Random thoughts

You ever notice sometimes when you are eating in a distinctively "ethnic" restaurant but the music/atmosphere doesn't match? Tonight we dined at one of our regular haunts Sam's Sushi in Ballard where we enjoyed the Beginner Sushi plate and Tofu Udon to the digestive-friendly tunes of Smooth Jazz. There have been similar experiences at Thai and Indian restaurants in this city and somehow a mismatch in the atmosphere & food takes away from the authenticity of the experience. Maybe it's just me.

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I have come to notice that there is a fine line between an interesting diary blog and a indulgent blathering of self-importance. I think a lot of blogs fall into the latter category and it pains me because I can see how one can slide into it. I know my entries have been sort of light lately. Things have been going on. Things at work (which is an off limits topic on this blog) and things personally which I will get to, if not tomorrow then by the weekend.
Readers, the reason I blog is simply to practice writing with a little performance pressure and to give something back to you: A nugget of information/observation and maybe a laugh if I can swing it. If you ever feel I'm not delivering, let me know and I'll try to do better.

Dude, where's my Christmas?

(I meant to post this last night but had no connectivity at Dad's place.)

Merry Christmas to you!
Ken is napping on the adjacent couch while Dad and Austin have gone to my cousin Larry’s Christmas Day dinner. I find myself battling a monster head cold and pondering the meaning of Christmas. I can’t help but notice how this could be any other night of the year except for all the boxes and bags strewn about the living room floor and that Burgerville is closed today.

Since I was raised observing Christmas from a secular point of view, the birth of Jesus and the religious aspect fell away, leaving more symbolic associations with the holiday. The small details became super important: a fresh tree for the smell, certain Christmas decorations displayed in a specific place every year, eating pizzelles and satsumas throughout December and going to Christmas Eve dinner at my Grandmother’s house to eat weird Italian food—all garnished by either pickles, olives or mandarin oranges. [My mother has taken over the dinner since my grandmother’s passing and while the garnishes are gone, there is always an “experimental” vegetable or hors d’ oeuvre somewhere on the table.]

Its funny how as a kid, I thought the pageantry and magic of this season would somehow erase all the disappointments in the year preceding it. The sheer build up to this day whipped me into a frenzy, because—at least until 8^th grade—what I lacked in number of friends, the number of presents under the tree consoled me. (All of that changed once I had a high school boyfriend of course. Then only his present mattered.)

So what comes to mind when you think of the holidays and the word “expectation”? (Groan.) Everyone has a story about something that didn’t go as planned or someone who failed to live up to what they “should” have done. Rarely if ever, do expectations measure up to reality and that’s why I hate them. I’ve noticed holidays (and weddings) are times where hidden emotions and issues, explode onto center stage. For instance, 7 or 8 Christmases ago, my mother wanted my brother and me to show up at her house around 11 am and I guess we didn’t get there until 2 pm. She was so upset which made me angry because neither my brother nor I realized the time was firm but really we were struggling to meet the “expectations” of our father and blended family who we promised to visit with as well. Mom’s strong reaction surprised me but my own resentment about having to run all over the place on Christmas Day surprised me more. Why couldn’t we just have one family and be in one location all day long? (See, not a Christmas issue.) After that, I have always made it very clear about schedules during the holidays.

And now, since marrying Ken there is the inclusion of all new traditions, ideals and... expectations.

Dixie Chicks: +1 more fan

We just got back from seeing the Dixie Chicks Documentary. Damn.

For the record, I have never been a fan of country music or the people who predominantly embrace it. This documentary showed the infamous moment that Natalie Maines said she was ashamed that the President was from Texas. The ensuing firestorm of hate and rejection from their once adoring fans captured in this documentary became ironic and ignorant with today's hindsight. The way the majority of the country audience turned their backs on such a beloved and popular group in 2003 after stating a quasi-joke/opinion can only be described as deeply chilling. The Dixie Chicks may have lost some of their fans but good riddance. I'm sure they didn't mean to stumble out into a political stage or become the poster children for the First Amendment but how they handled it impressed me immensely.

Count yourselves another fan.

The Meaning of Grateful

For some reason, the Pacific NW was the lucky recipient of not one but two major catastrophic storm fronts in the last 30 days. While Ken and I were lucky to sustain no property damage or loss of power with this latest one, many of our friends, neighbors and fellow NW citizens were not so fortunate. There is lots being said in the Seattle Times about how dire this has affected the area. Especially with sub-freezing temperatures at night and many with no electricity still after 3 days, people have resorted to bbqing inside or running generators which has now lead to a rash of carbon monoxide poisoning. Aye!

It's always humbling to me to realize how dependant we are on energy and "civilized" life. Even when we went camping with the Vaslows, we had the comfort of a heated cabin and hot showers among many other things. These events are good reminders to be thankful for what conveniences we do enjoy.

Tangent: But there is a form of infrastructure upon which I've become most dependant on as the days pass. It pains me to think of a time before it's existence in my life. So let's take a moment to all thank God and/or the Universe for the Internet.

Goodbye 70's

On an almost daily basis, Ken and I debate the "would-still-have-married-you-but-you'll-need-work-in-this-area" character flaw concerning my lack of knowledge and rememberance about the music of the seventies. I only endured 6 of its years while Ken spent his impressionable youth (ages 2-12) savoring Carly Simon, The Carpenters, The Bee Gees, Captain & Tennille, Carol King, Olivia Newton-John and the Stylistics. Right now he's "educating me" by playing a selection of 70's tunes on Rhapsody while I write this.

Due soley to my father's LP collection, I do know Seals and Croft, The Doobie Brothers, Chuck Mangione, George Benson and Cat Stevens from that era. But I don't get much credit for knowing these artists because Ken doesn't think highly of them.

I think over all the decades of the 20th century, the 70's represented that awkward stage in life where you're between things. Can't quite commit to an ideology, can't quite cooridinate a wardrobe and can't quite use colors pleasant to the eye to decorate with.

I don't think I should be held responsible for stepping out of the seventies at age 6 with an unrefined palate for the likes of the musical "genius" that emerged from that decade. As a result, I'm constantly being told how young & naive I am when it comes to music. "It's as if you were born in 1980..." he'll say. Well I might as well have been.

It's true, I am a child of the 80's--the greatest decade ever. Seriously, who doesn't wax nostalgic about the decade that brought so many great cultural icons to the fore. That period of time launched the meteoric careers of Michael Jackson, Madonna, Prince, U2 and my all time favorite, Depeche Mode.

And Depeche Mode, dear reader, has been one constant and necessary thing in my life since riding the bus to school and hearing "Strangelove" on the radio in 1988 for the first time. Those were the days.

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"You started off funny then you got all righteous toward the end."

"Oh you mean kinda like you?"

Happy Day of the Ninja!

As you all know, my official occupation is "Corporate Ninja" and today we celebrate all Ninja-kind with Day of the Ninja. See the video below for a historical enlightening about the Day of the Ninja.



Also if you would like to know how clever the Ninja are in general, go to www.askaninja.com.

Episodes you must see first:
Ask a Ninja: "Ninja Omnibus"
Ask a Ninja: "Pirates of the Caribbean"
Ask a Ninja: "Ninja Colds"

Enjoy!

(Many thanks to Keith for the enlightenment.)

Dear Sir, I am not stupid.

Charly is a long-time friend of Ken's and a music teacher in Arizona. With his permission, I am publishing his well-handled and ultimately hilarious coorespondence with a scam artist as a cautionary tale to the rest of us. The lesson: when people on the Internet ask you for money, make them sorry they ever contacted you.

Read the full account HERE. (in PDF format)

For a PDF reader, go here.

Add snow, remove brain

A lot of people like snow.... and I am not one of them. Whether skiing, snowshoeing, snowboarding or just walking down the sidewalk, something about playing in the fluffy white drifts of the frozen tundra makes some people so excited for Winter that they just can't wait. As for me, besides my deep and abiding fear of sliding and falling, I also don't like being cold. It puts a big damper on enjoying the snow. But the worst thing about the recent snow we've had in Seattle is that it takes an already dysfunctional transit system and reduces it to a "survival of the fittest" SUV contest. While I admire the show-must-go-on attitude of those who insist on driving in inclement weather, sometimes people don't think. Consider the many hills here in Seattle and the coefficient of ice friction, all riding on a misplaced confidence in all-weather tires. This is what you get: All photos by Mike Siegel of the Seattle Times.

Running Man

Today, in the wee early hours of the cold morning with rain/snow coming down, Ken (along with 5000 others) ran the Seattle Half Marathon (13.1 miles) and finished in just under two hours. Way to go honey!

Pizzelle Making Madness

Over the Thanksgiving Holiday, my mom, my cousin (Angela) and I got together and made our family's quintessential Christmas treat: the Italian waffle cookies known as "Pizzelles."

This is what Christmas tastes like.

Since the beginning of time, my Italian grandmother made coffee cans full of these cookies for the holidays. They are not baked like traditional cookies but made on an iron and flavored with anise. The other ingredients for these cookies are very basic but the secret is to know how long to leave them on the iron. I guess you can use other flavorings besides anise but the balance of the sweet and licorice is the way they should be done. A sweet crunchy cookie with that hint of bitterness gives it character, just like all the Italians I know. Since my grandmother passed in 1997, my mother has taken on the mantle of supplying these much coveted cookies for the holiday festivities. But a couple years ago, she gave my cousin and I our own irons so now we all can make them.

Ken, Cindy and Austin hung out while all this was going on. There was an impromptu guitar jam session and fun with a stick horse. Hilarity ensued. Note that Austin is smiling--it was a banner day.

Apple Cup, pt. 2

Let's say the first song you ever learned was the WSU Fight Song,
and from birth through age 23, your family's social calendar revolved around this,
and on your first day at college, your father personally introduced you to the WSU President, the Vice-Provost and Alumni Center Director so that if you screwed up he would know,
and that despite living in Seattle for 10 years, every time you see Husky Stadium you can't help but sneer.
Welcome to my Cougar-ific world.


Here's more on the Apple Cup...


Every Coug knows how bad it feels to lose a game that should be yours, especially to the Huskies, because it happens a lot. As a result, somebody came up with the term "to Coug it." (And, there is even a Wikipedia entry for it HERE.) The key concept: 'snatching defeat from the almost certain clutches of victory.' You'll know it when you see it. It begins innocently enough as a pin-prick of doubt, a tiny seed of insecurity that soon takes over and the team begins to fall apart. As the team misfires and the Huskies capitalize on mistakes, the mood of the crowd turns from elation & surety to unmistakable dread. The longest moments of your life can be spent watching the second half of the Apple Cup.

To find out more about why it's come to this, here's a little something about the Huskies. Their campus is unparallelled in showcasing the beauty of the region with views of mountains and waterways, anchored by a majestic fountain and dotted with nostalgic ivy-covered brick buildings. The metropolitan nature of Seattle attracts students looking for cultural offerings and a chance to experience the big city while in the safety of student life. With all the distractions, the students don't really have to interact with each other unless they are Greek (frat/soro). The alumni are usual wealthy and those who stay in Seattle go on to be tech-savvy nerd geniuses or golf-shirt-wearing sales people.

Pullman on the other hand boasts acres of wheat fields and a handful of mediocre restaurants. The nightlife completely revolves around the students, reaching the heights of sophistication with a keg of beer, a 5-disk CD changer and bowl of Doritos. The students don't let their renown music program marked by the Lionel Hampton Jazz Fest, their usually ranked women's sports teams & a to-die-for recreation center distract them. They have a lot of time on their hands and there's nothing like boredom and a desire for mischief to bring people together. But after they leave, WSU alumni top the list for percentage of contributing alumni for a public university (nationally).

But no question about it, the Apple Cup is about inferiority. It is an exercise in the mental gymnastics of worthiness. No matter how well the Cougs have done in the season leading up to this game, there is a gut-wrenching, fingernail-biting anguish surrounding this 3-hour bookend of potential glory. It is an event to replay and stew over for 8 months until the next football season starts. Not surprisingly, many WSU players say that this game means more to them than a bowl berth because of the legacy of redemption and the pride at stake.

Cougs may be inconsistent in their football but they are loyal in their being. Take a close look at a Coug and you'll see a gleam in their eye hoping that next year could be the year to teach those Huskies a lesson. We just have to believe we deserve it.

Apple Cup, pt. 1

This sums it up for now... More analysis tomorrow. Photo from Mark Harrison of the Seattle Times (here).

What I've been reading lately

As Ken astutely noted today, I have a curious habit called "snack food half-life" where I will eat up to half of any given volume of snack food and then paperclip it shut and forget about it. Weeks later, I'll come back to it but only eat half of the new amount. It results in me never finishing a given snack food and ending up with a square of chocolate, one tidbit of organic beef jerky, 3 sticks of sugarless green apple flavored gum, a bag of tortilla chip crumbs, 2 ginger snap cookies and an almost empty box of Junior mints-- all of these having entered our house during the third week of summer. You may not know this but I approach books in the same way, so instead of waiting years for me to finish them, I'll give you some mid-way reviews.

I have two books that I'm trying to get through at the moment and neither of them sustains me for longer than 20 minutes a sitting. The first one I've been reading as an earnest attempt to understand the complex societal pressures of motherhood in the book called "The Truth Behind the Mommy Wars." Now before you start get any ideas, understand that if anything were to "happen" I would tell you. So consider my reading of the book "research"--like one does before doing anything completely life-altering.

So this book (the first half anyway) discusses how American society really puts pressure on women and judges them on one particular issue: do you stay at home when you have kids or do you continue to work? The problem that I have with this book (thus far) is how the author spends too much time explaining the issue and by page 80 has yet to introduce some solutions or any sign that we are getting closer to a hook. Like I've said to my uncle Randy who puts way too much garlic in the Caesar salad, "Think of the amount of garlic you use, cut it in half, then cut it in half again." Ms. Miriam Peskowitz could have used this advice in the first part of her treatise.

Don't get me wrong, some people need all the details and several sets of data spelled out for them. In this case, I think most people can agree that with more women in the workforce, a more consumerism approach to happiness (i.e. need for more money), the reluctance of the American workplace to accommodate parents and the biological fact that women make the breast milk, we women will continue to face a tough choice. (I feel like I've just summed up what this book is about). Shall I bother to finish it? Hmm, yet another tough choice...

The second book I'm reading is a great sharing book with Ken. I like to read it to him right before we go to bed. I first heard about it on NPR and it's a doozy called "Dr. Tatiana's Sex Advice to All Creation." Now before you get all flustered, this is a scientifically researched book, cleverly written in the form of a sex advice column. Insects and animals "write in" to Dr. Tatiana who illuminates on relationships, courtship, sex, reproduction, parenthood and behavior commonplace in the animal kingdom. Insects by far have the most bizarre situations. The other day I read about the female praying mantis and the Australian redback spider who actually eat their mates after doing "the nasty" --in a way that really earns its name. It also talks about the fascinating way nature has equipped all beings, large and small, with advantages to propagate their species. It's a dense book, full of facts and humor. I definitely recommend.

Our morning conversation

"In the comics, Superman and Wonder Woman end up having a child together. I wonder what it's like to have the strongest male and female superheros as parents..."

"Chelsea Clinton?"

(Incessant laughter)

Tastes like Victory

Does it get much better than this: the Dems take control of both the House & Senate, Rumsfeld resigns and Britney files for divorce from K-Freeloader? Don’t wake me if I’m dreaming!

I was so nervous last night. Both Ken and I had our laptops up on CNN, refreshing the pages on the national and local races every few minutes as NPR live coverage blared over the living room speakers. I felt so invested in this election that I have a holdover migrane today from the suspense of it all. Aye.

As the results poured in last night, the numbers got better. And I felt a great sense of …relief. Relief that I am not crazy. When GW first got elected, I was annoyed but I thought, “How much harm can he do? He’s got Colin Powell and other smart people around him. They won’t let him mess up too much.” And as we all know, lots of shit went down. So when it came time for re-election, I thought, well now we can throw this bum out. But to my surprise, more people than not wanted to give him a second term.

For the first time in my life, I began to feel like I didn’t know my own country. Who were these brain-washed people portrayed in the media as Middle American, church-going, Walmart-shopping, mini-van driving, average citizens who believed this guy and his party were the ticket to run the most powerful nation in the world? I began to feel like a misfit and, you know, edging toward a Brad-Pitt-12-Monkeys brand of crazy. Meanwhile, the country was swinging toward intolerance, conservatism and fear-mongering. You know how sometimes you joke about moving to Canada? Well we actually started to talk about it. “Vancouver BC isn’t that far away,” I’d say.

I would lament how my great-grandparents immigrated to this country to give their families a better life. And how ironic that after all their sacrifice, I would now consider giving it all up. But today, I felt like this horrible nightmare that has been the Bush Administration & Republican Crusade for Absolute Power is over. It’s like everyone woke up from their apathy naps and decided to reclaim the country. I am proud of this country again.

You have to watch these politicians. They’re a different breed of person. Ken’s brother, Ed, who is a Republican (but we love him anyway) said the other night, “We may disagree politically, but I think we do agree that these races have gotten dirty and no one is untarnished.” It’s true, what kind of sane, smart person would submit themselves (and their families) to the level of scrutiny in the public eye? The reason can only be either: (1) someone who is dying to serve their country or (2) someone who is dying to get their hands on power and influence. The latter will always play a part because we are human. But it’s the former that gives me a little hope to hang on and see what’s next for America.

Feeling Smug about Driving a Hybrid

The creators of South Park have seized upon the phenomena of hybrid owners feeling "smug" about themselves in an episode called "Smug Alert." As ridiculous as some aspects of the show are, I indeed have felt a sense of superiority by owning and driving a Prius.

I think it starts with the satisfaction that comes when people at the gas station ask what our miles per gallon are and I cheerfully reply "45 to 50." Or the affirmation of knowing that our contribution to carbon emissions (and therefore global warming) is less than regular cars. Or "sticking it" to Big Oil and the American car companies by choosing to put our money where our beliefs are. But most importantly, it proves that we are "champions of the environment."



But something has begun to bother me. I can't push away the inner voice that says: Is that all you can do? I now realize the glaring hypocrisy of considering myself an "environmentalist" strictly by what I drive. What about the rest of my life, not spent in the car? In our household, we don't compost or reuse ziplock sandwich bags. We throw lots of plastic things away and generate a full can of garbage every week. We leave lights on in rooms we aren't in and have an oil-burning furnace for heat. Within this year, we've taken enough airline flights to nullify the good we do by driving the Prius. (Figured HERE.)

For me, hybrid smugness has given way to considering my impact on the world. And it's something I can either live with or start to change. Driving a hybrid is a good step in dealing with the environmental problems of this planet but should not be considered the final one.


(Congrats to Dad for joining the hybrid nation. Welcome to the Smug Club.)

(UPDATE: And of course hats off to Duke who has owned a hybrid since 2001 and had "Insight" long before the rest of us to be kind to the Earth.)

Flashback 2004: Italy

We liked holding up stuff up in Pisa & Burano.

Stuck in a moment

And you can't get out of it.

There are certain moments in my life that kept ahold of me to the point where I didn't want to move on for awhile. I needed to make sure I didn't miss anything and had felt all the feelings before letting the moment slip too far into the past. Naturally, I felt this way about our wedding. I succumbed to a "postpartum depression" of sorts after eight solid months of planning and focus. For all that time, effort, attention, worry, cost, stress and expectation, five hours goes by much too fast. What helped me move on was to look at the pictures, watch the video, talk incessantly about it and get some media coverage.

Similar feelings have emerged around the Cable 8 Reunion. A moment so truly special, it surely will never happen again with the same people and the same youth-recapturing abandon. I just need a little more time to savor it. I've sorted and uploaded the pictures, written about the event in the blog, told friends and family all about it and of course, obtained some media coverage.

Alaska Airlines is celebrating it's 75th anniversary by inviting customers to share warm and fuzzy stories about experiences on Alaska/Horizon. Behold the shamelessness!

(Anti-) Motivators

These guys do a pretty good job but now you can make your own.


 Here are mine:
 



Runner up: "Silence - Mimes make the same amount of noise alive as they do dead."
(Thank you Revvy!)

 To make your own motivator, go HERE.

Video Roundup

The Internet is awash with media and some of it is even worth watching.

(1) Keith Olbermann on Habeas Corpus (a.k.a. determining whether or not a person is imprisoned lawfully and whether they should be released from custody). Why does this matter to me as a law abiding and legal citizen of this country? Listen for a mention about Japanese-Americans. That didn't just happen to "other" people.




(2) A new approach to episodic entertainment: the internet soap opera "Sam Has 7 Friends." Written and directed by four gentlemen from LA, two of them Cougs (Chris Hampel & Doug Cheney). Produced by Mr. Marcus and crewed by many other talented and fabulous WSU alumni.
Check out: www.samhas7friends.com


(3) Dove's short film "Evolution of a Model" --an eye opening look how beauty is made. (Thanks to Anne for sending this).




(4) My favorite South Park character, even though I'm lactose intolerant.




(5) Robot Chicken shows what really happened after the Death Star blew up...

Tuckpointing and its merits

Prior to purchasing our home, I had never heard of the term "tuckpointing" before. As we ascended the steps of this house for the first time, our realtor said, "You might need to do some tuckpointing if you bought this place..." Little did we know how ominous those words would be. Tuckpointing is grinding out old mortar between bricks to a depth of 1/2" to 3/4" and then filling in with new mortar. Because brick and mortar are basically the water seal around a brick house, it's important for preventing water damage to the interior walls. Think of it as the "penance" a brick house owner pays for not having to side or paint for 75 years. Visually it makes quite a difference too. Before:
After:

Only a professional mason should do tuckpointing because of the skill needed and labor intensity of the process. If done wrong, the joints could fail and your brick house could look like a patchwork experiment in "cheapery". Naturally, tuckpointing is one of the more expensive yet non-value adding home improvements you can do (dollar for dollar). It's not that it isn't valued so much as it's just expected that the bricks & mortar "work". You would never know how messy it can be until you live through it. As they grind out all the old mortar and sand, a thick layer of dust settles on everything in a 25 foot radius and it gets tracked everywhere. Add rain and you get a gray paste that dries into a barnacle-like cement. To a passer-by, it appears our house survived the eruption of Mt. St. Helens all over again. The other exciting thing to come from this experience is the discovery that the chimney (for a fireplace we don't use) is slightly wobbly. This is due to a 2-foot by 2-foot patch at the roofline on the house side where all the mortar has fallen out. We intend to shore that up with new mortar and strengthen the chimney overall. But really, how secure can you make a 14-foot tower of bricks in a seismic zone?

Shoe Disdain

Last Saturday I found myself marooned in the Nordstrom Shoe Department with Amy & Darcie. We buzzed around looking at all the new chic styles, many of which defied imagination and practicality. The shoes that got me excited were the European Ergo shoes of Ecco, Dansko, Mephisto---and of course, only the black ones. I think it's safe to say, my relationship with "fashionable" shoes is over.

Many girlfriends say to me when wearing leg contorting, stride altering foot fashion, "...but these are really comfortable." Yeah, well I don't believe you. I know you want to think they are. But you never thought you'd actually pay that much for an impared ability to walk and pain like that. It's not hard to guess why models look so angst-ridden. Besides not eating, they have to walk around in uncomfortable shoes all day while everyone's looking at them.

But let's get one thing straight, I am not a proponent of Birkenstocks or Crocs. My mother staged a psyche-scarring event one Christmas when she placed a gift of mine in a Birkenstocks box but weighted it like there were Birks in there and wrapped it. (Mother, I will exact my revenge one day, mark my words.) What's my beef? Birks are hideous and Crocs can be washed in the dishwasher. Which brings up issues of sanitation. But that's another topic...

Back at Nordstrom, there were so many people trying on shoes last Saturday, you had to weave through the boxes and the bodies with ace precision for fear of bumping into someone strutting around in 4 inch heels. Did you know that Jessica Simpson has her own ...how do I say... "ghetto fabulous" line of shoes? Definitely a sign of the coming apocalypse. This day also marks the first time I got to inspect Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo shoes for myself. I'm sorry ladies, I know I sound like a traitor to all of woman-kind but what's the big deal? Six hundred dollars for a pair of strappy festive heels?

It's all about priorities I guess.

An Open Letter to our cat, Oliver

Dear Oliver, As you know, your father brought you into this family from a former relationship and over the past few years, I have come to love you as my own. So at this point, I feel there are some things we should discuss. Now, I understand that looking one's best is very important. Why else would you constantly groom yourself and rub up against every corner in the entire house? But when I try to pet you, why do you stay just out of reach or scamper out of the room? And god forbid I try to pick you up. You get all wiggly and impatient. Why can't you just let me love you? Sometimes you are extremely charming when you thread through my legs while I am making breakfast or playfully cute when you chase my pant cuffs. But mark my words cat, if you continue to cut in front of me when I'm coming down the stairs, I will kick you like a football. Why do you tempt fate like that? I tend to overlook your between-meal snacking because eating flies and spiders augments your protein intake. Besides it's the only contributory task you do around here and I don't want to take that away from you. But I do want you to know it's rude to stare at people. Especially when your dad and I are snuggling on the couch watching Grey's Anatomy or a Net Flix--I can see you across the room watching us. Lately, you've been acting really weird and will not be consoled. What's with the despondent meowing and mindless pacing? You can't possibly be hungry because you have an electronic feeder that provides you sustenance 4-times a day. You can't be thirsty because you have a high-tech water fountain delivering oxyginated water. You can't be bored because you have numerous toys and a cat door to the vast and interesting outside world. And you can't be lonely because you have all the neighborhood cats to play with, including your Tabby boyfriend, Hunter. (Not that there's anything wrong with it...) We assume this is why you hiss at all our female guests and take to male contractors so quickly. I only want you to be happy. But you have to make an effort too. Do you think you could just relax a little, watch where you're going and be nicer to the ladies? In return, you can continue your favorite pastime of licking the side of the dishwasher as much as you like. Love always, Your step-mama

Camping + Deep Thoughts

A few weekends ago, we camped on Camano Island with Dan & Jill. One of the nights we where there, I dreamt I was an aria-singing, 17th century duchess, riding my electric unicorn while diamonds rained from the sky. But the most bizarre thing about it all was that I had actually agreed to go camping...

Though we stayed in heated cabins, we did have to go outside to cook and use the centralized shower/bathroom. Without a doubt, Dan & Jill took very good care of us. There seems to be a camping equivalent to everything you can find in the kitchen: a free-standing propane stove with griddle, a rack to prop bread over the propane burner aka "a toaster," headlamps, coolers, pans and so forth.



Dan introduced us to a cookie with embedded dark chocolate so that when making smores we didn't have to precariously balance, squeeze and break them. Brilliant! Now, washing dishes in the wilderness is not that easy either--especially sanitization. How do you accomplish this when you're scrubbing pans, rinsing from a cold water spigot and setting them on the dirty, dirty ground? Jill came up with a excellent solution: once they were washed at the cold tap, she filled a plastic tub with boiled water then soaked them. It's like a Japanese-style bath for the dishes. That Dan & Jill--such resourceful people.

Another cool thing to do in nature is make music as Dan and Ken discovered when they assembled a driftwood marimba shown here:


It made an unexpectedly rich sound and the guys jammed for a long time on it, leaving Ken with two well-earned blisters. But the fact they made something out of stuff lying around made me think about people from a much earlier time...

How did the Native Americans survive back then without things like plastic tubs, baggies, tupperware and water bottles? Things I take for granted like food preparation, going to the bathroom, saying warm and finding shelter were all basic survival concerns for them. It caused me to reflect throughout the weekend and ask myself when feeling inept, "What would the Native Americans Do?"

My answer: I'm really not sure, but in the grand scope of things, it's got to amount to more than just tribal casinos & firework stands.

Cable 8 turns 20 in Style

Let me just say that the Alumni of Cable 8 (with the help of the current Cable 8'ers) whooped it up this weekend in what can only be described as a series of hilarious hijinks, coupled with an epic drink-a-thon, the likes of which Pullman has never seen. All of it powered by the delusion we can still party like we're 22. Friday night kicked off the festivities as we paid homage to a very special organization which effectively gave us all a spring board into our careers and social lives. A huge thank-you to Marvin, Monique, the current board and students of Cable 8 for a fitting tribute. Fantastic job all around!

This weekend was also an exercise in reliving the lost college years:

1. watching Cougar Football,

2. eating greasy food

3. drinking out of pitchers

4. cage-dancing (believe it!)

5. more cage-dancing
6. and of course, hanging out with some of the coolest people on the planet.

One of the best weekends of my life. Truly and for sure. Thanks again to every one who made it to Pullman and special thanks to Ken, who just rolled with it all. See a bunch more photos from the weekend on Flickr CLICK HERE. Enjoy!

F.A.Q. What is Cable 8? A student run cable network at Washington State University that produces programming and is structured like a real-world cable broadcast station. Students volunteer to direct, produce, crew and cast shows ranging from entertainment, sports, news magazine, long-form, soap opera, reality-based, etc. The productions are overseen by an advisor (currently Marvin Marcelo, originally Neal Robison) and a student elected board of directors.
When I attended WSU, I was a show director for Coug Stew & the ASWSU Debates my junior year and the Executive VP of the board my senior year.

Why is it significant? In a nutshell: Hands on training for real world TV production and friends for life.

NPR Fix

I don't know when it happened, but recently I became an NPR Junkie. It's like this constant hunger to know the latest thing to know about. We wake up to it and recently we've been going to sleep to it too. It never leaves us: in the car, in the house, on my MP3 player (not an iPod) and sometimes at work on the Internets.

When we traveled to the East Coast last June and rented a car, I was immediately flipping through the dial to find the NPR-esque "directed tone of voice." Is it the rich, throaty microphones that make them sounds so smart?

I remember being exposed to NPR in my 20's since I worked for the Public TV station KWSU which was right next to NW Public Radio in Pullman. But it didn't matter to me then. No, at that time, I would be happy sitting though 5 minutes of annoying commercials to hear Pearl Jam with static. As you mature, tastes change but maturity doesn't stop me from making lists.

Favorite show: This American Life
Favorite NPR personality: Kai Ryssdal of Marketplace & Ira Glass of This American Life
Favorite KUOW personalities: John Moe & Ruby de Luna

To be fair and balanced:
Least favorite show: Prairie Home Companion (Broadcasted from Pullman last week)
Least favorite NPR personality: Diane Rehm of Diane Rehm Show
Least favorite KUOW personality: Steve Scher of Weekday

Who doesn't love Kai & Ira? Or Ika & Rai. But Prairie Home Companion---what is going on in that show? Ken and Mom seem to like it but....why?

If you are also NPR fans, you know what time of year it is. Time to pay the fiddler. Time to groan with disdain as the usually articulate on-air personalities ad-lib and crack jokes for 20 minutes an hour so you will PLEDGE some money. When you are an addict of the sweet NPR goodness, the interruption of the content is excrutiating.

I've been on the other side of this when I worked at KWSU along with Karen, Ian, Marvin & Mantooth. I understand that half the operating budget comes from the pledge drive but oh, the humanity. Of course, Ken & I will pledge some money like we always do. But the other night I was telling Ken, "If we had a load of money, I would call up those clowns on the first day and say 'how much would it take for you to shut up and resume normal programming?' Because I would write them a check and drive it over myself. Seriously."

On another note, we are leaving for Pullman tomorrow to attend the Cable 8 Reunion. Looking forward to seeing all the Comm Cougs!

Learning from the Misfortune of Others

Welcome to my first official blog entry. Ok, let's get this party started....

There was a time in my life (early 20's) when I had to go through experiences myself to realize anything. Cautionary tales were never enough, because invariably I thought I could succeed where others failed. More often than not though, this involved "relationships" and tell-tale actions/words that predicted impending doom. The scraped knees and ego bruises were always necessary to made it real. As I crossed over into the self-affirming, relieved-to-escape-the-twenties 30's, I now find I'm all about gathering information of other people's experiences and chewing on them like a wad of Bubblicious. I'm all, "tell me everything, I want to know every single thing and everything about it...." I have learned from my avid reading of Dooce.com that you never, ever write about your workplace or your co-workers on your blog. It can get you fired. So I'm not gonna do that.

But how about another workplace in the news, namely Big Fish Games and today's layoff drama unfolding in the comment section of this Seattle PI blog. Do yourself a favor and read all of those comments. I have been hitting refresh on that page all day--it's incredulously fascinating. Evidently, there is a great disparity between the management's official explanation of what went down & the comments coming in from (supposed) former employees. If the uglier side of this is true (people being let go days before their stock options vest, employees being falsely assured their jobs were safe, no warning about the impending layoff), it certainly doesn't speak well for BFG or employee rights in general.

Update: From feedback I've been receiving about this entry, it seems that I may have insinuated that I work for Big Fish. I have never been affiliated with them but wanted you to know that no matter what, I will not be talking about my work on this blog.