A Little Bit of Paris in My Life

"When a girl is tired of Paris, she is tired of Life." I found this aphorism quoted on a notepad some years back, and at the time it seemed the perfect gift for the secret Santa gift exchange at work - the recipient was, in fact, a girl who now lives in Paris.

Lately, though, I felt that I was craving a little Paris in my own life. Daily I would walk - or run, on those days I was afraid of missing my bus - past Edmonds own little mini-Paris, the charming Daphne's. About the size of a decent walk-in closet, Daphne's spills out onto the sidewalk in the summer, with two marble-topped tables tucked behind a wrought iron fence to create a cozy space amid the pedestrian traffic. Daphne's is basically a one man show, but that man is dressed in a white dinner jacket and tie, suavely offering wine, beer, and nibbles in his cozy shop.

Charming as Daphne's may be, I've rarely been; aside from work I just don't hand around in Edmonds. But I had fond memories of my first, and, until yesterday, only visit there a couple of years ago with Amy V, so when I realized Amy would be winding up a class in Edmonds around six o' clock last evening, I asked if she'd like to meet for some wine and conversation. She happily obliged.

Now Edmonds is a far, far cry from Paris, and sitting outside with a view down Main Street doesn't exactly make the U.S.A. melt away. But it did feel rather chic, sitting at a sidewalk cafe nursing a glass of vinho verde and snacking on olives. And who knows how many more chances there will be to enjoy such an evening outdoors this season? It may not be Paris, but Daphne's has just enough je ne sais quoi to make any evening feel a little bit special.

Summer Sun and Summer Sniffles

This last week did not go exactly as planned. After a busy weekend that began with very little sleep on Friday night (not for any wild and crazy reason - I was simply volunteering overnight at the young adult shelter), I found myself with a sore throat on Monday, and more or less fully sick on Tuesday. Ah, colds! Isn't winter supposed to be the season for them? I must say I'd rather that were the case, as staying home with a cold, yet without air conditioning, during Seattle's hottest heat wave ever was not particularly pleasant. It was nice to be back at work in the land of AC on Thursday, but unfortunately my stuffy sinuses and cough still linger.

Still, we managed a little fun in the sun before the my being confined to the cooler climes of our basement for the week. On Sunday, some of our loosely named "young adults" group from church biked out to the Redhook Brewery in Woodinville, while on Monday evening Michael, Leslie, Amy V, and I enjoyed the substantially less sweaty activity of lying on the grass at Lakeside School, listening to the sounds of Haydn, Brahms, and Bartok as the Seattle Chamber Music Society broadcast their live performance for the benefit of listeners on the lawn.

And now July has ended. August begins in full force with an outdoor wedding tonight, and in the meantime I struggle to find the energy to take Lucy on a walk this afternoon. A little summer sun, I can handle, but summer sniffles, well, that's one thing I won't miss when fall comes around.

Sushi in the Hood

Being as there was no food in the house yesterday to speak of (no vegetables, fruits, or protein other than beans, that is), there were two logical options:

a) go grocery shopping

b) go out for dinner

While the more frugal option would doubtlessly have been (a), we chose the more enticing option of eating out. After buying a couple of beers at The Beer Authority, I was on a support-local-businesses roll, and as it had been years since we'd eaten at Toyoda Sushi, the choice seemed obvious.

Amy, Michael, and I took our seats at the bar, which afforded us entertainment along with our dinner, as we watched the chef prepare plate after plate of tempting sashimi, maki, and other sushi. Toyoda is a real neighborhood place, typically packed with locals, and the whole time I was there I kept wondering to myself, "Why has it been so long? What reason have we not gone here lately?"

I also sadly recalled the demise of Shian, the Chinese restaurant across that street that opened a few years ago but has since closed. Shian never managed to build the kind of following Toyoda has, despite stellar Chinese food. People were doubtlessly scared off by the "American Chinese" sign by the door (not what you want to advertise as a Chinese restaurant in Seattle) and the very un-Chinese faded pink and mauve Victoriana of the interior, a relic from the old Baker's restaurant and candy shop. Once Michael and I were bold enough to try it, we fell in love with the spicy dumpling soup and homemade noodles, and we showed our loyalty by eating there almost every time we chose to eat out in Lake City for at least a year. Sadly, our efforts were not enough, which is hardly surprising when we typically ate alone in a space that could easily seat 50 people or more.

Thankfully, Toyoda's popularity does not seem to be waning, and I'm happy to add it back into our (admittedly rather infrequent) rotation. I was also thrilled to discover that Michael will actually eat raw fish - and enjoy it! He has a newfound love for spicy tuna rolls, which is quite something coming from the man who will typically only eat three kinds of seafood: canned tuna mixed with mayonnaise on a sandwich, halibut or cod that has been battered and fried, or shrimp, preferably the small salad shrimp that don't "pop" when you bite into them (and preferably doused with plenty of cocktail sauce). He even branched out last night and tried the eel - and declared it to be "not too bad".

As for me, I pretty much love it all - there are few edibles from the sea that I won't eat, and sandwiching a course of sushi rolls between an appetizer of vegetable tempura and a dessert of tempura ice cream was just right. Now I long to go back again - and I don't intend to wait a few years between meals there this time!

Dog Crazy

Some people are cat people. Ostensibly, one reason cats appeal to these people is their seeming aloofness and independence. Other people are dog people. Rather than an unpredictable and indifferent nature, they look for a pet that will provide them with affection and a playful attitude.

Our dog, Lucy, is perhaps affectionate to the extreme. And extremely dependent upon affection.

The past week or so, the poor dog has been somewhat neglected. Most days she has only had one walk, as our evenings were generally busy with outside activities, meaning Lucy sometimes took a back seat. I think - really, I'm pretty certain - that this has proved damaging to her psyche.

Exhibit A: She has been EXCESSIVELY excited to see us when we come home. This morning, when we both walked through the door after having been gone for a couple of hours for church, the dog went berserk. Jumping on the sofa! Then off! Wriggling in and out of our grasp! Whining as she paws anxiously at the ground, her head bobbing in circles! You get the idea.

Exhibit B: Realizing that the pup needed to expend about a week's worth of pent-up energy, Amy V and I took her to the dog park this afternoon. This should wear her out, right? After an hour of playing fetch, fending off the unsolicited advances of other dogs, and swimming in the lake, Lucy was still wired. She didn't want to drop her ball, her hackles were raised repeatedly when any particularly suspicious looking dog came too near, and back at home she flailed on the sofa, trying to lick anything human in sight. Much like a toddler, this much stimulation after a week of lethargy was just too much. Sighhhhhh...

But, you know what? It may have worked better than I thought. I just peeked in the den and Lucy is lying silently on the sofa, doing a very convincing impression of a dog who is quite tired and ready for a nap. There is hope, after all, that no permanent damage has been caused and Lucy has returned to her normal state of mind - occasionally spastic, sure, but still within reason.

New Tricks

Y'all are gonna be so proud - I went to another birthday party in Tacoma Saturday night. And this time - drum roll, please - I actually read the invitation in its entirety. And found out exactly where the party was BEFORE driving down. And even took the cell phone just in case. See, in a mere two weeks time, I have stretched and grown beyond my former limitations. And if you are reading at this point and haven't the faintest idea what I'm talking about, just go back to the post titled "Where's the Party" from January 11th, and you'll know. Oh yes, you'll know.

This time the party was for my dear friend Jackie who should be properly embarrassed when I announce to the world (because there are so many of you out there reading this blog, I'm sure) that she has turned 30! Woohoo! We celebrated by taking in a dance performance that was a little more avant garde than expected (although, to be honest, it was about what I had expected, given the synopsis, and I rather enjoyed it, except for the poor visibility from our seats) and followed that up with pizza and drinks at The Rock. I was reminded of how much I like Tacoma; it always feels like such a close-knit community when compared with Seattle.

And today, I am pleased to report, I made yet another leap forward in rational behavior and made pasta using a pasta machine. Yes, this goes waaay back to my post from September 11th ("Pasta, Basta!"), wherein I describe the pitfalls of attempting to make ravioli by rolling the pasta dough by hand. It was not a pretty sight. But tonight's tortellini were gorgeous! Lewissa came over with her pasta roller (I have yet to get my own, but am now convinced that I absolutely need one) and together we created a fabulous meal of the aforementioned tortellini, filled with lemon juice, ricotta, Parmesan, and pecorino, topped with browned butter and sage, a polenta crusted chicken with a balsamic reduction and capers, broccoli rabe with seasoned oil, rosemary bread, and, of course, a nice Italian red wine.

The only thing regretful was the fact while Lewissa, Michael, and I were all exclaiming rapturously over the tortellini (isn't it nice to surround yourself with people who truly enjoy food?), Amy V was left with her plain capellini. Due to an egg allergy, the tortellini were off limits, but she did get to mix a little of the extra filling in with her noodles, hopefully to good effect.

As for me, I have leftover homemade pasta in the fridge, and believe me, this time I'm not afraid to use it.

The Knife's Edge

After last night's no-show, Amy V and I were pleased to find that our foray back to the Grand Illusion tonight was not in vain; we arrived on time, as, in fact, did about eight others (a real crowd for the Grand Illusion). The show would go on!

The film was Roman Polanski's Knife in the Water, a tense drama with only three players, a married couple and the hitchhiker that the husband impetuously invites on their sailboat outing as a not-so-subtle way to prove himself to his disillusioned wife. And if you're going to show a knife in the first act, it better be used in the third... and although it was, it was not in the way I had expected. Is this good filmmaking - thwarting the expectations of the audience, yet keeping them in suspense? Or a willful disregard for Chekhov's gun principle?

But the film did remind me of a Chekhov play, full of symbolism representing the disintegration of a marriage, fighting to prove ourselves regardless of our age, and the psychological manipulation used by both sexes to test the waters around them. I can't say I enjoyed the film as one does when watching a movie merely for entertainment, but it did make me think, and sometimes that's a good thing (OK, that didn't come out quite right - thinking is always a good thing, but what I mean to say is it can be good to watch a film that forces you to mull it over, not just turn your brain off for a couple of hours).

And as a side note, the film really made me wish I was sailing! Just not with those three, of course.

A Grand Illusion Indeed

Named for a French film film of the 1930s, the Grand Illusion is a tiny jewel box of a theater that sits at the corner of University Way and 50th Street in Seattle's U District. Though attendance is sparse (and I don't think the theater hold more than 75, anyway), it's one of my favorite places to catch a movie in Seattle.

We were running late for tonight's showing of Knife in the Water, but Amy V, Michael, and I sprinted down the block in an effort to get there before the film rolled... only to find a locked door. Squeezing through the attached Starlife on the Oasis Cafe, I found two volunteers in the projection room, but the film wasn't running. It was late, no one had shown up on time, and they weren't going to show the movie for a grand total of three people who would only have had to pay ten bucks all together (with Tuesday being Member Mooch Night, Amy would've been free since Michael and I are members).

And really, I can't blame them. And I wonder how many times this has happened before, and I wonder again why so few people come here. Shouldn't the local college kids be lapping this stuff up? Art house flicks and bizarro late night shows on the weekends? The fact is, other than the annual It's a Wonderful Life Christmas party viewing (which, perhaps not coincidentally, is free for everyone), I don't think I've ever seen more than ten people in the audience, and even ten is a stretch.

So instead of spending an evening reading subtitles, we wound up drinking bubble tea at nearby Pochi while playing Yahtzee with a random assortment of dice. Not what we had had in mind, but hey, still a chance to get out. And Amy and I are considering trying the 9pm showing tomorrow... and this time we won't be late.

Winter Wonder Weekend

It has been an exhausting weekend, exhausting in the best sense of the word. While Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is a holiday for many, I was only fortunate enough to get the day off due to the fact that I'm scheduled to work this coming Saturday. The chance to sleep in with Michael, who also conveniently had the last two nights off of work, was like a blessing sent straight from heaven.

As we were leisurely eating a late breakfast - cereal for Michael, leftover Persian rice with barberries from Pacific Market for me - Amy V came upstairs, obviously dressed for some kind of athletic activity.

"I was wondering, would either of you been interested in cross country skiing at Snoqualmie with me today?"

At first I was uncertain, but after Michael checked his email and confirmed that his friends were, in fact, coming over at 1:00 to watch a movie (which, in my opinion, is a terrible waste of a beautiful winter day in Seattle, seeing as those appear so seldom), I took the chance.

Now, neither Amy nor I are accomplished cross country skiers. Amy had done cross country a grand total of once before, conveniently only last month, while I also had only one previous experience - if you count trying it out ten years ago on a PLU outdoor recreation outing where our proposed hike was aborted about 100 yards from the parking lot due to a lack of visible trail markers at Mount Rainier. As someone with some downhill ski experience, I find cross country an altogether different beast, and going down a bunny hill that wouldn't shake even a novice downhill skier becomes a challenge of Herculean proportions on Nordic skis. Still, we managed to ski six kilometers and enjoy it, and I only fell once, when attempting a little "telemarking" in the final downhill stretch back to the lodge.

We were back home by 5:30, in time for me to meet up with another friend for dinner. Over beers at the Fiddler's Inn we fell into discussions about politics, feminism, and international perspectives. That, complemented by a delicious toasted cheese and roasted pepper sandwich, made a great way to unwind for the evening. There may be blisters the size of nickels on the backs of my heels, but tonight I'll fall asleep a happy woman.

And We'll Keep on Fighting Til the End

If you bore something of a resemblance to Freddie Mercury: The Later Years, and had a powerhouse voice to boot, what would you do? Front a Queen cover band? This, it would seem, is the logical choice. Tonight, I saw the Queen tribute band Her Majesty play at Studio Seven in Seattle's Sodo district, and was struck by the similarity between the band's stand in for Freddie Mercury and the legend himself.

Had it not been for my housemate, Amy V, I probably never would have heard of the show, which, apparently, was featuring no fewer than eight (eight!) live bands, with no discernible commonalities between the groups other than the fact that they were all doubtless happy to have a gig at a paying venue. Amy V's brother, Aaron, is the drummer for Her Majesty, and this was their second performance.

While Amy claimed that their earlier Sonic Boom Records show had higher energy, I was still impressed with the polish and presence of the new band. Aaron is no slacker on the drums, and knocked out a mean beat for throughout their short set. Faux Freddie Mercury led the audience in hand clapping through We Will Rock You, and the band played the bombastic Bohemian Rhapsody for their finale. One long-haired dude up front in the audience got to relive his head-banger days by thrashing to a particularly rocking part of this song, I have to admit I was singing along myself. Back in the day, when I was a teenager, I played Bohemian Rhapsody countless times on the piano, and had memorized every last word.

And speaking of teenagers, Her Majesty was followed by the group Modern Mosaic, who appeared to be a trio of sixteen-year-olds. Sixteen-year-olds who really knew how to rock, that is - these kids were more than alright, and definitely worth a second listen.

But you know what song is really stuck in my head? No time for losers, we are the champions... What can I say? It's catchy; ten million sports fans can't be wrong.

In with the New

If the previous two days have been any indication, 2009 is off to a great start. We rang in the New Year in style with a James Bond themed party. Above: Lucy looks like she's had one too many martinis. She resolves to be a more temperate drinker in 2009.

Actually, she was probably just disappointed that she was stuck licking the floor when all us humans got to enjoy cheese, meats, salmon, Moroccan chicken rolls, and cookies, not to mention the martinis. And knowing our dog, she probably wouldn't have passed up the Bloody Mary shrimp or even the stuffed mushrooms.

I like to get the New Year off to a clean start, so didn't wait around to clear the mess. Even though I didn't get to bed until 3:30 (and still was up before nine this morning- thanks for the wake up, Michael!), it was well worth it to get to enjoy a relaxing holiday. Amy V and I took Lucy for a walk around Green Lake, discussing our possible resolutions, and Jenn Z, a friend I hadn't seen in years, came over with her husband Joel for a lunch of New Year's Eve leftovers. In the evening, Michael and I headed out to a friend's place for games and the traditional southern New Year's dish of black-eyed peas. If every day for the coming year is half as pleasant, I won't have any complaints.

So, here's to a wonderful new year! As our friend Doug declared when toasting the end of 2008, "A year from now, may your stocks have grown and may gas prices have stayed the same!" Hear, hear!

When Winter Trees Begin to Fall

While typing an email to a friend via facebook earlier today, an unexpected message from our housemate, Amy, flashed on the screen.

"A tree branch fell through the guest bedroom window. Please call me when you get this message."

It wasn't exactly the Christmas present I expected, to say the least. I immediately called Amy, who gave me the complete picture, including a couple of actual pictures that she posted on facebook so I could assess the damage from my current location in Phoenix (isn't technology great sometimes?). Broken glass shards on the floor, butt end of a douglas fir branch with the diameter of horse hoof resting on the sill, poking through the blinds a good four inches or so - yep, a branch had indeed fallen through. The recent snowfall, it seems, was too much for this branch to bear, and the weight of this heavy load had sent it crashing down.

But look on the bright side: no one was hurt, and with Amy home to hear the crash and feel the house rattle, the situation was under control in a mere two hours or so. With the help of lovely neighbors and friends who came to the rescue, the glass was swept up, the branch cleared away with the help of a chainsaw (hey, I can't say it didn't have it coming, cheeky branch! the nerve!), and the broken window was even removed and replaced with insulating foam to protect the guest room from the elements. Michael and I are incredibly grateful for such support and hard work.

And in the end, this is no great tragedy. We'll order a new window when we get back home, and in the meantime, the guest room will simply be out of commission. Sorry, potential sleepover pals! We can still make room for you if you need a bed.

Speaking of which, it's time I head for bed myself. By the time I post this, it will be Christmas day in Arizona. So merry Christmas to all, and safe slumbers, free from falling trees!

Some Like It Hot

One thing I learned yesterday: natural mango Snapple mixed with home-infused hot pepper vodka and garnished with cucumber and mint is actually not a bad drink. Who would've thought, huh?

The drink was the special of the day at a friend's housewarming in Tacoma. While mango Snapple was not originally a part of the concoction, it was all that was readily available when our mixologist ran out of Sprite. But kind of like those chili-coated dried mangoes they sell at Trader Joe's, the combination actually... works.

The housewarming itself was in honor of Amy V's former long-time roommate, Christina, and I have to say she couldn't have picked a nicer day. Until the sun went down and took the day's warmth with it, many of us sat out on the porch enjoying summer's unexpected return. And, considering how small and circuitous the layout of Christina's apartment is, quite a few people managed to fit in her living room that evening. Christina is a real decorating fiend, and in the months since she moved in she'd turned what had been (so I heard) a toxic wasteland into something all her own with charm to spare.

Plus, she gets bonus points for the adorable kittens at play for our entertainment. Really, what more could any housewarming need beyond boisterous baby animals and hot pepper vodka?

Easy as Pie

Today was supposed to be a busy day. I needed to bus to the U District Farmers' Market to buy hostess gifts for our upcoming trip and vegetable for the coming week, make a pie, walk Lucy, bake some bread, get some final things cleaned up around the house, help Amy V move in, and go to a BBQ with some church friends. On paper, so to speak, it sounds like quite a list.

In practice, it was actually a fairly relaxing day. For me, that is. I'm sure it was an extremely busy day for those more involved with the moving. As it turned out, Amy & Co. arrived later in the afternoon than I (perhaps naively) had anticipated, so in the end I didn't feel especially useful. Perhaps I can make up for that this week by applying felt pads to all the furniture that will be moved upstairs.

But while I was home baking, I realized that although baking is time consuming in the sense that several hours must elapse from the time one begins until the product is ready for consumption, rather little is required of one in the meantime. Still, one can't really leave the house when baking, as there tend to be short periods of downtime sandwiched between small tasks, and everyone knows better (I hope) that to leave something baking in the oven unattended.

There is a certain satisfaction that comes with baking that sets it apart from simple cooking. Perhaps it's the transformation of flour, yeast, and milk into a chewy loaf of sandwich bread. Or perhaps it's the fact that everyone loves pie, and mine, despite being incredibly messy and soupy, was still a hit at the BBQ.

I did have one moment of near panic today, however. Loaded down with bottles of fruit wine and veggies, I saw my bus pull up to the stop across the street. I didn't make it in time; the bus had pulled away from the curb by the time I got to the stop. But I am hard pressed to give up on a near bus connection, and was soon in hot pursuit, bags flailing wildly (and dangerously) at my sides. It was all worth it when the driver actually stopped to let me board. And he was even pleasant about it! That's more than one can expect from your average Metro driver, let me tell you. Some of them are real sticklers. This one was definitely deserving of piece of pie, or maybe a bottle of fruit wine. All I can hope is that the rest of his day was as pleasant as mine.

Company's Comin'!

Life is full of surprises. Wednesday night I was surprised by a call from one of my cousins who lives in Oregon (no, that part's not surprising - almost all of my 22 cousins live in Oregon, and yes, you heard that right, I did say 22). It turns out he was in the area for work related reasons and hoping to stay over one night since an he found out that day he had an unexpected appointment in Oak Harbor the next morning.

Of course, we said he was welcome to come over. That's what a guest bedroom's for, right?

I do like having house guests.

Soon we will have a more permanent kind of house guest in residence. Amy V is moving in - tomorrow! While we did have two brothers living with us for the first two and a half years in our house, Amy is the first renter since then who will be staying for more than a couple of months. Overall, I would say I'm pretty excited. This, too, is one of the reasons for the flurry of housecleaning this past month; we had to get the place organized and clean out the downstairs bedroom, bathroom, and hall closet.

There are still a few tasks to be done, such as washing the window of the Amy's future bedroom to remove the lovely muddy dog prints Lucy left behind when we kept her in the back yard. I don't think Amy would appreciate Lucy's artistic vision in this case, which is OK - I think Lucy's take on Dog Prints on Glass is probably ahead of its time. But Lucy loves a new housemate, so I think she'll forgive Amy's lack of a critical eye.