little black journal

When Shane told me that his job was sending him to Las Vegas for a few days for a conference and asked me if I’d like to tag along, I thought…Vegas?  I had a fabulous time when I got to tag along during the same conference in San Francisco two years ago, but…Vegas?  I was there ten years ago and if memory served me correctly, I really wouldn’t fit in there – I don’t know the first thing about gambling, I don’t own a miniskirt or 6-inch heels, and I don’t think I have the stomach for a prime rib buffet.  But far be it from me to turn down the promise of sunshine and poolside cocktails, so I grabbed my highest-SPF sunscreen, unearthed every swimsuit I own from the depths of my dresser, and I was officially on board.

From the moment our taxi dropped us off at the Palazzo, we were both a bit overwhelmed.  The scale of everything was so much grander than what we’re used to seeing – hotel lobbies with 50-foot ceilings, huge casino floors packed with slot machines and black jack tables and ladies in tight dresses walking by with trays of cocktails, and hotel corridors that felt like they stretched on forever.  Add to that a confusing mix of sensory deprivation and sensory overload – while indoors, you typically don’t have access to daylight or fresh air, but at the same time, your senses are flooded with a myriad of sounds, with flashing lights, conditioned air, and the presence of so many people.   It was a lot to take in.  But we were bound to make the most of our Nevadan adventure, and so while Shane checked into our room, I ran across the street to the same-day discount ticket booth to see if I could score us seats for a show that evening.  I came back with tickets to Le Reve and Shane and I made our way to our beautiful hotel suite – looked like Vegas was going to be A-OK.

We spent the rest of the afternoon taking refuge from the heat inside the gigantic hotel/shopping/restaurant complex that is the Palazzo/Venetian, and then swimming at the luxurious hotel pool.

We grabbed a quick bite before the show and then made our way over to the Wynn for the show.  From the moment we walked into the theater, with its brightly patterned tented ceiling and circular rows of seats that surrounded a blue, misty pool, we knew we were in for something special.  And Le Reve certainly did not disappoint – stunning costumes, gasp-inducing acrobatics, and surprises around every corner, as people in sea-monster costumes crawled out from the aisles and ladies in sequined costumes were dropped from one hundred feet in the air into the pool below.  It was exactly what you would expect from Vegas – flashy, bold, and over-the-top.

We turned in early that night, as I was feeling a little under the weather and wanted to rest up for a day full of sight-seeing and sun-soaking.  Unfortunately, I woke up Monday morning feeling achy and feverish, with some kind of flu.  I ventured out in the morning in search of a healthy breakfast (which was nowhere to be found) and snapped a few pictures while on the Strip.  Somewhere between the canals of the Venetian and the Venus de Milo at Caesars Palace, I really started to wonder at the alternate universe that is Vegas.  There’s just so much…faux.  Everything is a replica of something else, from the miniature Eiffel Tower to the funky Corinthian columns.

My sore throat and achy bones, along with the rapidly rising temperatures (which topped out at 109 degrees that day – yikes!), soon drove me back to our room, where I contentedly spent most of the afternoon watching TV in our plush and comfy bed, deciding I had just enough energy to head down the pool and stake my claim on one of the lounge chairs in pool for a couple of hours (yes – they put lounge chairs in the really shallow portion of the pool, so you can enjoy the sun while being half-submerged in the water…brilliant!).

We had a nice dinner at Le Cave that night, and once again, I turned in early…In a city known for its nightlife.  Did I mention I wasn’t Vegas material?

By Tuesday, I was feeling much better and figured all I needed to get me back to 100% was a fruit smoothie and a couple hours of retail therapy.  I spent the morning cruising around Fashion Show Mall with my Jamba Juice in hand, scoring a couple of good deals before heading back to the hotel for an afternoon of poolside lounging.  Shane got away from the conference a little early and was able to join me for a swim.  I camped out there all afternoon with my book, working on my tan and finally feeling like I was getting on board with the whole Vegas vacation thing.  It was a great day – completely relaxing, worry-free, and self-indulgent.  Tuesday night was our last night to really live it up, since I had a Wednesday morning flight back to Seattle, and so we headed out in search of lights, luck, and liquor.  The Strip is insane at night time – people crowd the sidewalks, spilling out of the casinos and bars, lights and music seem to radiate from every surface.

Determined to take it all in, we walked as far as the Bellagio and caught the famed fountain show.  It was indeed impressive – and as a bonus, the spray from the fountains provided some momentary relief from the heat!

From there, we meandered back toward the Palazzo, stopping in a couple of casinos to test our luck.  Turns out I am decidedly unlucky.  Shane cut me off after a pretty sad streak at the slots, and then I watched him walk away from video blackjack with his shoulders slumped.  To his credit, he did make the three dollars I had in my pocket last for nearly half an hour, and he had tripled his money at one point, but apparently he has yet to learn when to quit, and so we both walked away without any of our meager gambling allowance.  We found solace at the bar of Table 10, in my glass of wine and Shane’s shot of quality bourbon.  And so all was not lost – we’d still enjoyed a fun night out on the town, and I had managed, on my last night in Vegas, to stay up past 10 pm.

The verdict:  as much I loved my afternoons by the pool, and as grateful as I am for the chance we had to experience something new, I doubt we’ll head back to Sin City anytime soon.  It’s just not our scene.  At least, not until I find the courage to replace my Gap sundress with something more like this…

Today I’m battling the missing-my-family blues, as I returned yesterday from a quick-but-so-good trip to Portland. My grandma and my mom’s cousin were visiting from Florida, and I was able to slip away from work on Thursday afternoon so that I could spend the evening with them before their Friday flight home. As we ate dinner together that night, with four generations of family members present at the table, I was indescribably thankful for the stories that were told, the laughs that were shared, and the love that filled that cozy kitchen.

Saturday was spent dawdling around Portland with the kids. We enjoyed a stroll down Alberta street and then popped into Helser’s for lunch. We waited longer than we expected for our food, but both girls were pleasantly patient – Elise was happy to color, and Morgan was happy to chew on Mitch’s keys (hey, whatever works…). And I embraced the opportunity to be in a restaurant and photograph something other than food (although my fluffy peach-laden German pancake was awfully pretty…).

After lunch and nap time and a number of persistent requests from Elise, my mom and I walked her over to the neighborhood park late in the afternoon. Temperatures were pushing 85 degrees, which is a bit of a heatwave for us Northwesterners, and so conditions were ideal for splashing around in the little water park. Mom and I sat on a bench and watched as Elise frolicked through the fountains, filling up her little plastic cups with water and then dumping them on the ground over and over and over (kids have the oddest forms of self-entertainment). Then we pushed her on the swings, teeter-tottered for awhile, and eventually let that little bundle of 3 year-old energy wear us out, before heading back to the house for dinner.

Friday evening and Saturday morning were full of mellow family-time at home. There’s so much joy to be found just in sitting on the couch and reading a book to Elise, or laying on the floor with Morgan while she giggles and chews on whatever toy she has at hand. She is quite possibly the sweetest baby in the entire history of babies. She smiles and cuddles without limit – one look from her and you will feel like the sun has changed its course to shine directly on you. I find myself surprised by how much I have come to adore these girls; I knew that being an auntie is a special thing, but I don’t think I realized my heart’s capacity for loving these little people that I only see every couple of months and that are just coming to know me.

And with one last round of hugs, it was time for me to hit the long, dusty trail back to Seattle. These dang good-byes just keep getting harder and harder…

It was a weekend full of so much goodness, from the overladen table of Indian food we plowed through with Jason and Nancy on Friday night, to the salmon we pulled off the grill for dinner just a couple of hours ago.  And all kinds of summertime perfection in between…

I told Shane on Saturday morning that I was in the mood for an adventure – the sun was shining, our day was wide open, and I was itching to do something out of the ordinary.  However, inspiration wasn’t striking me, and so I figured I’d settle for a stroll down to our favorite ice cream shop for a scoop of salted caramel ice cream (life on the edge!) and a glass of wine on the back patio.  There are worse ways to spend a summer afternoon…  But Shane had bigger, better plans brewing, and as soon as I made it back from my morning run, I was given direct orders to take a quick shower, grab a blanket and a book, and hop in the car.  We were heading east, bound for Rattlesnake Lake for an afternoon picnic by the water.  Not too shabby, for a last-minute mini-getaway!

We spent hours laying on our blanket in the shade, feeling little spots of sunlight make their way through the canopy of leaves overhead.  Shane dodged each ray like it was a laser-beam (he overheats easily), but I was in sunshiny heaven.

We made a couple of pit-stops on the way back to Seattle (one for a mini-spree at the Banana Republic outlet in North Bend, then another for self-serve fro-yo at Yogurtland), and arrived home with just enough time to squeeze in a solid nap before dinner.  It’s surprising how sleepy an afternoon of lounging/eating/shopping can make you (or maybe I’m just lazy?).

We spent last night with our friends Jordan and Belinda – they are moving out of the country in a few weeks and needed some help emptying their liquor cabinet before they skip town.  Shane, being the selfless and giving friend that he is, was quick to offer his cocktail-consuming services.  We kicked off the night with Cadillac margaritas, and I wish I’d snapped a photo before we sipped (er…slurped) them all down.  They really were a thing of beauty – if summer could be captured in a single drink, I think it would be in that fresh, citrusy glass of Tequila-laced goodness.  We sat around the table for hours, chatting and drinking and snacking on the lemon tart I picked up from Whole Foods.  Shane has a new appreciation for Tequila.  And for friends like Jack that let him off the hook when he’s not quite feeling up for a previously-scheduled Sunday morning training run.

I spent much of today in the office (a total travesty), but whipped through my deadline to-do’s quickly enough to still enjoy a couple of sunny hours sitting on the back patio and working in the yard (I suppose the one unfortunate by-product of all this sun is the couple of neglected, dried-out plants that needed replacing in our back planter).  An evening jog down to the lake, dinner on the grill, and it was time to say so long to another lovely summer weekend.  Cheers!  And, sigh…

We spent this weekend keeping tradition alive, taking part in our fourth annual c-group camping trip.  We all piled into our cars on Friday afternoon, and by sundown we had set up our own little tent city in Larrabee State Park as sixteen of us gathered around the campfire to kick off a weekend of eating, lounging, laughing, and outdoors-ing.  Shane threw a whole slew of bratwursts on the grill for dinner, and thus, the feeding frenzy began (good thing I’d spent the previous three days eating light…).

The rest of the night was full of s’mores, beer, and campfire chat.  Is there any better way to spend a summer evening in the Pacific Northwest?

The fire did double duty all weekend, as both heat source and food cooker.  We roasted, toasted, grilled, and flame-broiled, at morning and at night.  Flame-toasted bagels for breakfast?  Mmmm-hmmm…

After breakfast, we headed over to the little stretch of beach near the campground for playtime.  The agenda:  frisbee-tossing, wiffle ball, rock-skipping, lounging.

Shane was thrilled to discover that his best little buddy, the G-man, is a fellow rock-skipper.

We headed back to the campsite for lunch, and then staked out a spot in a nearby field where the boys (and the athletically-inclined women) could play a game of football, while the less-inclined women could stretch out on the sidelines in the sun.  I’ll give you one guess as to which group I was in…

All that playing put us in the mood for Happy Hour and so we headed down the road for a round of super-fresh oysters at Taylor Shellfish. Sprinkled with lemon juice and paired with a glass (er…red plastic cup) of white wine, these were perfect.  One slurp and I was rethinking my long-held oyster-aversion.  Maybe it was the scenery, maybe it was the smell of salt-water wafting through the air, or maybe it was the company of such good friends, but wowsers, those were some tasty little suckers.

The rest of the evening was passed back at the campsite.  Shane spent some quality time with his other little buddy, Zebo, Jack grilled a chicken and veggie-kebob dinner that rivaled the meals we’re able to prepare at home in our fully-equipped kitchen, and we toasted marshmallows and told stories until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer (all of that chillin’ had me tuckered out).

It seemed we were all a little reluctant to leave this morning – it was hard to coax Brian, Shane, and Nicole (that’s her feet) out of their tree-anchored cocoons (I’m adding a hammock to the REI wishlist).

We sat around the campfire talking until check-out rules required us to begrudgingly break down camp and let the fire die (but not until we’d ended  s’mores smack-down: round 3, in which Jack completely changed the game with a bacon-chocolate-marshmallow creation).

I’m washing the smoke smell out of my clothes with a sigh tonight, knowing it will be a year before we’re able to embark on another weekend like this one.  There’s some solace in knowing that I’ll shortly be drifting off to sleep in our soft, cozy bed, but there’s also quite a bit of sadness in knowing that toasted marshmallows aren’t on the menu for breakfast tomorrow…

Our love affair with summer in Seattle continues…  Shane and I started our Saturday with morning runs (mine being a leisurely 3-mile jog around Jefferson Park, his being a 10-mile trek to Mercer Island and back), and then spread out a blanket at the park around the corner from us to catch the Blue Angels air show that happens as part of SeaFair every year.  I love this event – it’s loud, and it causes traffic, and it blocks our access to the lake for a couple of days, but the feeling of ‘wow!’ you get when you see those four planes fly right over your head in perfect formation is pretty spectacular.  As you get older, it seems that there are fewer things that really make you ‘ooh and ahh’ anymore, but these pilots never fail induce that childlike wonder in me.  And…that was really the extent of the day’s excitement – I passed the rest of the afternoon reading/dozing on the back patio.  And catching up on a few Grey’s Anatomy re-runs (seriously, how crazy was the end of season 6!?).  Good stuff.

After spending much of today indoors at a volunteer event, I was itching to get out and sun-soak this evening.  Shane suggested Lincoln Park in West Seattle – since we live so close to Lake Washington, I often forget about all the great places to walk along the shores of the Puget Sound, and look what I’ve been missing out on!

It was a perfect evening for a sunset stroll.  We walked, we chatted, we sat on a log and watched the fishermen throw their final casts of the day, and we wondered, is there anywhere more ideal than Seattle in the summer?

Another blessed weekend of truly ‘weekending’ – lazy mornings in bed, afternoons spent reading on the back patio, leisurely dinners with good friends… I feel like I’ve rediscovered the beauty of relaxation, and it. is. goooooood. It must be the weather that’s put me on such a high; after we each finished our morning run over to Lake Washington, Shane and I spent yesterday afternoon laying on a blanket in the sand at Ed Munro Seahurst Park, dragging ourselves up out of our sun-soaked sprawl only when we got so hot that we needed to go dip our feet in the frigid waters of the Puget Sound, and by the time we left, I was giddy. It just feels like such a treat to enjoy the outdoors without even having to do anything – I’m used to oooh-ing and aaaah-ing over the beauty of Mount Rainer, or being wowed by the lushness of a forest hike, but to feel totally in love with the Northwest without even having to stand up, or even open my eyes? That’s pretty rare. The special-ness of days like yesterday is not lost on me.

That said, we awoke this morning to cloudy skies and a misty drizzle, but I didn’t even mind – I suppose I was still riding my sunshine high from Saturday and was totally content to come home from church and enjoy curling up on the couch with my book and a cup of tea. And the weather gods rewarded my good nature with a late-afternoon bout of sunshine, so I was able to peel myself off the couch and plop down on our patio to catch a few more weekend rays. I’ve always prided myself on being one of those Seattle-ites that endures the clouds and the rain with minimal complaining, as I’m usually happy to retreat to a cafe or the sofa when the weather isn’t conducive to being outside. But I’m seeing the brighter side of life, and hot damn, it is bliss.

The past couple of weeks have been pretty low-key for us – we’ve stayed close to home, venturing out for game nights with friends or when pizza cravings call us to Tutta Bella, but other than that, we’ve been livin’ the slow life.  Hours have been whiled away reading on the couch (translation: napping with a book resting on my stomach) or watching old Harry Potter movies in preparation for our plans to see HP 7 next week.  These leisure-filled weekends and evenings have been nice, but a couple of days ago, I started to get antsy.  Itchy with the desire to visit someplace new, see something we’ve never seen before, get out and do some exploring.  So when a little instant message from Shane popped up on my computer on Friday afternoon with the words, “Should we go have an adventure tomorrow?”, I thought, “Hallelujah!  We’re skipping town!”  Granted, we use the word “adventure” lightly, as what we ended up planning was a day trip to Vashon Island (which is a 20-minute ferry-ride from Seattle), but still, I was looking forward to checking out this uncharted territory.

We woke to clear, sunny skies on Saturday morning – perfect ferry weather.  We drove right onto the boat after a short wait at the terminal, and we were off!

Shane had done a little research and we had a list of a couple of things to check out on the island, starting with the Saturday Farmer’s Market. Vashon is home to several small farms, and we were looking forward to perusing the local offerings.  I bought a carton of plump raspberries and devoured them with my morning coffee, admiring the piles of leafy greens and freshly-picked beans on the other tables, then feeling our hunger spike as we eyed the cheese stand and smelled the sizzling meat at the little taco booth on the corner.  And so we crossed the street for lunch at The Hardware Store, which we’d heard is the island’s most popular restaurant.  We settled into our table by the window and eyed the appetizing fare on the table next to us – the breakfast special and the fish tacos both looked super-tasty, so we ordered them both to share.  Verdict:  yum.  The food wasn’t fancy, but it was hearty, well-prepared, and just the fuel we needed for an afternoon of sight-seeing.

My expectations of spending several hours cruising a loop around the island were slightly unrealistic, as it turns out you can drive from one tip of the island to the other in 20 minutes flat, but we did stumble upon a jem when our meandering landed us at Point Robinson on Maury Island (the baby brother to Vashon Island, connected by an isthmus).  We walked down to the pebbly beach and found a perfect piece of driftwood from which we could soak in the sun and enjoy the view of Mount Rainer.  Then Shane threw some rocks (never gets old), we checked out the itty-bitty lighthouse (took all of 15 seconds), and walked one of the short trails that took us through the lush, fern-filled forests.  I love being able to experience sunny beaches and shady woods all in the space of 30 minutes – I suppose I was destined for the Northwest.

We hopped back in the car and headed over to the other side of Maury Island – Dockton was one of the larger words on the map, so I figured that must be where the town center is located, but in the 8 seconds that it took for us drive through Dockton’s main drag, I didn’t even see a post office, so we shrugged our shoulders and headed back toward Vashon.  We pit-stopped at Vashon Coffee Roasterie for ice cream sandwiches and a cold drink on the Mayberry-esque wood porch.  I think I saw Opie walk by (then again, I may have been delusional with the atypical dose of Vitamin D I’d gotten that day…).

We passed the rest of the afternoon visiting with our friend Michelle at her grandparents’ house on the island.  Michelle’s grandpa showed us around their impressive garden, full of corn and berries and quickly-sprouting beans, and then we all sat out on the back porch and chatted over cold lemonade and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies (seriously, her grandparents belong in the hospitality hall of fame).  Life out there seemed so peaceful, so un-rushed, so good.  Shane and I are already making retirement plans…  And honestly, who wouldn’t want to get their milk from a store that looks like this?!

Before long, it was time for us to catch our ferry back home, so we bid farewell to Michelle and to Vashon, knowing that our first visit wouldn’t be our last.  Our little “adventure” turned out to be of rather mellow proportions, but it turned out that just living the slow life island-style was still perfectly fulfilling.

It’s been kind of a garbage dump of a week, so I’ve had my sights set on this three-day weekend for the past few days.  Since Monday, I’ve been making my Saturday plans:  sleep in, roll out of bed only for a latte and a scone, and then roll back into bed for an afternoon with Harry Potter and Season 6 of Lost.  I believed it was just what I needed.  But then my more adventurous, more fun-loving better half turned to me on Thursday night and said, “What if we woke up on Saturday morning in a different country, instead?”  We quickly Price-lined a hotel in Vancouver, packed our bags, and as soon as the whistle blew on Friday afternoon, we were Canada-bound.

It wasn’t until I started looking online for things to do near our hotel that I realized July 1st was in fact Canada Day, so we would be in the thick of the country’s annual ‘birthday’ celebration.  As soon as we got into the city, traffic slowed to a crawl, as the streets were swarming with people clad in red and white, waving their maple leaf-adorned flags as they danced to the music of any number of bands that had set up shop on the street corners.  We snaked our way to our hotel, gladly ditched our car at the parking garage, and set out in search of 1) good food, and 2) general merriment and festive-ness.  Jack and La Verne had recommended Zakkushi for dinner, a cozy little Yakitori joint just a few blocks from where we were staying.  We snagged a couple of seats at the bar and promptly began ordering to our heart’s delight – items on the menu were about two dollars apiece, and we wanted to try to try just about everything.  For the next hour, the waitress brought us plate after plate of pork-wrapped asparagus, grilled quail eggs, and miscellaneous chicken parts, paired with cold, refreshing pints of Sapporo.

Happy and well-nourished, we waddled out of the restaurant and followed the throngs of people to the waterfront in hopes of catching the big fireworks show.  We staked out a little spot at the harbor’s edge and watched bang after bang of red and white lights.  I marveled at how unknowingly perfect our timing had been in our last-minute decision to make the trip up to Vancouver – you don’t see this every night!

Post-fireworks, we headed toward Gastown to check out the Pourhouse – an allegedly ‘legit’ bar where bartenders respect and know their cocktails.  Shane was determined to verify such rumors, so we plopped ourselves on a couple of barstools and promptly ordered our fist round of drinks.  Shane was impressed with his Fernet-laced Toronto, and my Golden Fizz (gin, lemon, egg, soda water) was perfectly creamy-but-light. Verdict: this bar was indeed legit.

By the time we left Gastown, it was nearly 1 am, which is pretty late for an old married couple such as ourselves, so we cabbed it back to the hotel and fell into bed with a couple of food and drink-induced smiles on our faces.  It had been a very good night.

I was delighted to see sun shining through the curtains early the next morning – I peeked outside and took in the view of the harbor and mountains, pleased that it would be a perfect day for touring the city.

Shane threw on his running clothes and headed out for a jog around Stanley Park.  I thought about joining him for all of six seconds, and then decided instead to head back to bed for awhile – I just wasn’t quite ready to give up on my plans of a Saturday sleep-in.  Hunger eventually pulled me back out of bed, and we left the hotel mid-morning in search of breakfast.  I followed a recommendation for a good crepe place just down the street, so we grabbed a quick bite and then decided that the sunshine was calling us back toward Stanley Park.  We found a place that offered cheap bike rentals, hopped on our super-rad orange cruisers, and we were off!  It was an incredibly leisurely ride, as we stopped every few minutes to take in the scenery and snap a few photos.  Shane said it was the longest bike ride he’d been on without breaking a sweat – that’s what I’m talkin’ about…

We returned our bikes mid-afternoon and knew that we needed to take advantage of Vancouver’s culinary offerings at least one more time before hitting the road.  We settled on ramen at Motomachi Shokudo, another trusted recommendation from Jack and La V.  And wowsers – these Vancouver-ites don’t mess around when it comes to their noodle soup!  Rich, flavorful broth filled with soft-but-not-too-soft noodles and tender slices of pork.  I dont think I’ll ever be able to go back to those 25-cent packages of Top Ramen that I loved so much in college…

We ended our trip in Yaletown, for gelato and a stroll along the waterfront, then down the charming brick-lined streets.  I love this neighborhood – we’re looking forward to spending more time here next time we’re back.

And with that, it was time to hit the long dusty trail back to Seattle.  Thanks, Canada – our spirits were higher when we left than we arrived, so I’d say our little getaway was a smashing success.

We’ve been enjoying some quality time with family lately, with a visit from my mom and dad last weekend, and a quick trip down to Portland this weekend to see my brother, his wife, and the girls.  Although these trips always end up feeling much more brief than I’d like, I’m thankful for these short-but-sweet chances to reconnect with one another.

My parents were here on a typical rainy June weekend, and so my hopes of enjoying Seattle’s great outdoors didn’t quite pan out.  But we passed mornings hunkered down in cafes to enjoy a latte, followed by afternoons spent lounging at home to watch the Giants, and evenings gathered around the dining room table for a home-cooked meal and a game of cards.  And so my bitterness over the rain subsided as I realized how nice it was to spend a simple, cozy weekend at home with my mom and dad.

Our trip to Portland was equally mellow, but substantially sunnier, and so we did our relaxing in the backyard.  Lots of good eating, lots playing with Elise and Morgan, and a quick trip downtown to do a little shopping at Powell’s and West Elm, for good measure.  Shane continues to be Elise’s favorite, and I suspect he is trying to sneak his way into Morgan’s good graces as well…

I really don’t mind being runner-up, though.  I can’t hold a grudge against a gril with a smile like this one.

Finding ourselves with a little time to kill in the Pearl District before the stores opened, I subjected the family to a little photo shoot.  It is amazingly difficult to get two adults and two small children to look at a camera all at the same time.  But…success!

And this is the point where I lament the end of a beautiful weekend.  Sigh.

Shane and I have been feeling like a Californian weekend was overdue for some time now – we’ve been missing our friends, the sunshine, Saturday afternoons with the Giants…  And so we booked our tickets and headed down to the Central Valley last weekend.  It had been nearly two years since our last visit to our former home, and so I had a list of things to do and people to see.  My ‘girls’ were at the top of that list – Francine, Kelly, Amanda and I have been friends since high school, and it’s been far too long since we were all together.  We spent Friday at the nail salon, followed by a perfect lunch at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants.  There are times when I worry that I’ve changed so much since living in Seattle that it will be tough for us to connect like we used to, but after 10 minutes of sitting around a table together, shrieking with laughter about long-ago memories, I realize that our bond is not that easily broken.

After our lunch-induced caloric overload, we decided to burn off those burritos with one of our favorite pastimes:  shoe shopping.  Amanda and I have a favorite store in Modesto that we visit every time I’m home, and we can easily spend hours wandering up and down the aisles, trying on heels that we know we’ll never be able to walk in or bright pink wedge sandals that won’t match anything in our closets.  What I love most about these little shopping excursions is our ability to pinpoint exactly what the other person would like (“theses polka dot wedges are so completely you!”).  I was talking about this with Nancy the other night and she summed it up perfectly:  she said it feels really good to be known, which is what’s so special about these times with the girls – they know me in a particular way that no one in Seattle does or ever will.  Of course, there are also times when I surprise Amanda with my apparently poor taste (“oh, no, Kel, you’ve got to be joking with those”), but I love those moments, too – brutal honesty without the risk of hurt feelings is a pretty unique thing.

The rest of Friday was pretty mellow – burgers for dinner, more catching up with old friends, watching movies as I crashed out on the couch…  Saturday morning, it was time to bid farewell to Turlock and head to San Francisco for the rest of the weekend.  We were intent on catching a game, and thought it would be fun to end our trip with a night out on the town.  After checking into our hotel, we jetted over to AT&T park, stocked with peanuts and sporting our Giants gear.  It was a beautiful day to be at the ballpark, and the buzz of excitement in the air told me that I better get ready to do some serious cheering and high-fiving.  I was wrong.  Horribly wrong.  Lincecum pitched the worst game of his career, and we left the park in the middle of 8th, as the Giants were down 8 to nothing.  Ouch.  At least the sunshine was there to buoy our spirits.

He’s only smiling because he got a new hat to replace his crusty old faded one…

A short nap back at the room, and then we were ready to paint the town red.  Saturday was the 12th anniversary of our very first date, so we were in the mood to celebrate.  Shane had made reservations at Delfina, a cozy-but-hip Italian restaurant in the Mission.  We slurped up perfectly prepared spaghetti and oohed and ahhed over our tagliatelle.  I like to think that Shane will look back on that night and remember the dress I wore and conversation we had, but he has already confessed that what made the biggest impression on him was the fact that Ellen Page was sitting at a table just five feet away from us.  We didn’t approach her, but I still had to listen to his dorky one-liners from Juno all night, about his ‘hamburger phone’ and ‘food baby’.  I’ll admit, as we don’t experience too many celebrity sightings in Seattle, it was kind of a big deal.

Dinner was followed by cocktails at Wilson and Wilson, a tiny little speak-easy known for it’s intimate bar and finely crafted drinks.  The theatrics of getting to our table were a bit much (having to give a password to the fedora-wearing man at the door, and then being led through a dark bar to a door that had to be unlocked with an old key, beyond which we finally found our seats), but still, it was a fun night.  The cocktails were good, the conversation was good, and I was toasting to 12 fabulous years with a pretty incredible man.

We started Sunday with a coffee date with Brieanne, my college roommate and fellow Francophile (we were in Paris together for our fourth year of college).  It was fun to catch up, to hear about the exciting things in store for her as she expecting her first little bebe in November.  Post-coffee, Shane and I headed over to Hayes for our brunch reservations at Absinthe.  I’m not sure how Shane found this place, but O.M.G.  My french toast was the best I’ve ever had – slightly crispy around the edges, but unbelievably light and fluffy on the inside.  Sinfully good.  Shane took a bite and his eyes got really big as he exclaimed, “It’s like a taste of heaven!”

Yum-my.  But also super-filling, so after brunch, we were ready to do a little walking.  We wandered around the neighborhood, and then made our way toward the new federal building, designed by Morhposis.

I think I was so high on sunshine and french toast that I wasn’t much in the mood for architecture-gazing, so after a quick spin around the block, we headed back toward the park in front of City Hall to find a patch of grass with our name on it.  My college friend Chris came to meet us there, and the three of us camped out on the lawn for a couple of hours, chatting and soaking in the beautiful day.  It was nice to put away the busy-body, sight-seeing side of myself, and just focus on good conversation and quality relaxation.  I should try that more often.

One last stop for more sunshine-soaking at Yerba Buena, and it was time to head for home…

Au revoir, California.  Hope to see you again soon.