Kitty Olympics

I've mentioned Kitty Olympics in my blog before - they have nothing to do with the real Olympics for they go on all year long - none of this every four years stuff. I imagine the kitties held 4 ahoy Olympics every morning but seeing that I rented a house before they had room to stretch out. It's like having skiing on one mountain and the luge 60 miles away on another. Now Kitties are confined to a much smaller nation so everything takes place all at once, in the same small apartment.

Human obstacle
This is where Kitties run, run, run around the apartment and stop to attack sleeping human's feet or to use the human has a starting block for more running, running, running.

Blinds Dodging
Kitties jump up and scoot in between the blinds (which are down) and the window. It's not a scoot around the blinds, it's in between the closed horizontal bars. Fez is particularity an expert on this. This causes fear in the sleeping human that the blinds are going to come down.

Martini Bar Hop
This is purposely just to scare the sleeping human into thinking that they are about to destroy what few martini/wine glasses she has, including the four new ones she got for Christmas. One again, Fez excels in this event.

Vocal Projections
Monkey take all golds and silvers in this event. She is simply the best at vocal projects around 4:30 a.m. She meows, meows, meows. Brilliant work all the time.

Circular Sprint
It's a tie between the two kitties on this one. The human ususally asleep when this even is going on, the circular sprint is what cats do - and 2 year old children.

Luck, Lucky, not-so-Lucky

"You can't win the lottery unless you play." So I play the lottery. Not often. And with limitations. It started about a year ago when a coworker got us at work all excited about a lottery that had reached some crazy amount like $200 million. We all went to Dave's Super Market and bought lottery tickets. We learned how to pick number or do the "random" choice. On our way to a training in Cincinnati, we talked and dreamed about what we would do with the money. If I won $200 million ($120 million after taxes) I'd give all my family members $10 million; I would give all my friends $10,000 (the most you can get with out being taxed in a single gift); I would set up a fund for all my family and friend's children's educations; and pay off any of my friend's houses. I would give money to all those charities that have trouble with funding like arts organizations (CPT, Spaces, CIFF, SIFF); health care for the poor or working poor (Planned Parenthoods, Free Clinic, Rural healthcare, Doctors without Borders, AIDS groups); for those advocacy groups I so dearly believe in (Southern Poverty Law Center, ACLU); and international groups to help foster better understandings between cultures and environmental groups too. I would start a foundation to sustain those gifts. I would buy a condo in Ballard and I think, at least for a month or two, I would still try to work because I feel too young to not. Eventually, I would want to travel, go back to school and do other things.

My rules: when the lottery is over $75 million, and when I remember, I'll buy two (only) tickets. Yes, it's $40 a year I could be investing so when I'm 90 years old it will be worth like $321.17. But to dream like that, to imagine what I could do, how I could be a positive influence, help out my friends and family - it's worth it - $40 of dreamin' - don't yah think.

I'm lucky because my driver's side door handle decided to start working again (I'm convinced, because it's happened before, when it rains too much in the winter it stops working) - and now I don't have to paid to get it fixed. I'm lucky because I swerved when someone didn't see me and nearly ran me off 15th Ave yesterday. I'm lucky to have a new friend with whom to have gone to the Carnival party. I'm lucky for a million reasons. Approximately 210 million reasons. Maybe I'll win the lottery with one of these reasons.

Not-so-lucky
Are those people in the jeep when the roadside bomb went off today or when your mosque was blown up or when you were diagnosed with cancer, or your husband was; those people who lost their one of their two jobs, the one with health insurance; those people who can barely make ends meet but they really try hard; who decided they could drive home after being at Lava Lounge but really couldn't; who are wrongly imprisoned; there's really not enough room to write about all of them and all of us. Maybe I won't listen to the radio on my way into work tomorrow. Maybe they'll win the lottery too someday.

I hope Seattle is falling in love with you.

A friend of mine wrote this in an email to me shortly after the New Year. At the time, I could honestly say neither Seattle nor I were having any kind of love affair. I was in rent-sticker-shock; it was in the middle of a 28 day rain steak; the hills were not stick-shift friendly; I was having a few difficulties with a co-worker and I only had five friends. I wasn't sure quite what I was doing picking up an moving out to Seattle at too-young-for-any-kind-of-crisis age of 32.

Three months later I can tell you: the rain does stop eventually and when the sun comes out it's spectacular. Patience is a virtue, even if it's not one of mine. I've found places like the Wonder Bar to dance; museums such as the Henry to visit; Discovery Park to explore and interesting people at the Lock and Keel to meet. I'm not sure Seattle has fallen in love with me yet, but I sure think she's getting use to the idea of having me around -as well at the 86,000 other people who migrated to this city last year.

Taking care of my little family and that pesky Cinderella story once again...

Saturday I took off into the city to do that kind of shopping that we all hate to do but we have to do to "take care of me and my little family" - tooth paste, tooth brushes, new running shoes (mine were shot and had been for the past two weeks, thus hurting my feet), kitty litter (obviously for kitty friends, part of my family), AC adapter for my radio (don't buy batteries, bad for our environment, also my family), feathers for my crazy samba head pieces, oil change and new wipers for my car (she's my family too), running around. They weren't fun errands or things I enjoyed buying but they're the things you need to do to take care of your little family - no matter who that includes.

Cinderella... Midnight, shoes, and stepsisters
We arrived at Neumo's in Capital Hill after spending a few hours greeting ready. Dressed in bright orange, Christine in black, with 2' tall headpieces and plenty of things that made noise, we headed down Broadway, heads turning, compliments abound. Though an hour late, the place was barely fill and we were the ONLY people dressed up. I loved it! We were like Cinderella - we were the best dressed at the ball. The DJ was great, speaking only Portuguese, to a very virbrant Brazilian audience. I had no idea there was such a strong Brazilian community!

It took Christine a couple drinks and many "You look like Selma Hayak - no -better" compliments before she decided to stay - but she had already hit the home run with her beautiful costume. The live band arrived on stage (the same one from Wonder Bar) and the crowd went NUTS. We were samba dancing with past year's Carnival festival being projected on a screen behind us. It was fast, ferious and fun. My samba shoes were starting to kill my feat but I didn't care. It was so much fun to be dancing with so many people.

The first set was done - it was 12:20 a.m. The band made promises to come back for a dance competition (which I would surely try) and a costume contest! Costumes! Were would win for sure! We were the only one's with costumes - some people sported Marti Gras bead necklaces but nothing like us. I turned to Christine and said, Oh, a costume contest! We'll win. I'm going, she said. I've had enough. But let's just stay thru the contest - like 20 more minutes - then we'll go. Well you can stay, but I'm going home. What do you say to that - my stuff was at her house, I didn't want her to walk home alone, I felt like the clock struck midnight and it was time to go before I turned back into the nondescript Midwestern that I was, loosing my sambista feathers, beads and sequins.

So we left. I was disappointed - I left the carnival ball but didn't leave a my calling card behind. I skated around Greenlake today - 3 times - 9 miles and thought it through. There were other carnival balls coming but and I would be sure to stay thru the evening, all evening, like Cinderella should have.

Prom....

The best way to do it - with your girlfriends, drinking a beers in a 1950's vintage dress.

My favorite Valentine…

I received a couple of valentines via email on Tuesday. This one was My Favorite. I shared some Valentine cookies and a greeting from our state chapin who went around wishing everyone a happy Valentines day. I’m not sure it’s such a happy day for St. Valentine.

On the bus ride home, many had a flowers, some had teddy bears, heart bags, presents all around. Even at my new credit union where I went to open an account the woman had balloons. It was very sweet.

I was invited out for dinner with a guy I’ve been out with once before but I didn’t want to go. I didn't want the pressure of a Valentine's dinner but mostly that I’m “not interested”. I suggest we go for a drink later. The truth of the matter was I just wanted to go my favorite coffee shop and have a Coconut Bunny cupcake, type some emails, write a little bit and chat with the characters from a new play I'm working on. It sounded like a perfect quiet evening.

But instead I ate dinner, took a shower and hopped in to my car with the plans to meet my friend Christine at Chop Suey where Dan Savage (yes, THE DAN SAVAGE of Savage Love syndicated in weeklies all across America) was having this anti-Valentine’s Day party. It’s their 9th year doing it and you, as audience members, bring an effigy or some object that reminds you of your last lover, partner, spouse and they destroy it on stage – burn it, shred it, smash it, whatever. It's fun and funny.

We arrived just before it got started at 8:45 p.m. It wasn’t quite packed – I ran into a guy who remembered me from the capeiora class I visited my second week here. There were cute guys and a smattering of women when we first got there but it was packed 20 minutes later . Most people wore stickers that read “I’m Single” or “I’m Taken”. I wanted one that said “I’m not sure.” I'm clearly single but I’m not sure I want to be taken at this moment. Shanna, a gal I met at the bar, suggested that there were signs on the name tags that gave you some hint of one’s sexual orientation. “I mean Dan Savage has a large gay following so you expect it but I’m pretty sure all the cute boys here are gay.” I think she was right.

The first half of the show as hilarious. Participants brought up their momento, told their story and Dan destroyed it. A guy had a hand painted wooden bowl he had received for Christmas after dating a woman for two years and getting her jewerly. Smash! Another guy was given a book about “How to get closer to your partner thru Jesus” and he was an agnostic Jew. Shred! One woman had dated a frat boy had brought his fraternity sweat shirt to be destroyed. Dan insisted that a gay man wear it all around, take pictures, and circulate them widely on the internet as the ultimate reverenge. Yeah! Dan shredded photo, smashed snow globes and burned momentos.

But for all of the fun, silly ones there were a couple that were heartbreaking. A woman’s partner had left and she had kept a post-it note that read "I love you Liz" on her dash, where her partner had left it, for three years. Another woman was dating a man for 4 years and he dumped her when she became deathly ill with encephalitis. And we cheered for those people just like we did for everyone else but there was a rawness and an edge to them. Some people just left, saying “This sucks. I can’t get into it.” Funny, real pain isn’t that amusing.

I snuck out with five minutes left to before the end. Escaping the mad rush, The Man in The Moon followed me home ending my Favorite Valentine’s in Seattle to date.

The Deep Freeze or Big Chill

I don't know if I've written much about this at all thought I've been hearing about it from Seattleites from the day I arrived. Michelle, we'll be sure to have you over for dinner because we don't want you to experience the North West Deep Freeze... You know the people in Seattle are the nicest but the most difficult to get to know. I have talked about it a bit in trying to find people to hang out with after work and getting people's emails or phone number and when you contact them, they simply don't reply.

So I apologize in advanced for this very long blog entry that is not even my own writing - sent to me by my true Seattleite friend Christine with the hopes that I'll have better tools to make friends in the city - the rest of this entry came from "The Best of" Craigslist. Enjoy.

The Magic Nine Factors That Cause the "Seattle Chill" -------------------------------------- Reply to:anon-128483320@craigslist.org
Date: Wed Jan 25 15:24:27 2006

CL R&R is divided into two camps: those that have seen the Seattle Chill in action and know it exists, and those who reflexively scream at the first camp to f*ck off or move out of town. The Seattle Chill IS an established sociological phenomenon that has been extensively documented, written about and attracted academic interest. A growing number of research professionals are interested in learning why Seattle is such an angry, unwelcoming, repressed, socially backward little city. As a personal experiencer and student of the Seattle Chill I believe I have isolated the nine key factors that generate it. Few are unique to Seattle. No single factor, or even two or three together, would affect the culture profoundly. But stir them all together and they have a Chilling effect. Seattle is the only city on earth where all nine key factors intersect in a perfect Big Bang -- a quintessence of dysfunction. It's like seeing the atom split, a borderline mystic phenomenon, with the results being neighbors who won't talk to you and strangers who tell you to f*ck off when you smile at them.

1. TECHNOLOGY. Wired/Internet culture is inherently isolating. People use the anonymity of e-culture to dodge the work of human relationships. Every office knows the downside of substituting email for face-to-face communication. Impose that culture on a highly wired metropolitan area and it's disastrous.

2. DARKNESS. Admittedly a seasonal factor, because the summers are glorious, but Seattle is characterized mainly by endless, gray, wet, dark winters. Nobody feels like connecting when the sun is gone for months. Seasonal affectedness disorder is a known mental condition, and the whole city suffers from it.

3. GEOGRAPHY. Surrounded by water on three sides, the city is difficult to get to. Commute times are longer. Errands take longer. Traffic jams and basic life maintenance tasks snuff out hours that could be used to establish and maintain human relationships. Consequently people do not feel they have the capacity or energy to maintain the ones they've got, let alone start new ones.

4. PARALYSIS. Too few roads and a lame transit system mean we all spend too much time in our cars, alone and stationary. This isolation becomes second nature.

5. TRANSPLANT PRESSURE. The townies resent the newbies for ruining Seattle's imagined Podunk innocence. The Chill tends to segregate Seattleites into groups of locals who went to Garfield High together... and knots of transplants who find each other and share their perplexity about the townies.

6. INSECURITY. Seattle is a sort of Potemkin world-class city, with a lot of gnawing, provincial fears and small-town, small-bore sensibilities behind the 21st-century facade. (In no other city have I heard so many natives proudly proclaim their disinterest in discovering other places, because "everything I could ever want is right here.") Any seventh grader will tell you insecurity impedes social interaction.

7. WEALTH ENVY. Too much new money from quick tech fortunes and unnatural real estate appreciation. It's divided the Seattle population into haves and have-nots that hate each other -- not on the basis of intelligence or faithful hard work, but on arbitrary, lotterylike terms: who lucked into the right employer or neighborhood and who didn't. The wealth lottery is a key destabilizer and anger-breeder. That's why your neighbor just stares at you instead of saying good morning. Maybe you bought your place outright on a whim while she's drowning in a 30-year mortgage. She hates you for it.

8. INSTANT GRATIFICATION CULTURE. Thanks in part to dot-com culture, in part to a general decline in societal structure, people expect to achieve all manner of material rewards -- BMWs, Thai diving holidays, granite countertops -- virtually overnight and become angry when denied. I've seen 27-year-old tech-world workers fly into rages or sink into funks because they couldn't have exactly the Mercer Island house they wanted. When people lose the concept of investing and earning to achieve things, they lose the ability to relate to people. (And it's not only young people; as someone smarter than me has observed, if you want to see raw anger, try telling any upper-middle-class American woman she can't have something.)

9. POLITICAL IMPOTENCE. The liberal/progressive paradigm is virtually overthrown in the US. The Democratic leadership is inept and incoherent. Some of the movement's last angry avatars are out here clinging to the country's leftmost, jagged edge. Having failed to change the country they are now reduced to snatching cigarettes out of people's fingers and, like the hard right, screaming insults at anyone who disagrees with them. These people have never exactly been relaxed anyway. Now that their eclipse is about total, Seattle's air is weighted with their general rage and disapproval. Thank you for your interest in the root causes of the Seattle Chill. Anyone who responds here by telling me to f*ck off or move away is personifying Factors 1,5 and 6.

Tragedy on a Friday, Beauty on Saturday, Samba on Sunday


Friday could have been a tragedy in the most superficial, trivial sense of the word. I was to meet a guy out that I had met online for just a drink or two. We had rescheduled from the week before. I reached our destined rendezvous at the appointed time. The only woman at the bar, I drank a beer very slowly when this very young guy sat next to me. You from round here? No – why? I’m just trying to figure out what to do around here. Oh, I can tell you some things. We started chatting – he’s telling me about living in Montana – Twin Falls. Are there really falls there? Well, they’re call damns these days. His parents from Wyoming. Mine from Colorado. We’re talking about tragedy in our families, bones disease, cancer, deafness. He has two brothers who are deaf. What are the chances of that?! That’s why we moved to Twin Falls – they have a deaf school. The very young and tragic death of his sister-in-law to cancer. Only 28. My brother and her – two peas in a pod. Middle child syndrome. We’re supposed to be peace keepers. To more personal stuff - Don’t you want to have kids – oh, I don’t know. I think I left my biological clock in a bar somewhere a few years back. Yeah, I'm only 24 - I don't even have a career yet. And on and on. He was in town to get a job and would spend the days, when he wasn’t on job interviews getting lost and trying to find his way back to his brother's place in Ballard. I was really doing all I could not to get lost. Your date here yet? Nope - and I've been here an hour. So we left, the two of us, new to town, went out and shot pool at the Garage Bar, drank a few beers, talked about all the places to explore in the city – he dropped me back off at my car. We thwarted an evening that could have been trivial and tragic but we managed to have a fantastic time – as new people in town.

Saturday was a simply beautiful day. 60 degrees. I clamored out of bed to make the most of the sunny day. Spilling coffee all over my hands, I head out into the day cursing. Discovery Park was my destination. I made my way there (without really getting lost), parking in the South Parking Lot, on to the Loop, down toward the sandy bluff where children picnicked with their parents, Labs and Beagles on leaches chases after one another. It was the most beautiful of beautiful. The Cascades had just enough snow on them to make them majestic. Rainier was tucked behind the city in all of her glory. Barges full of merchandise from China sliced through the Sound as if pulled by invisible string. Toy sail boats bobbed around on the steel blue water. It couldn’t, honestly, be more beautiful.

Saturday followed the order of things and flowed into Sunday. I had my usual morning walk with Shay and Pygmy at Green Lake. Pyg and I then headed back over to Discovery Park. Four hours in the sun. Delicious. We headed back to our respected abodes for lunch. I threw open the windows and clean my apartment before my friend Christine showed up at 3 p.m. We’re going to Neumo’s next Saturday for Carnival – Brazilian Marti Gras. She needed to make a costume and we did just that. Running from JoAnns to Displays and Costumes, we gathered feathers, sequins, a pizza and a bottle of red wine and for three hours while listening to Samba music, eventually switching to Cuban Rap we sewed, ate dinner and laughed. At one point, thread and feathers strewn all over the place, completely slap-happy (sewing for three hours straight will do that to you), Christine shouted with complete shock, I look like a drag queen! Her green and yellow head piece didn’t, suddenly, look right with everything else. After we wiped away our silly tears, she decided that indeed the head piece was gorgeous and, yeah, we were going to be stunning on Saturday.

I wasn't even in Renton! Indian Summer.

It turns out that I wasn't even in Renton. I didn't go to the Renton Western Shop. It's all a big lie. Or really, I just don't know my geography yet. I was telling a friend that I was stuck in traffic on Route 520 coming back from Renton. Renton? He questioned. Renton isn't off Rt 520. Oh, really, um well you know, north east. Um, maybe Redmond? - Yeah - Remond is off of 520. Ooops. So I was in Redmond, home of Microsoft, drooping off stuff from the prom. I was at the Redmond Western Wear looking at cowboys hates. Clearly. Need to look at my maps more.

There is a week in February that is much like Indian Summer in October in the Mid West. It's a week where the clouds decide not to come rolling in off the Pacific Ocean settling in between the Olympic and Cascade Mountains (instead they go skiing). The mornings are crisp, cold, bright and sunny - 55 degrees by noon. It makes you giddy happy to see your Friend, The Sun and her stunningly beautiful companions, The Mountains. You're smiling so hard that your shiny white teeth cause car accidents and you try to like the sun, aborb it, drink it in as you walk to your bus stoop. It's delicious. And it tastes even better after the third rainest January on record. It has been Indian Summer this week.

You wanna be a cowboy… you can be my cowgirl..

So I went to Renton today to drop off some stuff we had needed for the prom over the weekend. I had gone there on Friday and so I had a basic idea of where I was going. On my way out I noticed the traffic going INTO Seattle was backed-up and rather heavy. And though Seattle is in the top ten worst commuter cities, I was surprised – shouldn’t my side of the road be backed up?

I ran my errands and on my way out of Renton, I decided to stop at the Renton Western Shop to kill some time before I headed onto Route 520 mess. When I went by it the first time they had a “Help Wanted” sign (still there) in the window - all I thought was “maybe I should work at a western shop. Maybe I should work where cowboys come to buy hats and boots - a real live western shop – with real live cowboys.” And to justify it further, I’ll need to have two or three jobs to afford anything in this city besides an apartment.

The second go around I was thinking of my favorite 5-year old “nephew” (one of my best friend’s son) who I had chatted with on the phone on Saturday. “Yeah, Tauntie Shell (god love children) I really want a cowboy hat.” Oooh, I could do that. I know just the place! I had bought him dinosaur cookie cutters but he didn’t like them because I didn’t buy him the T-Rex (ooops.) … The second go around… I thought I’ll find a hat for a wonderful 5 year old. And maybe I’ll pick up some hats for my most beautiful little nieces who were celebrating their first birthday shortly (see 12/20 blog posting)… and maybe a job application. I could work on the weekends. I could become a cowgirl! My great aunt Jane was more than a cowgirl – my parents were from Denver – both my brother were country-loving cowboys. It would be an easy fit! Wasn’t a part of the move - to reinvent oneself? But then I realized an artjunky-people-lovin-orange-and-pink-wearin-- Gorillaz-The Killers-Khaled-Jobin-with-a-dash-of-Patsy-Cline-Loretta-Lynn-Johnny-Cash-music-enthusiastic-Cowgirl-probably wouldn’t sell too much merchandise though she’d be a fun gal with whom to start a conversation.

All I want is a ticker tape parade...

All we wanted, really, was to win the Super Bowl, to prove to the rest of the athletic world that we can "be mean - sometimes." We wanted to line 2nd Ave and throw blue and neon green, bio-degradable, rice paper ticker tape, as a bunch of progressive, caffeine driven, environmentalists and prove to the rest of the athletic world that we can "be mean - sometimes." But alas, a ticker tape parade was not ours to be had.

Seattle lost the Super Bowl - in case you missed it. I found myself down at the Tractor Tavern leaning against a post with 120 other Tractor regulars. (It was kind of like being at your sister-in-laws first family gathering - you knew that you would eventually get to know and like these people but they were just a bunch of strangers for now.) We cheered, we booed at bad calls (and there were plenty of them.) A guy, Steve, who use to be a part of "Special Forces" for the Army, got on the mic to psych up the crowd. "Pittsburgh doesn't even have city recycling. They just throw their garbage in a giant landfill or the ocean or where ever." That caused cheering for Seattle. "Their air quality isn't any good there. More kids have asthma in Pittsburgh than Seattle." More cheers for Seattle. I was laughing the entire time - all of these things that Seattle is proud of - all granola crunchy, environmental and stuff. It still didn't help us win the game.

By the forth quarter the bar had quieted down. Screwed out of many points by many bad calls, the end was feeling near. We didn't win. As Lisa, the wife of Tractor manager Tom noted, "we just wanted to prove we could be mean, you know, for one day."

So there is no ticker tape parade for the Seahawks - biodegradable or not. But the sky was clear, both mountain ranges could be seen clearly and Rainer was "out today" - as were the skater kids in the skater park.

I was prom queen! Almost.

Last night Pyg, Shellie and I went to the PPWW Pro-Choice prom hosted by the Young Professionals group which turned out to be a fantastic event. 220+ people showed up, all the food and wine was donated; 100% volunteer driven - just great energy all around. (I actually worked on helping to set up the raffle table and sell tickets.) The music was perfect- performed by this awesome 80's cover band, Mr. Miyagi. We were dancing, drinking, laughing - far better than your real prom. I wore my 1958 steel gray vintage dress that my friend Sarah gave me with matching vintage jewelry that Shellie gave me before I moved. (At one point, I was putting more food out on the table and Pyg started laughing. She said I looked like I came straight from the 50's: hair, dress, and playing hostess, but that the personality didn't match at all.)

Shellie and Pyg were getting ready to leave when I was pulled to the front of the gym - I had been nominated Prom Queen! I couldn't believe it (of course I could, I was wearing my killer dress!) The other two people nominated where also dressed stunningly - one in a very sexy 80's lounge singer dress and other in a Molly Ringwald deconstructionist Pretty-In-Pink dress. Then someone came up to me and said "why didn't Liz in the short blue dress get nominated." I said I didn't know I wasn't in charge. In the end it was rigged, Liz got to come up in the line with the rest of us and her three friends went bizzerk when her name was called off (audience chose). I left the front and sigh - that was rigged. No kidding said Pyg. Just like in high school.

Not Samba...

So I went belly dancing Wednesday night at the University Heights Community Center taught by Amira who I met at a party the previous weekend. She's does this full time (though she use to organize and work on political campaigns in her past - dancing is better if you ask me.) And as I've mentioned in previous postings, dancing has been such a big part of my life everytime I go anywhere. I had an absolutely wonderful time and signed up for the rest classes that night. Belly dancing is completely different from my loopy passion for Brazililan music and brightly colored costumes. However, it's a part of many other cultures I so love in the Middle East. Some of my favorite music is franco-arabic and when I was in Egypt we went belly dancing one night and it was hilarious fun. (The hilarious part was the regulars trying to get us to dance.) So maybe I'll take a different path this time and learn a little more Arabic, take some dancing classes and submerse myself in this other culture for a while - though of course Amira had a friend who is also a samba dancer and wants to get together sometime - I could always do a little of both.

9 am Combined Service; Watch Super Bowl Here on Big Screen; Jesus is Alive!

...is what the little church billboard at St. Luke's Episcopal Church on the corner of 22nd and 57th, across from the Ballard Library, reads. A couple of my colleagues who know I live in Ballardia (I believe that's a knock on the Sandehoovian influences) keep referring to it - have you seen the church billboard Michelle?! - the one that reads... yep. It's a good one.

9 am combined service. I don't know much about that but I do know when I was leaving a work meeting last night and catching a 9 p.m. bus, it was freezing. The wind was blowing up Pine Ave off the Sound where I switch busses at 1st Ave. I had to hang up my phone so I could keep my hands in my pockets. I commented later in the evening to Pyg - Good grief! It's freezing! I'm going to need to get out my Navy Pea Coat and wear it tomorrow. Pyg: And a rain jacket. Me: Yeah, wear a rain jacket over my pea coat. Pyg: And an umbrella. Me: and galoshes. Pyg: Steel-toed galoshes. Me: Yeah, steel-toed - wait - they make steel-toed galoshes? Pyg: Yep, I have three pair.... oooooh, I need a pair of steel-toed galoshes!

Watch the Super Bowl Here
There's quite a bit of that going around. Even those people who you would least expect are gathering for parties, rounding up friend with whom to watch the Super Bowl. I'll even go as far to say that a great many people here are embarrassed to be excited about it. Michelle, I mean, I know there is so much going on in the world and it's really just football..." Screw it! Seattle is in the Super Bowl! Yippee!

And I think I've decided that I'm going to spend the Super Bowl at the Tractor Tavern, just down the street from my house. It's mostly an Indie music venue, much liek the Beachland Ballroom in Cleveland, but it's in my neighborhood and how much fun would that be to watch the game with a bunch of people from Ballardia! I'm there!

Jesus is Alive!
Again, I don't know much about this one but I was at the gym last night (trying our a new on in the area) and if Jesus and I were playing PIG or HORSE or whatever make-the-same-shot-I-make-game you use to play, I might have been able to beat him. My shots were pretty on. Maybe.