little black journal

Jack and La Verne are known to be pros when it comes to sampling Vancouver’s finest fare, so Shane and I were pretty excited when the four of us finally got a date on the calendar to trek up north together. We buckled ourselves into the Chens’ trusty Prius on Saturday morning, made a quick stop at Honore in Ballard for croissants and coffee, and we were Canada-bound!

The next 36 hours were a blur of eating and drinking and eating and…more eating. My word, if I had a nickel for every time I rubbed my belly this weekend and moaned about how full I was, I’d have enough money to buy that bottle of Johnny Walker Blue that Shane was eyeing at the duty-free shop!  We kicked things off with dim sum in Richmond, plowing our way through a table laden with shrimp dumplings and tofu rolls and little football-shaped fried pockets of meat. It was culinary gluttony at its finest.

We left Richmond with stuffed-full bellies, determined to do something active and build those appetites back up for our dinner resos at 6.  The sun was shining and we were feeling adventurous, so we settled on a bike ride around Stanley Park – tandem-style!  Shane and I had never braved a two-person bike before, and I was wary of our communication skills being pushed to the limit, but we fell into sync pretty easily and made our way around the park with only minor wobbles.

Next stop: dinner at La Quercia.  Ham, fish, pasta, wine, oooooh la la.  It was a meal, made perfect by the company of good friends.  We capped the day off with carefully crafted cocktails at Pourhouse – if only I had a picture of Shane’s gigantic grin as that first Old Fashioned was placed in front of him, and Jack’s furrowed eyebrows as he pondered whether or not his drink had been made with the appropriate proportion of Fernet.  Oh, those boys and their liquor…

We were up impressively early on Sunday (especially considering the gluttony that took place the night before) and started our day with a jog along the waterfront as penance for Saturday’s carb-fest.  Post-run, we grabbed coffee in Yaletown, checked out the neighborhood a bit, and found that our stomachs were sufficiently primed for another day of eating ourselves silly.  First on the list: soup dumplings at Long’s Noodle House.  These delicate, juicy little pockets of meat and broth kind of blew my mind – so, so, so good.

We spent the afternoon hitting the shops on Robson (Zara!), and though none of us were particularly hungry, we couldn’t leave without a stop at Motomachi for ramen.  Hot damn, those noodles make me happy.

We had all heard good things about the Van Dusen botanical gardens and decided to hit them up on our way out of town.  The swoopy new visitor’s center is striking and the were gardens full of the last bits of summer color. We spent a couple of hours wandering down the meandering paths, checking out the luxury car show on the central lawn (yeah, random…), and “racing” through the shrubbed maze.

Our final destination on Canadian soil was the Richmond night market – music and lights and stall upon stall of Asian street food.  The Chinese hamburger and the fried octopus were good, but the Taiwanese shaved ice was the definite winner and the perfect way to end a flavor-filled couple of days.  Milky ice, mochi, jellies, red beans, and a scoop of ice cream – totally worth standing in the evening rain!

And with that, it was time to bid farewell to Canada and point the car toward Seattle.  We crossed that border full, happy, and a little more in love with our neighbor to the north.

Happy Labor Day, folks!  Happy, indeed – it’s been a pretty glorious long weekend.  Things were slow for me at work last week, so I took advantage of my open schedule and took Friday off to jump-start the holiday.  It was the “me-day” to top all me-days – coffee at Cafe Fiore, a massage to work those blues out of my shoulders, tacos at Oaxaca (and a whole side of chips and guac all to myself!), a little shopping and crafting in the afternoon, and then a perfectly chill movie night at home with Shane.  It was, in a word, grand (but don’t bother renting Friends with Kids – completely awful).

On Saturday I was tasked just with one vitally important mission:  Shane and Jack were making their annual Red Hook Ride out to the Woodinville Brewery (joined by Jordan and Bees – welcome to the club!) and needed La Verne and I to meet them out there with our cars around lunchtime (apparently, this is not a round-trip kind of bike ride).  We scored a sunny table on the patio and the bikers restocked those burned calories with monster burgers and pitchers of beer.  La Verne and I joined in the beef-fest, and we all stumbled out of there a little heavier than when we’d gone in.

We met up with the gang for drinks at The Bottle House that evening and marveled at the fact that we were just discovering this little gem of a bar in nearby Madrona.  Their patio is amazing – like something right out of a romantic movie with it’s twinkly lights and vine-covered railings.  It was the perfect place to toast to the last glimmerings of summer.

Sunday was mellow – church, our ritual lunch at Kedai Makan, and then a couple of hours spent laying on a blanket in Jefferson Park, dozing and reading and watching the kids at the nearby birthday party beat the heck out of a fire engine pinata.  I could have laid there until the sun went down, if not for the lure of dinner hot off Jack and La V’s grill (and the season 5 Breaking Bad finale!).

Today started quietly, with an easy jog at the lake and a couple of hours at Mioposto with a latte and my dusty old sketchbook.

I hated to waste the last of our Labor Day sunshine and started feeling antsy this afternoon.  Just as I was telling Shane that we needed to get out and do something to end the weekend with a bang, he got a phone call from Jack.  “Dude – we’re renting a boat today.  Want to go for a ride?”  Heck yes, we want to go for a ride!  We made our way to a little dock in Kirkland and were promptly picked up by the Chens in their super-posh power-boat.  The Rust clan was along for the ride, and we had a blast cruising around Lake Washington, sun skimming our shoulders and hair blowing in the wind.

And with that, this long, perfect weekend is over.  Tomorrow I report for my first-ever summons to jury duty – how’s that for reality slappin’ you in the face?

My weekend really kicked off on Thursday, with the arrival of my parents and my Aunt Ruthie, up for a quick visit to Seattle.  After a little at-home happy hour action, we all headed for a walk around Seward Park and dinner at Geraldine’s.  I hadn’t seen Aunt Ruthie for a couple of years, so it was good to catch up with her on all the latest happenings with my East Coast family.  I went into the office on Friday, but slipped out at lunchtime for mimosas and chowder at the Market with my mom and aunt, and then left a little early so that we could crack open that bottle of white wine while the afternoon sun was still grazing our back patio.  We grilled burgers and watched baseball and sat around the table telling stories from way back when.  As I get older, I’ve come to appreciate that my story doesn’t start with my earliest childhood memories.  My story is wrapped up in my parents’ first years of marriage, in the opossum-shootin’ shenanigans my dad got into as a kid at his grandparents’ farm, in the letters Nannie and Grandaddy wrote to each other when they were just young kids in love.  I’m just one little leaf on a family tree full of love and laughter and devotion.

Oh, and speaking of “way back when”, how incredibly awesome is the picture my aunt brought for us of the Jarrell clan, circa 1979?  Holy retro, Batman!

My aunt left for Baltimore on Saturday morning and my parents headed down to Portland, so the rest of the day was devoted to…a whole lot of nothin’.  No house projects, no errands, no baseball, just an afternoon full of completely blissful quiet on the back patio with a good book and a bowl of cherries (followed by a perfect afternoon snooze).  Putting away my to-do list felt so, so good – I think I needed the break.  We ended the day with one (last?!) backyard summer bbq at Brian and Nicole’s.  Sausages hot off the grill, piled with all kinds of toppings?  I needed that, too…

Sunday was full of more relaxing, a killer lunch at our favorite Malaysian food cart, another nap (or two – ?!), and dinner/catch-up at Chez Rust.  Stick a fork in this weekend – it is done.  Wellllll done…

Summer wouldn’t be complete without our annual c-group camping trip, so we all loaded up our cars and headed east on Friday for a couple of days at Tolt Macdonald Park in Carnation.  After dinner at the local pub (we really know how to rough it), we set up camp and settled in for a weekend of eating, laughing, and soaking the great outdoors.

We awoke to a misty morning on Saturday and toasted bagels over the fire as our sleepy campers emerged from their tents one by one.

The fog quickly burned off into 90-degree temperatures, and the rest of the day was a blur of heating up and cooling down.  We invented our own version of the Olympic decathlon, complete with whiffle ball, kickball, frisbee, sun-tanning, swimming, whitewater body-surfing (a personal favorite!), mountain biking, balance beam freestyle (dang, Nance!), hammock-hanging, and s’mores-stacking.  Whew!

It was a pretty grand day, capped off with dinner hot off the grill (a la Jack, of course), cold beverages, and fireside laughter.

We broke down camp this morning and made the short trip back to Seattle as the sun reappeared and threatened to melt us Californians-gone-soft.  Shane and I indulged in a good afternoon snooze, walked to the park to watch the Blue Angels fly overhead for Seafair, and spent the rest of the day lounging on the couch for Olympics-fest Day 10 (interrupted only by an evening ice cream run to Full Tilt).  Have I mentioned how much I adore summertime weekends in the Pacific Northwest?

I’m still coming down off a pretty perfect weekend in Portland – we ate, we sun-soaked, we raised our glasses to my brother for his birthday, and best of all, I reveled in some high-quality time with those super-precious nieces of mine.

We kicked off our Portland bonanza at the Saturday Farmer’s Market with Jack and La Verne, who happened to be day-tripping in the city. We laid on the lawn and stuffed ourselves with Italian sausages and the notorious fried chicken/bacon/cheese/fried egg sandwich from Pine State Biscuit (how can something so bad be sooooo good?).  Post-lunch, we stumbled down the aisles in a full-belly haze and picked up a few peaches and cartons of berries, bid farewell to the Chens, and headed over to Mitch’s place.

I prepared myself to find Morgan and Elise much-changed since the last time I saw them, but despite any growth, they turned out to be the same sweet, fun-loving little girls.  Our first stop is always the playground, and Elise was quick to hop and her bike and show Uncle Shane her skills while I watched Morgan go bonkers over the fact that she’s now big enough to climb to the top of the slide and go down it all by herself.

My parents were in town for the weekend and it was a treat to gather around the table and celebrate Mitch and Kathryn’s upcoming birthdays with mojitos, enchiladas, and juicy fruit skewers hot off the grill.  It was like Christmas in July, having the family together.

One more trip to the nearby park on Sunday morning, and then it was time for Shane to head home, all to soon.  I had decided to stay until Monday and take the train back to Seattle, so I settled in for another day of enjoying Portland’s finest (namely, Morgan and Elise).  We read books and stacked blocks and played in the water – never a dull moment…

We spent Sunday evening picnicking at Peninsula Park, enjoying grilled chicken and the free symphony concert.  The rose garden was stunning in the late-day sun, and the sound of so many kids running barefoot through the grass couldn’t have been more quintessentially summer-iffic.

Mitch and Kathryn were back at work Monday morning and my train didn’t leave until 6 pm, so my parents and I packed up the girls and headed out for a little adventure on Sauvie Island.  This little island, just 20 minutes from the city, is home to the best u-pick farm I have ever laid eyes on.  Rows upon rows of raspberries, blueberries, marion berries, peach trees, cabbage, cucumbers, the list goes on and on.  We went right to work – my mom and I grabbed our containers and started on the raspberries with Elise while my dad set out for the blueberry bushes with Morgan.   Elise was a great little helper, although I think she put five berries in her mouth for each one she put in the bin – far be it from me to deny that girl such pure summer pleasure! I checked in with my dad and Morgan and found that it was much the same situation – her belly was looking a little more round than usual with all her expert foraging.  We drove away with quite the bounty of berries and peaches.  At two dollars a pound, I’m calling this the deal of the year!

We grabbed a quick lunch and headed home for naptime.  I read Morgan her Clifford and Animal Sounds books for the fourteenth time and tucked her into her crib.  Elise and I snuggled up with her latest issue of Highlights for some quiet time and then I dozed while she sang and squirmed and did everything in her power to resist sleep (that girl did not inherit her aunt’s proclivity toward napping!).

The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging in the backyard, watching the girls play in the kiddie pool and water the plants with their squirt gun and plastic cups.  I drank a glass of wine with my mom and listened to my dad wish Grandaddy an early Happy Birthday on the phone and felt so incredibly blessed.  The past couple of days were filled with so many simple moments of the perfect joy that comes with being surrounded by people you love.  Morgan’s sweet giggle, a tender hug of encouragement from my mom, an afternoon of watching my dad play with building blocks (with and without the kids!), and my cup overfloweth.

Today is my big brother’s 35th birthday – although getting older is a little less fun once you hit your thirties, I do appreciate the way that the five-year gap between us seems to shrink in significance as the years go by.  I just got home from a couple of days in Portland and am feeling especially impressed with the man Mitch has become.  I mean, seriously, is this cool dad with the sleeve tattoos and the acoustic guitar and the bookshelf full of sophisticated literature the same guy that endured the seventh grade with coke-bottle glasses and MC Hammer piping through his Walkman?

Despite his ummm… awkward phase, I have always been the kid sister that looked up to her cool older brother.  When we were little, I longed to climb into the backyard sandbox and play GI Joe with Mitch and his friends.  When he became a teenager and discovered the grunge scene, I watched Pearl Jam videos with him on MTV and respectfully held back from my usual pestering when he got news of Kurt Cobain’s death.  When he graduated from high school and moved to Portland, I visited him in his apartment near Hawthorne and envied the urban lifestyle he lived, full of music and bus rides and tattooed friends in bands.  When he came to visit me during my year abroad and we traveled to Barcelona together, I was struck by his knowledge of Gaudi and the ease with which he ordered a plate of olives and a glass of wine at a sidewalk cafe.  When he married Kathryn in 2005, I thanked God that he’d found a beautiful woman so perfect for him and laughed as we all danced barefoot under the trees to the live bluegrass band.  When he became a dad four years ago, I nearly cried over the surprising tenderness with which he held his little girl.

And today, I wish a very happy birthday to my swell big bro – loving father, wine connoisseur, expert on boring Spanish Civil War novels.  Cheers, Mitch.  I think we’ve both come a long way since those good ol’ days…

It’s become common knowledge that Shane can run.  Good Lord, that boy can run.  One full marathon, a handful of half-marathons, and hundreds of miles in training runs in between – he’s a machine.  He can bike, too, with 20-mile weekend rides around Mercer Island just for fun (how is that fun?) and summer commutes from work on his shiny red Trek.  But swimming?  Not so much – Shane still carries the scars of his of his 6th-grade swim class.  The teacher told the kids to line up in their lanes according to their skill level – pros in lane #1, slow-pokes in lane #5.  Shane, in his pre-teen confidence, strutted straight over to lane 1 and doggy-paddled across that pool like his life depended on it.  Two minutes later, the teacher called him out and told him he belonged in lane 5 – poor kid had to get out and do that march of shame to the other end of the pool, dripping wet and totally embarrassed.  He carried that discouragement into his 30’s and never really graduated from the doggy-paddle.  So I was a bit surprised when Jack convinced him to register for the SeaFair sprint triathlon – did Shane understand that the first part of that “tri” was a half-mile swim?  My surprise quickly turned to pride when he registered for classes at the local pool and traded in his flowered board shorts for some legitimate spandex – it felt daunting and a bit awkward to be taking up swimming so relatively “late” in life, but he shoved his qualms aside and went for it.  ‘Cause my guy really is all kinds of awesome.

After months of training, race day dawned bright and early today as we made our way to Seward Park for the big event.  Shane suited up, I settled into my spot on the sidelines, and he was off!

He came out of the lake in the middle of the pack, tired but looking strong (and kinda hot, no?).

He said the bike was the hardest part of the race for him, but with a smile and thumbs-up, he signaled that he was ready for the run.

Just seconds from the finish line, with barely enough energy left for one subtle smile…

Check out this trifecta of studliness!

Congratulations, buhb!  I’d say you have officially earned your place in lane #1.

When Nancy emailed Shane and I last week to see if we’d be in for a little surprise camping action for Jason’s birthday, we cleared our calendars and dug our tent out of the recesses of our closet. We set sail for Illahee State Park via the Bremerton ferry on Friday afternoon, loving the sense of “getaway” that comes with watching the Seattle skyline recede in the distance.

An hour and a half later we pulled up to our perfect campsite, nestled among the trees and just minutes away from the water. We set up our tent and inflated our air mattress in record time – Shane was eager to try out the extra mountain bike Jordan had brought along.

We ate our dinner around the campfire that night and stayed up talking and roasting marshmallows – until the rain began to fall in huge, splashing drops. We rushed around like madmen cleaning up camp and then took refuge in our tents, enjoying the nighttime storm from the warmth of our sleeping bags.

Saturday was devoted to a whole bunch of perfect nothin’. Jack and La V joined us late in the morning and we all headed down to the water to check out the beach.

While the ladies spent much of the day basking in the sun, the boys played hard. Frisbee, volleyball, mountain biking, whew!

There was also hammock-lounging, delicious oysters hot off the grill, and an evening swim for our uber-active fellas.

(Who said the Prius is only a 5-seater? Pshhh.)

We spent another evening sitting around the campfire, eating Indian food and grilled crab while the birthday boy waxed poetic about the ups and downs of his 31st year.

The fixin’s were brought out for s’mores round 2, Shane’s bottle of whiskey emerged and made its way around the circle, and the fireside chatter kept up late into the night. I’m constantly wondering with these people where conversation will take us next – there was heated debate over whether or not animals have feelings, there was the ridiculous attempt to decipher the lyrics to Alan Jackson’s Chatahoochee, and there were equal shares of reminiscing and looking forward.

We got a (kind of) early start this morning, toasted our Aussie Bites over the fire, then broke down camp and hit the road. Although I was jonesin’ for a hot shower and the comfort of our bed, I was more than a little sad to say good-bye to our little wooded retreat.

Cheers, J! Wishing you a year filled of laughter, frisbee golf, and plenty more surprise adventures…

I initially grumbled a bit about the 4th of July falling on a Wednesday this year, wishing instead that we could have rolled the holiday into a three-day weekend, but this mid-week mini-break actually turned out to be kind of awesome.  We slept in, rolled out of bed to watch some baseball (dang it, Giants!), rolled back into bed for a pre-lunch nap, and then finally rustled up the energy to leave the house and head over to Alki for fish and chips and a walk along the beach.  Seattle-ites often complain about our rainy June weather and then offer consolation to one another with the promise that summer doesn’t truly begin here until the 4^th of July – indeed, the sunshine came through in a clutch yesterday and made our city sparkle.

We hung out at home for a little while in the afternoon (confession:  nap #2!) and then made our way to Seward Park so that Shane could do a triathlon training swim and I could catch a few more rays.  So many beautiful expanses of water right at our fingertips!  I was feelin’ some serious love for Seattle…

We spent the evening livin’ it up at Jack and La Verne’s big Independence Day bash.  There was food, there was music, there were friends and laughter and adorable round-bellied babies.  It was summer holiday perfection.

As we drove home along Lake Washington Boulevard, rogue fireworks bursting along the water’s edge, I sighed contentedly and silently counted my blessings – how thankful I am for friends, for sunshine, and for my life in this country, so rich with freedom and beauty.  Land that I love…

It’s a long drive to and from La Pine, Oregon, but after a fun-packed weekend like this one, we are reminded that it’s certainly a trip worth taking.  We rolled up to my mom and dad’s house late Thursday night and quickly fell into bed, weary from more than seven hours on the road, but looking forward to a couple of solid days of family time, relaxation, and life in the great outdoors.

Our hopes for this little getaway were met on all counts, starting with a leisurely jog through La Pine State Park on Friday morning.  It felt good to be so far removed from the city for awhile, to hear the whoosh of the wind through the treetops and breathe in the cool, fresh air.  It felt equally good to hole up indoors for the afternoon, reading and dozing and playing Uno and ping-pong while the rain fell outside.  This is the stuff of a perfect day off.

We had reservations on Friday evening for dinner at the Cowboy Dinner Tree – a super-rustic, super-charming little restaurant known for their home-cooked, family-style meals.  We made the drive waaaaay out there (seriously, this place is rural) and were seated in the cozy dining room, where horse saddles line the walls and the mis-matched tablewear reminds you of something from your grandmother’s kitchen.  We started off with a big bowl of salad and quart-size mason jars of lemonade, and things quickly spiraled out of control from there.  A tray full of dinner rolls, a pot of beef barley soup, and then, as if we weren’t already well on our way to being stuffed, the main course of chicken or steak (they keep their menu simple).  And they aren’t messing around – when you say chicken, you end up with an entire roasted bird on your plate, paired with a huge baked potato.  Ask for steak, and you’ll be given a juicy 30-ounce hunk of meat.  Follow that with triple-berry shortcake for dessert and pray that you’ve worn your pants with the elastic waistband, ’cause you’ll be leaving there with a couple of extra pounds in your belly…  And enough leftovers for lunch and dinner the next day.

The sun did us a huge favor and broke through the clouds as we headed back to La Pine, bathing the brush-covered plains in a warm, beautiful glow.  This is indeed the Oregon Outback – wide-open, kind of scrubby, and (it seems) relatively unchanged from when the first settlers made their way here over one hundred years ago.

We awoke on Saturday to the sound of raindrops on the roof and I feared our plans for a little fishing escapade would be foiled.  But that fickle high desert weather did us another kudos and by 10:00 we were standing in the sun at the edge of Twin Lake, rods in hand.  The fish weren’t biting at the lake, so we packed up after a couple of hours and decided to try our luck on the grassy banks of the Deschutes River.  This proved equally unfruitful and we ended up heading home empty-handed, but the morning wasn’t a total loss – it was a lot of fun to share in one of my dad’s favorite hobbies.  He gave me my first-ever fly-fishing lesson, showed me how to use a worm blower (equally useful and disgusting!), and reminisced with me about the first fish I ever caught when I just a wee five year-old.  It was one of those mornings that the credit card commercials would have deemed “priceless”.

We ate lunch and freshened up back at the house, then drove up to Bend to do some bumming around the “big city”.  We shopped a little, did some beer tasting at the Deschutes Brewery, indulged in nachos and fried zucchini at the Bend Brewing Company, and then walked along the banks of the lazy river where it runs through town.  We wound our back to the car through the booth-lined streets of the “Bite of Bend” fair – I wish I’d saved room for the barbecue and tacos and dumplings being served by the vendors.  I was full stuffed with our pub fare, until I saw the giant helpings of marionberry shortcake topped with whipped cream.  Suddenly, my appetite had returned!

We made one final stop before calling it a day, detouring to the Paulina Peak lookout to take in more of those gorgeous cloudy evening skies.  I like city-living, but life among the pine trees certainly has its merits.

A pancake breakfast this morning, a few more snuggles with Bernie, and then it was time to hit the long dusty trail back to Seattle.  I think I say this every time we visit La Pine, but that may have been the best weekend we’ve ever spent there, as it was such a perfect mix of sight-seeing and resting and quality family time.  Thanks, Mom and Dad (and Bernie)!  It’s been real.