About a month ago we took a glass blowing class and made these super sweet bowls. It was 100% hands on, hotter than hell and our instructor was a dirty old man. Entertaining at first but by the end my smile bones hurt from fake laughing in attempt to avoid the awkwardness. It was fun but I’m not totally sure what we’re going to do with the bowls. They’re a little too nice for cereal but not something I feel the need to put on display either…ideas welcome!
It has taken me some time to get into the photo taking groove for these series pictures. I don’t love getting my picture taken so the first few weeks I wanted to kill Kevin who was telling me to loosen up, look natural, look serious, smile with your eyes, blah Blah BLAH – “WHY DON’T YOU TRY IT, YOU [insert unnecessary, mean comment here]!”
In my surfing, I came across this blog post of awkward pregnancy photos. It made me feel a little better about our weekly battle to get a good photo – because these are beyond horrible.
Too bad we already printed our Christmas cards! I know, shame on me for not wearing purple. And shame on Santa for his hand placement.
Our first visit to Teatro ZinZanni and Kevin has found a new career. Kevin was plucked from the audience to participate in what turned out to be about 20 mintues of the show – it seemed like forever. Kevin was a really good sport and let the few hundred people watch him dance and fan his way from “Kevin from Lake City” (said in an Oprah announcement voice) to “Keisha” the drag queen. The drag queen host (also named Kevin) was having so much fun with him, he was laughing at himself most of the skit. Kevin’s co-workers now have enough ammo to tease him until he finds a new job. He even had strangers come up to him after the show and tell him “good job” or say as we were walking by, “Oh, there’s the guy…hahaha.” My husband was the talk of the show. And I was so proud.
To grow my Kevin’s ego to the max, D came across this article written on the real drag queen star, Kevin. ‘“Big, muscly straight guys” who come with a wife or girlfriend are fair game for being plucked from the audience.’ Good grief.
There’s this car…
it’s black and purple in color, the windows are super tinted so you can’t see in and Kevin and I see it ALL OF THE TIME.
For some reason it was obvious to us that this car belonged to Romar. We see him while driving into work on Lake City Way – he always turns off towards Sandpoint (For sure headed to UW for an early morning practice). We see him parked in front of Marisa’s old apartment on Lake City Way near the Fred Meyer (Maybe he’s at the barber shop?). We once had to pick up tickets at the Graves Building near Hec Ed and parked right next to him (He was at the office, working. Duh.). Every single time we excitedly screech “There’s Romar!” as we rubber neck trying to see through his crazy dark tinted windows. And every time we question where he’s going and why he hangs out in Lake City? There were stories. Good ones. We were convinced it was Romar.
But we could never quite tell because those darn windows were just too tinted.
Well, just the other day, we were driving on 45th and wouldn’t know it “There’s Romar!” This time though, it was a hot day, Romar had his window just barely down and we could see the very tip top of his head, brows up. Kevin man-waved. You gotta wave to Romar. And he man-waved back.
And then we both excitedly screeched, in unison, “That’s I.T.!”
It feels like all we ever do is work in our yard. But it’s not true. It just feels that way because instead of surfing every other weekend or paddling, we’re weeding. But, the weather has been less than cooperative so technically, we’re home anyway. And the weeds are there so really, it’s something to do.
We have gotten away from the weeds a few times in the last few weeks and each outing has brought me back to memories in college and high school and even grade school. Please join me for a little stroll through memory lane.
New Kids on the Block. Oh yes. I went to their show (again), this time headlining with the BackStreet Boys. I didn’t want to go. Once of NKOTB was enough for me. But growing up, my sister was obsessed with the boy band. So obsessed, she put a giant poster size puzzle together and glued it and put it on her wall. It’s still in the basement of our childhood home and haunts, er, greets Kevin and I every time we go home for a visit. I will admit, I loved belting out BSB “I Want It That Way” with thousands of other adult women, just like I do on long drives with Mar and KMJ. And the most hilariously awesome part is how much they play up the sex-appeal. I was embarrassed FOR them with all the hip thrusting and self touching going on. Not attractive (although thousands of other screeching adult women would surely disagree). Anyway, the good news about this concert viewing was it got my sister and her family to Seattle – which doesn’t happen often enough.
Soundgarden. We just got back from the Gorge late last night where Chris Cornell sang his face off. According to Kevin, his voice was meant to be heard at the Gorge just as Eddie Vedder’s was meant to be heard at Benaroya (that was also an awesome show, by the way). It took me back to highschool where a lot of my friends were “grunge” and wore flannel on 90 degree sweaty hot days, wore holy jeans and wrote nonsense all over their jansports with a sharpie. I was only sort of grunge. My Mom wouldn’t let me put holes in my jeans or write on my jansport or smoke pot or sneak booze into class AND DRINK IT. I did listen to ”grunge” music though. It was an awesome combination of Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, STP, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and the Aladdin soundtrack in my five-disc CD player. I was so cool.
And then in college, I actually remember Spoonman playing in Red Square on my long walks to Balmer. I picture him everytime I hear that song.
Sonics Night at the Mariners. We really could have cared less about the game. The draw were the Sonic legends. The Sonics that don’t exist anymore because Howard Schultz sucks (but his bagels are awesome!). The championship that now belongs to OKC Thunder because Clay Bennett is a liar. It wasn’t until this night that I realized how much I miss the Sonics. Working there was definitely the coolest job I’ve ever had. How many people can say they did on-court promotions during half-time, ran in circles with giant flags that spell “S”, “O”, “N”, “I”, “C”, “S” in the 4th quarter of a tight game to get the crowd pumped, told Charles Barkley he should lay off our donuts since he had a game in an hour, watched the end of games from the cat-walk to drop T-shirt parachutes on unsuspecting but grateful fans, collect sweaty seat covers after the games and watch the same fans come game after game to cheer on their beloved team? Not many. I am lucky.
Seeing the Sonics greats reminded me of the good friendships I developed from working game nights and their influence of a basketball stadium tour that is halfway complete. And it reminded me of how much I loved basketball. I was never really good. But I loved to play with my Dad on summer nights. I was so much in love with basketball, in junior high, I would set up a TV outside with full on extension cords and a TV sun block, so I could watch NBA Inside Stuff and the games to follow while doing homework outside in the sun. Those were the days of the Dream Team, Clyde the Glide, the Mailman, John Stockton in his short shorts, David Robinson and Muggsy Bogues, Grandmama (LG) and Shawn Kemp. Basketball just isn’t the same anymore. And it’s even less the same without the Seattle SuperSonics.
Our recent trip to Paris (please refer to previous posts) was also a walk back. My sophomore year in college, Gramma, Krista and I went to Paris for a week with my mentor Mary Ann Sanger and a group of students from SFCC. One of the students in the group was Marisa. I had known Marisa because we were both awarded the same scholarship our freshman year. But we were acquaintances. Because of this trip, we became friends and have since been all over the world together. Paris reminds me of some of my favorite people and my first trip to Europe….where it all began. I credit Gramma and Mary Ann for instilling the travel bug in me. For that I am forever grateful.
July was full of weeds. But better, lots of good memories, new and old.
The trip home was a very, very long one. With layovers and delays it took us about 24 hours. Major ick.
Because we stopped in Fiji first, our flight routed us through Fiji on the way home. Getting off the plane in Fiji I was so sad because the Fijians were greeting us in song, it was warm and I was remembering the magical time we had just spent there. I really wanted to go back to Tavarua and see our new friends and surf at the Rights. And if not that, I just wanted to be home.
Waiting in the tiny little airport for our flight to board, Kevin says “Dude!” Kevin does not call me dude. “Dude! That’s the guy from the Bachelor!” I looked over and sure enough, there was Chris Harrison in all his glory, wearing white shorts, dabbing the grease off his pizza and chatting with “family.”
Knowing my and my friends slight obsession with the show, Kevin was adamant about me getting a photo with him. I was shy though and didn’t want to bug him while he was eating. If he came our way, game on.
Well, he came our way and Kevin confidently walked up to him and said, “Excuse me, Chris?” Like he’d known him forever, then asked him to snap a photo with me.
He was surprisingly handsome in a game show host kind of way and very friendly, asking us where we’d stayed and we asked him the same. He said he was travelling with family but I’d put money on this upcoming season finale of the Bachelorette landing in Fiji!
Happy Mother’s Day to my Mom and all my mom friends.
Love, me and Mr. T
Even the Biebs flashes love. <3
Spotted at the Queen Victoria Market, Melbourne
I only had a couple New Year resolutions. One of them was to have more timely blog posts. FAIL.
The other one was to not eat so much candy (at least pre-wedding). And as I sit here, typing out my first blog post of 2011, I’m snacking on a bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs. This, is not my fault. These (and lets not forget Cadbury Creme Eggs) are my all time favorite candy, making Easter the best holiday ever(!) and the grocery store already has Easter candies. It’s January. Not. My. Fault.
