blog jam

Snowstorm!

Tue, 23 Dec 2008 22:40:30 -0800

Seattle and the rest of the Pacific Northwest just got hit by a series of major snow and ice storms, and by some very low temperatures. Combine that with our limited snow-clearing equipment, steep hills, and unfamiliarity with snowy weather, and we’ve been pretty immobilized. I was lucky to make it onto a flight to see my grandmother in California yesterday; the person next to me in the terminal had been stuck in the airport for three days.

I’ve managed to work in some good frolicking in this weather, including building a snowman with my roommate and venturing out to the Arboretum, although I’ve been kicking myself for not buying those cross-country skis on sale at the end of last season.

Here are some pictures!

Studs Terkel dies. Curiosity lives on.

Fri, 31 Oct 2008 15:55:37 -0700

R.I.P. Studs Terkel. Here’s the New York Times obituary. The last line struck me: “I don’t have to stay curious, I am curious, about all of it, all the time,” he once said. “ ‘Curiosity never killed this cat — that’s what I’d like as my epitaph.”

Terkel is best known for his simple yet extraordinary interviews with ordinary people. His work highlights the power of story telling and personal experience to contribute to social change and to show how we live. His style has inspired other projects, like Story Corps.

He was 96. A lot accomplished in a long and curious life.

FAILBlog: Have you seen this?

Sun, 26 Oct 2008 18:25:01 -0700

Maybe everyone else on the Interwebs already knows about this. Maybe even Ted Stevens, and I’m the last to find it. But just in case...

A friend introduced me to FAILBlog recently and I’ve been, as they say, laughing out loud. I read through thirty pages of the site Friday. Then yesterday, I had a friend over for dinner and we read through the same pages all over again and I was still laughing.

FAILBlog, from the makers of ICanHasCheezburger.com, is a simple concept. Take a picture of some serious mess-up, often a sign completely mismatched with the item it’s referring to. Type FAIL on the picture. Serve.

Here are a few good ones:

Shopping Bag Confession

Thu, 16 Oct 2008 09:26:00 -0700

Maybe it’s a New York Jewish thing. Okay, probably it’s a New York Jewish thing.

My mother saves shopping bags. I’m not talking about the ones nearly everyone saves, the drawer or sack stuffed with a few plastic or paper bags we plan to re-use. My mother is particular about her shopping bags, applying a complicated algorithm about how well the bag is made combined with how much she likes the place, usually a food establishment, from which the bag originates. Eli’s, the high-end supermarket with which she’s obsessed, conveniently also has the best bags: large, rectangular and sturdy plastic, with a cardboard base tucked inside. Zabar’s bags, while ordinary plastic, have nice, thick handles. But bags from D’Agostino’s or the Food Emporium? Forget about it; those get used for taking out the garbage.

When she and my father come to visit me or my grandmother, she brings bags. She’ll wrap gifts of smoked salmon or Greening apples in bags from Eli’s or Zabar’s. To protect the food, she explains. Then she pulls out a second, folded bag tucked away in her luggage and hands it over, smiling. “In case you need it,” she explains, “Eli’s bags are nice and sturdy.”

(For the record, as I read her this story during my visit home, she cut in at the first mention of Eli’s bags, “Hey, you could even take one back with you!”)

Growing up, we had an entire closet devoted to shopping bags, the quotidian and the rare shoved in side by side. “Dan, we really should renew our Natural History Museum membership,” she’d tell my father while un-crumpling a bag from the museum gift shop. She’d set the bag aside, too nice to use for the garbage. The closet was a chronicle of our lives. Archaeologists were on the verge of requesting we not touch anything more than a foot or so towards the back of the closet.

These days, my mother does keep garbage in a Zabar’s bag, the closet is gone, and the bags are stuffed inside the remainder of my third grade Halloween costume, a giant Bayer Aspirin box. I wish I were kidding.

I always found the bag saving habit hilarious, a sign of my mother’s own neurotic, Jewish packrat tendencies. This, I knew, wasn’t something I related to. But the universe has a sense of humor and, much as we may sometimes hesitate to admit it, our families play a big role in shaping our personalities.

It’s time to confess. Like my mother, I have a bag problem, at least a very watered-down version. I’m not talking about packrat tendencies. I’m not particularly materialistic, and try to get rid of clutter rather than accumulate it. I have no closet of bags. But, living 3,000 miles from the coast on which I grew up, in Seattle, I sometimes miss food establishments like Zabar’s or Guss’ Pickles or H&H Bagels. The bags are reminders of those places, so I save them and use them. It doesn’t hurt if the bags are well-made.

I remember the day I realized I had a problem. A work friend, Lisa, called my desk to say she had something for me, a thank-you gift for all the food advice I’d given her before her trip to New York. She’d drop by my office building in a few hours and I should come outside to meet her. The first thought that popped into my head as Lisa passed a small H&H bag through the window was, “Sweet, she brought me a bag from H&H!” Then, of course, I realized she brought me bagels.

People have brought me bags before in similar circumstances. My friend Ted’s parents couldn’t remember the name of what I thought was the best deli in New York after the Second Avenue Deli closed, so they asked him to ask me. I passed on my opinion that Katz’s was now the best. The next time Ted visited his parents, they presented him with a bag from Katz’s for me. I saved it, and use it to hold yarn. I also, incidentally, have a bag saved from the old Second Avenue Deli, which I think is holding art supplies. And yes, I saved that bag from H&H. It was so nice and sturdy, small with strong handles. I have only about five of these saved bags. But it’s time to admit they’re there.

I don’t really tuck away bags from local establishments, proclaiming them particularly well designed. I’ve become more of a canvas-bag shopper. We do keep a small stock of bags at home, the paper ones we use to hold recycling and the plastic ones we reuse when needed. Among those, there’s occasionally a bag from Zabar’s tucked away from my parents’ last visit. I don’t exactly save it forever, but let’s put it this way; I wouldn’t use it to take out the garbage.

Visit to Circle Pines Center

Mon, 13 Oct 2008 21:16:51 -0700

I just returned from a trip to Circle Pines Center in Delton, Michigan, where I attended the annual Apple Cider Weekend (read about and see pictures of the apple cider making here). Circle Pines is a peace education cooperative founded in 1938 as part of a growing movement interested in co-operatives, social change, and the folk school tradition. You can read a little bit of the history here. Today, the center runs a summer camp as well as weekend events all year long.

I needed a dose of Circle Pines. I hadn’t been there in nearly six years. I first found Circle Pines the summer I was nineteen, when a friend suggested I come work at summer camp with her. I was quickly hooked.

This was a good weekend to go back, weather-wise. The upper Midwest was having a heat wave, and the 80+ degree weather meant it would feel great to go swimming in the chilly lake. A lot of walks through the woods, two cold swims under blue skies, some apple pressing, and a lot of catching-up time later, I’m glad I took the weekend to go.

Here are some pictures of the non-cider-related parts of the weekend:

Mossy woods and mushrooms

Fri, 26 Sep 2008 08:11:25 -0700

I really wanted to go to Artist Point, but the weather was not cooperating. Artist Point, for those who don’t know, is a destination at Mount Baker where even from the parking lot, one gets gorgeous views of Baker, like this:

And nearby, a small lake shows off Mount Shuksan’s reflection:

There are, of course, lots of great trails and there are many, many huckleberries. This time of year, the huckleberry leaves are dark red, and the berries are plentiful.

We meant to go on Saturday, but got rained out, so we spent the day in Bellingham and ate good ice cream. I stayed in Vancouver for the weekend, and then attempted to get to Artist Point on Monday, but was thwarted by a traffic backup in Canada, and the surprise closure of Artist Point Road for a day due to snow.

I was disappointed, but nature is curative when it comes to mild disappointment. Time and weather allowed for a shorter hike on a trail through mossy woods along a river. I grabbed my mushroom guide, some water and a raincoat, and headed into the woods, trying to quiet the grumbly voice inside that said we have mossy woods everywhere in Washington; it was a shame to come so far just for a mossy woods hike.

But the air smelled wonderful, and the loud rush of the river calmed my mind. Every few paces I saw more interesting mushrooms: bright purple violet corts, bright red and orange coral mushrooms, a lot of russulas, some inedible boletes, and more. No edibles, but a lot of interesting and beautiful fungus.

As I was examining the bright red coral mushrooms, a couple came along the trail. They were from Minnesota, and this style of woods was new to them. So much moss! On everything! And what was that I was looking at? Was that really a mushroom? They were enchanted with these surroundings. I felt lucky; I may have mossy woods closer to home, but at least I’m lucky enough to have mossy woods at all where I live, to say nothing of all the alpine meadows, vistas, islands, water, glaciers, hot springs, and volcanoes. We’re spoiled here.

The walk really was beautiful. The river was raging with new rainfall. There was a glassy pool surrounded by rocks, a vine maple turning colors, and occasional glimpses of mountains dusted with fresh snow.

I may or may not make it to Artist Point this year, but it’s hard to be disappointed about that in a state where even the most humble hikes are inspiring.

Pictures from the hike are below. Click here to see them if you’re viewing this in an RSS feed or third party source.

Thanks to pictoscribe for the Creative Commons shots from Artist Point

Signs of whimsy

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 21:52:38 -0700

I’ve noticed some hilarious signs recently, some intentionally so and some unintentionally so. Some were altered from their original form and some, usually the unintentionally hilarious, were unaltered.

Here are a few highlights.
(If you’re viewing this in an RSS feed or third party source, click here to see the pictures.)

A strategically-placed piece of green electrical tape transforms mild-mannered Allen Place into a popular street for X-Files enthusiasts:

I didn’t think Jesus was supposed to be selfish. Besides, wouldn’t the picnic be better if Shiva and Kali were allowed to attend?

Confusion lies ahead:

One can hope the fad ends before Election Day:

Gothic Basin hike

Mon, 15 Sep 2008 11:07:37 -0700

I’d been eyeing this hike off the Mountain Loop Highway since last summer, when I stumbled across a description online. Yesterday, we finally made it there. The hike, although extremely steep and strenuous, did not disappoint. Neither did the handfuls of huckleberries or the half dozen cèpes and one chanterelle we found.

At the top, we entered a stark landscape of orange-brown rocks with jagged peaks and turquoise, clear lakes. We skinny dipped in one of the lakes, picked a few berries, and explored around before heading back down.

If you go, please note that the Gothic Basin trail diverges off to the right just before the river crossing. After several websites and a ranger mentioned the river crossing, we thought we were supposed to, um, cross the river. We were wrong, and made our hike extra long as a result.

Directions and more information about the hike are here.

Pictures follow below; if you’re viewing this in an RSS feed or other third party source, click here to see the pictures.

Park Butte/Railroad Grade hike

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 11:59:17 -0700

I’m not usually prone to hyperbole, but there are a few places in Washington State so dramatically beautiful that when I visit, I think I must be in the most beautiful place on Earth. I feel that way in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, at spots around Mount Rainier, in a few places in Olympic National Park on the coast and in the mountains, and anywhere that gets me close to Mount Baker.

I went on a short solo backpacking trip up to Park Butte on Baker’s south face, and then hiked Railroad Grade up toward Baker on the second day. This hike has it all: views, meadows, woods, berries, mushrooms (although I didn’t find any edible ones), a lookout tower, glaciers, and a magnificent volcano. The weather was clear and perfect, and in mid-week it wasn’t too crowded.

The walk to Park Butte is lovely, through woods and meadows and rock slides, across a small river, and up a steep climb to the lookout tower, perched at the tip of a peak facing Baker, just below treeline. There’s a 360 degree view, with a glimpse of Mount Shuksan, a panorama of the Sisters peaks, and the distant waters of Puget Sound and the San Juan Islands.

I stayed in the old fire lookout, sharing the space with a nice woman from Bellingham and two smart thirteen-year-old boys. After sunset and a hot dinner, I went to sleep on the lookout’s porch, watching the moonlight on Mount Baker and countless stars. I woke up in the middle of the night when the moon had set and the stars were even brighter, and saw a few meteors.

In the morning, after watching the sunrise, I hiked part way down with my new friends, and then turned off to head up Railroad Grade, stashing my pack at one of the campsites along the way and deciding that next time, I need to spend a second night at one of them.

Railroad Grade traverses along a thin spine of a trail up to Mount Baker. It’s a route climbers often use to reach the mountain’s summit, and I met a few climbers along the way. I passed small emerald-green pools, although for once I decided to wade instead of swim. The water had very recently been frozen, and it was cooler and windy on the ridge. I hiked on as the landscape became rock tundra and I realized I was looking down onto Baker’s large glacier. I scrambled over some rocks and down a snowfield and I was at the edge of the glacier, looking up craggy ice at the summit. Usually quiet in the wilderness, I think I actually shrieked with delight.

After exploring and frolicking for a while, I headed back, enjoying the views of Glacier Peak and other mountains in the North Cascades range. I took plenty of time for gorging myself on huckleberries and turning back to admire the ever-changing view of Baker. I found another small lake, icy but not hypothermia-inducing, but the water only got deep enough for wading. I dipped in anyway and, feeling complete, headed back home.

Viewing this in an RSS feed or other third party source? Click here to see the pictures.

Photos of Park Butte/Railroad Grade hike

Spider Meadow hike

Tue, 2 Sep 2008 10:17:25 -0700

The Glacier Peak Wilderness has got to be one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I had to go back.

I hadn’t been to Spider Meadow, also known as Phelps Creek, in years. It’s a better backpacking destination than day hike. It’s far away, for one thing. Plus, one or more nights allow you to explore up and over Spider Gap, get views of Glacier Peak, and wonder around the frolic-inspiring beauty of Spider Meadow. But I haven’t been able to make a camping trip there happen yet this season, so I decided to go just for the day. It’s been a long time and I kept thinking about that valley.

What a valley. Surrounded by jagged mountains, it’s full of flowers and stunning views. A creek meanders through it. There are large rocks begging you to clamber up them and have a picnic. And the five mile hike there (ten miles round trip to the meadow, seventeen round trip to the gap) is a treat too. The forest and open spots bring a constantly changing stream of views, flowers, trees, mushrooms and berries.

I’ve whet my appetite. I want to come back for some backpacking. I want to take a nap by that stream, check out the glacier, and remember what Spider Meadow looks like at night in moonlight. In the meantime, I feel refreshed and energized from getting a chance to frolic in Spider Meadow again.

If you’re viewing this in an RSS feed, click here to see the following pictures.

More walking serendipity (from reader Esti)

Mon, 25 Aug 2008 23:04:35 -0700

Having read my post about walking serendipity, Esti sent a few pictures today of a serendipitous find in Denver, near 11th & Corona in Denver’s Capitol Hill neighborhood, for any Coloradans out there. Esti writes,

A friend introduced me to this meditation garden the day before your Walking Serendipity post. I just wish I'd had a camera with me that day, since there was a much cooler design in the sand than the one in the pics. It's on this little corner of property, right off an alley, and the guy who was watering the plants nearby told me it was full of garbage, bottles etc., before he started working on it.

Esti’s pictures are below. If any other readers have great pictures or anecdotes from walks or serendipitous finds in your neighborhood, feel free to post them in the comments or to send them to me at gofrolic at mac (dot) com. I’ve come across a few more whimsical or beautifully simple things lately too, so I may post more.

Ditch the kitsch

Sun, 17 Aug 2008 23:08:55 -0700

One of my goals on my last day at my job was to get rid of a certain infamous object. This object had adorned my office for a few months. I call it the object because I don’t really know what this spectacular piece of kitsch is called. It’s a Russian good luck charm, a creature who looks like Mr. Potato Head after rolling in a meadow of fake flowers. He’s sitting on a box, and holds fake ruble bills behind one non-existent ear. He’s supposed to bring you fortune which, allegedly, will appear in the box. He’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.

He was given to me by an extremely nice group of youth development professionals from Russia who were touring agencies in Seattle that work on similar things. We had constructive and fun conversations, especially when we discovered youth development agencies in our regions were facing pretty much the same challenges, albeit on opposite sides of the world. And then they gave me a parting gift. I was, politely, speechless.

Once they were safely back in Russia, I began figuring out how I could get rid of the gift. It didn’t seem polite to throw it away, but I do like paring down my possessions, especially when, um, they’re hideous. At this point, I realized I was going to leave my job soon, to take some time off before starting grad school. I figured the last day of work might present be a serendipitous opportunity for ditching Mr. Ruble-Head.

I was right. At my going-away party, I awarded him to a coworker who wrote one of the best parting haikus among the many lovely and hilarious ones my colleagues wrote me, and who also gamely played Goldilocks in my new jargon parody, Goldilocks and the Three Metrics, complete with a blonde wig. It was also a fitting gift, because we worked for United Way of King County, and he works in one of the major fundraising departments. Maybe the good luck charm would bring in funds for a good cause. And, having a sense of humor, my coworker proclaimed that Mr. Ruble-Head might become a new mascot of the fundraising team, rotating between desks of whoever had brought in the most new donors. I had successfully ditched the kitsch.

I’m trying to get rid of things, although not everything is as easy to part with as this was. But it helps to start with with something I really want to ditch. Then I can look around and ask what else I really don’t need or want.

I don’t want to be an ascetic or have no possessions. I like objects, especially when they have a meaningful association and, especially, if they were given to me by someone I love. I don’t usually get rid of those things. But, like most Americans, I have more things than I need. I try to be conscious of this, paring down possessions and figuring out ways to consume less. It helps simply not to acquire stuff in the first place. Of course, sometimes that’s unavoidable. When a really nice group of people have brought you a bizarre object from the other side of the world, sometimes you just have to smile and say spasibo. And then pass it on to someone else who can put it to better use.

Twelve tips for ditching the kitsch

Don’t acquire excess stuff. Acquire things you know you’ll love and want to keep. Limiting what you buy saves money, and makes the things you do acquire more special.

Give gifts of experiences instead of things. Sometimes your friend really wants a new toaster for his new apartment and then, by all means, get a toaster. Or you find or make an object you know someone will love. Again, great. But giving an object just for the sake of giving something? Instead, give an experience, like a home cooked meal, a trip to a cabin in the mountains, an hour of sailing, or a lesson in something your friend’s always wanted to learn.

Get rid of things you really don’t want first. It puts you in the mood to get rid of stuff, and gives you a positive mental association with the process.

Be patient. Maybe you’ll take two years to meet your goals one step at a time, or maybe you’ll do it in a week. The last thing you need as you sort through things is to be hard on yourself for having acquired them in the first place, or for not using something you thought you’d use, or for taking so bloody long to sort out your collection of Rosemaling-painted goat horn wind chimes.

Be practical. Will you use the object you’re considering ditching? When? When did you last use it? Do you ever wear that sweater? Why not? This can help you realize you don’t want something, but occasionally helps you find an innovative use for something you’d been letting gather dust. The answer isn’t always to get rid of it. Also, giving away or selling what you don’t use means, hopefully, someone else putting that object to good use. I’ve been on the receiving end of this, buying unused kitchen appliances on craigslist, and putting them to work.

Not when you’re angry. Prone to throwing everything out after a relationship, or tearing up pictures when furious with a family member? Resist the impulse. Be angry now, but throw things out later. It sounds cathartic, but isn’t actually going to make anything better. You also might get rid of something you regret, which can make it harder to get rid of things you don’t want later. Like everything else, getting rid of things is better done with a calm, compassionate mind.

Take pictures. A friend who’s good at keeping possessions simple first shared this idea with me years ago. If you have something you don’t want to keep, but you’d like to have some association with it for the sake of memories, take a picture of the object. It takes up a lot less space. As evidenced by this blog entry, you can even take pictures of things you don’t want to keep.

Picture the uncluttered space. Envisioning a nice looking, calm, uncluttered space is a great motivator for getting rid of things. It’s inspiring me in my current, slow stuff-clearing project.

Compromise. I have a few stuff-keeping weaknesses. One of these, I admit, is saving old copies of the New Yorker on the theory that I’ll read them someday. I’ve also been known to save the ones with wonderful covers. My solution to the first part: give up on the reading idea as unrealistic after a few months (although my parents, in the same situation, bought the electronic version of the entire New Yorker archive, and threw out huge stacks of the magazine). To the second part: I tear off the covers from the ones I like best. Takes up a lot less space than the whole magazine.

Figure out a process that works for you. Do it all at once? Do incremental little bits while you’re thinking of it, in ten minute bursts of free time? Put on music and make it a party? Move it to the garage and look at it with fresh eyes in six months? Get rid of ten things? Get rid of everything and move to Mongolia? The point is, do what’s right for you in the way that works for you.

Have a plan for the stuff. Sell it on eBay? At a used clothing store? Give it to a charity? Recycling or trash? Bonfire? Compost? Art project for Burning Man? There are many destinations, but have a semblance of a plan before you sort.

Have a party. This builds on #11, and works particularly well with clothes. Invite over a bunch of friends, and ask them to bring clothes they no longer want. Pile up the ones you want to get rid of. Everyone sorts through the piles, seeing if something from another person’s pile strikes his or her fancy. Whatever clothes are not kept get donated to a worthy cause at the end of the party.

Any other tips for ditching the kitsch? Or, have you had a particularly hideous object you needed to dispose of quietly?

Perseid meteors

Tue, 12 Aug 2008 16:00:16 -0700

Early this morning, the Perseid meteor shower hit its peak. A few friends and I piled into a car and drove to Rattlesnake Lake, where we lay on a grassy bank looking at the sky. The shower did not disappoint. Thin, faint meteors, enormous balls of flame that left trails for over ten seconds, short meteors, long ones... we were delighted.

I hadn’t sought out a meteor shower in a long time, but this was worth it. I’m rarely disappointed when I commit to an adventure that involves awe-inspiring natural beauty. Sometimes I need to be reminded.

Missed last night? There will be a smaller display of Perseids tonight, and more meteor showers, albeit smaller ones, in October, November and December. I keep track of predictable solar phenomena here and less predictable ones, like aurora borealis, here.

Bush or Batman?

Thu, 7 Aug 2008 10:30:08 -0700

This is hilarious.

tour de fat

Tue, 5 Aug 2008 07:44:01 -0700

Last weekend, I went to an event called Tour de Fat. It’s a traveling festival celebrating cycling, sustainability and (indirectly) beer, because it’s sponsored by New Belgium, the beer company that produces Fat Tire. All funds raised at the eleven stops around the country go to local nonprofit organizations.

I had a blast. The event had the feel of Burning Man, with bizarre and ornate costumes, creative performances, extremely silly contests, and bicycles cobbled together or decorated in whimsical ways.

There was an area filled with wonderful examples of these whimsical bikes, all set aside for your riding pleasure. There was a bike whose tires were a circle of sneakers, a bike with a large arc of wheels overhead that spun when you rode, a bike whose tires were from a car. There was a bike on a stool that stayed in one place but spun around in circles when you rode, a side-by-side bike structure for two that my roommate and I kept crashing, a bike on springs, unicycles, tiny cycles, and more.

The day was full of performances, with acrobats and musicians standing out as the best-of-the-best. There was also a slow-riding contest; whoever could ride the slowest without falling off won (round two with a beer in your hand).

At information booths, fair-goers picked up cycling tips and trinkets, and committed to ride their bikes more. The sustainability theme went beyond biking; Marra Farm offered a taste test comparison of local, organic carrots with conventional, supermarket ones. And, although I’m still not sure how it fit, you could spin a wheel (propelled by bike gears of course) and get a prize for whatever picture you spun; I spun Emily Dickinson’s picture, and my prize was the wheel-spinner reciting a Dickinson poem to me.

And at the end, one member of the crowd received a gorgeous, hand-built, drool-worthy bike in exchange for permanently giving up her car. She handed over the title and keys to her jalopy, and, after being carried ceremoniously aloft in a platform with a decorated car on it, she received her bike. Another cyclist. Check.

Hooray for an event that can promote something worthy, but do it in a way that engages people and that feels celebratory, rather than negative or punitive. I still drive my car, but I’m riding more and more, and enjoying the exercise and experience, to say nothing of saving on gas and causing less pollution.

And who knows, maybe Emily Dickinson would have lived longer if she’d been a cyclist:

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The SUV held just himself
No carpooler was he.

He slowly drove, he knew no haste,
But I had put away
My beater, and my license too,
For my new bike, you see.

He passed the school, where children rode
At recess, on their bikes;
He passed the bike path at Green Lake,
Which SUVs don’t like.

Or rather, we passed him;
The traffic jam had made him still,
I rode past Death, in gossamer gown
(And helmet, for the rule.)

I paused before his car that seemed
So huge upon the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
(The gas mileage astounds).

Since then 'tis decades, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first avoided Death’s large car,
Rode past his SUV.

(With apologies to Emily Dickenson. Original poem is here.)

walking serendipity

Fri, 1 Aug 2008 11:44:10 -0700

I’ve been taking more walks lately in my newfound free time. I’ll take a walk for pleasure or just allow extra time before I have to be somewhere, and walk there. I still ride my bike too, but the slower pace of walking allows me to see more detail and enjoy more serendipitous finds I usually don’t notice on a bike and definitely not in a car.

On a two-mile-ish walk to meet some friends for dinner, I took streets on which I hadn’t spent much time. Within about four blocks I came across two different swings (above, and left) of entirely different styles, hung from sturdy trees above the sidewalk portion of the grass, clearly intended for anyone to use. Both were strong enough for an adult to partake. I partook.

Yesterday, walking to meet a friend for lunch, I came across a perfect rose bush. Perfect both because I’m a sucker for yellow roses and because it actually had a scent, a strong one. Recent walks have yielded just-fallen ripe red plums (anything on the sidewalk is fair game), the first blackberries of the season, alley views of secluded gardens and tucked-away benches, friendly cats, skittish cats, and cats who watch knowingly from the front step, tails flapping to tell you they’ve seen it all before.

The key to finding serendipity on walks is to look, but not so hard that you miss out on enjoying yourself and letting the experience come. Walk alone or with company that appreciates the experience too. Don’t get so caught up in your conversation or your thoughts that you pass something delightful without noticing. It may be a tiny, simple, perfect house or a plum tree overhead or a whimsical sign someone’s posted to see if anyone will notice. If you’re walking in a dense urban area, watch people and signs and details of stone work, old eclectic shops and hard-to-spot public art. Lost objects, found objects, objectionable architecture that may have seemed like a good idea at the time.

Why pay attention this way? The biggest reason, of course, is that you get treated to experiences and sights you would otherwise miss, but it’s also a good exercise in being aware.

When your brain processes your surroundings visually, two different things happen. One part of your visual cortex focuses on the spacial relationships around you: where objects are in relation to one another, motion, and your physical movements in response to what you see. But the other part focuses on your associations with what you see. What memories do they bring up? What feelings? (Incidentally, these two parts do work together and communicate with one another; some reactions, like noticing when something has changed on a familiar street, involve both responses.)

In a use-it-or-lose-it kind of way, it’s good to exercise both of these ways of processing information about your surrounds, keeping your brain engaged and constantly refreshing your set of memories and visual perceptions. But paying attention also helps you consciously break out of a habit of just seeing your memories. Sometimes when we glance at a house or an apple or an elderly person or anything else with which we have an association, we don’t actually see what we’re looking at; instead, we see our brain’s own Google-image-search result of a house or an apple or an elderly person. We see “plum” but we don’t see this plum.

So, look for this plum (and eat it, too). Look at this street to see what you might notice. Look for what other whimsical or beautiful things people have left, or have occurred by chance via nature or time. I guarantee you that if you look, you’ll find something serendipitous on every walk.

first sauk mountain hike of the summer

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 12:08:21 -0700

Sauk Mountain in the North Cascades, my favorite hike, is a place where I mark the passing of summer, along with the progress of what berries are in season and how late the sun goes down. I hike Sauk multiple times each summer and early fall, watching as the flowers and weather change.

There’s something to be said for never repeating the same hike twice, so you get to see as many places as possible, but I like to balance exploring new places with returning to familiar ones. It’s good practice for remembering not to take anything you love in your life for granted, by being unable to see its beauty when it becomes familiar. Repeating the hike lets me see something new each time, and the place becomes a part of me in a way it wouldn’t if I’d hiked it only once. Besides, every week brings different flowers, wild edibles, clouds, and views -- and this hike has some of the best flowers and views out there.

This was a late start this summer for my Sauk hiking, but the flowers were perfect. Here are some of the sights:

(Note: this slideshow won’t appear if you’re viewing it in Firefox 3.0), and it may not work in Google Reader either.

leap of faith

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 10:15:11 -0700

I quit my job on Thursday. It was a good job at a nonprofit organization, doing meaningful work on behalf of children and youth. It paid decently for nonprofit work. It allowed me a lot of room to collaborate with smart people on interesting and creative projects that reflected what the community wanted for children and youth. They even threw me a great goodbye party, at which we performed a staged reading of my new jargon parody, Goldilocks and the Three Metrics, and people wrote some hilarious and sweet parting haiku.

I’ll be taking the next two months off to write, frolic, explore the outdoors, work on projects, and simply have more time in my life. I’ve been wanting to spend a summer this way for several years, but that’s not why I quit my job.

I quit because I’m starting grad school in September, an MFA in creative writing. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I’ve written fiction since I was five or six years old, and have since branched into essays, blogging (obviously), and other kinds of creative nonfiction. Writing is an expressive tool to connect with a reader on an informative and emotional level. I love it.

My family is not thrilled about my choice of grad school direction, but I’ve made off-the-beaten path choices my whole life and those carefully-considered choices have generally served me well. I think they’d prefer I’d gone to law school like my brother, and I know my grandmother, born in 1921, thinks it’s insane to quit a good job for something that doesn’t have a clear economic future. She was on my list of people to call excitedly after my last day, but her response was, “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. You’re glad? Well, I hope you still feel that way in two months.” Thanks.

I don’t like the term faith. Or, rather, I don’t like how it’s usually used. It conjures unquestioning kinds of religion, and putting trust in something you don’t know anything about, or about which you don’t have logical information. It also usually involves not questioning your choices once you make them, and sticking to certain, safe rules.

But I am making a leap of faith, and it’s the kind of faith I can get behind: faith in something you know on a logical as well as intuitive level, and which you’re willing to continue re-evaluating with logic and intuition. I know I’m passionate about writing, and I have faith that that’s important enough to me to pursue. I know I’ve made smart career decisions before, and I have faith in my ability to continue making well-reasoned choices. I don’t know whether I’ll succeed in writing fiction professionally, but I know I also want to write non-fiction. I have faith in my ability to try, to continue using my connections in the nonprofit world to find writing-related work, and to reassess my choices as I go.

That part about reassessing choices is critical. I believe in sticking with a choice long enough to see if it’s a good thing, but always remaining open to questioning, adjusting and reevaluating my choices. I think sticking to choices for the sake of sticking to them cuts off our critical thinking and emotional intuition, but ironically makes us feel like we’re thinking critically (because we have a rule we’ve created) and we’re emotionally intuitive (because of the emotional safety of rules). That’s where strict religion goes wrong; it discourages questioning our own choices, because to question choices is to question your faith, your rules, your self, your leaders, and your god(s). All of which are, I believe, very healthy kinds of questioning.

So, how do I balance questioning choices with making this choice about school? I’m throwing myself into writing wholeheartedly, and I’m taking everything slowly and patiently, quarter by quarter, class by class. I’m open to seeing how writing develops and changes for me. I’m exploring new kinds of writing (I’ll be taking a science writing class in the oceanography department), and I’m pursuing writing-based employment and other work part-time.

Reassessing will help my writing grow. I’m willing to look back as well as forward, to think critically as well as creatively. I have faith in my ability to try this, and in my ability to call myself on it if it’s time to break one of my rules, change one of my decisions, write in a way I haven’t written before, or go back to writing I thought I’d firmly decided to put aside.

I feel good about these choices. They’re not made lightly, and they’re not made with any faith-based illusion of permanence or rigidity. But they are made with faith: the flexible, logical, and constantly-evolving kind.

Here’s to more writing and frolicking.

omg, the pope txtd u? srsly?

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 08:05:28 -0700

ZOMG. R u redi 4 this?

Apparently, the Pope is visiting Australia and the media is a-frenzy with excitement. The Pope petted a koala! People are eating kangaroo! Moving speeches! Nuns having fun! Someone lent the Pope a grey cat to keep him company on the trip!

But the strangest piece of news so far strikes me not for its content so much as its format. A CNN piece reported that pilgrims received a text message from the Pontiff, reading:

"The Holy Spirit gave the Apostles and gives u the power boldly
2 proclaim that Christ is risen! - BXVI."

I had to read it a few times. Is 4 real? Ahem, I mean, is it for real? Not only did a text message from the Pope strike me as odd, but the use of “u” and “2” seem incongruous with the kind of formal blessings and Latin chants and incense that might come to mind when one thinks of the Pope. Grammar nerds, note that he took care not split the infinitive (“boldly 2 proclaim” rather than the incorrect but common “2 boldly proclaim”).

So, what would you text back to the Pope if you got this?  
“ZOMG! BXVI is that srsly u?”
 “Thx. Ur blessing was gr8”

“Kewl. I txt Jsus but he didnt rite bak :(”

“Sorry rong #. Im not Cathlc lol”

“Proclaim 2 u the FSM touches u wth his noodly appndgs -DBGI”

Catholic propaganda aside, there’s something off-putting about a world leader typing in text message slang. It’s like George Bush’s failure to speak articulately; if world leaders can’t take the time to spell out “you” why should u?

Or maybe it’s just weird.

Thanks to Nate Steiner for the CC photo.

quick admin note: comments are working again (updated: no, they’re not. sigh.)

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 08:03:17 -0700

It took Apple a week to fix the problem, as they completed their unprecedentedly awkward transition to a new web and email system, but finally, finally the comments link is working. I seem to be able to publish posts again too, which was on again/off again.

A reader emailed me to point out that the comments link was sending you to an ad for Apple. I’m so sorry.

July 30th update: Damn, they’re down again. Apple tells me it’s just happening to some sites published through MobileMe, the service I use.

If you don’t mind, would you email them at MobileMeSupport@apple.com and tell them you’re frustrated that comments don’t work through a site published through MobileMe, that the site’s author has been told it’s a MobileMe problem, and that you hope they fix it soon? Apple’s pretty sensitive to situations where people are upset that Apple products aren’t working well. Thanks. May you receive lots of butter through the karmic good of your actions.

Thanks to Leeks for the CC photo

“goodbye from the world’s biggest polluter”

Fri, 11 Jul 2008 07:17:24 -0700

He was representing the world’s most powerful country at the annual summit of the eight most powerful countries (G-8). The topic at hand was climate change, but there was no meaningful progress. Until the U.S. shows some interest in cutting emissions, a number of less-polluting countries don’t see much point. And Bush, as you can imagine, shows more arrogance than interest.

But he took it a bit further this time. According to the Telegraph, George Bush closed out a private meeting at the summit with the words,

“Goodbye from the world’s biggest polluter.”

The Telegraph describes:

He then punched the air while grinning widely, as the rest of those present including Gordon Brown and Nicolas Sarkozy looked on in shock.

When Bush makes the likes of Sarkozy look progressive, you know something’s wrong. But for the rest of us, maybe his words offer a little hope. George Bush is, after all, the world’s biggest polluter. And soon, not a moment too soon, we’re going to hear him say goodbye.

In other news from the front of arrogant, out-of-touch politicians, the New York Times reports today that former Senator Phil Gramm, currently serving as an economic advisor to John McCain’s presidential campaign, scoffed that “the United States was only in a ‘mental recession’ and that it had become a ‘nation of whiners.’” Meanwhile, the economy lost 62,000 jobs in June and thousands of people are losing their homes.

How many days until that goodbye?

Thanks to Justin Harter for the brilliant CC photo

Quick administrative note: The comments feature is temporarily not working. This is because I publish my site through Apple’s iWeb and they’re in the middle of a very, very rocky transition to a new version of their web and email programs. Sorry; there’s not much I can do.

best workplace typo ever?

Mon, 7 Jul 2008 14:35:00 -0700

At work, this typo appeared on a sheet intended to help us brainstorm ways to thank volunteers:

Let’s be clear, folks. Plagues are NOT a good way to thank volunteers. Volunteers work hard for your organization. Do NOT thank them with pestilence, bubonic plague, or any of the following:

Boils
Blood
Frogs
Darkness
Striking of the first born
Beasts
Flies
Cattle disease
Hail
Locusts

Thanks. This message has been brought to you by the Society for Plague-Free Volunteer Management.

the war on irony, on the other hand...

Sat, 5 Jul 2008 14:44:20 -0700

For the last few years, I’ve had a magnetic bumper sticker on the back of my car which read:

At least the war on
CIVIL LIBERTIES is going well...

I had it printed from an online company which no longer exists, but which used to put any slogan you wanted into any format (simple, white on dark red in this case) The bumper sticker got a lot of laughs and appreciative comments, especially considering I work across the street from the ACLU and I have to bring my car for work pretty frequently. I don’t feel the need to cover my car in bumper stickers, but I did like this one.

Then, a little over a month ago, the bumper sticker was gone. I noticed its disappearance as I was coming back from the farmers’ market with bags full of produce. There, on the back of my trunk, was the dusty outline where my bumper sticker had been.

I like to think someone loved the bumper sticker so much, they stole it. Somehow, I don’t think that’s the case. Likely someone was offended and decided the best way to express that was to remove my bumper sticker and momentarily interfere with my free speech. Likely, someone wasn’t thinking about the irony of their actions.

I do appreciate irony, so much that it almost makes up for the loss of my bumper sticker. Almost.

serendipity and sun

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 02:02:49 -0700

We’re deprived of sunshine so much of the year in Seattle that when it’s finally warm and sunny, Seattleites bask like there’s no tomorrow. Often there really is no tomorrow; the next day’s forecast is for rain. It was sunny and warm all weekend, and Seattle’s sun cravers were out basking and frolicking in force.

This was also a good weekend for noticing and appreciating serendipitous beauty. A few sights:

Kayakers and ducks explored the Arboretum while a friend and I relaxed with her four-month-old puppy

A solitary wild iris bloomed in this spot on the banks of Green Lake. There were plenty of other irises in other spots, but this one caught my eye:

Further down Green Lake, one of many families of ducks napped in the shade:

Someone had created this piece of sidewalk chalk art along the back steps of Benaroya Hall:

Here’s a detail:

I watched this sunset with a friend from the top of the hill in Gasworks Park. We’d been driving and noticing the progressively more beautiful sunset. We decided that we had to find a great spot to watch it, and fast. I like how it looks like the crane is working on the sunset:

Not on camera, but still delightful:

Watching a heat lightning storm out my window in the dark. My favorite was a long double bolt of lightning running horizontally -- parallel to the horizon.

Skinny dipping in Green Lake at midnight. After the initial cold, the water was surprisingly silky and comfortable.

my first critical mass

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 06:52:41 -0700

I rode in Seattle’s monthly Critical Mass today for the first time. Critical Mass, for those who don’t know, is a convergence of cyclists who take over the streets once a month and, through sheer numbers and a bit of blocking off cars, successfully ride a route free of car traffic. The point, as I see it, is not only to enjoy the ride with the company and safety of a large group of other people on bikes, but to make a statement about including and paying attention to bikes on the road.

I like it. I’ve been riding more and definitely getting increasingly aware of how invisible -- and vulnerable -- you are on the road with two wheels. A few months ago, I had to call 911 when a cyclist was hit by an SUV right in front of my workplace, fifteen feet away from me as I walked around the corner. I took care of him while we waited, and he was lucky not to get hurt worse than a few cracked ribs and a messed up shoulder. I don’t want that (or worse) to happen to me or the people I love. It’s empowering to go into the street with hundreds of other cyclists, have some fun, and say, “Don’t forget” we’re here too!”

The ride pisses off some people, although more seemed to wave and cheer us on. Among the pissed-off, there was the inevitable guy in a BMW with a sense of entitlement, guy in an SUV physically threatening cyclists, and a few other jerks. But I think it’s useful, even for the people it pisses off. Sure, some will get more hostile, but that takes a certain kind of personality that’s bent on hostility and looking for an excuse. Others will at least absorb the message that people on bikes want rights on the road and want to be noticed.

I had a blast. We rode about 13 miles through various Seattle neighborhoods. I made it up a somewhat steep hill without even thinking about it, enjoying conversations with strangers and friends I ran into on the ride. When my chain got out of gear and I stopped to fix it, people stopped to make sure I was okay. A dance friend picked me out of a crowd from a hundred feet away and ran over to ask about the ride, and a friend who lives along the route brought other friends down to Gasworks for he celebration. The weather was perfect, in the low to mid 70s and sunny, and we cheered as we rode through a park on Capitol Hill, over the University Bridge, along the edges of Green Lake, and down to Gasworks. Not a bad way to end the week.

is cold water swimming healthy? (plus gratuitous mountain pictures)

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 16:13:46 -0700

I was at Lake Chelan this weekend, the third deepest freshwater lake in the country, and the deepest gorge in North America. It’s a breathtaking area, one of my favorite parts of the state, at the eastern edge of the Cascade mountain range. I swam (don’t worry; not down to the bottom) in one of the moderately cold segments, ten miles from the warmest southern tip, and then dipped again at the warmer tip. That morning I’d completed a hike at 7,198’ on Stormy Mountain, where I’d admired a 360 degree view of the Cascades, flat Eastern Washington, and Glacier Peak. Afterwards, being down in the heat again and swimming in an icy lake was a complementary second treat.

So, it’s time to admit it. I have a slight addiction to getting into cold bodies of water on hot days. There’s a lake in front of me, it’s shimmering in summer sunlight, I’m warm... and suddenly I’m heading into the water. I’m not a jump-in person; I enjoy the experience of easing in until it feels good. Sometimes I’ll swim, sometimes I’ll go in part way and get out if I can’t feel my legs anymore, and sometimes I’ll take a dip and then go lie in the sun. I learned this time that in really cold water, it can help to go in, get back out, and go right back in.

Maybe I have a problem, but some health advocates have started noticing what your seemingly-nutty centenarian great-uncle knew all along: a habit of short exposures to cold water, or other healthy, controlled stress to your body, is probably good for you. We should be able to handle cold water for short periods at a time, and learning to handle it will help us face other shocks down the road. There’s actually a bit of research to back this up (see a summary of a few studies here); we may become stronger and more disease-resistant when we’re exposed to brief cold stressors. And hey, the adrenaline rush of a cold swim feels pretty great too; I’m not going to lie.

It makes sense: we’re designed to live in a physically stressful environment. The outdoors is a stressful place, with extremes of temperature, rough terrain, and fierce bears lurking behind every tree (okay, maybe just that one). What’s key is that our bodies can get used to some of these (not the bears), and this contributes to our fitness, just like a body getting used to climbing hills is showing signs of getting stronger.

I first thought about the fact that we can get used to cold water a couple of years ago, when my coworker was telling me about taking her children, both native to the Seattle area, swimming in New England in the summer. The children ran into a beckoning, blue lake, only to run out and exclaim in horror, “Mom! Something’s wrong with the water; it’s warm!” These kids thought nothing of swimming in cold water, because in the Pacific Northwest, virtually all bodies of water are cold. We have cold nighttime air temperatures and glacial runoff; we do not have tropical swimming. Her children could swim in cold water because they were practiced at it.

So, I’m practicing too. This is another way of being in shape, and one I’m trying this summer. Like most forms of exercise or fitness, it’s probably only worth undertaking if you enjoy it, and I do. The thrill of being in water on a bright, sunny day, and of lying in the sun afterwards enjoying the rush from the cold shock, is too much for me to pass up in our brief and beautiful summers.

And maybe I’ll get better at it. I’ll sign on to the trend of adding a few seconds of cold water to my showers (in between warm water, thank you very much), and I’ll swim as much as I can. I have at least one friend crazy enough to be trying this with me; if we’re both happy and hypothermia-free by the end of the summer, then we’ll know it was a good idea.

What about you? Are you in, out, or in-and-out of the cold water? Is the water cold where you live, and does that make a difference? Leave a comment in the section below the pictures, and let us know whether cold water gives you cold feet.

sunset on the longest day of the year

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 06:54:13 -0700

Seemed right to witness it. Sixteen hours of sunlight, not bad.

kitteh now regrets quitting lolcat job

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 23:07:02 -0700

This might just be the strangest fundraiser calendar yet. A group of middle-aged Jewish bikers called Semites on Bikes has produced a calendar called Kitty Porn featuring pictures of themselves. Specifically, “12 nude, middle aged, mostly out of shape, jewish men, discreetly covered by cats!” In other words, naked men showing you their, um, pussies.

Proceeds benefit the Humane Society.

If you’d like to order a copy, contact them at sobikes@verizon.net . Tell them you heard about it here.

people make community: jeremy and karissa’s wedding (and pictures)

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 18:47:05 -0700

Two of my favorite people from the blues/swing dance community married each other this weekend in Neah Bay, WA, on a beach at the furthest northwest tip of the U.S. We stayed up half the night celebrating, and then drove back into Seattle for a weekend long dance exchange they hosted for their friends.

Scores of dancers made the extremely long trip out to Neah Bay for the wedding, and well over a hundred turned out to celebrate for the festivities in Seattle. I’ve danced for eight years, and known Jeremy for over five of those years, and Karissa for over three. The massive turnout to celebrate their marriage was a testament to how well-loved they are, particularly as strikingly generous and warm members of the dance community, personally responsible for a lot of the momentum behind the blues dancing scene and community in Seattle.

In the hours leading up to the wedding, every time I turned around on the beach, another good friend had appeared, driving in from Seattle or flying in from as far as Connecticut, Florida, or Texas. Dancers got to know family members, and vice versa. We cheered the couple in their vows, frolicked and danced around in the sand, and stayed up late dancing and eating at the reception.

I’m not sure I can think of a night I’ve felt the closeness of this dance community as strongly as I did for this wedding. What better reason than to celebrate two of the people who have genuinely made this community happen.

the Lesbians take on the lesbians

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 17:53:06 -0700

In another story from the Weird News department, representatives of the Isle of Lesbos are suing to limit the use of the term “lesbian” to describe a resident of Lesbos. They think it’s insulting that women who love women use the term.

Sure, I’m offended by their homophobia, but mostly I think this is absolutely hilarious. It’s hilarious because they’re completely serious and earnest, and it’s hilarious because -- from a strictly economic standpoint -- it’s a pretty stupid decision. Even the article mentions how many women who love women show up on the Isle of Lesbos every year just to be able to say they’ve been there. Hello, tourism dollars?

Now, if you’re a woman who loves women and who happens to be from the Isle of Lesbos, are you a lesbian Lesbian, or do the terms cancel each other out? If the suit goes through, and you’re not allowed to refer to your sexual orientation as lesbian, are you still allowed to say you’re a Lesbian?

And finally, what was the last straw that inspired the islanders to bring this suit? I can only imagine.

Next up, residents of Mount Olympus sue the International Olympic Committee for copyright infringement...

san francisco area frolic

Mon, 9 Jun 2008 23:18:16 -0700

I spent the weekend around San Francisco, blues dancing and enjoying a change of scenery. Here are some pictures from the non-dancing portions other than the farmers’ market. Primarily a trip to Muir Woods, Muir Beach, and Green Gulch Farm Zen Center, a place I’d heard about through my zen sitting group, and serendipitously stumbled upon completely by accident.

the lowest tide

Thu, 5 Jun 2008 21:03:58 -0700

Yesterday and today brought the lowest tides in at least four years to the Puget Sound region. Compensating for extra time worked during a twelve-hour day on Tuesday, I took extended lunch breaks both days to explore local beaches. I wandered around barefoot through the water at Golden Gardens, in vast stretches of beach beyond where anything beach-like normally appears. At South Alki the next day, I peeked into crevasses of a rock wall to find starfish and sea anemones waiting for the tide to return.

There are more starfish at South Alki than Golden Gardens, but nowhere near as many as we saw last November and December. It turns out the starfish breed that time of year, which explains why they were out in force.

special delivery: 1 litter box to the embassy. pink.

Thu, 5 Jun 2008 07:41:22 -0700

In case you missed the news, Japan appointed none other than Hello Kitty as tourism ambassador last month. Hello Kitty has made news here on Go Frolic before. We wish Hello-san the best in her new position.

We have some questions. Did she have to get fingerprinted - er - pawprinted for the job? How does she have time to do this, with all the obligations she already has, like imprinting her face onto slices of bread with the Hello Kitty toaster, or decorating the paraphernalia of schoolgirls worldwide?

I suppose it’s not the first time a fictional cat has run for office (think Bill the Cat of Bloom County), but it may be the first time one was elected or appointed to office. Unless I’m wrong and it was not Garfield, but rather Garfield who was president back in the 1800s.

So, we’re ushering in a new era, where fictional characters can have posts in government. Looking back on the Bush years, it might not be such a bad idea. I’m thrilled with Obama as a presidential candidate, so I’m not going to suggest any alternatives there, but perhaps he could take on Lisa Simpson as his running mate? What about Remy, the rat from Ratatouille; could we put him in charge of the USDA? He could get rid of the food pyramid and teach us about the importance of eating real butter. I also have hopes for the political future of Alex Doonesbury; she’s already far more tech-savvy than, say, Senator Ted Stevens. But then again, so is Hello Kitty. So is the Hello Kitty toaster, for that matter. Or the toast.

Oh, but there’s always eventually a dark side to every uplifting political story. As usual, it’s about corporate ties. Hello Kitty is owned by a corporation, after all! Think of the lobbyists who will influence her otherwise-neutral decisions about tourism. How can she think with a clear head under pressure from those who pay her, those on whom she depends for her very existence? Will she adjust Japan’s tourism policies to meet corporate needs? Has she no shame?

I suppose we deal with the same problem with the real politicians, so we’ll let it slide this time. If we want to end corporate lobbying, we’ll have to end it everywhere. Besides, the corporation might own her, but I have a few lobbying tricks up my sleeve too. I hear Hello Kitty is mighty fond of tuna...

AP photo.

springtime hikes: boulder river falls

Mon, 26 May 2008 21:28:51 -0700

I enjoy hiking in all seasons, particularly for the experience of watching nature progress from winter’s waiting through the constant change of spring, summer and fall. A lifelong wannabe plant biologist, I am fascinated by the transformation of brightly green, fresh-leafed plants in spring into the full fruited, mature-leaved ones of summer, before the final days of foliage in fall. Except for the evergreens, who watch over the process with the wisdom of experience, and indulge in putting forth their own leaves and needles each year, modestly supplementing what they already have.

I hiked today with Solomon at Boulder River Falls, a marvelous waterfall-studded hike through woods replete with the plants I can’t help watching as we walk, even when there aren’t any ripe berries yet. The way was lined with flowering salmonberry bushes, which will be starting to fruit in a matter of weeks. There were huckleberry bushes, devil’s club, lichens, and, appropriately, false Solomon’s seal. We picnicked by the second waterfall, a marvelous cascade over mossy rock, and enjoyed the surroundings.

It will be nice to watch the woods move through their dependable cycle, the flowers turning to berries, the dirt pushing through (hopefully delicious) mushrooms, the leaves becoming an older, wiser green. I’m looking forward to more hikes soon.

BOULDER RIVER FALLS (Snohomosh County, WA near Darrington)
To get there:
Take I-5 to exit 208. Follow Highway 530 19.5 miles from where it diverges from Hwy 9, to French Creek Road/FS 2010. Turn left and follow it 3.8 miles to the end (there are many potholes).

Hike is up to 9 miles round trip, but you can do a very short hike and still enjoy the first two falls.

the fountain of frolic

Sun, 25 May 2008 22:25:43 -0700

I spent most of yesterday at the Northwest Folklife Festival, and went back again today for a few hours after I finished gardening. Both days, the weather forecast called for showers and clouds, and instead it was warm and sunny. Weather for bare feet (although I like the feel of them in most non-freezing weather), for sun dresses, and for running through a fountain. Frolic weather of the best kind.

Seattle Center has one of the best frolicking fountains I’ve seen; this thing absolutely calls forth your inner drive to frolic and makes you at least consider pattering off into the fountain’s spray, if not run headlong to do so. Children are more in touch with the innate need to frolic, and this fountain is full of them, along with more than a handful of non-parent adults romping. On hot, sunny days, the fountain is irresistible.

How nice to have public, urban spaces that remind us to be more carefree than is our habit, or at least to consider for a moment how nice that spray of cool water might feel.

Slideshow of Folklife pictures below. Photos by me unless marked otherwise; some are by Kevin Moore.

watch where you step

Sat, 24 May 2008 22:50:20 -0700

I had to share this picture my friend Kevin took of a sign he found on Capitol Hill. It wasn’t something I would have thought to watch out for, but I’m glad to be warned.

Hmm, could I catch a wormhole back to when Capitol Hill real estate prices were lower?

the water calls

Sat, 17 May 2008 18:24:50 -0700

I have a hard time staying out of water, which is complicated by the fact that I’m a cold water wimp. If it’s a hot day, I’m in a beautiful place, and there’s a body of water in front of me, I’ll probably end up in the water at some point. It will likely happen incrementally as I ease in to the coldness that eventually feels good.

The mercury hit 90 today in Seattle, a new record, and a welcome break from the cool rain that’s given us one of the coldest springs on record. Today’s frolic involved a walk and picnic at Discovery Park with roommate Emily and dance friend Kevin. Eventually, we ended up in the water.

For those not familiar with Puget Sound, the water never gets warm. It’s about 50 degrees, if not colder, this time of year.

I stepped out into the water a few different times, but eventually felt drawn in. My feet were numb, but the cold was a beautiful contrast to the welcome-yet-baking heat. When I finally let myself just swim, I discovered that the water was warmer six inches below the surface. It felt amazing.

pope approves belief in little green men

Wed, 14 May 2008 00:23:20 -0700

For any devout Catholics out there conflicted over your belief in aliens, you can now rest easy. The Vatican has officially declared that it’s okay for Catholics to believe in the existence of aliens. Apparently there had been some concern that believing in aliens would mean people didn’t believe in God. This news is probably a relief for some, and may mean a lot of catching up on old X-Files episodes. (Skip the later seasons, they’re not as good.)

In other news, Xprwiooed Ghalalarewppqeows of the Inter-Planetary Council of Aqwoiwqwppzzza, has officially declared that it’s okay to believe in the existence of the Pope.

Thanks to Garrette for the Flickr Creative Commons photo.

naughty, naughty washington

Fri, 9 May 2008 19:40:01 -0700

DISCLAIMER! This post is a departure from my usual fairly G-rated writing. If you’re not old enough to be reading about terms like humptulips, please skip this post!

Washington State makes me blush. It’s not because I live here and have indulged in hot, tillicum-style hoodsport with some diablo; if I have, that’s none of your business. No, it’s the names of places in this state. So many of them just sound so, well, naughty.

This point was driven home last weekend on my Olympic Peninsula frolic (for which I had to cross the Hood Canal). I was in Sequim, on a dairy farm visiting detour, when I came to the intersection of Woodcock Road and Kitchen-Dick Road. Oh, and check out the sign someone had nailed on the telephone pole right at the intersection. I don’t even think it was meant to be funny. Outdoor enthusiasts of Washington State may recognize the name of Kitchen-Dick Road; it’s the one you typically take to get to Dungeness Spit. (The dungeness, of course, is the dominatrix who guards the dungeon.) Incidentally, Dungeness Spit is very long and penetrates the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

The state is rife with naughty names. On a trip down I-5 to Portland, you pass the exit for Dike Access Road, which causes many a queer woman I know to consider taking a detour. Back on the Olympic Peninsula, shortly after you visit Sappho, you enter Beaver. I am not making this up.

And who hasn’t had their share of hot, wet nights of nooksack? Or wanted to mount Vernon? Or been less than wowed by some cape disappointment? We Washingtonians explore oysterville, take pleasure at grand mound, have a little skookum, and are brought to the edgecomb over and over in woodinville. We can do a north bend with agility, and take a roll in the hay. Some are into willy dick crossing, on condon lane for safety. We like novelty now and then, and we are not ashamed to cry out, “harder!”

You get the picture. Spend some time with a map of Washington and you’ll start blushing too. Someday, I’m going to write a short story about this (and I’ll post it here). It’s going to be a piece of erotica in which all of the naughty terms will be place names from Washington State. It may center around the handsome, troublesome Juan de Fuca spending time in the Dana Passage. Or maybe he won’t be so strai(gh)t after all...

sunset over ocean

Wed, 7 May 2008 08:23:07 -0700

I’ve been slacking on this blog lately, sorry. Meatier posts coming soon. In the meantime, enjoy these shots of a sunset over the ocean near La Push, Washington.

pollan on sustainability and personal responsibility

Sun, 20 Apr 2008 13:31:32 -0700

Sometimes I agree with Michael Pollan, and sometimes I don’t, but I think his piece in today’s New York Times Magazine is wonderful. He discusses the question of whether individual carbon-reducing actions — riding a bicycle, changing your light bulbs, growing a garden — are significant enough to make a difference. His conclusion: yes.

His case is strong. He argues, among other things, that solutions like gardening create other solutions (exercise, healthy eating) whereas solutions that rely only on large-scale technology often create other problems. Think of the mess over ethanol. He focuses primarily on gardening as a way to change our cultural habit of relying so much on specialization in society, that is, where you know how to do one thing and I know how to do another, that we no longer know how to take care of ourselves.

I like this angle. I think a lot of change does come from personal actions, and I’ve made some choices, like eating predominantly locally-grown food, and riding my bike more. I’ve also set some goals, like committing to a commute to school next year (yes, I got accepted!) almost exclusively by bike.

Finally, Pollan argues, our individual actions and changes inspire our neighbors and friends and communities and, eventually, politicians to make changes. I agree. If you look at political-level change, the cities and states most willing to make bold moves on climate change (Seattle, San Francisco, etc) are generally those where politicians feel confident that they’ll gain more votes by taking a stand than they’ll lose.

Politically, there is one angle on which I’d build on Pollan’s argument. It’s all well and good to hope that your individual behavior and choices will have an exponential effect on your community, but our individual choices are not just about the food we eat, the vehicles we drive, and the homes we inhabit. I think we’re just as responsible for systemic change as we are for individual choices, even if it’s much harder to affect.

I’ve been thinking about individual choices while visiting family here in California. I’m embarrassed by how much trash we’ve thrown out here — plastic food tubs, newspapers, food scraps, and all manner of things I’d recycle or compost at home. The reason is that the HOA of my grandmother’s condominium complex doesn’t want to bother with recycling. And so my grandmother, who would love to recycle, and who goes to meetings and advocates for it, cannot recycle at home. If, however, the State of California required recycling, she would throw away a lot less trash. Pollan may argue that political choices have to follow individual ones, but sometimes leaders do have to, well, lead.

Individually, we can — and must — advocate for larger-scale change. Recycle, compost and garden, sure, but also advocate for a better system of recycling, or more stringent recycling requirements, in your city or state. Ride your bike, but also join/start a coalition advocating for more bike-friendly streets in your city or for stricter state emissions requirements for cars. Support or start an organization that gives bikes and bike knowledge to low-income youth or adults. Garden, but also work to help start a community garden program in your community, or organize an education event about gardening and bring in old and young people to teach their neighbors. There is a great deal that can be done on a scale as small as your block or as large as our country.

The only problem with individually-focused change is that it can sometimes distract us from systemic change, if we are not conscious of the link between the two. Individual and systemic change are not mutually exclusive; in fact, they are inextricably linked. A system of changes relies on many individual-level changes, and we will only be good advocates for systemic change when we change our own behavior. Yet, our own small reductions in emissions are dwarfed by, say, the coal power plant or the industrial, corporate mega-polluter in your community. Be focused on your own carbon footprint, but not so focused that you’re not also paying attention to Bigfoot’s print up the road. After all, that company, factory, or power plant is working to fill the demands of individual consumers. The pieces connect together.

Take just as much responsibility for systemic change as you do for personal change. I’m suggesting this partly because it has an effect and partly as a way not to lose sight of what happens around us. It’s daunting as an individual to focus on or advocate for something as large as legislation or regulations, but that’s no reason to avoid trying. After all, isn’t it also daunting to think about the scale of your choices to garden, walk to work, or reduce the efficiency of your home in the grand scheme of things? Daunting, yes, but inspiring at the same time.

And if, this coming year, I’m daunted or jaded by things I feel are too big to affect just through writing or other means I choose, that’s okay. I’ll ride my bike home, dig up a few weeds in the garden, make myself a good dinner, and recharge for another day.

urban gardens: oases of sanity

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 14:55:05 -0700

As the price of land in cities rises, urban gardens fall under threat from developers, whose pupils turn to dollar signs as they envision replacing cucumber beds with one-bedroom condos, berry patches with business parks.

The Santa Monica Community Garden, through whose gates I wandered this morning, has been through such a fight, according to my grandmother. It’s in a prime spot in downtown Santa Monica, a few blocks from the beach and the farmers’ market. I’m sure someone would love to get his greedy hands on it to build yet another nondescript tower of live-in cubicles for the rich.

As I was wandering through this simple, lovely garden, I thought about necessity. We don’t need another tower, but we do need community gardens. We need them for our vegetables, our sanity, and the quality of our cities.

Community gardens are important practically and symbolically. Practically, it’s a marvelous idea for giving people who don’t have a yard space to plant vegetables, fruits, and flowers. Gardening is as locally as you can get your food, and it’s a great way to feel connected with your food and (pardon the pun) grounded. Gardening next to other gardeners is great for motivation (look how great that bed looks... hey, she’s growing artichokes successfully!). It’s also, I’ve heard, a great way to get tips from experienced gardeners.

Symbolically, a community that builds shared gardening space is making a statement about not always prioritizing money over such things as green space, food, and beauty. When I stumble upon a community garden, I feel better about the place I’m in, that they care enough to designate this space for the swiss chard and roses and peas. I feel inspired when I walk through, and think about what I might do with my own garden this year.

Some communities have taken the idea of community gardens further, as I discovered one day on a neighborhood walk through one of Seattle’s lovely alleys that stretch between backyard gardens. We came across a wonderful yard, full of raised beds and fruit trees. A man was taking out the compost and stopped to talk. It turned out the house’s owner felt that he had more space than he could use, so he allotted raised beds to community members who had no gardens of their own, for no price other than a commitment to care for their plots. He was part of a growing network of such shared green spaces. It’s a brilliant idea, a D.I.Y. sharing system for a D.I.Y activity like gardening.

As part of an informal, co-operative network, or a formalized community garden system, shared garden spaces reflect my ideals of co-operative community, local food, and natural beauty. Not only is it more practical to share, but it’s more beneficial to the community at large and the individuals who garden.

And of course, there’s the serendipity of finding such a garden unexpectedly, of treating oneself to a walk through the oasis of nasturtiums, the artichokes, the vine-covered arbors. Take a moment away from the city, the garden tells us. Walk, smell, admire, think, and remember to breathe. It’s a dose of sanity most city people could use on a more regular basis. Try to put a price on that, developers. Just try.

Santa Monica Community Garden

wilderness recharge

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 13:48:14 -0700

I love my family, but after several days with them here in California, all I wanted was to be alone. I recharge in quiet, wild spaces in nature, either alone or with companions so close I feel like I’m alone, in a good way. Having no such companions with me, I headed north on the Pacific Coast Highway to Point Mugu State Park, and drove in on the first road I saw. I asked the woman at the gate for a recommendation of a hike. She shrugged and said, “They’re all about the same.” Not the kind of exuberant, informed park ranger I’d hoped for, but not much to do about that.

I picked a trail labeled, helpfully, Scenic Trail and followed it three quarters of a mile up to an overlook above the ocean. From there, smaller trails diverged up and around the surrounding mountains, and I followed several of them, up and over one peak and along paths through wildflowers and desert plants. High up, there were no other hikers around, and I began to recharge.

Being alone in the mountains, even for just a day, affords one a feeling of freedom and playfulness, the ability to stop and stare at a lizard or flower, or to wander down another trail, chasing curiosity. To sit quietly under a tree and breathe. To escape. To find what you’re looking for.

This was a perfect day for such a meander. Blue sky with wispy clouds, wildflowers, and warm weather. I don’t know if the trail I found was the same as all the other trails, but I know I wasn’t disappointed.

support a camp that supports kids

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 23:18:45 -0700

Okay, this may be the only commercial announcement you see on this blog, and it’s a commercial for a non-profit summer camp.

Camp Ten Trees is a nonprofit summer camp serving lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer (LGBTQ), questioning, and allied youth, and children of LGBTQ families. For those of you living in the Seattle area, I invite you to attend the camp’s fundraising auction on Friday, April 25th (email me if interested). For those far away, but seeking a small organization to support, where even a modest donation makes a difference, this might be the organization to pick.

I’m biased, I admit. I co-founded Camp Ten Trees. Having watched the camp grow since its inception, I’m convinced that this is something kids in the LGBTQ community need.

I’ve talked to countless adults who loved summer camp as a child. Even decades later, they’ll get a soft look in their eyes and tell me that aside from instilling in them a love for nature and creativity, camp was the one place they felt they could really be themselves, where they truly belonged, and where they made their closest friends. Kids in the LGBTQ community especially need a place to be themselves, belong, and make real friends, because these are some of the experiences that get taken away from them when they encounter homophobia, fear bullying, or feel they have to be closeted.

Parents and campers have told me over the years that Camp Ten Trees changes kids’ lives, and that it saves kids’ lives. Considering the high proportion of homeless youth who identify as LGBTQ, rates of suicides by LGBTQ-identified youth, and incidence of homophobic bullying, that’s a weighty statement.

I remember a tough, teenage boy who was one of our first campers. He bristled at authority, constantly got in trouble, and wanted to make sure that everyone knew what a thick skin he had. Every night on my lullaby rounds, I went to his cabin at bedtime and sang the boys the camp lullaby, Everything Possible by Fred Small. The song has lyrics like, You can be anybody you want to be, you can love whomever you will. The last night, I remember him whispering along the words in the dark.

Camp may be about canoeing, hiking, arts, games, and friends, but it’s also about whispering lullabies, having real conversations, feeling safe, building confidence, and knowing there are people in the world who value you for who you are. That’s something I’ll invest in, for kids today, and for the adults they’ll become tomorrow.

* lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning

more flowering trees and bushes

Sat, 12 Apr 2008 23:31:55 -0700

Just a few weeks after that snow, it was suddenly about 80 degrees today. Tomorrow, back to upper 50s and drizzle. The weather provided a serendipitous opportunity for a nice long bike ride and a walk (plus some relaxing) in the Arboretum.

Here are a few of the nicest trees and bushes.

flowering currant

Sun, 6 Apr 2008 18:21:37 -0700

I’m appreciating the aesthetic value of spring, even if the weather and my mood don’t quite match it. This currant’s new, exquisitely-detailed leaves and bright clusters of tiny flowers caught my eye.

If the rain lets up, I might take some more pictures of flowering trees and plants around town. Stay tuned.

karma + dog = dogma?

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 14:00:15 -0700

This picture is from the Guardian’s Week in Wildlife picture series. I’m not sure a meditating chihuahua counts as wildlife, but this one in Naha, Japan copying the priest was apparently charming enough to make this week’s cut.

I’m an appreciator of meditation and Buddhism, and I wish dogs seeking enlightenment the best, but I’m more of a bodhicattva fan myself.

“it is cold. see the snow. see the snow come down.”

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 13:23:09 -0700

Back in New York and Ohio, snow in late March or April was normal, just something to accept grudgingly. Here in Seattle, it’s unheard of. And yet, here it is: snow, falling lightly on the daffodils and cherry blossoms and nearly-open magnolias.

Even stranger than the springtime snow is the fact that weather.com was right. About five or six days ago, I looked at the ten-day forecast on that site, and there was a chance of snow listed for today and yesterday. Usually looking at the ten day forecast is just an exercise in amusement; it seems like someone at weather.com is just spinning the big wheel of weather options and saying, “Ah, yes. Locusts it will be for Friday. Now, let’s see about Saturday... Hmm, we haven’t put down ‘snow’ in a while...” The site is notoriously wrong. But sometimes, the wheel bypasses tornadoes and heat wave and plague of marmots and hits just the right item. In this case, it was snow.

So, it’s snowing, four days shy of April. It’s not bothering me; I wasn’t quite ready for spring. Poor magnolias, though. I hope they make it.

(The title of this post is the first three sentences of a famous children’s book. Any of you children’s lit buffs or librarians know it offhand?)

eiffel needle?

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 22:55:38 -0700

The New York Times blog The Lede ran a story today on a plan to alter the Eiffel Tower temporarily for its 120th birthday by adding a removable deck. The first two pictures above are from the New York Times article. What the piece didn’t mention is that the proposed change (picture #2) makes it look an awful lot like the Space Needle (picture #3).

As a Seattleite, I’m fond of the Space Needle, but I can’t say I’d call it graceful or elegant like the Eiffel Tower. Personally, I think if people want to celebrate the Eiffel Tower, they probably want to honor it as it is, not turn it into a different structure.

On the other hand, what new names could they come up with for it? Eiffel Needle? Aiguille d’Eiffel? Space Tower?

And does this mean that Paris, the beautiful city Americans have always romanticized, secretly, in its heart of hearts, wants to be like... Seattle? If so, we’d be happy and honored to give lessons in Seattle specialties such as blackberry picking, fish-throwing, passive aggression, and rain tolerance, just in exchange for goodwill. And maybe a little cheese.

word correction of the day: mischievous vs. mis-cheev-ious

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 18:59:32 -0700

I’m a word and grammar geek. I find some mistakes normal, some mistakes understandable, and pretty much anything forgivable from someone trying to learn this bewildering language (or someone taught by lousy teachers).

But some things just piss me off. And I’m in a cranky mood from a frustrating day at work, so I’m going to take it out on a particular mangling of a particular word.

I knew a woman once who said “mis-cheev-ious” instead of “mischievous.” The first time she said it, I though she just slipped. But then she started saying it regularly. I thought maybe this was just a quirk, and that she was the only person in the world who made this error. But when you google various spellings of the mis-pronounced “mis-chev-ious” there are over 700,000 entries. I’ve heard other people say it this way; I’ve even seen someone’s online personality “Miss Chevious.” Someone is out there spreading lies about how this poor word is pronounced. How mischievous of them, and not in a good way.

Okay, let’s break it down. The suffix -ous means “full of or characterized by.” The moon is luminous, you are ravenous, he is callous, I like caribous. (Oh wait, not that last one.) You do see words like “devious” but the prefix there is “devi-” like “deviant.”

The prefix is, of course, mischief. Mischievous = full of mischief. Mischev-ious = not a word.

Consider it your civic duty to go out and use this word correctly, especially if you happen to know someone who says it with an extra i. And while you’re at it, go cause some mischief. The good kind only, please.

Any other word or grammar pet peeves out there?