A weekend
I actually stopped working EARLY on Friday. (There wasn't anything to do.) Friday evening, I made dinner for us--something I haven't done much lately--a lovely vegetarian dinner of penne with mushrooms, onions, and garlic in a light cheese sauce and spinach braised quickly in white wine, and did I mention it was vegetarian?* It was quite tasty, though we ended up with far too much pasta and not enough spinach. The rest of the evening was leisurely.
Saturday, we got up at a reasonable hour and headed off to return the shirt with brown stripes that didn't fit (and a purple shirt that also didn't fit) and then went to the crazy cobbler to pick up the shoes I dropped off for repair last week. There was a pair of black and beige Libby Smiths on the shelf waiting to be picked up, and I momentarily contemplated larceny. But three pairs of shoes I really like are wearable again (although the repairs cost more than I paid for all three in total originally, one of the amusements of my wardrobe full of thrifted items) and that's a good tradeoff.
We got home from this earlier than expected and were able to fit in half an hour of a World Cup match before going out again to pick up my mother and go to my cousin David's place, where there was a party being held to celebrate the graduation from UW of his twin daughters. Both finished in four years, with honors (one econ, one poli sci and communications), and both already have jobs. Pretty freakin' amazing kids. I am still getting used to the fact that they are old enough to have graduated from college. The party was lovely, with interesting conversation and just-pleasant-enough weather and great eats--I have never had anything but fantastic food in that house--and lasted exactly the right amount of time. Also, my mother informed me that on Friday she bought these. They should look familiar, aside from the color. No idea where I get my fashion leanings from. NO IDEA.
We dropped my mother off at her place and came home to noodle around for awhile. morthael then got dressed for the Merc's zombie night as a zombie hunter from one of his favorite games and went off for the night. I watched bad documentaries about murderous women and then The Women--the original, not the hideous remake from a few years ago--while sorting and organizing my eye shadow for the umpteenth time (and knocking over my glass and spilling ginger vodka all over my desk, and I wasn't even drunk). I had seen the movie at some hazy point in the past (I watched a lot of classic 1930s-40s movies in my early teens but don't always remember much about them), and had forgotten that its cattiness is sometimes kind of sloppy-gleeful rather than truly witty, but it is funny as hell and all those women really sank their teeth into their roles. Plus, Rosalind Russell wears a fantastic tiny(ish) hat that might have actually converted me, and of course I want that ridiculous huge black chiffon dress Norma Shearer wears in the "I just take it off" scene.
Sunday, we slept in quite late, straggled out of bed and into clothing, and took advantage of a World-Cup-match-free day to have brunch at Cafe Presse and determine what we were doing the rest of the day. We ultimately decided that we'd just go driving in the North Cascades, despite the lateness of the day; right now there's so much daylight that we still had several hours before we had to worry about darkness. So we left straight from the restaurant and headed north.
Anecdote for my own personal aggrandizement: We stopped at the station on 12th and Cherry to fill up the car and I went inside to get drinks and a snack. I was wearing a high-necked red shirt with baby ruffles at the throat and cuffs, long pleated black mesh skirt, my hair pulled up on the sides and then in a single long braid tossed over my shoulder, shimmery white shadow with dark blue liner and true red lipstick--IOW, grossly overdressed for Seattle, as usual. The clerk was occupied with something while I was making my selections and putting them on the counter, so he didn't really look at me until he turned to ring up my purchase. But when he did look at me, he did an actual, honest-to-goodness double take, and then a big goofy grin spread across his face. "Hi," he said worshipfully. I smiled back but said nothing, mostly because I was trying not to laugh, which would have come across mean-spirited, even though I was actually kind of delighted. He continued to look at me with that goofy grin the entire time he rang me up, and when he said "Do you need a bag?" it was in an awestruck tone. I demurred and took my purchases. I managed to hold off the giggling until I was out of the shop. I don't often get this kind of reaction, so it tends to make me inordinately pleased and amused when it does happen.
The drive and the rest of the afternoon/evening were lovely. We took the back route to the North Cascades Highway, through Arlington and Darrington, mostly because we didn't know any better and took the first exit off I-5 that said anything about it, but it was fine because we had no specific plans and the journey was lovely, despite the periodically-damp and consistently chilly weather. In Rockport we discovered a winery that hadn't yet closed its tasting room for the day and stopped in. It wasn't great, but I did buy a bottle of siegeribbe (very tart and crisp, too-short finish, but it's still somewhat rare on this continent and I like to get it when I find it) and a bottle of a red made with a Hungarian varietal, agria, which is deep and sweet, very much sweet cherries, but refreshing rather than cloying.
At the Gorge Lake overlook, we took lots of photos, examined lichens and burrows for small creatures and claw marks on trees, were greeted by nearly every member of a Japanese tour group of about 40 people, and found a gigantic slug on the path which morthael moved to the other side of the path so it wouldn't get stomped by the aforementioned tour group (and other visitors). We also walked out on the bridge over the gorge. The bridge is metal grating and is not solid; it can be seen through, down to the gorge below. I did not realize this untl we'd already walked several steps onto it. I have mild to moderate acrophobia; it's more about the perception of height danger than the height itself (I can be okay with being up high if the barriers are very secure and/or if I don't look straight down), and being able to see the severe drop under my feet was a bit of a problem. I managed to keep a handle on it long enough to snap a few photos from the middle of the bridge, but after that I hustled back to solid ground pretty darn fast, since a panic attack would not have added to the pleasures of the day.
The Diablo Lake overlook was fantastically windy and very cold, and we hadn't brought jackets. Nonetheless, we held out long enough to get a lot of photos of the absolutely spectacular view, and to hear the pipping and chattering of what were probably pikas, though we didn't see any. We did see three ravens, two of which were kind enough to perch on the railing near the car for photo ops and one of which wandered around on the ground near the car, obviously hoping for a handout.
Had it been earlier in the day, we might have gone all the way to Winthrop, but we knew everything was closed, and we hadn't thought to close the blinds and turn on the lights at home before we left and didn't want to leave the house looking un-human-ed long after dark. So about 15 miles past Diablo Lake we turned around and headed back. This time we took Hwy 20 all the way to I-5 so that the drive back was partially different from the drive up. I'd love to do this again with an earlier start so more things are open (although apparently the dam/plant tours were shut down this year for budget reasons so we wouldn't have been able to do that regardless, which is a little disappointing).
We were fairly tired after this long drive and unfortunately, our timing was all off in terms of the time we got back to the house and the neighborhood had entered full-on explosive mode. This rattled morthael enough that he didn't really feel like trying to leave and do something else. So he subsumed himself in the zombie game with his headphones, and I noodled around online for a while until the explosions had slowed to every 10 minutes or so and then took myself to bed.
Monday was a moderate-start-time day. morthael did schoolwork (which included having to run out and rent Frailty for his "Crime and the Media" class, and he proclaimed it "pretty fucked up"), and I tackled the Mountain Of Laundry. I managed to reduce it by about half, which is good progress, though I'd really hoped to get it all done. I badly need to completely rearrange the closet, and do a brutal culling session--I genuinely love all the clothes I have right now, but there's simply far too much I virtually never wear. I don't know how soon that will happen, though.
This week should see a moderate amount of work, ideally more work on the Mountain Of Laundry (depending on how hot it gets and how much physical labor I can stand to do in it), and a flamenco class that hopefully will have the instructor in attendance (she had something come up and couldn't make the first class of the term last week). This week will not have a zoo morning, as the keeper is on vacation. I'm a little bummed about that, but I had been considering doing an ambassador shift next weekend anyway, so that can fill in for my animal-unit shift for this week's hours.
*This is an inside joke for a select portion of my readership, which is probably entirely too fatuous of me.
Saturday, we got up at a reasonable hour and headed off to return the shirt with brown stripes that didn't fit (and a purple shirt that also didn't fit) and then went to the crazy cobbler to pick up the shoes I dropped off for repair last week. There was a pair of black and beige Libby Smiths on the shelf waiting to be picked up, and I momentarily contemplated larceny. But three pairs of shoes I really like are wearable again (although the repairs cost more than I paid for all three in total originally, one of the amusements of my wardrobe full of thrifted items) and that's a good tradeoff.
We got home from this earlier than expected and were able to fit in half an hour of a World Cup match before going out again to pick up my mother and go to my cousin David's place, where there was a party being held to celebrate the graduation from UW of his twin daughters. Both finished in four years, with honors (one econ, one poli sci and communications), and both already have jobs. Pretty freakin' amazing kids. I am still getting used to the fact that they are old enough to have graduated from college. The party was lovely, with interesting conversation and just-pleasant-enough weather and great eats--I have never had anything but fantastic food in that house--and lasted exactly the right amount of time. Also, my mother informed me that on Friday she bought these. They should look familiar, aside from the color. No idea where I get my fashion leanings from. NO IDEA.
We dropped my mother off at her place and came home to noodle around for awhile. morthael then got dressed for the Merc's zombie night as a zombie hunter from one of his favorite games and went off for the night. I watched bad documentaries about murderous women and then The Women--the original, not the hideous remake from a few years ago--while sorting and organizing my eye shadow for the umpteenth time (and knocking over my glass and spilling ginger vodka all over my desk, and I wasn't even drunk). I had seen the movie at some hazy point in the past (I watched a lot of classic 1930s-40s movies in my early teens but don't always remember much about them), and had forgotten that its cattiness is sometimes kind of sloppy-gleeful rather than truly witty, but it is funny as hell and all those women really sank their teeth into their roles. Plus, Rosalind Russell wears a fantastic tiny(ish) hat that might have actually converted me, and of course I want that ridiculous huge black chiffon dress Norma Shearer wears in the "I just take it off" scene.
Sunday, we slept in quite late, straggled out of bed and into clothing, and took advantage of a World-Cup-match-free day to have brunch at Cafe Presse and determine what we were doing the rest of the day. We ultimately decided that we'd just go driving in the North Cascades, despite the lateness of the day; right now there's so much daylight that we still had several hours before we had to worry about darkness. So we left straight from the restaurant and headed north.
Anecdote for my own personal aggrandizement: We stopped at the station on 12th and Cherry to fill up the car and I went inside to get drinks and a snack. I was wearing a high-necked red shirt with baby ruffles at the throat and cuffs, long pleated black mesh skirt, my hair pulled up on the sides and then in a single long braid tossed over my shoulder, shimmery white shadow with dark blue liner and true red lipstick--IOW, grossly overdressed for Seattle, as usual. The clerk was occupied with something while I was making my selections and putting them on the counter, so he didn't really look at me until he turned to ring up my purchase. But when he did look at me, he did an actual, honest-to-goodness double take, and then a big goofy grin spread across his face. "Hi," he said worshipfully. I smiled back but said nothing, mostly because I was trying not to laugh, which would have come across mean-spirited, even though I was actually kind of delighted. He continued to look at me with that goofy grin the entire time he rang me up, and when he said "Do you need a bag?" it was in an awestruck tone. I demurred and took my purchases. I managed to hold off the giggling until I was out of the shop. I don't often get this kind of reaction, so it tends to make me inordinately pleased and amused when it does happen.
The drive and the rest of the afternoon/evening were lovely. We took the back route to the North Cascades Highway, through Arlington and Darrington, mostly because we didn't know any better and took the first exit off I-5 that said anything about it, but it was fine because we had no specific plans and the journey was lovely, despite the periodically-damp and consistently chilly weather. In Rockport we discovered a winery that hadn't yet closed its tasting room for the day and stopped in. It wasn't great, but I did buy a bottle of siegeribbe (very tart and crisp, too-short finish, but it's still somewhat rare on this continent and I like to get it when I find it) and a bottle of a red made with a Hungarian varietal, agria, which is deep and sweet, very much sweet cherries, but refreshing rather than cloying.
At the Gorge Lake overlook, we took lots of photos, examined lichens and burrows for small creatures and claw marks on trees, were greeted by nearly every member of a Japanese tour group of about 40 people, and found a gigantic slug on the path which morthael moved to the other side of the path so it wouldn't get stomped by the aforementioned tour group (and other visitors). We also walked out on the bridge over the gorge. The bridge is metal grating and is not solid; it can be seen through, down to the gorge below. I did not realize this untl we'd already walked several steps onto it. I have mild to moderate acrophobia; it's more about the perception of height danger than the height itself (I can be okay with being up high if the barriers are very secure and/or if I don't look straight down), and being able to see the severe drop under my feet was a bit of a problem. I managed to keep a handle on it long enough to snap a few photos from the middle of the bridge, but after that I hustled back to solid ground pretty darn fast, since a panic attack would not have added to the pleasures of the day.
The Diablo Lake overlook was fantastically windy and very cold, and we hadn't brought jackets. Nonetheless, we held out long enough to get a lot of photos of the absolutely spectacular view, and to hear the pipping and chattering of what were probably pikas, though we didn't see any. We did see three ravens, two of which were kind enough to perch on the railing near the car for photo ops and one of which wandered around on the ground near the car, obviously hoping for a handout.
Had it been earlier in the day, we might have gone all the way to Winthrop, but we knew everything was closed, and we hadn't thought to close the blinds and turn on the lights at home before we left and didn't want to leave the house looking un-human-ed long after dark. So about 15 miles past Diablo Lake we turned around and headed back. This time we took Hwy 20 all the way to I-5 so that the drive back was partially different from the drive up. I'd love to do this again with an earlier start so more things are open (although apparently the dam/plant tours were shut down this year for budget reasons so we wouldn't have been able to do that regardless, which is a little disappointing).
We were fairly tired after this long drive and unfortunately, our timing was all off in terms of the time we got back to the house and the neighborhood had entered full-on explosive mode. This rattled morthael enough that he didn't really feel like trying to leave and do something else. So he subsumed himself in the zombie game with his headphones, and I noodled around online for a while until the explosions had slowed to every 10 minutes or so and then took myself to bed.
Monday was a moderate-start-time day. morthael did schoolwork (which included having to run out and rent Frailty for his "Crime and the Media" class, and he proclaimed it "pretty fucked up"), and I tackled the Mountain Of Laundry. I managed to reduce it by about half, which is good progress, though I'd really hoped to get it all done. I badly need to completely rearrange the closet, and do a brutal culling session--I genuinely love all the clothes I have right now, but there's simply far too much I virtually never wear. I don't know how soon that will happen, though.
This week should see a moderate amount of work, ideally more work on the Mountain Of Laundry (depending on how hot it gets and how much physical labor I can stand to do in it), and a flamenco class that hopefully will have the instructor in attendance (she had something come up and couldn't make the first class of the term last week). This week will not have a zoo morning, as the keeper is on vacation. I'm a little bummed about that, but I had been considering doing an ambassador shift next weekend anyway, so that can fill in for my animal-unit shift for this week's hours.
*This is an inside joke for a select portion of my readership, which is probably entirely too fatuous of me.