Arboretum

So Matt and I took a little drive over to the Arboretum to celebrate the waning rain (well, I guess you can't really tell in this picture) to enjoy the end of fall. However, I left out the photos of Matt violently kicking leaf piles around (too bad for you). I don't want to get all mushy, like some people who write all about the squishy merits of their signficants, but, well, Matt is neat. I like that kid a lot. He is fun. And neat. And I like clipper ships. And Matt.

is that....yes it is, is MOSS. And lots of it. told you, told you

garrrrr....

"he he, my name is Matt, and this is the cover of my new book jacket--damn, forgot me pipe!"

Matt

more leaves

the pond

leeeaves

almost cute...

Matt!

its fall-yay

flowers

When I was 16, my family moved out to Ellensburg to get us a good solid farm education. I was a bit reluctant at first, to leave all of my friends for what I was sure was more of a redneck education.

"Do they all talk with accents out there?" a friend asked.
Well, ya, sort of.

Anyhow, I grew to love it, and so did the rest of my family. It was the first house in my life that I have ever spent multiple holidays at. I grew to love the wide open spaces and the great sky of stars. I grew to love the hills, and the snow, and the hot summers (hey, we actually get seasons out there!). I enjoyed small town rural life. I even grew to love the awesomeness that is the Ellensburg Rodeo! And of course, who couldn't love a culture of cowboys and hippies? (it's a college town too, ya know). But at 18 I had to promptly move away to try my hand at a southern life. I still love coming home to visit, and wish I could have gotten out there more often.

But my parents were essentially living their whole lives in Seattle. Working, attending church, and going to school and club functions, they made the hour and a half commute over the pass, back and forth, for far too many years. So....they finally moved back over here last week (to Maple Valley). So we all spent one last weekend there as a family. I took a few pictures of some of the things and places I love.

(as a side note, the photos were taken using a film technique--I didn't make them look weird in photoshop!)

The road coming back down out of the hills

Looking out over the valley

mush

Chickens! My family had a lot of chickens, but got sick of trying to keep them caged and out of harms way--so they sent them off. Fly away, they said. But they just keep coming back, following my mom around. Free range chickens.

Mum feeding the chickens

chics

Sunrise

stairway to Yakima

well, this is the actual path--i try to stay out of the ditch when I can

The path I used to ride my bike along

the field

The road to our house--manastash

Out in the hills

My very feminine and girly girl little sister Emery--rockin' what I couldn't last Christmas (which resulted in a knee injury!)

Annie

Rosie

My dogs, Annie and Rosie (the small one is the mom, and annie, the fat one, is the baby)

I found this tree, along with others decorated in similar fashions around it in a park near the house. It reminds me very much of a photographer I like (though I can't remember his name) that builds things in nature and then photographs them. 

Collections

I love sending out bills and parking tickets with leftover Valentines day stamps that say "I Love You" on them. It is the only small satisfaction I have of ironic proportions in sending people money that really don't deserve it.

Pop up ad

So I just saw an ad for a picture phone--as in, a home phone that has a screen on which you can see your friendly debt collector.

I recall, when I was about 6 or 7, spending a ridiculous amount of time worrying about when picture phones would be invented. I was really bothered at the thought of my first grade crush calling me up to RSVP for my birthday party and him seeing me answer the phone in my snuggly kitty pajamas. I kept fretting about what would happen if you just hopped out of the shower and rushed to grab a ringing phone. I was really afraid of a privacy violation and the inability to control it. I mean, what 6 year old isn't?

At least now I don't have to spend any time debating over whether to invest in one. I already have a deeply ingrained fear of being caught in messy bed hair and slippers by some relative or sales person (I suppose it never occurred to me that you may actually have an option on that)!

Here we go again

I still don’t feel like I’m getting my point across. Ok, here it goes, one last time.

Normal rain is just fine. The fall season is just great. I enjoy fall activities, even ones that take place in the rain. I enjoy rain storms. I enjoy monsoons in foreign countries. I like rainbows. I like mist. I like rain when it is still sunny out. I like dark, stormy, blustery days. I like thunder, and lightening. I like sitting by a fire and listening to a storm. I like playing soccer in a storm, and rolling around in mud. I don’t hate plants. I don’t hate snow, or snow activities. I don’t hate the earth’s entire geological system of keeping things alive. I don’t want to commit suicide because the entire globe needs a little water to survive.

I do hate Seattle’s grey, gloomy, heavy, oppressive clouds that hang low, pushing you down, painting the land in monochromatic, two dimensional prison-scapes. I hate the “rain showers” that seem to be the standard on every weather channel for every single day in our city. I hate the pounds of moss and mildew that cling to every shingle, window, and car roof. I hate the constant 44 degree wetness.

I don’t think this is an arguable point. I just don’t like it. And I don’t really think many of you should disagree with me. I never hear anyone saying “I love this gloomy grey weather that hangs around for months! It really energizes me and makes me feel great! I just want to go home and mow my lawn, and then go out for a jog! Hooray!” But I do commonly overhear little comments like “raining again,” “still raining,” and “try to stay dry”—always met with a nod and a knowing eye roll. Sure, were all so damn proud and happy about a day of sunshine because we never have it. It is cherished. And no, I don’t find that quaint or charming. What would be more charming is some more sunshine.

So yes, I do like the city, and I do enjoy normal rain. But no, I don’t like crappy year round Seattle rain. I do like the beauty a little water provides, and I do like all of our diverse landscapes. But I think the weather man could still pull off snowy mountains, lush flora, and rushing rivers with twice as much rain in a nice romantic storm in half as much time, with fewer clouds. So there. Get over it. Stop throwing rocks at me for being a sprinkle hater. You know you all only feel like you have to defend it because you haven’t got any better weather going for you. Nobody actually likes the grey. Just admit it. There is a reason that not only the locals, but the entire world, jokes about our crappy weather.

I’ll leave you with a little quote from a European I met while abroad…

“You’re from Seattle? Isn’t that the place where it rains 364 days a year?”

They call it "showers" on the weather report...

So, I received more than a few comments from fellow Seattleites concerning my feelings about our rain. I feel there are a few things I must clear up. I here commence my rebuttal.

A certain someone, who shall henceforth remain nameless (let’s just call her the notoriously crazy commenting grandmother, or, grandma for short), suggested that I might be exaggerating about the conditions of our fair city. Here I site evidence #1; a second opinion.

From a local city website (for tourists, no less):

“Seattle has a well-deserved wet and rainy reputation, perpetuated not least by the self-depreciating humor of its citizens. It is a pertinent point that the 36 inches of annual rainfall received by Seattle each year is less than the annual rainfall of places like New York. It is just that the rain comes down over a longer period--often precipitating as a slow drizzle, begrudgingly deposited by low lying clouds that seem to hang around far longer than necessary to get the job done.
The waters throughout the Puget landscape can but reflect the gray skies, resulting in somewhat monochromatic views. Mysterious, if that's your cup of latte, depressing if it's not. Yet these mists and rain keep Seattle cleaner and greener than most cities of a similar size. It takes only a day of sunshine to shake the winter blues. The city sparkles, the land lies green and beckoning across the bays, rivers and waterways as the landscape is transformed from gray monotones into the glittering hues that earn the "Emerald City" its nickname.
Perhaps those winter months have fostered the production of artifacts by which Seattle has made its presence felt. On the face of it, the cultural icons of grunge-rock, espresso coffee and software may seem an odd combination. Could it be, however that one is the expression of the winter blues, one the antidote to the winter blues, and one the productive use of short, rainy days?”

I may I just review again the pertinent part about “a day of sunshine”? Ya, cuz that’s about all you're gonna get.

And well, perhaps I might do more research about the subject, quoting number of rainy days, etc, if I wasn’t so depressed from the dreary grey day and needing to crawl into bed forthright. Grandma, don’t tell me I’m exaggerating the amount of rain and then with the next breath state how much good the excess of it does to keep our city green (please see previous comments at “and it rains, and rains, and rains”).

And perhaps it should be noted that yes, I do enjoy the fall season. Why, not a few posts down I talk about how much I love fall activities—it’s my favorite season! I do enjoy the color changes, the crispness in the air, the pumpkins, the holidays, lattes, and fires. But, I enjoy the cold, crisp, SUNNY days of fall, where I can actually shuffle and kick the leaves about instead kicking up a pile of moldy, mossy, wet leaf sludge that leaves my toes soaked and the backs of my jeans crawling with puddle.

And, well, perhaps I’m just bitter that my leg warmers)are in the dirty laundry and I am still crying about that whole ice princess thing. Stupid rain.

Singapore, last spring (oh, here it is, out of order!)

Too lazy=pictures of the week

These are my pictures of the week. I'm feeling too lazy to write anything much. Matt and I went to see Jarhead this weekend. It was good, and I recommend it for sure (as long as you like lots of cussing and lots of male butt shots......hm, son't think I'm allowed to further comment on that!). We also kicked it at the arboretum today and took pictures and hiked about in the cold fall--the first sort of sunny day in like 16 days or something! yay! Anyway, this is a pic of me and Ana on our Europe trip a few years ago--this is our first stop, in England. She is now large with baby. I miss her.

Me and Ana, when we both had long hair, waaay back in the good days of covenant

me and ana--spring break in texas 2000

tribute to my hair dresser. She entered some contest for hair and make-up. This is our model vince we snagged from the bar the night before (he really liked her lip gloss and lip stick, and wants to model....) So I took some pics for her.

vince

Matt drowning. Somehow, google lost my other photo of beautiful singapore I posted previous to this that explained more--but hey, i'm lazy, right. so this is all you get.

matt T. (matt's roomie)

getting colder

This is my tribute to LAST fall--this fall coming soon

leaf!

my tribute to blackberries

yum yum

Matt is sea sick

Why Leg Warmers REALLY are the best invention. Ever.

They're not just a fashion statement anymore.

A few years ago a friend got me a couple of pairs of legwarmers for Christmas when I was going through my 'awesome 80's' phase. I must admit, I didn't use them for a while. Maybe just a few times to accent an oversized sweater. They just looked so sparkly, like something to hang in your closet, not something to drag about in the mud.

Until now. My office is cold, my workspace is cold, and my boyfriend's house is like a tiny ice castle. And I am most certainly like an ice princess. I am always cold to begin with, but this new job set up definitely pushes me over the top. I'm so cold all the time!!! In an attempt to defeat the cold and the rain, I have begun to learn and master the art of layering (coupled with bringing my portable heater with me everywhere I go). And that is when I rediscovered those sparkly leg warmers.

I put them on under my jeans for some added protection (as there are some fine holes in the wall of the building I'm in that the wind sweeps in and goes right up the pant legs). And my goodness, I've never been warmer! They work fantastically!

My mom always laughs at me for owning a few pairs (even though I caught her borrowing them to go out to the car one Christmas to keep her ankles warm and cozy while sporitn' a skirt), but I think if she, and well everyone, really knew how warm they are, and that nobody can even tell you're wearing them under pants (though I wish they could), everyone would be doin' it. Old and young alike (not that, uh, my mom is old or anything).

The best things ever invented, indeed.

Army Art: yay for America

So, I finally cleaned up a 3 years and growing pile of papers (think I'm just trying to avoid doing important things) in which I found the pictures below. A friend of mine sent them to Erin and I a few years ago just after he entered the army. Although they're just snapshots, I find them very interesting, and somewhat artistic. Maybe just because it's something so unfamiliar to me (or because I'm deathly afraid of blood!).

Bleeding is FUN! yay!

learning to take blood. yum.

And it rains, and rains, and rains...

So it’s alive and well again.  The Grey.  The color of Seattle, for at least 9 more months.  Every summer I manage to forget that for a good 10 months of the year, Seattle is resigned to a prison stripe uniform of grey on grey.  Sigh.  Or maybe I just keep hoping the next year will be different, and it will move away to some other coastal town; somewhere in California, where the greedy bastards laze about in an excess of sunshine.  Come on, share a little, jerks (you are certainly tan enough, ladies).

My friend Gail tells me of her recent trip to the East coast,  and how we know nothing of real rain, here in Seattle.  Thinking of all my travels, I suppose it’s true.  To the rest of the world, rain is something that takes you by surprise; it comes in a torrent--a deluge, in large drops it soaks you through and through.  The spaces in between are tiny, and not even small creeping things escape the wet.

Many people think it rains in Seattle on a daily basis the way it does everywhere else.  But it’s different here.  It’s not raindrops that push down from the heavens—it’s the grey.  First come the clouds; they seem to push down in, rather than sweep or roll across the sky.  It’s like the lid of a great box being closed down on top of you, sealing you into small, cramped space with a million others.  The clouds are thick and heavy, and completely shapeless.  It’s an unwelcome blanket—maybe like those fuzzy, muted ones from hotel beds.  You can’t see mountains, you can’t see the sea.  It seals off the light, and everything looks dull and lifeless.  You feel as though you’re trapped in low basement, staring up at the off white, popcorn ceiling.

Then comes the rain.  It’s a light rain.  But it’s not a mist—a mist might be romantic and mysterious.  This rain is more like sugar, being sifted down in small drops.  The barely wind blows it around, just enough to get in your eyes, down the back of your jacket, or into the side of your hood.  But there isn’t’ enough wind to elicit a real autumn storm feel.  And it rains ALL day.  All day, and all night.  And all winter.  And all spring.  And all fall, and, well, even half of summer.

Leaves get piled in gutters, and stay all year.  Thick, cushy moss grows on everything.  The rain feeds it and it grows fat.  Then it eats roofs of houses, cracks of driveways, the belly’s of stones, the hoods of cars, and even your bathroom walls.  There though, it must vie for position with all the mold that has also found a comfortable home in the constant moisture.

No wonder Seattle birthed the alt depression rock thing.  When you’re stuck in this prison 300 days a year, you go crazy, and depression and lethargy creep around, hiding under the moss just waiting to prey on those that the grey gives over.  No wonder all our rock stars die of heroin overdoses—seems like you need it here!