's Thursday.  Still so busy.

On Monday evening, I had my first bridge lesson.  It was 2 1/2 hours long, and by the end of it, my head was pretty full.  I enjoyed the other folks in the class, and I'm sure I'll enjoy the game once I get the hang of it, but so far I'm feeling a bit at sea with trying to understand it.

Tuesday Sweet Hubby and I had our first Tae Chi class at the nearby rec center.  He took Tae Chi a few years ago at a community college, so he's a bit ahead of me.  I was surprised to find that my balance wasn't very steady.  That's something I focus on during my workouts, and have considered myself to be good at balancing, but I felt pretty unsteady through some of the class.  Also I kept getting mixed up about which leg and arm to move, depending on whether I was watching the teacher directly or through the mirror. Both bridge and Tae Chi have so far been fun but humbling.  I suppose it's silly to want to be good at something on my first attempt. 

Wednesday I took my first class in an exercise program called Essentrics, which is designed for seniors.  It's a good overall body workout, not aerobic but great for strength, posture, flexibility, and, once again, for balance, which I need more than I realized.

On Saturday I'll take my first clogging class.  I seem to have had a burst of wanting to try new things, so my schedule is really full, including several upcoming theater tickets to 3 different shows as well as the usual getting together with friends.  And I'm actively working on 3 different writing projects.  Gosh but I love my life. 

A pond in the mountains

Yesterday Sweet Hubby and I drove into the mountains with friends to take a hike around Gold Creek Pond, which is not quite an hour outside the city.  I've been wanting to do this particular hike ever since I learned of it not too long ago.

It's an easy hike, roughly paved, pretty flat, probably only a mile or so long, around a gorgeously blue-green pond, which is almost big enough to call a lake.  I shouldn't really even call it a hike; it's more of a nature walk, both wheelchair and stroller accessible. 

The best part of the day was spending time with our friends.  Also lunch at a restaurant near a ski area.  Also I was able to scratch something off my Someday list.  All in all, a very good day.

Taking the train

Since 2021, I have been taking the Link Light Rail train whenever possible.  I love getting where I'm going without having to fight traffic, and especially glad not to have to find parking.  Until last weekend, the closest station was a drive of about 20 minutes south of home.

Last weekend, the new extension of the rail opened, four stations going north, one of which is a less than 18 minute walk from home.  Sweet Hubby and I decided to make a day of exploring the new stations.  We drove to the farthest north terminal, found an absolutely wonderful breakfast restaurant, then got on the train and headed south.

We got off the train at every station so that we could see each layout, color palette (I love that there are 3 ways to us that word, each one spelled differently), and artwork.  Each station is decorated differently, sometimes with bold, bright, obvious artworks, sometimes with more subtle works which must be looked for.

This day gave me the greatest feeling of joy, partly because I have looked forward to it for several years, and partly because I got to share it with SH.  Now that I can walk to one of the stations, I will be able to leave the car at home almost every time I use the train, and will get some good steps in as well.  Such a small thing to be so happy about, but happy I am in a most contented way.     

Trivia

Last night Sweet Hubby and I did something I've wanted to do for a long time; something I thought would be loads of fun.  We attended Trivia Night at a local pub.

There were lots of people there, making up about 13 teams.  We were the only team of two.  A couple were as big as 8 or 9 people, so we were up against a lot of heads being put together.  And the questions, oh my lord.  They were so much tougher than I had imagined.  

There were 6 categories of 9 or 10 questions each, and although SH and I got at least a couple right in each category, we basically sucked scissors.  The first category, for example, consisted of questions about Agustus Gloop, one of the child characters in the book "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and the 1971 film "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory".  I've never read the book and haven't seen the movie in several decades (I didn't bother with the Johnny Depp remake).  I was useless on every single question.  Thank goodness SH was able to pull a few out of the deep recesses of his memory.

There was a category all about the number 13, one asking that we identify by their Italian names 9 kinds of pasts based on faint photos, one about heavy metal, both music and earth metals.  I don't remember the other categories.

It was humiliating. Certainly we were there for a good time and managed to get into the spirit of the game.  But both of us pride ourselves on being super-smart, so this demonstration of how much we don't know about an awful lot of subjects was humbling, to say the least.  It got me thinking that there really are only a few subject about which I would feel completely confident, and none of those were included in this particular game.

I was also reminded that I find crowded, noisy rooms to be rather tiring.  If the game had lasted only, say, an hour and a half I would probably have been all right, but this one went on for two and a half, and there was a lot of talking and laughing throughout.  I'm glad we went, but gladder to come back home to our quiet house and kitties.

Exploring the Eastside

I have been wanting for a while to go across Lake Washington to the Eastside and take the recently opened light rail train.  Except for going to an annual arts fair, I don't really know the Eastside (Bellevue and Redmond) at all, and riding the train seemed like a fun way to explore a bit.

When I  mentioned this to a friend, so offered to come with me, which of course made the day much more enjoyable.  (This is the same friend who joined me for the 6 hour drive to Bend, OR when I went there a few months ago to see a new short play performed in a festival. The play was a disaster but my friend and I still had a wonderful time on the drive and trotting around Bend.)  I picked her up at her condo and we made what ended up being a swift, almost traffic-free drive across the bridge to the train station.  We did a bit of "Do we go here or there?  Take this escalator or that elevator?", found the train platform, and boarded.

We got off the train at the Downtown stop, which seemed most promising for brunch.  For some reason we had a hard time getting ourselves oriented, even with the help of her phone, but we did finally find a splendid French restaurant where we ate quiche and croissants.  Then back to the train to continue our ride.  

The Eastside light rail track isn't very long, so we were back to the starting station within about half an hour.  As adventures go, this one was pretty safe and smooth.  But it fulfilled a "one of these days I'd like to..." itch, and was the sweeter for being shared.  

The Tipsy Butterflies in Nashville, Tennessee

I've just returned from a wonderful week in Nashville with a girlfriend group called the Tipsy Butterflies.  This is a motley crew of women pulled together by my cousin.  Although most of us used to live in the Los Angeles area, at this point we are scattered all across the U.S.  To stay connected we play Mexican Train online every Saturday, and once a year Cuzzy plans a trip for us all, during which we spend some in touristing, but mostly laughing and talking and eating and playing games and laughing some more.

One year one of us, who always brings presents, brought everyone a large rhinestone brooch.  When we pinned them on our blouses, they were so heavy they tipped over at crazy angles, and thus the collective name of the Tipsy Butterflies (more often referred to as the Tipsy Butts) was born.

Sweet Hubby was born and raised (mostly) in Nashville, and his mother lived there most of her life, so I'd accompanied him on a few trips there to meet her and some of his good friends.  However, we had never taken in any of the sights and sounds - definitely sounds! - for which this city is famous, so the Tipsy Butts events were all new to me.  One evening we strolled down Broadway, the heart of the city, passing honky tonk after bar after club after restaurant, and in every one of those places, someone was singin' about good ol' boys or lost love or the glories of the country.  We had dinner (not very good - the cornbread was dry and the collards tasted off) at Garth Brooks' restaurant Friends in Low Places.  And there, too, a trio was singing the whole time, good but too noisy for conversation to be possible. 

After that we went to Ryman Auditorium, the second most famous performing venue in Nashville.  There we saw the opening act: a female singer whose name I never did catch, who was quite good but wearing a distractingly YELLOW flowy dress.  Then came the main attraction, the Steep Canyon Rangers.  They are spectacular, good enough that I stopped thinking about how uncomfortable the seats are (wooden pews) and just had a rousing, foot-stomping good time.  These guys are absolutely terrific; every one of them has a bright light to shine.

Our other venture-out-of-the-air-conditioned-house event was a visit to The Hermitage, Andrew Jackson's preserved estate.  I learned a lot more about Jackson than I had previously known (for example, he was 6'4" and weighed 140 pounds; he must have been a stick figure), got to see how people lived in his time (no bathrooms or running water), and took the opportunity to walk through some of the vast grounds.  I appreciated that the available information didn't shy away from acknowledging his Indian removals and slave ownership.  It was too hot and muggy to stay out long, so after that some of us went to a mall so that two of us could do some walking without subjecting ourselves to heatstroke.  I've lived in hot places before, but I've grown unused to the heat after 20+ years in the Pacific Northwest, and although I've been toying with the idea of possibly moving back to Southern California to be closer to family, this trip strengthened my resolve to stay right where I am, thank you very much.

Our other big event out was a family-style meal at Paula Deen's restaurant: fried chicken, meatloaf, ribs, pork chops, creamed corn, creamed potatoes, and, in a nod to wholesomeness, green beans and salad.  Excellent.

The rest of the time was spent as described in the first paragraph.  I always laugh my ass off when we're all together, with conversation, wry observations, jokes, and stories flying fast and furious among us.  All in all, it was a most satisfying vacation, spent in an interesting place with women I cherish.  And now I am so so glad to be home with SH and the kitties.

High tea in Spokane

Sweet Hubby and I have just returned from a few days in Spokane, WA, where we had gone to see a new short play of mine in a festival.  (My play won the judges award, yay!)  Besides enjoying the festival performances, we also made good use of our time, exploring some of the best Spokane has to offer.

We stayed in a hotel near the festival theater, and also across a river and through a beautiful, big park from downtown.  We spent time in the park, including taking skyrides along the river, and seeing the Garbage Goat (a sculpture) and the Red Wagon, which is, indeed, an oversized red wagon with the handle made into a slide.  We visited the Historic Davenport Hotel, a hundred year old hotel which has been restored to its former grandeur.  While at the hotel, SH noticed they serve High Tea on Sundays, and surprised me by suggesting we attend.  That experience became a cornerstone of this vacation.

After we were seated at our table (white tablecloth, of course), we were given time to sniff our way through a flight of the teas that were offered, each of which was described in a menu with the detail and poetry usually found in descriptions of wines.  I chose the Davenport Peach Berry ("Sweet ripe peaches, bold and  bright berries with delicate white leaves brew a stunning cup, slightly sweet and lightly caffeinated."), while SH had the Davenport Cherry Blossom Blend ("A vibrant blend of dark, yet delicate and robust cherries, rose hips, rose petals and blackberry leaf for a caffeine free cup of beauty and tradition.")  Mine was hands down the best cut of tea I've ever tasted.  Sugar cubes were offered but not needed.  I'm not really much of a hot tea drinker, but I loved loved loved this tea, which was served in a little glass pot, to be poured through a strainer.  Each place setting included a triple timer, with 1, 3, and 5 minute capsules of different colored sands so that one could brew the tea to exactly one's taste.  Superb.

We were also, naturally, served a tower of both sweet and savory bites: the traditional cucumber/watercress sandwiches with the crusts cut off, small eclairs filled with huckleberry cream, coriander chicken salad on white bread, scones accompanied by Devonshire cream, lemon curd, and cherry marmalade, and other delights.  Altogether it was a delightful afternoon, elegant but not the least bit stuffy.

Our entire time in Spokane was lovely, including as it did a chance to see 3 performances of my play and hear the robust audience response, as well as to reconnect with some of the members of the local theater community, several of whom greeted me as either a long-lost friend or a well-respected colleague, even though I'd only been there once before, in 2019 when a different play of mine was part of this yearly festival.  I'm so glad to have been able to attend, and gladder still that SH was there to share this glorious experience.

 

New island, new town, new music, new restaurant (if it can be called that)

Due to a combination of inertia and busy-ness, I haven't posted in quite a while, although I'm still always on a search for new experiences.  Here are some of the latest Somethings New, described as succinctly as I can manage:

A best friend and I went took a trip to two of the gorgeous San Juan Islands.  One of them I was familiar with, and was able to guide us to an alpaca ranch and a 20 acre outdoor sculpture garden.  The other island was new to me, so we had a lovely, relaxed time exploring, hiking, and eating.  My one big disappointment is that I missed seeing the Northern Lights, which apparently were incredibly bright the first night we were on the island.  There we were with almost no ambient light, and I missed seeing what was described as magenta fireworks exploding.  I am still kicking myself for not being sure to look out the window all night long.

The new town is one I've known about since I moved here but for some reason had never visited.  I went with a friend recently and met two other friends there for lunch.  A charming town, the kind with one main street chockablock with stores full of locally made and handmade goods, an art museum which was just the right size for seeing every artwork at a leisurely pace, and some restaurants and taverns.  There is a walkway along the river that borders the town, but it was raining that day so we we satisfied ourselves with a good meal, a great conversation, and some art and shopping.  A truly lovely day.

The new music is part of my ongoing commitment to become familiar with more recent singers.  I tend, of course, to be drawn to the music I already know (Beatles, anyone?), and for a long time Adele was my most current recording artist.  Then I found Ed Sheeran, and then Taylor Swift, as well as slightly less known singers such as boygenius and Sufjan Stevens.  Most most recently, I bought CDs by Black Keys, a duo my niece recommended, and Justin Bieber, who has had a long and successful enough career that I figured he must have something special going for him.  I have only listened to each disc once so am not sure how much I like them, but I'm awfully happy to be discovering new music.  It helps keep me from feeling as though I'm becoming stodgy, although I recognize I'm a mile or two from hip.

The new restaurant is one which opened quite recently near my favorite grocery store.  Sweet Hubby was amenable to giving it a try today for lunch.  The main menu items are variations of fried chicken sandwiches.  Not bad, but not terribly healthsome.  There is a slaw on the menu, but it has cilantro in it, which is the only food I absolutely will not eat, because even the slightest flake ruins any dish for me.  For this place, once may be enough.

So there you have it, some of my recent explorations into the world of the unfamiliar.  Cheers!

Unity and Palestine

Yesterday I arrived early in the University District in order to walk, write, and eat before leading a program for journalism students.  As I walked up the avenue from the train, I saw that the Unity Museum was open so I went inside, not knowing that to expect.

This is one of Seattle's specialty museums, a collection of rooms filled with artifacts, documents, photo displays, mementos, each room focusing on one of the various concerns of the museum: climate change, racism, Native American rights, fascism.  I hadn't realized how extensive the museum was, and didn't have much time, so the very talkative curator took me on a quick tour.  I might go back when I have more time to peruse.  I'm not sure.  I'm glad that there is such a place, and wonder how many people find it and venture inside.  I've been curious about it since I learned of it recently.

After lunch I walked onto campus, still with time to spend before my program.  (I try never to use the term 'killing time'.  Who said "As though one could kill time without damaging eternity."?)  I heard a lot of what sounded like organized shouting and went toward the voices to investigate.  It turned out to be a pro-Palestine rally, with "Free Palestine" being shouted through bullhorns and echoed by some in the crowd.

There were other shouted slogans as well.  One was "There is no peace on stolen land".  I found myself wondering if these young activists recognized that the land they were standing on was also stolen; that this entire country is stolen land.  Perhaps they felt that issue was not of the moment and so didn't take the time to acknowledge it.

I have long been an advocate for equal rights for Palestinians and an end to Israel's apartheid policies.  I've seen for myself the oppression of Palestinians by the Israeli government.  It's also true that the Israeli people need and deserve a safe, secure country of their own.  But what kind of security it is that needs to be enforced with checkpoints, walls, barbed wire, a constantly patrolling army? Given the tensions between these two peoples, it seems to me that the current conflict was inevitable.  

It did make me sad at the rally to see some black-masked young men holding a sign that said "Death to fascists".  While I agree that fascism is an evil in all its forms, it's really hard to know who the good guys are when each party of a conflict is calling for the death of the other.

A marvelous mini-vaction

Sweet Hubby and I don't travel together very often.  He's quite happy staying home with the kitties while I go off and have my adventures, so I was especially thrilled when he decided to come with me on a trip to a city two hours north for a reading of a full length play of mine.

Everything about this trip was just about perfect.  I'd made reservations at a hotel which came highly recommended.  It was an odd place, quite old in some parts, and new and modern in others.  The almost labyrinthian downstairs level had two gyms (one for cardio, one for strength training) and a feature I'd never seen before in a hotel: a movie room, equipped with comfy chairs and a library of DVDs.  (We watched "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes", which was just too silly and also showed women in a degrading light).  On the main floor was a large lobby, a nice bar, a big sitting/social room, and an event room about the perfect size for a modest wedding. There was a tucked-away vendor who sold some of the more unusual snacks I've encountered, such as black milk tea popcorn and ube popcorn.  I don't know what ube is, but it was quite tasty.  We also got some slightly less exotic treats, such as freeze dried pineapple and raw whole cashews.

One of the highlights of the weekend was reconnecting with a friend I hadn't seen in quite a while, and for a time thought I might not ever see again.  A few years ago, just around the time the COVID vaccines were being introduced, the fact of her being a stalwart anti-vaxxer began to matter a whole lot more than it had previously.  I mean, who even talked about vaccines before 2020?  It was an era of a lot of stress and anxiety and death, when differences of opinions in some areas became deeper divides. I found that I simply couldn't respect her ideas, which have been thoroughly debunked.  (I wonder if she is aware that, thanks to her and her fellow non-believers, cases of measles are on the rise again.)  It had been a sad loss for me, because she was the first friend I had made when I moved to Seattle, and although I'd always found some of her ideas sort of airy-fairy, I had liked her and her husband a lot.

They had moved to the city where my play reading was taking place, so I'd contacted her to ask if she was familiar with the company producing the reading and to let her know we were coming up.  No mention was made of old contentions and we agreed that the four of us would get together for dinner at a pizza place close to our hotel.  The pizza was excellent, and conversation flowed freely and easily and unselfconsciously.  We will probably never be as close as we had been in the past, but it felt delicious to jump over the gap from the past and enjoy each other in the present.

The highest highlight of our time was the play reading.  About 12 people attended, including those friends.  I have only seen one full production of this play, which is gritty, earthy, full of both love and violence.  In that production, the actors had been miscast, and I felt as though I hadn't really been able to see my play, certainly not as I envisioned and heard it in my imagination.  So it was a relief and a treat to hear good actors who were must better suited to these difficult roles.  Such a relief, in fact, that I was in tears at the end.  The entire audience stayed for a talk back session after, the which did provide a couple of insights and ideas I'm going to take with me when I read the play again.  It doesn't need much: a little tightening here and there, a moment when I have to give a character more to do or more reason to do nothing, and a place name change.  Other than that, I am affirmed in my mind that this is a very good play, one I believe in and will continue to send to theaters in hopes of more productions.

So, all in all, a most marvelous, satisfying, moving couple of days, and all the better because I got to share them with my SH.  

The last stop

I love taking the light rail, and ride it as often as it will get me where I'm going, or sometimes get me close enough that I can take a nice long walk to finish the journey.  I've taken it often to the airport, which is so convenient and saves Sweet Hubby the long drive. 

But there is one stop past the airport, and I've always been curious about that.  The stop is at Angle Lake, which I'd never heard of before construction of the light rail.  What is this place that it deserves a train station?  So yesterday I finally took that curiosity off of the Someday list, and went to Angle Lake.

I was happy that a friend was interested in going with me, as that made the adventure so much more enjoyable.  He boarded the train near his house; thank goodness for cell phones, which made it so easy for me to let him know which train I was on and which car.  We rode past the last few stops together and then got off to explore.

There are big hotels all around the Angle Lake stop, so I immediately realized that this is probably a place where a lot of travelers stay so as to avoid the no doubt pricier hotels and parking around the airport.  The lake is only a short walk from the station, and has a nice park on one shore, which we strolled through.  Such a beautiful Spring day, very crisp and cool and sunny.  I had been hoping that there would be a walking path all around the lake, but houses are built right down to the edge on every shore except where the park is located.

After we had seen all parts of the park, we found a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican café and stopped for lunch.  This gave me a chance to - very hesitantly - try out some of my clumsy Spanish.  The food was good, and day's conversation was deep and friendly and well balanced.  All in all, a sweet time, and one more item scratched off the Someday list.  I don't know that I'll ever have reason to go to Angle Lake again, but I'm awfully glad I did this time, and that I had a friend to share the exploration with.

Trolls!

Sweet Hubby recently showed me an article about troll sculptures which have recently been created by Danish environmental artist  Thomas Dambo and placed around the Pacific Northwest.  So a few days ago, I decided to visit one of them, the closest.  

The one I saw is named Frankie Feetsplinters.  He is both grotesque and cute, menacing and friendly.  Even though there is a rather ragged, crude look to him, there is also a fair amount of detail, such as toenails and fingernails.  I found myself smiling as I looked at him.  Even as big as he is (maybe 18' tall?), there is a goofy childlike quality about his face.

I plan to go see all the trolls at some point.  If you are interested, check out the website here: https://www.nwtrolls.org/. 

Blooms and braids

Two days ago (Sat.) I decided to do something that has been on my Someday list for several years: go see the  famous cherry trees on the UW campus in their magnificent bloom.  I was very happy when Sweet Hubby surprised me by wanting to go with me.

We took the light rail (love love love not having to find parking!) and then strolled onto campus.  It was a magnificent day, the air so crisp and transparent, the mountains clear and white in the distance; just cool enough, just warm enough.  The trees were not quite at the height of their bloom, so I plan to go back a little later this week, but still, the sight even of the half-bloom was thrilling.

From campus we walked back onto the main avenue and found an Indian restaurant we had never been to.  In honor of the cherry blossoms, this restaurant was serving cherry milk, so of course we had to try it.  Delicious.

There was one sour note to the day.  As we were walking through the campus, one of the actors in my full length play (currently in rehearsals) called to say his wife had broken her leg and he felt he needed to drop out of the play in order to take care of her.  The director and I were immediately in touch about re-casting that role, and already had some strong ideas.  However, later that day, one of the actresses also dropped out because of an increased workload.  So now the production of the play is being postponed until an unknown time in what I hope will be the not too distant future.  The director and I are not giving up, but I know he's feeling pretty down right now.  I'm actually okay about it because I trust that it's still going to happen, and maybe be even better than it would have been this time around.

One funny note from the day: At some point, I caught a glimpse of myself in a window.  I had worn my hair in braids that came down over my ears along my face, these ridiculously long braids.  I had my sweatshirt tied around my waist and a daypack on my back.  And I suddenly saw that I looked like an eccentric old lady, which made me laugh and laugh and laugh.  No one had treated me as either eccentric nor old all day, and I don't really care much any more what other people think.   But I did get a sense of seeing myself as others might, and thought I looked marvelously absurd and silly.  As I was laughing, I could barely choke out to  SH "How could you let me leave the house like this?"  He was much too diplomatic to respond, but I saw a wry smile which confirmed in my mind that he, too, had thought I looked silly but would never say anything and loved me anyway.

Inside the arena

Yesterday Sweet Hubby and I did something I didn't even know until recently was available to do.  We took a tour of this city's big indoor sports and concert arena.

Yesterday was our 18th anniversary, so I had signed us up for the tour to give us something special and interesting to do.  And it was,  indeed, very interesting to be given a glimpse into stars' dressing rooms, press rooms, equipment rooms, private lounges, upscale restaurants, passageways; to see the arena from below and high above.  When we walked from one dressing room down a hallway that led to the arena itself, I got a strong sense of how it might feel to be somebody like Tim McGraw (the next concert act on the schedule), a normal sized person walking into a gigantic open space full of up to 18,000 cheering people who have paid and gone to some logistical effort for you to entertain them.  No wonder stars have big egos.  You would have to have a strong sense of yourself in order to believe that you can give all these people their money's worth; that you can hold their attention and deliver value.  Wow.

The tour took about an hour and a half, and we got about 6,000 steps on our Fitbits.  Our tour guide was working way too hard to be entertaining, which was a bit annoying until we realized he is a trainee and that the man who was trailing us, supposedly just to make sure we didn't get lost, was actually the trainer.  Then I became more compassionate for how hard the guide was trying to get it right and not embarrass himself.  He, too, was someone who was doing his best to give us value for the money we had paid.

I came away from this tour determined to go back to the arena as an audience member, to attend an ice hockey game and women's basketball game, to cheer on my city's teams.  One of each sport might be plenty, but I'm more interested now than I was before I got to know this gigantic complex, which is widely known for being the first net zero certified arena in the world, setting a standard for climate action with a commitment to be at net zero carbon by 2040.  It is even called the Climate Pledge Arena.  I'm proud to live in the city that is home to such a forward-thinking business and business model.

What a day!

Yesterday morning, Leap Day, Sweet Hubby surprised me by deciding to take the day off from working on the house, and gave me an Us day.  I was thrilled, although I hadn't had a chance to plan anything, so we made the day up as we went along.

First we went out to breakfast.  Something New #1 was that I ordered oatmeal with raisins and bananas.  I am a bacon/sausage/eggs/toast/pancakes/waffles/sweet roll/hash browns kind of person, but lately I've been wanting to clean up my eating, so I went with a bowl of oatmeal (along with a few bites of SH's biscuits and gravy - I'm not an aesthete, after all).  It was actually quite satisfying.  As we ate, we talked about possibilities for the day, which were somewhat limited because of the rain.  I mentioned an Alexander Calder exhibition at the art museum, so that became the plan.

SN #2: Except for a giant red sculpture titled The Eagle in Seattle's outdoor sculpture park, I had never seen a live Calder.  I very much enjoyed getting to know his whimsical, graceful work.  I especially liked his animals: Crinkle Crocodile, Bird, Rat, and Vache.  We explored other parts of the museum as well, then headed back to the train.

One significant moment before we left the museum.  I went to the ticket counter to ask why we had not gotten the $3 discount I had read on the website comes with buying tickets online.  The ticket vendor wasn't quite sure, and as he struggled to explain, I interrupted him and was mildly, uncharacteristically belligerent.  After that, SH and I went to the museum store to nose around, but that moment at the ticket counter kept itching, so I finally went back upstairs to the counter and apologized.  I'm so glad I did that (and so was the vendor).  I know about myself that when I don't clean up a bad moment, a mistake, a misunderstanding, it will continue to haunt me in odd moments, sometimes for years.  I was embarrassed to have to humble myself like that, but it was such a relief once I had. 

So, on to SN #3.  On the train ride home, we talked about where we might want to have dinner.  I remembered a place we have passed countless times but never gone into, a restaurant called Aurora Borealis.  (The manager told us that a lot of people seem to think it's a marijuana shop.)  It got an excellent Yelp rating, so we decided to try it.  And it was great!  I want to go back again and again to try more dishes on the tempting menu.  I ordered SN #4: a Jalapeno Popper burger, constructed with pickled jalapenos, cream cheese, and raspberry sauce.  (I know, I know, what happened to cleaning up my eating?  But this was my only other meal of the day and I had a salad instead of fries as my side dish.)  SH had a garlic mushroom burger.  Both really tasty, although very messy to eat.  

After dinner, we asked for a tour of the downstairs event rooms, and learned that there is live music at this place almost every night.  We've already decided to go back for the Blues Bash, which happens to fall on Mar. 12, our 18 year anniversary.

All in all, it was a wonderful day, going to new places, trying new foods.  And best of all was that we spent it together.  A whole day with my Sweet Hubby.  Am I lucky or what? 

Death and music

Yesterday had two - count 'em, 2! - Somethings New.

First, Sweet Hubby and I accompanied our darling friend Ruth to Earth, a business which specializes in composting burial, sometimes known as Terramation (that's the tradename of another company).  Earth calls the process "soil transformation".  We were met there by Emily, a ginger-haired, tattooed, pierced, young funeral director.  She was the antithesis of what one expects a funeral director to be.  She gave us a tour of the facility, and it was clear that she was not interested in sales, but rather in knowledge.  She explained the entire process clearly, answering our questions, taking her time, very friendly and bright.  A perfect tour guide.

I signed up with the Neptune Society several years ago, but the more I learn about cremation, the more certain I am that composted burial is the way to go.  Cremation puts toxins into the air, while allowing the body to become compost is actually good for the environment.  An informative, enjoyable afternoon talking about death and body disposition.

Then last night as I was doing laundry, I could hear the music SH was played while he took down the wall panels in his office.  There was a guitar number playing that was so powerful and beautiful, I found myself frozen, enveloped, listening with a mouth opened in absorbed concentration.  At the end, I hollered "What was that?  That was fantastic!"  It was Gary Moore's "Still Got the Blues", SH's favorite piece by one of his favorite musical artists.

It struck me that the way I responded to this music is yet one more indication of how well suited SH and I are to each other.  We both get goosebumps at so many of the same things.

A sweet day

Sweet Hubby and I keep ourselves busy during the days, sometimes barely crossing paths even when we're both in the house, except for meals and the day's end.  He is usually downstairs at his computer or working on clearing away clutter and taking down walls.  If I'm home, I'm usually in my office writing or looking things up or playing games or whatever.  I'm also out of the house a great deal more than he, taking walks, getting together with friends, writing in cafés.

So it was a real treat when he suggested last Sunday that we take the day to be together.  I asked that we walk a paved trail we had driven past several times on our way to donate blood.  I'd noticed the trail but wasn't comfortable with the idea of walking it alone.  A couple of years ago I'd had two potentially scary incidents in one day when I was out walking in a secluded place, and I find I'm less bold than I used to be.  This path, part of the extensive Interurban Trail, wasn't particularly picturesque, as it went through an industrial area.  But walking it with SH satisfied a "one of these days" itch I'd had, which made it quite enjoyable.

Afterward we drove around and stopped at the first likely looking restaurant, an Italian place called Romeo's.  The food was good (most Italian food is), and our special treat was that an amateur jazz band was performing.

I love this sort of day, when we are together and choose to explore a different area than our usual neighborhood.  None of it was exciting or anything, but it was nice and I was with Sweet Hubby.  A sweet day all around. 

Too late, too bad

Recently I decided at last that I was going to visit the Museum of Museums.  I had come across it accidently some time last year and kept thinking that one of these days I would explore it.  It describes itself thusly: Housed in a renovated mid-century medical building, MoM hosts two formal exhibition spaces, three additional on-site museums, rotating installations, murals and sculpture, a theater, weekly art classes, pop-ups, and conceptual gift shop.

Sadly, the MoM has closed.  "One of these days" had gone on too long, and I was too late.  Very disappointing.

I satisfied my quest for Something New by having lunch at a vegan restaurant I had passed many times.  The Impossible (or was it Beyond?) Burger was quite good, and I'm glad I finally tried this place, although I don't know that I'll go again.

When I lived in Los Angeles, I didn't know any vegans, and I can only remember one vegetarian.  She was one of the agents in the large real estate company for which I was office manager, my last job in L.A.  Vegetarians were rare enough then that the other agents would gather around Kim when she ate lunch and ask things like "Do you actually like vegetables?  Do you get enough to eat?  Don't you get tired of broccoli?  Why are you a vegetarian?"

Now that I live in Seattle, I know a large number of vegetarians and a few vegans.  I also know a lot of people who have long lists of things they won't or can't eat.  (My list has one item on it: cilantro.  If it ain't cilantro and can call itself food, I'll put it in my mouth.)  So different from my L.A. experience.  I don't know if that's a regional difference or a difference in the era. 

I admire vegetarians and vegans.  I have both kinds of cookbooks and using recipes from them.  I was a vegetarian once for several  years, and during that time began using all sorts of food I hadn't before, such as tofu, tempe, eggplant, dried beans.  I did enjoy the feeling of virtue that went with not eating animals.  But my true inclination is toward omnivorism. 

It's a a property of humans that we can be completely aware that one thing is better than another, and still do what we like instead of that which we know we should.  I know that vegetarianism is so much better for the planet, not to mention better for the animals, than carnivorism.  But I like bacon and burgers and roasted chicken and ham sandwiches, so I eat them, with only a tiny occasional twinge of self-condemnation now and then.  It explains a lot about to me about the state of the world when I remember this.  

Singing for books

I've known about the Seattle Women's Chorus since I moved here more than 20 years ago, but had never been to one of their concerts.  Until two days ago.

SWC was giving a concert titled "Banned and Beloved", comprised of some existing songs and some songs which had been commissioned especially for this concert.  All of the songs were based on or tributes to or referenced books which have been banned in some states, such as Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, Heather Has Two Mommies, This Book is Gay, Beloved, etc.  As soon as I heard of this concert, I bought tickets for me and Sweet Hubby.  Even though attending the concert didn't concretely help to un-ban any of these books nor bring the country to its senses, I felt I had to be there as a way to say "I am deeply troubled by the current trend of book banning and want to add my voice to those who protest it."

It is absolutely unbelievable to me that this is a country that bans books.  And such a wide range of books for such a wide range of reasons.  Books about racism and slavery, books about homo- and trans- sexuality.  Books with talking animals.  (Apparently some overly religious folks think talking animals are abhorrent to some god or another.  I wonder if they also want to censor Mickey Mouse and Bambi.)  Even the dictionary is being banned in some counties, because there are words in it about body parts and sex.  WHAT???  Banning the dictionary???  

The argument seems to be that reading books about racism and slavery will make children uncomfortable.  Well, yes, it might.  It should.  These are terribly uncomfortable topics, to say the least.  But they are part of the world that was and the world that is and possibly, sadly, the world that will be.  Life is full of all sorts discomforts.  Shouldn't we be teaching our children how to navigate their discomfort rather than trying to save them from it?   

And I guess the fear is that books about sexual differences will somehow magically make children gay or decide to become trans or some kind of nonsense.  Do these banners understand nothing?  There's no power in the world that can turn a straight person gay or a gay person straight.  If it ain't natural, it ain't happening.  

Why are they only trying to protect the feelings of straight white children?  Don't people of color and people who are LGBTQAI+ deserve to find themselves in books as well?  And this business about banning books with talking animals - that's like banning imagination, which is what allows us to create stories about aliens and time travel and mermaids and gods and being able to fly and, yes, talking animals.  Imagination is what gives us the ability to solve problems and to put ourselves in someone else's shoes.

Okay, I'm a bit riled up, as well I should be, as we all should be.  And again, I know attending this concert didn't reverse the banning trend.  But I loved being there, weeping through it all, applauding like mad for the music and for the underlying message.  I'm so glad we went.  And now I've seen the Seattle Women's Chorus.  Brava to them!

Hello 2024!

Okay okay, I acknowledge that between traveling, having COVID, the holidays, and inertia, I haven't posted in a while.  That doesn't mean that I don't still look every day for something new to try.  I go to new restaurants or order new dishes, although none of them have been particularly challenging (until today).  I've bought the CDs of several musical artists I had either heard of (such as Taylor Swift - she is so darned talented! Love her) but hadn't listened to their music, or artists I hadn't even heard of but who were recommended by critics, such as Bad Bunny (Puerto Rican singer/rapper), boygenius (trio of women), and Sufjan Stevens (not related to Cat).  I've watched at least the first episode of several new series, some of which I may stay with (enjoyed two of 'Loudermilk') and most of which I will let alone.

But a new year has begun, so I have once again committed to searching out more small but noteworthy new things to try, new challenges for myself.  Today after Sweet Hubby and I watched the Ghibli film "The Boy and the Heron" (when will I learn not to expect a Ghibli film to make sense???) we went to a sushi restaurant.  A plate of mochi balls went by on the conveyor belt, and I grabbed them on impulse, not because they looked appetizing but because they didn't.

Mochi balls are gummy and stretchy on the outside, with what is probably bean paste inside.  They were - well, all right is too mild, and yucky is too strong.  Let's just say they were not particularly to my liking.  But I ate at least half of each of the three.  So that's something.

Wishing you a splendid new year, which will be made or broken by the upcoming election.