Mumbling Madly

Somebody has made the horrible mistake of giving the neighborhood kids a recorder…and I don’t mean a tape recorder, I mean the terrible wooden clarinet looking thing that one blows into to produce sound. The kind of recorder that is now passed out in droves to small children as they line up in groups and play Hot Cross Buns or something easy. Only the kids two houses down aren’t playing the recorder they’re painfully blowing in and out of it and producing a sound similiar to a canary being squeezed repeatedly and painfully.
This morning, at eight o’clock, I briskly walked the four blocks to my new work from the bus stop…as I approached our parking lot I saw a huge mass of what appeared to be tarps and blankets piled against our front door. My first thought was that whoever closed last night was unable to officially put the party rental stuff away and left it in a disheveled heep outside. “What IS all that?” I thought to myself as I approached, squinting to make out the folds and creases of fabric, and then I totally and completely gasped: It was a sleeping man. I’m sure many of you predicted this before I wrote it, but I was totally and utterly shocked. I was in a quandry: Do I wake him up? What if he’s surly and mad in the morning? Do I call the non-emergency police number and ask them to wake him up for me? Should I call Josh? Do I ask someone walking by if they wouldn’t mind helping me wake this guy up? I decided to call my boss on her cell phone. I took a few steps back, just to give us some distance, and I fumbled forever trying to find her number. Of course, she didn’t pick up, and I was stuck wondering what was the next step. Luckily, the blankets rustled and started moving and the guy woke up. I cautiously approached, just when the man was wiping his eyes and yawning.
“I have to open the store,” I said lamely.
“Oh,” the homless man said, “I usually wake up when I hear cars…”
“Well, I take the bus,” I explained, and then I generously offered, “I’ll be here opening up at eight every morning.”
The guy nooded amicably and started shuffling around, “Well what are you waiting for?” he said.
“Uh, I’m waiting for you,” I realized I was staring.
“Oh, well, here,” He moved his feet out of the way, “You might as well go in and open up while I clear out.”
I gingerly stepped over his sleeping bag and quickly unlocked the front door. While I mopped the studios, I kept an eye at the front door and noticed that it took a good fifteen minutes for the man to fold up all his gear and leave. Overall, he wasn’t belligerant, but the incident made me feel weird. Turns out, he regularly sleeps in front of our door, he’s just usually out by seven according to the owners. When I told Josh about this he reminded me, “Well, you were the one who wanted to move back to the city…”

Another year, another Gay Pride weekend…I say weekend because it just so happened that I celebrated Pride on both Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday I got my hair cut on the Hill and when I walked out I could feel the entire street of Broadway buzzing. I ran into friends soaking up the sun and drinking margaritas on an open patio. Turns out the alternative, keep-pride-on-Broadway, parade was happening in a mere hour and I found myself sitting on the curb waiting for it to began. I found it to be exactly what I hope for in a Pride parade: short, fun, and shocking. I actually gasped out loud when the two topless fat women in a cage went by–that’s the way I want my parade! More topless people! A man in the most fantastic S&M gear ever dragged a carriage carrying a woman with whips and chains. The naked cyclists from Fremont Solitice fame even had their moment, as they wheeled their ten speeds in concentrated figure eights wearing nothing but body paint.
I have to say, I was expecting an equal amount of shock and excitement the following day when I attended the (newly moved to downtown) Seattle Pride Parade. After attending a very nice brunch with friends, a bunch of us took taxis to the Seattle Center where we snagged end of the parade route seats. It was scorchingly hot, the crowd was huge, and the parade was unwieldly. At one point the gap between floats was so big, the crowd actually started to leave thinking the parade was over. Fifteen minutes later, half of the parade appeared on the horizon, tooting their horns and walking quickly in the hopes of catching up with the other half. Three hours into it we left the parade and headed out to the Seattle Center where it was jam packed with people. Josh and I peaced out pretty quickly, and after navigating our way home on two city buses we collapsed in a fit of heat exhaustion. Some fun pics of the parade:

WE LOVE GAY PEOPLE!

True to blog tradition, I’m posting a a younger picture of myself:

This is Courtney and I at age seventeen…a whoppin twelve years ago.

While searching the job market I stumbled across this: Jedi Master Needed

I wasn’t going to post about this, just because I wanted to talk myself into feeling casual about the whole thing: We’re ‘looking’ at houses. It’s almost like we’re a bunch of kids with our faces pressed up against the glass at the BMW dealership in Capitol Hill–you know, the one where the cars are on display and there’s no real chance of you ever test driving one? We’ve looked at seven places so far, in several southern neighborhoods. I would spare you the details, but what are blogs for…we’re finding that the more house you get the further south you have to go. The less house (and by that I mean two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a can with no basement or attic or yard), the slightly less further south you go. Want a place for only $270,000? Well, there are several that are nestled right next to I-5–which is so loud you can’t really have a relaxed conversation if you’re standing outside. Want a nice place for $280,000? Check out the southern most border of Seattle city limits and you’ll find lovely houses, provided you don’t mind staring up at the bellies of passing airplanes coming out of Boeing airfield and Seatac airport. Want three bedrooms? Really? How about one medium sized room, a room upstairs with ceilings so low you have to hunch, and an adjoining walk-in closet. And that’s the other major problem: Josh’s height. I’ll lumber up a flight of narrow, steep stairs to reach a lovely refinished attic space, only to realize Josh crooking his neck at an odd angle next to me…the same goes with every single basement we’ve looked at. Think condos or townhomes are cheaper? They’re not…and we’re not interested. Think the north side or Shoreline is less expensive? It’s not…those days are over.
In addition, I’d like to remain a one car family, (the savings, the high cost of gas, yada-yada), but this makes looking for homes in remote areas challenging. We’ve seen places for $265,000 that looked great in photos but then we show up and the entire house is dilapitated, the floor rolls in waves, there’s stale urine in the toilet, or, in one case, HALF of the backyard has been fenced off and SOLD for construction of another house. (Yeah, that’s just what I want: a house in my friggin’ backyard!) How long have we been looking? Five days…five measly little days and I’m already feeling fired up.

My first snowboard I bought off a fellow board bunny in Summit County, CO. I think I paid a hundred bucks for the board and the bindings. It was a Lib Tech, and had the most beautiful graphic of a weeping blue woman and several large flowers on it. The board was old, so it was extremely heavy and difficult to manage. However, it distinguished me as a learner on the mountains from the average tourist, and many a lift operator helped me up when I fell down–a Lib Tech was a real sign of a hipster, a non-tourist, and most importantly, a local. Several weeks after I bought the board and started learning, I *lost* it. Either I left it in the parking lot of Arapahoe Basin or it was stolen out of the backseat of Josh’s Montero. We’re not really sure what happened, and I felt terrible at the time. However, it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me because I went out and bought myself a brand new Gnu, specifically the Rider’s Choice. I fell in love with snowboarding on that board, it was so light and easy to manuever. I was faithful to the end, I waxed that board, had its edges sharpened, and repaired a large rip in the toe. There also was a big status thing as a Northwesterner to ride a board from a Northwest company. It was if Josh (who has remained faithful to Lib Tech) and I were representin’ out there in the Colorado mountains. The majority of our friends rode local, made-in-Denver boards, so seeing a Gnu or a Lib TecH on the mountains was rare. Josh went as far as plastering his SUV with snowboard stickers that pledged our allegiance to the Northwest snowboard brands. Here we are rockin’ our boards in Vail:

Well, eventually I wasn’t riding as often (five days a week), and Josh and I moved to Fort Collins and became “Weekend Warriors.” And then our priorities shifted and it became all about getting Josh to graduate, and going up to the mountains just didn’t seem worth the two hour drive on the weekends. My Gnu became flat, it no longer felt firm and stiff, instead I felt like I was riding a big wet noodle. Sure, it still functioned well, but the poor girl was suffering. Snowboards run in price anywhere from $250 to $700, and usually I would just tell myself I ‘ll buy a new one in the off-season to save some money. Plus, there’s all this pressure when buying a board and most shops will try to get you to ‘demo’ one before you buy it. (Which is a great idea, I just don’t know how to swing it). Meanwhile, Josh has already cycled through several boards while I’ve clung to my li’l Gnu, my first real board.
My class gave me a $100 gift certificate to REI on the last day of school, which was so very generous but my first thought was: I’m not outdoorsy, what am I going to spend that kind of money on at REI? Answer: A snowboard!

Due to REI’s limited selection, I strayed from my Northwest allegience and purchased the Salomon “Ivy.” I was so excited when I went to pick it up that I actually HUGGED my new snowboard.

At the beginning of the week I bussed from appointment to appointment–basically making up for the zero time I had to go to the doctor, dentist, mortgage broker, etc. while I was teaching. I spent a couple of hours training for my new job working as a teacher/desk jockey at a chi-chi studio that provides full spa treatments while your kid takes class. This job is already looking pretty laid back in comparison…sure, it’s a vast and gorgeous space sometimes filled to the brim with screaming toddlers, but it’s a far cry from the past nine months.
Anyway, towards the end of the week Josh and I treked out by car and ferry to Port Angeles and Port Townsend. I had heard from various sources that the Olympic Peninsula was gorgeous, and being that we have traveled all over Colorado it seemed strange that we have done so little exploring in Washington. Josh took two days off, and after consulting several time tables and gassing up the Honda we boarded a ferry and took off. At one point during the trip Josh asked me to photograph him impersonating the tragic Leonardo Dicaprio “I’m the king of the world!” Titanic schtick that I’m sure the ferry captains are sick of watching people reenact. Josh chickened out, but I didn’t:

While driving through Sequim, I marveled over the bread sticking out of the back of this passing truck:

We found Port Angeles to be largely unglamorous…filled with strange little shops filled with kitchy sand-dollars, fabric flowers, and ‘local’ art. Because the ferry to Victoria BC is in the heart of the town, these shops saturate the area as it begs for tourists coming on and off the ship. Josh and I saw a store aptly titled “Precious Things” and realized that none of the stuff inside was precious or needlfull. The town had a strange mix of hippie, hick, and Rennaisance Fair intermigled with a dark underbelly that surfaced occasionally. The crystal loving, sword brandishing, Magic player would certainly love this store:

We wandered over to the sea aquarium that was right next to the ferry terminal; we decided against paying the five dollar admission fee and hung our heads over the railing and looked down at the sorrounding tide pools for free. Josh posed (somewhat naughtily) for me in front of this historic mural:

You seldom see public telephones anymore, so I feigned a very important call. (What I didn’t know was that at the top of the stairs were two homeless men making out).

We stayed at the Red Lion Inn, right on the water, but still felt a little unsatisfied for the amount we were paying. An air conditioner wailed all night long nearby, so any hope of waking up to the gentle sounds of the Puget Sound were ruined. Josh and I had originally thought that Port Angeles was ‘where it was at’, but decided to take off to Port Townsend on our second day of vacation. Hands down, Port Townsend wins for coolest Port town. OK, sure the tourist stuff was still there, but the main drag was adorable; It was filled with cool artsty shops, espresso joints, and restaurants all housed in ancient turn-of-the century buildings. We admired the sailboats, and once again, Josh swore up and down that eventually he is going to buy a boat:

We saw the new Pixar flick, Cars, at the historical Rose Theater. The movie was excellent, and it gave us the chance to observe the locals: plenty of hippies, pierced spiritual types, and loads of restless teenagers.

We turned a corner and found this bike cop who had evidently pulled over this car of teenagers.

I loved all the old signage in Port Townsend, most of it was painted on the side of aging buildings.

I know, I know, you’re all sick of looking at that picture of Josh with a pair of acid wash pants. Well, the last week of school was wretched. I came home and worked until ten most nights, tying loose ends, preparing end-of-year gifts, and generally running around. I could regale you with Last Day of School stories, but instead I’m going to focus on my brief Portland get-a-way. It was awesome. I hung out with Mom, Dad, Gina, and Justin during the day on Saturday. We visited a park that had really cool water fountains, like this one:

My parents are in the upper left, the lower right is Gina and Justin.

Gina has the most bizarre flowers growing in her side yard. Anybody have an idea what these might be?

We went for a walk, and I couldn’t help but marvel over all their old, winding, trees.

Sam took me out to the infamous Nicholas’s for dinner. He’s been pestering me to eat there for years now, and I can see why. Sam ordered Turkish coffee which I stole little sips from.

The famous oversized pita bread overwhelmed our table and provided us with enough bread to dip into our hummus, cous-cous, and other Lebonese sauces.

A quick trip to an organic beer festival turned into a side trip to the Rose Gardens.

Needless to say, I had really hoped the weather would cooperate when I chose to surprise Josh for his 30th Birthday. A dinner cruise on the Puget Sound, what could be fancier? OK, so the clouds formed and the rain poured the afternoon of June 1st. BUT, in a kindly turn for the better, the clouds parted just when we got ready to set sail. The sun was so blinding as it reflected off the water we even purchased crappy tourist sunglasses before we boarded. The sun didn’t last, but we managed to spend some time outside before the rain cursed us once more.