Tag Archives: Pike Place Market

Sicko in Seattle

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Seattle held out for 48 hours. For two days, nothing but sunny skies and fall-like temps. Football weather, some would say. We rambled through the city, hitting some favorite spots and a few new ones. Lovely!

Seattle has heart.

Everyone got annoyed with me, of course, because of my obsessive need to take photos, and how I kept forcing my friends to pose this way and that. They were mostly accommodating, but drew the line at leaning against the Gum Wall, Seattle’s latest landmark, which kind of reminds me of the Lennon Wall in Prague, but not really. Sigh. Who cares if it’s among the top 5 germiest tourist attractions, anyway?

As always, Tom was as sweet as can be, patiently following us along while carrying our shopping bags, so we could shop, shop, shop, and not be weighed down with all those, ahem, purchases. And shop, we did, as Pam was wont to remind me, that it is our noblesse oblige to support the vendors of Seattle and help stimulate the economy.

But then, after two days, everything changed. And by everything I mean it rained and got cold.

Miserably cold.

Wet cold.

And then I got sick.

Miserably sick, and insufferably sick.

Greta-Garbo-as-Camille sick.

If you ask me, no one should be around me when I succumb to a cold. That’s when I sink into the depths of despair, feeling every tickle in my throat, every ache in my body and pang in my head, while the mucus steadily builds up in my nasal passages, bursting forth in a cacophony of sneezes. Woe is me!

Starry, starry Seattle.

Luckily, I had two Florence Nightingales tending to my every whim, err, need: Pam and her daughter, Twin 1. They darted to and fro between the kitchen and my death bed, aka, a very comfy chair in the living room and, as quick as the tiny fairies in Walt Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, they brought me mugs of hot apple cider, toast and jam, cough drops, cold medicine, mentholated balm to rub on my nose, tissues, and a heated rice bag to wrap around my neck. Add to that oodles of blankets, a footrest so to keep my legs up, and wooly socks to keep my tootsies toasty, I must say, there are worse ways to suffer a malady.

As you can imagine, I didn’t get to do all on my Seattle dream list, which would’ve proven difficult as I’d forgotten just how chilly and wet Seattle can be. But, true to form it was cheeky fun spending time with the ol’ gang—Pam and Twin 1 and Twin 2, who brought along her roommate; Pat, who kept us organized; and Tom, who I learned is a world-renowned collector of seashells, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and Pee-wee Herman.

I also got to catch up with–for the first time in 25 years–Pam’s sister and her hubby who drove all the way from eastern Washington, across the Cascades Mountains, over the river and through the woods, just to see me! (Okay, not really. They actually came for a Husky football game, but I’m almost positive that seeing me was a highlight of their weekend. 🙂 )

And on my last full day in town, achy and clogged-headed as I was, I had lunch with Clare, who’s busy working on all sorts of writing projects!

The Highlights:

  • Alder wood king salmon at Ivar’s
  • Visiting my old place of work
  • Browsing the kiosks of Pike Place Market and adding to my collection of art and jewelry
  • Eating out a lot, once at an old fashioned hamburger stand where you drive up, park and a waiter comes out to take your order. Only thing missing were waiters on roller skates

    Signs of autumn.

  • Buying lots of chocolates at the Dilettante Cafe and then eating some, despite having purchased them as gifts
  • Discovering Miranda, a British television comedy series that is gads of fun and laughs
  • Exploring the University District
  • Seeing a movie, Perks of Being a Wallflower, which was delightful and very poignant

Biggest change since I was last in Seattle? It is now law that you must bring your own shopping bag wherever you shop, something I kept forgetting, of course. In San Diego, bringing your own bag is still mostly optional, and bags are available for free.

Seattle, being so environmentally savvy is way ahead of the curve, and if you forget to bring your bag, you can get arrested!

Well, not exactly, but you do have to pay extra for a bag that you once got for free and everyone gives you dirty looks when you do. Also, everywhere we went, in addition to the trash and recycling containers, there were containers for composting. Composting! Even in the movie theater, though frankly, I can’t see stopping to sort out all your trash while leaving the darkened theater in a mad rush for the exit.

Hey Neighbor! And by the way, have you checked out my new blog yet?  It’s called, Hey Neighbor! I write about the ordinary people that make San Diego such an extraordinary place to live.

Well, dearies, I’m still not up to snuff. So, please enjoy these photos while I go and get comfy in bed, nursing myself back to health. How about you? What did you do while I was away?

Seattle is all about umbrellas.

These decorative pieces can last up to five years, but if you want to eat them, do it only during the first two.

Love is in the air–in Seattle, too!

Can you believe it? That’s gum–already chewed! Seattle’s Gum Wall is located in Post Alley under Pike Place Market. Hey kids, don’t even think of trying this at home!

We helped find this homeless bear a home.

A gathering of pots on a rare, sunny afternoon.

A house of blues.

Tom and his artful collection.

And One More:

Pee-wee at sunset.

Seattle, Here I Come (and other random stuff)

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Guess what? I am going to the Emerald City, which is what some call Seattle because it’s so darn lush and green, thanks to all the rain they get. I’m practically apoplectic with delight, because I’m going to see my friends, and you know that when I was last there, last spring, we had buckets of fun.

The view from the plane as it approaches Seattle.

I’ll be staying with Pam, who I’ve known for decades. Hundreds and hundreds of years, if you ask me. Pam has a big heart and a biting wit that is way sharper than mine, and makes me laugh like crazy.

I’ll also be seeing our pal, Pat, who is very sweet and kind, and somehow tolerates our off-kilter humor, which is just one of the many reasons why we adore her. Oh, and because, when someone makes her mad by doing something really annoying (present company excluded, of course), the best she can say, in her most polite voice, is, “I’m finding it hard to remain civil.”

With any luck, I’ll also see Clare, my amazing author friend who has written and published a plethora of books for children. Not to mention, Tom, aka Dernab Swarren. That’s what I call him, and he calls me Della. That’s Della Wolf, to you. Long story.

Pike Place Market is must-visit for anyone traveling to Seattle.

I am also going to get to spend time with Pam’s twin daughters, who are the same age as my daughter, and so much fun to be with, too.  And, last but not least, those canine cuties, Digby and Maisie. No doubt, they’ll be underfoot, looking for a cuddle and a lap to rest on.

Well, there’s at least one person I’m not going to be able to meet up with while in Seattle.  I was hoping to at last meet my young blogger pal, Cappy, whose got lots of moxie and joie de vivre. But turns out, she lives nowhere near Seattle. What was I thinking??

So, here’s my dream list of stuff I want to do during my visit, in no specific order:

  • Spend time with my friends
  • Pick up chocolates at the Dilettante
  • Peruse the stalls at Pike Place Market
  • Go antiquing
  • Catch up with my friends
  • Go out drinking and listen to music
  • Nosh like crazy!   Which includes breakfast at Julia’s Restaurant where they serve French toast with orange butter, lunch at Kidd Valley for awesome char-grilled burgers and pineapple shakes, and, what else? Dinner at Ivar’s Salmon House, for some mouth-watering, alder-wood smoked salmon.
  • Take walks with my favorite little Yorkies, Digby and Maisie
  • See a new movie

Ivar’s Salmon House restaurant serves up delicious alder-wood cooked salmon.

OMG, I can’t wait! I’m packing my bags and filling them with warm clothes, because if I know anything about the Northwest, it’s going to be cold, cold, COLD!

OTHER STUFF:

DON’T FORGET TO VOTE TUESDAY!!!

Hey Neighbor! I have a new blog, folks! This one’s for my work and it’s called, Hey Neighbor! It’s all about the ordinary people that make San Diego such an extraordinary place to live. If you have a chance, I hope you’ll check it out.

AND DON’T FORGET TO VOTE TUESDAY!!!

This photo, and all the others here, were taken during my last trip to Seattle.

Sick of the election coverage? Me, too. Well, it’s almost over, but not soon enough for this four year old who gave into her tears after her mom was listening to yet another election report on NPR. Check out this story, in which NPR apologizes, Dear Little Girl: Sorry We Made You Cry About ‘Bronco Bamma’ and Mitt Romney. If you ask me, I think she’s channeling what many of us are feeling.

REMEMBER TO VOTE TUESDAY!!!

Fifty/Fifty Challenge:  Full confession. I didn’t finish reading anything in October. And, I didn’t even see one flick! Sigh. Oh, well, I am working on Winter of the World: Book Two of the Century Trilogy, a book that is 960 pages long, though I’m listening to the audio version, because I’m no fool.  All I can tell you is that Ken Follett is a brilliant writer and John Lee is the perfect audio reader, capturing every accent, and every dialect in this saga of five families across continents, on the eve of World War II. I am absolutely riveted!

REMEMBER TO VOTE TUESDAY!!!

Take the hint and vote! I already did. And, be sure to check out the latest posts from our Race 2012 bloggers.

Ta-tah for now! I’m going, but I’ll be back soon!

An Artful Life

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Can you imagine a life without art? Not me.

For, as long as I can remember, art has been a major part of my life, beginning with the Crayola crayons that were on my school supply list each year. The anticipation of a new box, the hope that maybe this would be the year that my mother would spring and get me the biggest size—the set of 64–was enough to make me do a happy dance.

John Singer Sargent’s “The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit.” Click on the picture to see a larger version.

Oh, yes! I’ll never forget the scent and waxy feel of the colors—Magenta, Blue Bell, Burnt Sienna, Carnation Pink, and Violet Red. For me, it was the best thing about the end of summer. The joy that art brings, and the anticipation of creating new art projects—was mine for the taking. Ah, happiness. Ah, hope. Which springs eternal, after all.

School helped form the foundation for my love of art. In grade school, we took field trips to the city, visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, and the Guggenheim.  I was always drawn to the Impressionists, though I also came to love Victorian Classicism while seeing a special exhibit at the National Gallery in Washington, D.C.

Art could be found in my home. My father collected paintings. Some were originals of lesser-known artists; others were replicas. I loved them all except one, a portrait by a well-known artist that hung opposite the door to my bedroom. It was of a solemn woman with deep, soulful eyes. She terrified me to no end.

With time, my father acquired so many paintings, that we ran out of places to hang them, so they were stacked on the wall, all the way to the ceiling, just inches apart, much like you’d see in an art gallery.

I acquired this serene painting years ago from a local artist, Maichuy.

When I went to college in the Boston area, I took classes in art history and fell in love with the work of John Singer Sargent. You can’t truly appreciate his art until you’ve seen it for yourself at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. There, you’ll see one of my favorites, “The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit.” Sargent used a canvas so enormous (87 x 87 inches or 222 x 222 cm), that it’s practically life size, making you feel as if you’ve just walked into the room and encountered Mr. Boit’s sweet, enchanting daughters, innocently at play.

Here’s a portrait I painted while in college, post-toilet.

I love to draw, though I’m far from good at it. While in college, I enrolled in classes in oil and acrylic painting. You could tell that my professor was frustrated with me. I was awful at painting the models that posed for us each week, and the professor would push me to find my inner passion, as well as the right perspective, so that I could make my paintings come alive. I kept trying and trying, to no avail. Until one day, I was painting in my little apartment. So small was it, I propped my easel in the scant kitchen and the only thing I could paint was the miniscule bathroom that was just off the kitchen.

And something clicked. I poured my all into painting a still-life of the bathroom, at least that which was visible from the kitchen, the sink and part of the toilet. And when I took it to class, anxiously awaiting my professor’s reaction, to my astonishment, he was pleased.

“You’ve got it!” he exclaimed.

I was dumbfounded. A sink and a toilet had contributed to my art in a way that nothing else had! It was perplexing, but, who was I to question progress? Which just goes to show you:  you never know what you’re going to find in a toilet (and a sink)! As a result of my effort, I finished the class with flying colors. It doesn’t get any better than that!

Through the years, I’ve continued to dabble in painting. These days, my home is my palette. I paint, I stencil, I take photographs—another of my father’s fascinations—and I seem to be following in his footsteps when it comes to acquiring art.

For, I cannot resist! I don’t care who the artist is, if I fall in love with their work, I’ll find a way to add it to my collection.  It seems whenever I go to an street festival, community fair or to the annual Harvest Festival held each fall around here, I gravitate to the art. My friend, Gale, who often goes with me, gets exasperated by how much time I can spend looking at paintings and other works of art.

Recently added to my collection is this original painting by Sally Simmons.

Most recently, while in Seattle, I visited Pike Place Market, which is known as the place to shop for produce, fish and the like. But, it has become so much more, over the years, selling all kinds of local art. While there, I met a woman, Sally Simmons, who uses watercolor and her imagination, to create brightly-colored, whimsical paintings. A couple were of owls, which are a favorite of mine. (Just look at the banner atop my blog!)

I lingered awhile over her exquisite art, that seemed to sparkle with rich colors dancing before my eyes, and I agonized over whether to buy an original piece, or a less expensive, smaller copy. The colors on the copy weren’t as vibrant, so in the end I bought the original and Sally could tell it was going to a good home, seeing how I “oohed” and “ahhed” over her paintings, and wished I could have taken them all home with me.

Which is why, I cannot fathom a day without art. Can you? What does art mean to you?

Heading Back to the Emerald City–

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View from the Pike Place Market, which is always on my must-do list when visiting Seattle.

–Or, I have a feeling I’m not in So-Cal anymore!

Recently, I decided to throw caution to the wind, and throw the shoestring budget I’ve been on out the door, so that I could head back to the place I called home for nearly a decade: Seattle.

The Emerald City. The Pacific Northwest and all that.  Tony Bennett may have left his heart in San Francisco, but for me, mine will always be firmly entrenched in the city nestled on a gazillion bodies of water, between the Cascade and Olympic mountains. Lush and green, and a far cry from my current dessert-like home, where the weather may be gorgeous all year round, but limited rainfall makes it a largely brown and arid region.

For those who have read my Road Taken saga, you’ll know that I moved to Seattle to be with my ex, who wasn’t an ex back then, but rather, a boyfriend, and then a husband. The “ex” part came long after we left Seattle. Which does make me wonder, what if we’d never left Seattle at all?  Hmm….

Seattle is green in so many ways. What struck me is how many people grow their own vegetables and the like, right along the sidewalk. So resourceful!

Anyway, I still have friends there. Good friends, who I don’t see often but when I do, it’s just like old times. Friends like Pam, who was the subject of three entire Road Taken installments.  There’s also Pat, my highly-organized, pays attention to every detail, kindred spirit. She loves to write and watch soaps—we were both hooked on Dallas and Knots Landing for years—and Tom, my quiet friend who prefers to call me by my alter name, “Della Wolfe,” and who drives me to drink with his flair for making tantalizingly addictive, Galliano Sours.

And, then there’s Clare.

Clare is a published author, whose latest book, Soccer Dreams, was inspired by a project we once worked on together. She also is a performer and songwriter (when in Seattle, you have to catch The Righteous Mothers in concert, and you’ll see Clare singing and on the piano). She’s been helping me tremendously, with my half-baked attempts to write my memoir. She’s like my coach and she’s very critical. When others keep telling me they like my stuff, Clare sees right through my charade and shenanigans, and tells me, I could do better. She pushes and pushes until I’m up against the wall and ready to cry, “Uncle!”

Mother’s Day proved to be a beautiful day for a three-mile walk around Greenlake.

But, in the end I have found, Clare knows best, and she’s really a lifesaver, helping me put together something that is cogent and actually tells a story.

It was Clare that suggested I come up to Seattle and take a Life Story seminar, with her mentor, Brenda Peterson, author of a memoir titled, I Want to be Left Behind, about life with her Southern Baptist family as they eagerly prepared for the Rapture.  I’d never taken a class on memoir writing before and I learned all sorts of interesting tidbits in this one, which I’ll be sure to share in a future post. In the meantime, please enjoy these photos, taken during my visit to the Seattle of my heart.

This photo of one of Pam’s daughters exemplifies how green Seattle is, and also at peace I feel when there. It is like a green cathedral.

This dog doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. He’s going places but has no idea where. I wanted to get his owner in the picture as well, but they were going too fast!

This is one of Clare’s favorite spots for contemplating and zoning out: The Japanese Garden at the Washington Park Arboretum. Too beautiful for words!

If I moved back to Seattle, I’d want to live in this spectacular building. A work of art, if you ask me!

Pam’s Yorkshire Terriers. Aren’t they adorable? I wanted to scoop them up and bring them home.

View from Fremont neighborhood. Look closely and you can see Mt. Rainier in the background. Breathtaking!

The Road Taken: Swimming Upstream

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Chapter 10:  It sucks to be me. That’s what I kept telling myself when the happy wanderers arrived at our doorstep. Joanie and Spock. Only Joanie wasn’t so happy.

She was practically in a tailspin from having driven seven hours straight without stopping.

Salmon, swimming upstream.

“Damn that Spock,” blurted Joanie, as she dumped her suitcases and shopping bags in the middle of our living room floor.  “The toilet wasn’t working on the RV and I told him I needed to pee, but he kept saying we’re almost there. Almost? That was 5 hours ago!”

She hugged me tightly. It’d been a long time, and I stiffened slightly. She must have felt it, because she put her hands on my shoulders and looked me squarely in the eye.

“You’re not still mad about the trip, are you? I told you I’d pay you back.”

She was referring to the $250 I’d given her to put toward the purchase of the RV so we could go on our cross-country trip. Only she canceled the trip at the last minute.

“Hey, what kind of place is this, anyway? What happened to the sunlight?”

Joanie had just noticed how dark it was inside our home, even in the middle of the day.  I switched on a light, and pointed Joanie in the direction of the bathroom. Meanwhile, G and Spock were brought in the rest of their belongings.

“So what are your plans, Joanie?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible, as soon as she came out of the bathroom.  “Now that you’re here, I mean.”

She looked at me askance. “Well, we’re taking the RV up to Vancouver, BC, for some sightseeing. Why do you ask?”

Spock walked in, carrying yet another box. He shot a wary glance at Joanie who ignored him, then said,

“Don’t worry, Monica, we’re not staying here. Just leaving our stuff. G said it’d be ok. When we get back from British Columbia, we’ll find a place and be out of your hair.”

I liked Spock. He was a mild-mannered, easy going sort of guy. He was also completely devoted to Joanie. You could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at her.

“With any luck we’ll even find a place close to you, so thanks for letting us keep our stuff here,” Spock added with a wink.

I looked at G who simply shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind, so I said it’d be ok.”

“Of course, it’s ok,” Joanie interjected. “Monica doesn’t mind.” Then, looking at me directly, she added, “And don’t worry about the RV money.  I’ll pay you back as soon as I’m able. Promise.”

Joanie came from money.  Her parents owned land in the Rockies, including a few buildings in downtown Denver, so she never lacked for it. Which was why she and Spock didn’t have to worry about working. Joanie had a trust fund and that gave them plenty of leeway to follow their dreams and whims. Like moving to Seattle.

While G and Spock gathered their gear into the room that was supposed to be our study and guestroom, I pulled out a Carly Simon album, “No Secrets” and placed it on the turntable.  Joanie dug through one of her suitcases and grabbed a sandwich-sized bag of pot. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she rolled a joint, with the precision of a Cuban cigar maker. Ah, memories of college started flooding back! I realized then that some of us were still stuck back at school.

I could not roll a joint to save my life, but Joanie was a professional. Back and forth she rolled until she had a very tight joint. Licking the edge, she lit it, took a hit and passed it to me.  I shook my head.

She looked surprised. “Come on. Let’s have some fun!”

“Joanie, I have to work tomorrow.”

“Oh, whatever.” She shrugged and took another hit.

I could hear G and Spock in the other room, heaving and stacking boxes.  “Let’s put this one on top,” G was saying.

Joanie leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. I calculated how soon before she’d be having the munchies. No doubt, once the boys finished organizing, they’d be getting high too. In anticipation, I pulled out a box of sesame crackers from the cabinet, along with some Swiss cheese and leftover salmon filets from the fridge. G and I had gone, the day before, to Pike Place Market and stocked up on our favorites, salmon being one of them.

I had never tried salmon until I moved to Seattle and now it had become our mainstay. Salmon–grilled, baked, fried or smoked. Alder wood smoked salmon was by far the best. Seattle seemed to be the salmon capitol of the world. You could even watch them swim upstream at the Ballard Locks, not too far from where we lived. Fascinating creatures, these salmon are, determined to go against the grain, pushing upstream, against all odds, just so they could lay their eggs.

As I carefully placed the crackers on a plate, and sliced the cheese, Joanie said abruptly, “You know, if I didn’t have Spock, I might be married to G right now.”

I dropped the cheese slicer and looked at her quizzically. She looked so comfortable and at ease in my small kitchen, that seemed to be shrinking with every second passing. I could hear Carly Simon singing, “You’re so Vain,” and I wondered for the umpteenth time, exactly who she was singing about.

Joanie continued. “Yep, freshman year, G definitely had the hots for me.”  She said, “Hots” slowly, mouthing the word in an exaggerated way, then adding coyly, “We made out once and, well, you know.”

I felt my cheeks burn. I didn’t know what she meant or why she was telling me this.  But before I could say anything, G and Spock sauntered in. Spock turned to Joanie and asked,

“Babe, you talking to me yet? Cause we’ve finished unloading the RV and I’m ready to get high.”

Joanie gave a little Cheshire-cat smile and nodded. She handed him the joint. Slowly, he inhaled, then passed it on to G.  I watched G take a hit, hold it for a few moments, then gradually, he blew it in my face. I didn’t say a word. G then bent over and gently kissed my forehead.  And when he did, I’m pretty sure he didn’t notice, that inside, I was swimming like a salmon. Upstream, and against a rush of cold water.

Missed a chapter? You can read past installments, by visiting the page, titled, The Road Taken.