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Archive for the ‘Seattle’ Category

Chairman MeowThe week started badly, and ended with a…  What? It’s only Thursday?

Well, Hell.

So, it’s been a trying week, so far. I’ve had injury (wrenched back), illness (rhinovirus), family issues (no comment), excitement (took our neighbor to urgent care after an accidental toddler-induced head-butt), day-job frustrations (left hand…have you even met the right hand?), and finally, last night, disbelief (I pressed the button to close the garage door and watched as the motor bucked, juddered, and then, with a thunking crunch, deposited bits of plastic, pieces of metal, and one long, greasy chain onto the top of my car).

And it’s only Thursday.

So, what’s a cowboy to do? Or, more apropos, what’s a crabby old fart with barely a scintilla of patience to do?

As I did before this wretched week started, I shall turn to music. (more…)

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Chuck Mangione’s Signature Hat
at the Smithsonian

My first master class was with Chuck Mangione, jazz composer and flugelhorn player par excellence. He came to my school, sat down with a group of student musicians, and attempted to speak to us about music, as a profession, and as a way of life. When it came time for the Q&A portion, one of the participants asked him, “Why the hat?” Chuck always wore a hat. It was his signature, his trademark, his brand. 

His answer, in those days of personal dignity and privacy, was, “Next question,” which was his polite way of saying, “Don’t be a dick.”

I don’t remember much else from that master class, just Chuck, the hat, the question, and “Don’t be a dick.”

Since then, I’ve participated in many other master classes (mostly from musicians), and each time I strove to get as much as I could from the experience. It’s a rare enough event to be able to sit down with a master artist or craftsman and have a conversation. After that first time, I never wanted to waste the opportunity again.

So, last Sunday, when I had the opportunity to learn from Bruce Naftaly, acclaimed master chef and proprietor of Le Gourmand (formerly a restaurant and now a cooking school), I was determined to learn as much as I could… and not to be a dick. (more…)

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Scarlet CrocosmiaMy eyes brightened when I saw the forecast: showers beginning Friday, continuing through Saturday and Sunday, with sunshine returning Monday morning.

I love drippy weekends. Even though they cut into my convertible drive-time, even though they make my rosebuds ball up and rot, even though they make my friends unhappy because their plans for beach-days or BBQs or mountain drives or afternoon walks get washed out, despite this I still love drippy, rainy, dreary weekends.

Rainy weekends mean I don’t have to mow the lawn.

Rainy weekends mean I don’t feel guilty about not washing the car.

Rainy weekends mean I can let my glass of red wine breathe for a bit while I sit on the deck overlooking the greenery, smelling the fresh, moist air, listening to the birds at the feeder and the drip, drip, drip of the water falling from the trees.

Rainy weekends mean bundled up mornings with warm coffee and a perhaps shot of brandy.

Rainy weekends mean spending time with those closest to me.

Rainy weekends mean quiet.

And I like that all to pieces.

k

Cypress Rain

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Seattle has its idiosyncrasies. It’s what makes this city unique. It’s what gives the city its specific “feel.”

In general, we don’t use umbrellas. We’re more a head-down-and-face-the-weather sort of town.

In general, we’re polite and courteous. Drop your wallet and chances are someone will help you retrieve it (9 out of 10 times, according to a Reader’s Digest study). We say good morning and thank you to the bus driver. We rarely honk our horns at each other, except for a polite little “bip” when the guy in front hasn’t noticed the light’s turned green.

And, in general, we don’t jaywalk. As evidence of this, I supply a recent video that shows Seahawks fans waiting for the light to turn green before they cross the street to revel in their team’s recent victory over the Broncos.

(more…)

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When it comes to snow, Seattle is conflicted.

We love it. We hate it.

And tomorrow, we’re gonna get it, or so says Cliff Mass, a scholar of weather in the Pacific Northwest.

Snow in Seattle is rare and unpredictable. It’s also a huge pain in the ass, precisely because it is so rare and unpredictable. We don’t have “snow storms” in Seattle; we have “snow events.” Incoming storms are always rain storms that freeze up on arrival. Conditions have to be just so before the white stuff falls, and tomorrow, it looks like a sure thing.

When snow does fall, Seattle takes on a different character. People look up more. Spirits lift. I see more smiles on the faces I pass on the street. Old buildings look newer and new buildings look older, as if the entire city has shifted to some mid-20th century convergence point. New sounds fill the streets–crunching footsteps, creaking tires–while other sounds are muffled.

Snow in Seattle is an excuse. Schools open late or close down for the duration. People “work from home” or head home early “to beat the traffic.” Metro buses chain up, giving us the modern equivalent to sleigh bells as they jangle along their routes. News teams put on their yellow weather jackets and stand on street corners to report, or drive around in cars with dash-cams to show us that yes, indeed, snow is falling in Seattle.

We love it!

Until we don’t.

Snow in Seattle is not all Currier and Ives. We have hills–big hills–and it doesn’t take much snow to make some of them impassable. One favorite spot for news crews is at the foot of Queen Anne Hill looking up the counterbalance, where the snow creates a game of bumper cars on an inclined plane for any driver so foolish as to venture on the slick hillside. Our snowplows, such as they are, only hit the arterials, leaving side streets covered in snow and ice. In serious events, freeway shoulders are littered with vehicles wounded or abandoned. 

By and large, the only Seattleites who drive in the snow are those who don’t know how. Those who do know how to drive in the snow know that the real danger is not the snow. It’s the idiots in 4WD SUVs who are going too fast (because they have 4WD), and so we stay off the roads and let the idiots Darwin it out on the unplowed streets.

Luckily, snow in Seattle is usually short-lived. Whatever falls overnight has melted off the roadways by noon and is gone by the next morning. Sure, it might screw up a commute or two, might mess with your schedule as you deal with the kids for an extra 2 hours before their school’s late start, but overall, it’s nice, polite, and beautiful while it lasts.

Tomorrow will be one of those days (or so says Cliff).

I’m lucky. I work from home on Fridays, and tomorrow I’m logging off early to start a super-long holiday weekend. If the snow lasts a bit, I’ll be able to go out for a drive in the white-clad neighborhoods. Perhaps I’ll stop, get out, take a few crunching steps in the pristine snow, smile at a stranger and wish them happy holidays.

Maybe it’ll be you.

I wish you all a pleasant holiday week, and a safe and happy new year.

k

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Sergeant Pepper, our 1962 TR3BIt’s been an interesting ten days…and while this isn’t strictly “writing-related,” give me a minute and I’ll try to wrap it back around to the topic.

During the past week or so, while I was working on “Antelope Hunting with Sir John,” I was also going around looking at cars.

Cars? you say.

Yes. Cars. Remember back when my wife asked me that “unexpected question?” Like that, cars. (more…)

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Brandywine

Pink Brandywine Heirlooms

It’s official. This is the spideriest year in all of Seattle history.

On the way to the compost pile, I count anywhere from five to (last night’s high count) eight spider webs. The back stairs are a prime spot, always with a minimum of two webs between the banisters. Orb weavers dominate the gardens, stringing guy-wire silk that stretches up to fifteen feet. On garbage day, in between the time when the garbage trucks came and my neighbor came out to pull the can back into his garage, spiders had spun webs between the can and his mailbox. Their webs are in the trees, in the bushes, across the lawns, and in the window frames. They are everywhere.

And if I can help it, I leave all of them alone. They do good work. (more…)

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