There's a blues song I love where a man and a woman are having a conversation with each other about the woman's state of being.
"I am tired," she drawls.
"Mmm-hmm," the man agrees. "How you spell that?"
"T-I, D-E, tide," she shoots back.
And tonight, I am T-I, D-E tide. After working more than 11 hours, most of them on my feet, at our "Test Drive a Tour Guide" event, I want nothing more than to be lazy tonight. With about 80 guides from Europe visiting Edmonds for a week, I've spent the past two evenings in extended happy hours after work, but tonight opted for the peace and comfort of my own home. Of course, I had to wear my heeled boots today, leaving my feet screaming even as I sit here at my desk. Bad decision. Bad, bad decision.
But tomorrow I have the day off - well, from work and happy hours at least. Except for the fact that I do have to make a dessert for the staff and guide potluck on Monday night. Which will be followed by the tour member prospects and guide mixer on Tuesday night. Hmm...
Aw, I'm not really complaining. Guide summit happens but once a year, and happy hours are called "happy" for a reason. Tide though I may be, I'm still smiling.
Showing posts with label Edmonds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edmonds. Show all posts
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Saturday, September 26, 2009
100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
Never have I made my own beer. Much as I like the stuff, I generally rely on the expertise of those Belgian and German brewers for my personal pints. After all, they've been brewing it for hundreds of years, so should know a thing or two by now, right?For those who'd like to try U-Brew, there is, however, a simpler option than turning you're basement into a chemist's lab of questionable results. Gallagher's in Edmonds offers the ingredients, the equipment, and the expertise to guide you in making your own beer. While I haven't yet tried my own hand at this, Michael and some other guys made their own brew at Gallagher's for our friend Ian's bachelor party, and last night it was finally time to bottle. And, since the official "bachelor party" was over, my status as a woman was no longer a reason to keep my distance.
Ian had chosen a stout for his personal brew. The barkeep (for lack of a better term; what do you call the staff at a U-Brew shop?) poured us each a sample, and everyone's first comment was unanimous.
"It tastes like coffee!"
Yes, it tasted like coffee. Beer... it's what's for breakfast.
"My wife said if the beer tasted like coffee she'd drink it," Ian said. "I thought there wasn't much chance of that, but..."
Well, we'll see if this coffee-beer meets Karin's requirements. In the meantime, the six of us at the brewery had a lot of bottles to
fill. After having run them through the sanitizer, having already discarded the bottles with "fuzz" growing inside (coffee flavored beer: good; mold flavored beer: bad), we took turns with one person filling bottles directly from the tap while another capped the filled bottles. In the end, we had more than 100 bottles, including several 22 ouncers and a growler full.The beer made us hungry for pizza, so we headed to Romio's for dinner once our project was over. But no more beer. We'd had our fill for the moment. Of course, Michael and I now have 22 bottles of home-brewed stout in a box in our kitchen. Anyone up for a cold one?
Friday, September 11, 2009
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.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Back on the Bike
After my first attempt at biking into work in Edmonds back in March, the bike stayed quietly in the garage for awhile. But either I am simply determined or I have a very short-lived memory when it comes to pain, because this morning I packed my lunch, made sure I had enough bus fare on hand, then hopped on the bike, headed once again for the Aurora Village Transit Center.
And this time, my efforts were rewarded. It really wasn't that bad. Of course, the fact that I wisely chose to take the bus all the way to Lake Forest Park in the evening before finishing my commute on the Burke Gilman Trail made a huge difference. Even on the longer morning trek to Aurora Village, I managed to pick a route that minimized hills. The biggest challenge was the steady uphill climb to get to our house once you leave the Burke when heading home. After a good quarter mile or more of switchbacks, you reach the stairs. And after biking uphill for even that relatively short distance, I can tell you that carrying a bike up 196 steps is just icing on the cake.
Thankfully there is no need to climb the entire flight of 196 steps without pause, as there are frequent landings to provide the breaks I need to keep hyperventilation at bay. I try to comfort myself by telling myself what a great strength building exercise this is, but in the back of my mind I'm remembering the days in our Laurelhurst apartment, when all I had to do to get to the trail was cross the street.
But all in all, it was a successful venture. I think I'll do it again tomorrow.
And this time, my efforts were rewarded. It really wasn't that bad. Of course, the fact that I wisely chose to take the bus all the way to Lake Forest Park in the evening before finishing my commute on the Burke Gilman Trail made a huge difference. Even on the longer morning trek to Aurora Village, I managed to pick a route that minimized hills. The biggest challenge was the steady uphill climb to get to our house once you leave the Burke when heading home. After a good quarter mile or more of switchbacks, you reach the stairs. And after biking uphill for even that relatively short distance, I can tell you that carrying a bike up 196 steps is just icing on the cake.
Thankfully there is no need to climb the entire flight of 196 steps without pause, as there are frequent landings to provide the breaks I need to keep hyperventilation at bay. I try to comfort myself by telling myself what a great strength building exercise this is, but in the back of my mind I'm remembering the days in our Laurelhurst apartment, when all I had to do to get to the trail was cross the street.
But all in all, it was a successful venture. I think I'll do it again tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Adventures in Bike Commuting
Despite the fact that I have worked there for almost three years, until last Saturday I had never biked to Europe Through the Back Door. While working at the UW, biking was my primary means of transportation for a large part of the year, so this was a real difference to me. Of course, biking to the UW was also a snap - about five or six miles along the flat Burke Gilman Trail, with the only real hill being the one I had to crawl back up to get to 130th Street at the end of my commute home. Getting to downtown Edmonds is another story.
The trip on Saturday morning wasn't too bad, however. Sure, it had its ups and downs, but I made it to the Aurora Village transit Center in time to catch the 131, providing me with the ease of bussing in for the last third of the trip. My bike stayed at work over the weekend, and then Monday I was struck by a strange urge to ride it all the way home, rather than take the easy way out and use the bus part way.
Had I known what I was in for, I don't know if I would have made the same decision.
I'm very aware of the fact that there are numerous hills filling in the approximately twelve miles between downtown Edmonds and my Lake City home, and traffic, to boot. Wanting to avoid some of the hills I chose to sail down Edmonds Way, which meant I had to deal with the traffic instead. A word to the wise: don't bike down Edmonds Way if you can help it. This is a road with almost no shoulder, and although there are two lanes heading in each direction, and traffic wasn't even particularly heavy, you would be surprised at how many people will whiz by at 40 miles per hour, not bothering to shift over to the empty lane on their left despite the fact that they are a mere foot from a stalwart cyclist. I could just see myself meeting my demise by tripping over a grate just as a Lexus SUV barreled by. It wasn't a pretty thought.
After that experience, I was more than happy to move to less crowded streets. Feeling pretty good about myself, I cycled down 185th Street, and was greeted by the most monstrous hill I could have imagined. Apparently I had chosen Shoreline's steepest street when I figured out my new route home, and there was no way I could pedal up this behemoth. Panting, I made it to the top , wheeling the bike beside me. I really do believe the top of the 185th Street hill must be the highest point in all of Shoreline. I could see both the Olympics and the Cascades over the lesser hills to my east and west, but frankly, given the way I was feeling at that point, I can't say I appreciated the view.
The good part was that it really was almost all downhill from there. A very long, winding way down. The bad part was that it was bone-chillingly cold, and by the time I got to the entrance to the Burke Gilman Trail in Lake Forest Park my hands were like red lobster claws numbed into place. I could barely zip my sweater, my fingers had become so clumsy. But I was in the home stretch! And I only had to get off and walk my bike two more times on the way up from the Burke! Woohoo!
Still, I may try this again - avoiding Edmonds Way, of course. And probably that 185th Street hill. Why do we have so many hills here, anyway? Who said Seattle is a bike friendly city? Ah well, without the hills I guess we'd be the Midwest, so I should probably count my blessings.
The trip on Saturday morning wasn't too bad, however. Sure, it had its ups and downs, but I made it to the Aurora Village transit Center in time to catch the 131, providing me with the ease of bussing in for the last third of the trip. My bike stayed at work over the weekend, and then Monday I was struck by a strange urge to ride it all the way home, rather than take the easy way out and use the bus part way.
Had I known what I was in for, I don't know if I would have made the same decision.
I'm very aware of the fact that there are numerous hills filling in the approximately twelve miles between downtown Edmonds and my Lake City home, and traffic, to boot. Wanting to avoid some of the hills I chose to sail down Edmonds Way, which meant I had to deal with the traffic instead. A word to the wise: don't bike down Edmonds Way if you can help it. This is a road with almost no shoulder, and although there are two lanes heading in each direction, and traffic wasn't even particularly heavy, you would be surprised at how many people will whiz by at 40 miles per hour, not bothering to shift over to the empty lane on their left despite the fact that they are a mere foot from a stalwart cyclist. I could just see myself meeting my demise by tripping over a grate just as a Lexus SUV barreled by. It wasn't a pretty thought.
After that experience, I was more than happy to move to less crowded streets. Feeling pretty good about myself, I cycled down 185th Street, and was greeted by the most monstrous hill I could have imagined. Apparently I had chosen Shoreline's steepest street when I figured out my new route home, and there was no way I could pedal up this behemoth. Panting, I made it to the top , wheeling the bike beside me. I really do believe the top of the 185th Street hill must be the highest point in all of Shoreline. I could see both the Olympics and the Cascades over the lesser hills to my east and west, but frankly, given the way I was feeling at that point, I can't say I appreciated the view.
The good part was that it really was almost all downhill from there. A very long, winding way down. The bad part was that it was bone-chillingly cold, and by the time I got to the entrance to the Burke Gilman Trail in Lake Forest Park my hands were like red lobster claws numbed into place. I could barely zip my sweater, my fingers had become so clumsy. But I was in the home stretch! And I only had to get off and walk my bike two more times on the way up from the Burke! Woohoo!
Still, I may try this again - avoiding Edmonds Way, of course. And probably that 185th Street hill. Why do we have so many hills here, anyway? Who said Seattle is a bike friendly city? Ah well, without the hills I guess we'd be the Midwest, so I should probably count my blessings.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Best Laid Plans
Sometimes I really hate taking the bus.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but if I leave work at 5:14, one would think that it would be reasonable to travel the twelve miles between Edmonds and Lake City and arrive home prior to 7:25, no? Sometimes, such expectations are apparently too high.
Fact: I typically leave work at 5:15 or 5:45, run to the bus stop, and wait for three to five minutes before the bus actually arrives. True, this may be because the bus runs late 99% of the time, but today, for the third time ever, I missed this bus, despite leaving work one minute earlier than usual. I ran down the street, only to see the bus turn the corner ahead of me. Breaking into my closest approximation of a sprint did no good; I could see the 131 shrinking in my field of vision as it drove away, leaving downtown Edmonds, and me, far behind.
Fact: This is Murphy's Law of Buses. I had plans, you see. BIG plans, grandiose plans for a night of unbelievable, unprecedented - well, OK, I just had plans to go downtown with Michael for a movie followed by a late night happy hour dinner at Boka. In the scheme of things, this is not exactly earth-shattering. And besides, I only had half an hour to wait for the next bus. I should still be home by 6:45, just in time to peel Michael out of bed, get him to slap on some clothes, and head out the door. I made the later bus, and everything seemed like smooth sailing when I caught the 331 at the Aurora Village transit center, heading for Lake Forest Park and my third and final bus of the day.
Fact: OK, this is really Murphy's Law of Buses. When you have someplace to be and are running late, or perhaps just barely on time, you will miss your bus. The next bus, the law continues, will be late. And in the meantime, you will be driven absolutely, bats-all-up-in-the-belfry, bees-busting-out-of-your-bonnet insane. Because wouldn't you just know it? Already half an hour late and, what's more, apparently the 375 isn't running because it's one of the only buses in town that appears to be operating on holiday schedule for Presidents' Day, and you somehow missed that 522 in Lake Forest Park, and now you're standing alone at the bus stop where the light doesn't work simply pleading, praying, and swearing that a bus had better come now... or maybe now... or, some day, right? A bus is going to come? Pretty please?
But ultimately, that's life. So we didn't get to go out tonight, after all. I'm sure Michael benefited from the extra sleep anyway, and I found that leftover Thai curry that I'd made last week in the fridge and managed a decent meal out of it.
And Earl Grey tea really does have a wonderful soothing effect. Maybe I should try bringing a thermos full along on my next commute.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but if I leave work at 5:14, one would think that it would be reasonable to travel the twelve miles between Edmonds and Lake City and arrive home prior to 7:25, no? Sometimes, such expectations are apparently too high.
Fact: I typically leave work at 5:15 or 5:45, run to the bus stop, and wait for three to five minutes before the bus actually arrives. True, this may be because the bus runs late 99% of the time, but today, for the third time ever, I missed this bus, despite leaving work one minute earlier than usual. I ran down the street, only to see the bus turn the corner ahead of me. Breaking into my closest approximation of a sprint did no good; I could see the 131 shrinking in my field of vision as it drove away, leaving downtown Edmonds, and me, far behind.
Fact: This is Murphy's Law of Buses. I had plans, you see. BIG plans, grandiose plans for a night of unbelievable, unprecedented - well, OK, I just had plans to go downtown with Michael for a movie followed by a late night happy hour dinner at Boka. In the scheme of things, this is not exactly earth-shattering. And besides, I only had half an hour to wait for the next bus. I should still be home by 6:45, just in time to peel Michael out of bed, get him to slap on some clothes, and head out the door. I made the later bus, and everything seemed like smooth sailing when I caught the 331 at the Aurora Village transit center, heading for Lake Forest Park and my third and final bus of the day.
Fact: OK, this is really Murphy's Law of Buses. When you have someplace to be and are running late, or perhaps just barely on time, you will miss your bus. The next bus, the law continues, will be late. And in the meantime, you will be driven absolutely, bats-all-up-in-the-belfry, bees-busting-out-of-your-bonnet insane. Because wouldn't you just know it? Already half an hour late and, what's more, apparently the 375 isn't running because it's one of the only buses in town that appears to be operating on holiday schedule for Presidents' Day, and you somehow missed that 522 in Lake Forest Park, and now you're standing alone at the bus stop where the light doesn't work simply pleading, praying, and swearing that a bus had better come now... or maybe now... or, some day, right? A bus is going to come? Pretty please?
But ultimately, that's life. So we didn't get to go out tonight, after all. I'm sure Michael benefited from the extra sleep anyway, and I found that leftover Thai curry that I'd made last week in the fridge and managed a decent meal out of it.
And Earl Grey tea really does have a wonderful soothing effect. Maybe I should try bringing a thermos full along on my next commute.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Rock for a Reason
In keeping with the recent musical theme of this blog, I went to a concert tonight. Far from being your typical rock show, this one took place in a house - an enormous house focused on community living, but a house nonetheless - in Edmonds called Rosewood Manor, and this band had a mission.
In short: there are an estimated 27+ million slaves worldwide, half of whom are children, and many of whom are employed in illegal sex traffikking. This is a figure that demands revulsion, and, more than that, demands action. The band Jubilee has decided to take action by bringing attention to this issue every time they play, and by donating half of their album sales to the International Justice Mission, an organization which aims to bring people out of slavery and provide them with the care they need to move on to a better life.
So perhaps tonight's house party wasn't what you might expect. You usually don't hear a plea for monetary support for social justice, and, going beyond the dollars, a plea to use whatever resources we may have to combat this issue. After all, Jubilee is just a group of guys with guitars and some drums. And so here I am, a girl with a blog. It's not much, but I wanted to share what I've learned with anyone who might be reading this.
If you are interested in learning more about the International Justice Mission, please see their website at: http://www.ijm.org/
And if you're in Seattle and interested in a rock concert for a cause, Jubilee is playing at Neumos on Monday, March 9th.
It may seem like such a small effort, but I pray it will make a difference, that somewhere on this earth someone will gain new life through these actions. Seek justice, protect the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow. (Isaiah 1:17)
In short: there are an estimated 27+ million slaves worldwide, half of whom are children, and many of whom are employed in illegal sex traffikking. This is a figure that demands revulsion, and, more than that, demands action. The band Jubilee has decided to take action by bringing attention to this issue every time they play, and by donating half of their album sales to the International Justice Mission, an organization which aims to bring people out of slavery and provide them with the care they need to move on to a better life.
So perhaps tonight's house party wasn't what you might expect. You usually don't hear a plea for monetary support for social justice, and, going beyond the dollars, a plea to use whatever resources we may have to combat this issue. After all, Jubilee is just a group of guys with guitars and some drums. And so here I am, a girl with a blog. It's not much, but I wanted to share what I've learned with anyone who might be reading this.
If you are interested in learning more about the International Justice Mission, please see their website at: http://www.ijm.org/
And if you're in Seattle and interested in a rock concert for a cause, Jubilee is playing at Neumos on Monday, March 9th.
It may seem like such a small effort, but I pray it will make a difference, that somewhere on this earth someone will gain new life through these actions. Seek justice, protect the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow. (Isaiah 1:17)
Monday, December 8, 2008
Celebrating Monday
The past weekend was a whirlwind of events - I'll get more into it later - and now, late Monday night, I feel that the weekend has finally come to a close. Each year at Europe Through the Back Door the individual departments have their own small Christmas parties, and the Tour Department is no exception.
Tonight, the eight of us headed out to Arnie's on the Edmonds waterfront, sticking pretty close to home this year. (A couple of years ago we drove through a windstorm to get to Palisades in Magnolia, during which Tara and I saw a stop sign uprooted and blown across Aurora Avenue, and Lisa and Heidi got locked out of Lisa's house where they had stopped before heading to the restaurant, leading them to break down her front door. Comparatively, tonight's event was pretty mundane.)
After three and a half hours of food, wine, conversation, and exchanging gifts, I'm still finding it a bit hard to wind down.Of course, coming home to a spectacularly dirty kitchen is something of a wake-up call. But for the moment I'd rather think the about the laughter (and even a few tears, although thankfully not for any tragic reasons) and bask in the afterglow of what was, perhaps, just a little bit too much to eat - good thing I don't do this every night!
Tomorrow it will be back to the daily grind, but at least Keith got Tara some new 80s music in the gift exchange, and I'm sure the addition to our work soundtrack will keep us going strong.
Tonight, the eight of us headed out to Arnie's on the Edmonds waterfront, sticking pretty close to home this year. (A couple of years ago we drove through a windstorm to get to Palisades in Magnolia, during which Tara and I saw a stop sign uprooted and blown across Aurora Avenue, and Lisa and Heidi got locked out of Lisa's house where they had stopped before heading to the restaurant, leading them to break down her front door. Comparatively, tonight's event was pretty mundane.)
After three and a half hours of food, wine, conversation, and exchanging gifts, I'm still finding it a bit hard to wind down.Of course, coming home to a spectacularly dirty kitchen is something of a wake-up call. But for the moment I'd rather think the about the laughter (and even a few tears, although thankfully not for any tragic reasons) and bask in the afterglow of what was, perhaps, just a little bit too much to eat - good thing I don't do this every night!
Tomorrow it will be back to the daily grind, but at least Keith got Tara some new 80s music in the gift exchange, and I'm sure the addition to our work soundtrack will keep us going strong.
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