walking the walk

With spring so busy springing around here, I haven't made the time to sit down and tap out a proper entry. But then I received a CD of pictures that made it impossible for me not to make the time.

The disk was compliments of Dave "Longshot" Lonergan, the official photographer for Team Laugh. For those not in the know, Team Laugh is the MS Walk team that I co-captain with my sister, Sarah. Check out a few of these top notch shots from Dave...

First this one of Team Laugh before starting out. Back row, L to R, is Dave, Emerich, the space where Tim & Martin would be if they weren't busy gabbing, Max, and Rob. Middle row is Pam in the red scarf, Nick, Emma, Maya, Larkin, Jen, Malila, Sandra, and Tom. Bringing up the front is Kate, Eamon, Rowan, Sarah, and honorary team member Chas, who actually walks with his sister's team.














Most everyone either dressed for the "laugh" theme, or were willing to wear some of the festive props Sarah brought. None was more willing than my zany nephew, Max. Only the foolish fell for his "smell my flower" trick!



















With over 4000 walkers, it would have been easy to lose each other, so we had an official team beacon I kept tied to my backpack. It bobbed above the masses and I hear it was easy for my teammates to spot from anywhere.












Rowan's BFF, Eamon, was on hand for the event. He dedicated his walk to his dad, Andy, who's learning to live with ALS.



























My pal, Tina, captains her own team, RIBS (Roosevelt Icy Beverage Society).













Everyone who was anyone was there, including these Storm Troopers, who briefly took some of our gals captive.













It truly warmed my heart every time I walked behind a group of my teammates and saw those signs on their backs! (This is the one picture I took, not Dave.)














Martin and Emerich enjoy a water break.














Everyone had big smiles on their faces as they crossed the finish line. Sarah, Pam, and Sandra collect their high fives from the welcoming committee.



















Despite the sore feet, Malila and Larkin keep smiling.




















Once everyone reassembled, it was off to a fabulous brunch at the Eastside Grill, with the owner hosting us in the private dining room that overlooks Lake Union. They even picked up half our tab! Be sure to patronize their fine establishments...and tell them "Library Kate" sent you!

For our first year as Team Laugh, I was overwhelmed with what we accomplished. With 20+ walkers, we raised over $1500 in donations toward MS research and programs. Thank you so much! But just as surprising was how fun it was. There was a real sense of team spirit, and that we were doing something that collectively counted for more than the sum of its parts.

I hope even more folks can join us next year. And this time, bring a friend!
-k8-

arts education

Here's another postette so that you don't give up on me before I write something more ample.

On a day the kids had off from school last month, we hopped a Metro and headed downtown to SAM.

In this picture, Rowan creates as Larkin looks on. Not sure who that other kid is. -k8-

eartha kitty

This is just to tide you over until I post a real entry. Who doesn't love a cat sitting in the window on a sunny day? -k8-

breaking like the waves at malibu

We had a lovely spring break. I can't tell you what a pleasure it is to be with my family when they're all on a break from school. It used to rip my heart out leaving for work each morning during spring, summer, winter, and all the other school vacations and holidays. As tough as it is to be a school teacher, Tim agrees that it's nearly impossible to beat the benefits of all the time off. Indeed, if it weren't for those breaks, he wouldn't be able to rebuild, allowing him once again to face those students with positive energy and a faith in our future. But getting back to spring break...

It started with an ironic snow storm that hit as I finished loading up the man-van (which Tim usually drives, but we swapped for the day...to me, it smells like sweaty soccer balls & pizza...). Once packed, I gave the dogs some Dramamine. They both suffer car sickness. Despite the medication, Leo threw up on the way there and on the way back. Good times.

My next mission was picking up Rowan and his best friend, Eamon, who got out of their respective schools early for our adventure. We drove north to catch the Edmonds-Kingston Ferry over to the Olympic Peninsula. Our timing was impeccable, arriving just as a ferry was boarding, so we were across in a little over 30 minutes. Resuming our drive to the final destination of Port Townsend, we checked into our lovely old rental house at Fort Worden by 3pm.

I was thrilled with the roomy, simple, and comfortable accommodations. We had an old duplex with 2 floors, 2 bedrooms, and 2 bathrooms. The boys got right to work on that banister, but they had a few technical difficulties.

There was a big front porch, too, which made a good place for Rita & Leo to hang whenever we weren't out exploring. No dogs allowed in the houses, so we transformed the man-van into Dog World for the weekend, which is where they slept. It worked out pretty well, but now it smells like sweaty soccer balls, pizza, AND dog breath. Mmmm. (I was glad to eventually get my car back.)

Back in Seattle, Tim finished up his school day, picked up Larkin from her school, and headed to Emma's. I was especially glad to have her join us, as she and Larkin have been best friends since kindergarten, despite moving apart after 1st grade. They have a deep and abiding friendship, and this isn't the first family vacation that's included our "extra daughter."

By the time they arrived at the house, it was time to put dinner on the table. We made a heap of burritos and salad, inviting our friends Martin and Chas to join us. (As you can see, Chas isn't always a gracious guest. Not to worry, though; he's brandishing a paper sword created by young Eamon, master of markers and scissors.) Chas and Martin rented a duplex down the road, making the trip in Chas's sweet Prius. Here it is enjoying the weather.

A couple of other families were also going to join us, but the plague came down upon their homes prior to the trip, causing one to drop out altogether. But Emilie, Malcolm, & Owen rallied and were able to arrive on Saturday. They just missed the spread we put out, yet were able to score breakfast burritos at the Fort Worden Commons. And not just any breakfast burritos, either. Everything at the Commons is made with organic, local products from within 150 miles. (Later in the weekend, Emilie was taking Owen for a "driving nap," and reported back that she'd come across a drive-through creperie not far from the Fort. A drive through creperie?!) I love Port Townsend!

Breakfast procured, we all hiked around the Fort, making our way beachward. On the way, we found our first battery, where once there were cannons facing out to sea. Fun to climb on, but only a taste of what we were eventually to find. More on that later.

Down on the beach, we played in the sand for a good while.

I went with a breakaway group for a walk down to the lighthouse. It seemed not THAT far from the pier to the lighthouse, but a large expanse of sand can be deceptive, and it turned out to be at least 3 miles round trip. Well worth it, though! It reminded me of the one at Discovery Park.

Saturday evening we hosted the gang at our place, hanging out and cooking up a big spaghetti feed. There was activity throughout the house. The girls took turns having bubble baths in the quaint old clawfoot tub upstairs. Malcolm played a pretty dubious game of Apples to Apples with the boys. Owen and I had a lot of fun playing with pipe cleaners, spreading them all over the living room in a colorful display. Wow!

After some together time Sunday morning, we bid a fond farewell to the TD family. The 4 remaining adults indulged in the Commons' locally famous Sunday Brunch, which is quite the affair. Again--organic, very local, wholesome-yet-decadent, yummy goodness! Before we left for brunch, Tim set up the laptop and projector. The kids stayed at the crib and watched Astro Boy on the big screen, which added to a calmer meal and a smaller bill.

Bellies full, we leashed up the dogs and our remaining band of eight hiked up Artillery Hill, not knowing that we were about to have everyones' favorite time of the whole weekend!

First we came upon Memory's Vault, followed by a couple of miles of genuine American ruins. There were various odd concrete structures, and mile after mile of old batteries that grew out of the hillside in a labyrinth of cement and earth. There were tunnels and rooms and iron doorways and bars. There were ladders and stairs everywhere, going up and going down. The ones going up led to old cannon sites and beautiful vistas. Others led to pitch black tunnels we knew we shouldn't walk through without flashlights, but had to anyway.

I could see a faint light at the end of one dark expanse, so with a little boy clutching either side of me, we made our way through using the flash on my camera. This helped us avoid falling into the depths of hell, or tripping over sleeping vampires, but as this photo clearly reveals, we did manage to walk right through a ghost. Or am I seeing things?

I caught this shot of Martin in front of an excellent example of the rusted iron we encountered everywhere.

We found this mural and poetry painted on the side of the old radio building. Irie!

The iron door at the bottom of the stairs was bolted shut, so we couldn't investigate the SWITCHBOARD any further. But given what looked like blood dripping over the S, I was fine with that.

When we finally trudged down the other side of Artillery Hill many hours later, everyone was exhausted and elated. Sadly, it was time for Martin and Chas to leave, but we were happy for such an exciting and sunny day. Our family had one more night at Fort Worden, but the kids were all pretty tuckered out from the long hike, so we enjoyed a quiet evening lounging around and watching movies.

After feeding the kids, tidying the house, and checking out, we left the packed-up cars behind and headed out for one more hike. Having not yet found the old military cemetery, that was our first destination. We located it down a short trail in a direction we'd not yet been, and it was beautifully tended. We found another trail beyond the cemetery with a sign and arrow pointing the way to "Chinese Gardens." We walked for at least 2 miles, and all the while I'm imagining cherry blossoms and lily pads. But the trail finally opened up onto gorgeous, rolling hills and a meadow by a pond. Not a cherry blossom in sight. Apparently, the area is named for truck gardens operated by Chinese families during the late 1800s. We took a short respite there, the view was so pretty. We watched a kite flying way off in the distance.

It was with heavy hearts that we finally turned our backs on that intensely peaceful scene, and started the journey home. I drew the short straw and was back in the man-van with the boys and dogs. We were a convoy of two until back on the mainland, then we headed different routes to return our extra children to the proper authorities.

It could not have been a better weekend, or have come at a better time. I was in serious need of a reminder that there's the stuff we do all day, all week, all our lives...from morning until night, all in order to maintain our place as humans in this self-created circus called Life. And then there's the stuff that matters, the real stuff: quality time with my children, my husband, my friends; quiet time communing with nature, with animals, with the written word, with my own thoughts and feelings; preparing and serving wholesome foods for others, with love and without expectations; ample time outdoors, breathing deeply and feeling my integral connection with the Mother Ship. -k8-

america's future in song

My previous post mentions a vocal clinic. It was held at Chief Sealth High School in southwest Seattle, although the last one I chaperoned was held at UW. I shot this clip from behind Ballard High School's choir as they observed another school's performance. It brought back memories, since my high school choir did a Beach Boy tribute. About 25 years ago. Oy!

This one was first rate. -k8-

kidz on the streetz

I was chaperoning about 25 teens on a school bus yesterday coming back from a vocal clinic. The choir director asked the driver to stop at a strip mall so the kids could buy lunch after their long morning. As they filed off the bus, I slipped some money to Larkin, to which she enthusiastically responded, "Beastly!" and continued off the bus. Whatever that means, I'm pretty sure it's not "thank you." But it was definitely positive, and I got to learn a new word that the kidz are saying. You know, the kidz on the streetz. Keeps me young.

A few days ago, Rowan was following an adult conversation that turned toward the undervaluing of nurses in our country. Remembering when he broke his collarbone on the playground in kindergarten, Rowan reminisced about having to visit the school nurse every day to have his shoulder iced. Luckily, I had paper & pen in front of me and was able to catch it verbatim. "Yes! For instance, I am exceedingly grateful to Nurse Alice. Though she put me in considerable misery, it was oddly satisfying."

I don't think that's what the kidz are saying. -k8-

you know it's you, babe

I sold the Corvair! Long live the Corvair!

Those who knew her know what a heart breaker this has been for me. Never was there a more stylish, handsome car. I mean, look at this beauty! Man, did we turn heads...

A couple of years ago I got a hankering for a new hobby. I wanted to learn how to work on & maintain my own car. Given the complexity of today's computerized engines, this meant looking for something older, simpler.

And then our eyes met...a 1964 Corvair Monza. It was love at first sight. I have never fallen for a car like I did for Babe. Sure, she may have been Unsafe at Any Speed*, but I was completely taken with her clean, classic lines. And I loved the sound of the air-cooled rear engine (trunk in the front). Alas, that was shortly before the fates took my life & threw it at the fan. In addition to some parental crises that occupied my energies and weighed down my spirits, the stick shift became difficult to operate when I had a numb, pained right arm. Same with the clutch & my left leg. So every time I didn't drive her for a spell, she'd stop running.
*What is it with Nader? Why is he always making trouble?

I made a meager attempt to sell when she was still running, but my heart wasn't in it. After she died yet again from lack of use, I made a more concerted, but still not enthusiastic attempt to sell her. I think I was still lingering in denial. It's a comfy place!

Now, in the context of a new lifestyle that does not include filling every last minute with responsibilities and appointments, I sold her. And it was a pleasure. Here's why.

I ran a new ad, slashing the price lower than ever, which generated a lot of response. One gentleman, Mark, was very interested. I would even say that based just on the photos & description, he was downright smitten. Ahhh, a sorry sap, just like me. I knew he was my man. He wanted to come by that very evening, but lived out of town & couldn't make it before darkness fell. The next day, I saw a man pull up & start looking Babe over with eager interest. I came outside, extended my hand, and said, "You must be Mark!" No, he says, "Dave."

So after a little while, Dave says, "you mind if I just try to get her started right here? If I can, I'll probably buy her." Sure, good luck! I went inside & discovered 2 messages from Mark. The first was letting me know he was on I-5 heading my way. The 2nd message was to "sincerely apologize" for the "inexcusable language" he'd used on his previous message. Apparently, someone nearly ran him off the highway, causing his to scream an expletive right before he hung up. I was glad he called back to explain, as I was concerned about the guy with Tourette's heading my way.

A few minutes later, I see another fella has joined Dave & they're both ducked under the hood. I head out, extending my hand, "Mark, great to finally meet you!" No, he says, "Allen." So Allen sticks around chatting us up & we establish that he's 2nd in line for the car if Dave doesn't end up taking it. Right then, Babe's engine roared to life and within another minute, Dave was driving her around the neighborhood. I can't tell you what that did for my heart. It actually swelled & I became teary eyed. What a sucker.

Ok, so just as Dave comes pulling back around the corner, another truck pulls up & a good ol' boy pops out, looking alarmed to see the car running. "Tell me that's your dad or your husband that just got her running," he says as he comes toward me. "Mark?" I say, extending my hand. "Yeah, great to finally meet you, Kate."

I had to break it to him that not only was Dave not my dad, but that he'd likely buy the car, and if he didn't, there was a 2nd guy in line already. Oh, Mark was a sad looking fellow then. After Dave pulled up, the 3 of them started talking about the car, and Dave & Allen could see how much Mark had his heart set on it...Dave actually started to waver. "Well, maybe not. You really want her? If you want her, I guess I could step aside." I am not kidding...within another minute, the 3 of them had (d)evolved into a Chip 'n Dale routine. Oh no, I couldn't! Oh, but you must; I insist! Indubitably!

I told them I'd give them some time to talk amongst themselves while I went inside. The sad thing was that I knew this wasn't the car for Mark. See, along with his big heart came an even bigger gut. I mean really big. Babe is a small car. Without even seeing him try, I knew he could not physically fit behind the wheel. Not even possible.

Which is probably what led to the final conclusion, that Dave was the proud new owner of Babe the Blue Corvair. He paid me right then, cash. (It should be noted that despite this long & sordid tale, I sold her for $400 more than I originally paid.) Mark told me that it was worth the trip just to meet such a "peach of a lady." Awwww! The guys stood around talking with me a bit longer before we all hugged (yes, hugged) goodbye.

Craig's List, my friends. It doesn't just help you buy & sell things, it helps build community. The next day, Mark sent me an email saying that while he was disappointed not to get Babe, she couldn't have gone to a nicer guy. And further, he was so glad to have made 3 new friends out of the deal.

Indeed. -k8-

rushin' roulette

I don't mean to rush headlong into a new posting without allowing my previous hommage à l'amour to adequately linger, but I can't take the chance. I took a friend on one of my favorite urban hikes to El Carreton today because I knew it would be right up his arroyo. And how does he repay me for this insider information? He threatens me.


That's right. We're just walking along & I'm pointing out this 'n that, saying I'm going to post this here blog, see? And then he just ups and says, "Not if I do it first," and starts snapping pics & shooting videos. Whatever!

Mr. Fancypants Blog Stealer was especially impressed with the new public art we have on the Interurban Trail. There are at least 6 different installations running along either side. Each is a different "flip book" style for when you run or ride past quickly.


The volcanoes are so bright and colorful. It's not until you get very close that you realize the pictures were made from all different kinds of gummy candy.




My personal favorite is the series that starts as a little fawn with antler buds that grow to be this impressive rack.
















I walk this trail every day, so I was really worried when I saw workers in orange jumpsuits setting series of metal posts in concrete. I thought...well, I'm ashamed to admit that I completely assumed they were doing something stupid and ugly. Public art never crossed my mind. (Carving K +T into the concrete did, though, so I carved.)


Why did I assume the city would want to stick it to us somehow rather than beautify our trail? Because I'd been recently collecting evidence of how extremely ghetto our stretch of the IU Trail is, compared to once you pass over the city line at 145th into Shoreline. It's as if the clouds part, sun streams in, and thousands of little angels flock around, singing joyfully.


By crossing one small street, you enter a world of fancy brickwork, sculpture, covered seating areas, random art and benches, trail maps, center lines, landscaping, obvious maintenance, and most importantly, trash cans.

Unfortunately, when they linked our stretch of the Trail up with part of the larger IU system, they merely paved a former community-use greenbelt from 110th to 130th. This invited much heavier traffic, but the city supplied no amenities to support that use, nor any apparent maintenance. Not even a single garbage can. So this leads to partly-responsible citizens tossing their dog poop bags into the bushes rather than carrying them home. And while I certainly understand the inclination to part with that little package ASAP, it merely creates a bigger problem than if they'd simply left the pile on the ground.


But then came the art.


Hey, look how easily I'm distracted! Show me some pretty, shiny things & I won't even notice the dozens of plastic bags dangling off blackberry brambles like some hellish Christmas scene.

But let's end on an up note.

Please enjoy this short video of Tim taking Rowan's scooter for a spin on the IU Trail. Be sure to note what he has in his hand. Good citizen! -k8-

neurotica

This week was Tim's and my 15 year anniversary, so I am writing this as a gift to my husband. Though we’ve known each other over half our lives now, we had our first date 15 years ago, March 1-8, 1993. Our first date lasted a week.

That was back when I still lived in Bellingham & was the editor of The Echo newspaper (anyone remember that rag?). Due to an arrangement with an advertiser, I had use of a cottage on the Oregon coast. I was 6 months into being a newly single parent, so I was very tentative, but Tim & I had been dancing around the obvious for awhile. I summoned my nerve & invited him to join me at the cottage. I’ll never forget how excited and nervous we were on that long drive to Newport, OR.

There was so much magic that week. The dunes, the endless beach walks (including the discovery of a beached ship, the Perseverance, which we took as a sign), cooking together, finding that rare Redd Cross album. And more than anything, the way we found that we fit together, in so many ways, in such a natural way. And so much laughter. My face ached from all the smiling.

When we got back to Seattle, it was hard to part ways, but I had to get back to my baby in Bellingham. I’d never been away from her that long before. After I returned to real life, I was filled with fear and doubt. But I got home after my first day back at work & found a vase of irises on my front porch with a very sentimental note.

From then on, we put a lot of miles on Tim’s VW bus & my old Toyota wagon. We never went more than 3-4 days before one of us made the drive. This went on for about 4 months before I manufactured a business opportunity in Seattle and started house hunting. Larkin & I moved into a wonderful duplex in the Wallingford neighborhood in July of ‘93. Tim moved in with us on a more permanent basis 6 months later. We eloped 2 years later and were married in the living room of the cottage in Newport, where we had our first date.

What are the lessons learned after 15 years? Patience. Communication. Humor. Romance. Keep the love at the forefront. Keep the family there, too. Keep the passion alive. More patience. More humor. Don’t give up; keep trying. Listen. Listen. Talk. Listen. Listen. Talk. Even more patience. More passion. More humor. Perseverance.

I still can’t say that I believe humans to be one of those very few species that naturally mate for life. But I can say with all assuredness that if it’s possible, I found the bird to fly there with.

Happy anniversary, Tim. I love you, honey. -k8-