Showing posts with label Seattle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Seattle. Show all posts

Thursday, October 01, 2009

Inspired (again)

I was having a conversation over dinner just tonight about how I had once read a speech by JK Rowling and found it one of the most inspiring speeches I had ever read. It inspired me to revisit this post which picks out some of the more inspiring parts of the speech, at least for me. And I once again was blown away at the power of her words. Many people who now follow the blog, did not follow it almost exactly one year ago (when we were in Seattle with my aunt), so I felt impelled to repost this wonderfullly inspiring speech. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have!

We have a lot of time on our hands lately so I find myself thinking about future posts more than I ever have in the past, partially out of boredom, but also because I have the time for creativity. I have the time and the energy to let my imagination and thoughts run wild. A hidden blessing in our time of frustration, one might say. Through my internet searching today, I came across a commencement speech by J.K. Rowling, the author of the Harry Potter series, given to the graduating class at Harvard. And by her speech I was inspired. So much so, that even after an inordinately long post that most of you probably haven't had the chance to read yet, I have decided to post another. (p.s. please read Kyle's entry before you read this one as it is really worth the read, and I not just saying that because I am the biased wife, it really is so well written and entertaining. It is not one to be missed!) I am not going to post the whole speech, but take excerpts that particularly spoke to me. However if you would like to read the entire speech, click here.

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.... So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.


So obviously Kyle and I have had hit road blocks in our life, but we haven't even brushed the edge of the decline that leads to rock bottom. In no way, am I comparing what we are going through to the rock bottom that she speaks of, but I think what she has to say about failure is so intriguing and true for some, but not all. I love the quote from the movie Catch Me If You Can, "Two little mice fell in a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned. The second mouse, wouldn't quit. He struggled so hard that eventually he churned that cream into butter and crawled out." For some, failure is just that, failure, and there is nothing more to say or do. Rock bottom is just another place to live or die. But for others, for the fighters, for the ones who want more and are willing to struggle failure can be the lottery ticket to success, an opportunity. I am always so inspired by stories of failures that lead to success because I want to be one of those people who takes risks and isn't afraid of failure. The line where Rowling says, "I was set free" made so much sense to me. If what you fear is failure, and you have failed, than there is no where else to go but towards success.

Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared. ...I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International's headquarters in London. here in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. ... Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government.
... I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.

Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.

This passage gave me a greater understanding of her books. While reading the Harry Potter series, I often got a sense that what she was warning against was not evil in the world, but instead, not standing up against what you know is wrong, even if you have to do it alone and at the risk of everything. Voldemort controlled with fear, paralyzing those who knew that he was wrong into doing nothing. Voldemort may have been a fictional villan, but what he stood for is unfortunatly far from fiction. Voldemort is much like the totalitarrian governments that strike fear in the hearts of many citizens of our world. Rowlings work with Amnesty International gave her a first hand look at what happens when we allow fear or totalitarrian governments to rule. Her books are beautiful stories, with imaginative creatures in a mysterious and enchanting world, but more than that, I think she wanted to send a message to all the children and adults in the world. Face your fear, don't let it control you, your dreams or what you know to be right.

And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.

What is more, those who choose not to empathise may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.

One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridorwas this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

With so much time on my hands, I have been doing a lot of soul searching. "Who am I? Who do I want to become? How can I improve myself and improve the world?" After working at Alamo Segway, although I enjoyed myself greatly while exploring the city via segway and meeting interesting people, I have decided that in order for my heart and conscious to be whole, I need to know that I am useful, that I am helpful. I want to live life to the fullist and for me that means that I need to do something extraoridary. That doesn't mean that I have to live in poverty in an orphanage in China. Extraoridariness, if thats a real word, can be found anywhere, even in our own backyard. I don't exactly know where that leads me, but it gives me a general direction to where I am headed. (An example of working in one's own back yard, Kyle and I had a job interview yesterday with the community center here in Redmond and may have part time jobs helping middle schoolers. More on that later when we know more.) I leave you with this quote that has become my recent mantra, "Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible. "
~ Cadet Maxim

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Haunted House

By the end of August BB's coworkers were already discussing their Halloween decoration plans for their office. "It's a big deal here." was what she kept hearing. Evidently, it wasn't just a big deal to her immediate office, but to the entire City Hall of Redmond building. They decorate for Halloween like it is the only holiday of the year. One man last year, built a grave with real dirt and a tombstone in his office. This being BB's first year in Redmond, she felt that she should live up to the standard set in the building. We scourged Redmond, Seattle and the surrounding towns looking up and down for Halloween decorations without much inspirations. Until one evening BB came home and suggested that with our extra time we build a Haunted house scene for her. Kyle being the brilliant visionary little boy in big boy clothing that he is jumped on the idea and immediately started to work sketching his plan.
He was thinking an elaborate Haunted House on top of a mountain situated next to a cemetery with an wrought-iron fence surrounding it and three trick-o-treaters standing outside looking frightened. We started with the grass. Kyle pictured lots of green but also blacked dead grass on his scene and the experts online suggested sawdust. So we made the trip to Home Depo and what do you know, they don't care about their their sawdust, any we found by the woodcutter machine was ours. We bought a large peice of ply wood 3ft by 15in was 51 cents, by far the cheapest thing we bought for the project besides the free saw dust. Once at home Kyle poured green paint into a platic container added water and sawdust and out came grass!
Next step was to make the play dough to make our skeletons, skulls, spiders, animals and general Halloween creatures. We looked through lots of play dough recipes but we ended up going with "Rubbery play dough" because we happened to have those ingredients on hand.

Rubbery Playdough

2 cups baking soda
1 1/2 cups water
1 cup cornstarch

After we boiled it and let it cool, we had white squishy play dough that smelled of baking soda. Kyle had read that microwaving the play dough would help the hardening process. My pumpkin however didn't appreciate the experiment and started to blow up like a peep when put in a microwave. If you look closely at the largest pumpkin you can still see his deformity poor guy. Air drying the slow way, we decided was the best option. Our Haunted house project was intended as a leisurely art project, something for us to do on the side as a fun activity, that is until we received the news that we needed to leave for Texas and our leisure activity turned into a Haunted House marathon race.The play dough after we had molded it and let it harden.
I am painting the cat and the caldron. You can't tell but I used lots of glitter against Kyle's manly wishes for a House of fright :)
Painting makes all the difference. Do you notice the bones in the cauldron?

This is the start of the mountain. After attempting to glue the styrofoam to the ply wood Kyle used the drill gun instead.

The mountain has been paper macheed. And Kyle is starting on the Haunted House.
The Haunted house with shingles and everything.
I am painting the shingles every shade of purple I can make.
BB is working on the graveyard.
The mountain has been painted and grassed. We are working on the cemetery and the iron fence made of toothpicks.
This is Haunted House scene before all of the ghosts and goblins. Do you see the stalagmites and stalactites? Kyle was very proud of his cave under the mountain.

I included this picture so you could see the detail of the grass on the mountain. The grass turns darker as it gets towards the mountain. The purple path leads the trick-o-treaters to the witches lair.


The finished product. Because we ran out of time we had to buy little trick-0-treaters instead of make them. But it still turned out great!
BB with her Haunted House scene displayed in her office.

The two headed-snake, cross-eyed frog and broomstick are all essentials in a Halloween scene.

The graveyard. Oooooo!

My ghost (the one I made) is the one covered in glitter and in the tree. Kyle's ghost is behind the gravestone.
I love our Haunted House!

Kyle's vulture is very creepy!

The "smoke" coming out of the cauldron is actually Buttercup's (the cat) hair. Gross but effective.


Do you see the flying bats?


BB insisted on a pink spider so to go with the theme, I gave her orange glitter pok-a-dots.

All in all it was an awesome project and we are very proud of our finished product. We love doing arts and crafts together and since this one turned out so well, we may have to continue this for other holidays in the future.

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Bureaucratic BS timeline and update

Timeline of Bureaucratic BS of Texas State. Proof that all government agencies move at the speed of a banana slug moving on sticky gooey molasses.
Some of the dates I will guesstimate since I don't have that good of a memory.
September 3- Find out devastating news, crumble into comatose balls. We hear about the saving grace of Texas State's correspondence course and we are revivied.
September 4- Try and register, UT sends transcripts to Texas State (TS) via email. Hurray, they accept email!! No one seems to accept email transcripts these days!
September 5- TS says they can't open email. UT must send it by snail mail. BOOO!!
Sept. 8- TS says that they have received transcript finally and will start enrollment. Yay!!
Sept 11- Kyle is finally enrolled. Packet of books to start course being sent and should arrive in one week at the latest. We can't wait to get started.
Sept 20- Books still haven't arrived. We call my mom back in San Antonio to have her check her mail. She has the package even though we were very specific that should be sent to Washington where we are. People don't listen! Why listen, listening is overated.
Sept 23- We receive the overnighted "books" only to find out the books were only a packet of papers and evevelopes for ordering said books. Kyle and Vanessa go into slight coma. Something is seriously wrong since Vanessa isn't speaking.
Sept 30- Books arrive, minus the creative writing book. We are extatic besides the fact that the marathon of learning must begin right now, at this very moment. No fun time until it is finished. Not even a little. Ok, we are going to watch The Office Thursday but nothing else. However this correspondence course system seems to have not changed since WWII since everything is sent by snail mail using postage stamps. Who uses postage stamps? Even correspondence with the prof is by mail. (we did finally find an email) Tests have to be mailed to set location and a proctor has to administer the test at a University. Oh my gosh, how many things can go wrong and slow with this scenario! With Kyle, everything!
All in all it took 27 days to receive books for this course! That is right, twenty-seven days. We are in the Twenty-first century right? How does this happen? And have they not heard of internet?

On another note we had another day with our new job with the city of Redmon. Upon arrival we learned that their beloved principal had died the past weekend of a random brain aneurysm while working out. I never met the man, but I was told that he was a really amazing man who was loved by the teachers and students, which according to my aunt Nancy the kindergarten teacher, is a rare thing in the world of teaching. Life goes on however, and so did the after school program. We were in charge of study hall, which no one showed up for. We were planning on using the room for manicures at 2, giving the study hall kids at least an hour of quite time but since studying was obviously outdated for these kids or else the people in charge of the study hall were just incredibly uncool, manicuring took priority. Originally we started out with four junior high girls, however soon we were joined by three lively boys who willingly had their nails painted pink, purple and blue. They left when their nails had dried and went to show off their girly nails to the other boys playing sports in the gym. Soon, we had five more boys asking for their nails to be painted. One boy asked me to paint purple poka-dots on his pink nails. He claimed his girlfriend had picked the colors. Too be honest, I was really impressed with these boys. When I think back to my days in middle school, my true reaction is to cringe violently with disgust. Middle school kids are the worst when it comes to verbal torture, and any out of "the current norm" behavior is scorned and mercilessly decided social suidice. And yet these boys didn't seem to fear this wicked treatment of their peers. And not only did they not fear their peer treatment, they felt secure enough in their masculinity to paint their nails HOT PINK! To join in with the other boys, Kyle painted his thumb nails purple and black. It was wonderful, hilarious and so much fun!

I will post the winner to the Your Turn post tommorow so if you have something to say, you better comment quickly!

Monday, September 29, 2008

Secret Garden

Saturday we spent the day doing yard work at BB's yoga community. Washington has many forests, and at one time Washtington state was one big forests. So, it suffices to say that trees grow readily in this fertile state. However not all trees are always wanted, and since Kyle is a big strong man, it was his job to use his brute strength, kind of like Hercules to pull up the trees and roots with his bare hands. I bet you didn't know I married Hercules! Well, ok , so he had the help of a tree weeder, and the trees were wee little saplings, only a bit shorter than me, but with relatively large and strong roots. Kyle used the weeder, we yanked the tree out of the ground, sometimes I yanked by myself, depending on it's size or if we were on a slope, shook it's roots of the excess dirt and tossed it in the pile. We pulled up an entire forest. Ok, another exaggeration, but at least 30 trees. We were like Super Haus and Haus lady side-kick. However Sunday, Kyle felt the pain of being Hercules acutely in his back. We spent the whole of Sunday bumming around. The weather Sunday was nicer than it had been in a while, and BB insisted that we take a walk outside. I wore my new pink chacos on our walk. Why do they not make the heal strap adjustable, does anyone else have qualms with this? And while we are on outdoor gear, why are hiking pants made in unisex fashion, hideous for both sexes. You know the pants that are supposed to be rip resistant and can be made into shorts by simply unzipping. The waist is too high, balloons around the waist, and then when the pants are unzipped to become shorts, they are too long on girls, and awkwardly high on guys. Who designs these pants? Off track... and we are back. So where were we? Oh yes, our walk. We walked around the apartment complex and randomly stumbled across a hidden path in the apartment complex. Feeling adventurous after being cooped up all day, we journeyed into the unknown, only to find ourselves in a forest. It was surreal. One moment we were in a highly developed apartment complex, the next moment we were surrounded my ferns, tall trees and only the sounds of nature. Had that darn mosquito minded his own business and allowed us to explore without coming to suck the blood from my face, we might have explored more. It was mystical and magical, as if we had been magically transported from the city of Microsoft (yes Redmond is where Microsoft was founded) to our own secret forest. I kind of felt like the girl in the book, "The Secret Garden." I love these types of moments, when something small, yet unexpected occurs, it makes the moment oh that much more real. Like you didn't make it happen, it just did, all on it's own. It kind of reminds me of the time when I was young, maybe 7 years old, and I tried to make a rain potion. I took an old perfume bottle and filled it with squirts of lotions, soap and perfume. I went outside in the middle of the street in front of my driveway, did my own little rain dance (hey, I was an only child, I had to find ways of entertaining myself), opened my rain potion and threw the contents out in a circle around me. I was a logical kid, I didn't actually expect my potion to cause rain, but that day, almost directly after my crazy display in the street, the rain fell from the sky. The moment was spellbinding, one that I will always cherish. It was as if God was appeasing a bored little girl who wanted nothing more than to play in the rain. It was simply marvelous.

Friday, September 26, 2008

What a story




Thursday evening we went to see a local Seattle author, tell his story. A couple of weeks ago, BB came home with book entitled “The absolutely true diary of a part-time Indian.” (Indian as in a Native American, not a person from India. I will continue to use the word Indian throughout because that is what the author called himself and his tribesman. I have recently had trouble figuring out what the proper way of calling the people who first inhabited this land is. I had been trying to force Indian out of my vocabulary and only say Native American until I read two books by Native Americans in which they only referred to themselves as Indians. Is it one of those examples of the people in a particular group being allowed to use the term when outsiders may not? I don’t know the answer.) The Redmond Library was hosting an event for a local author by the name of Sherman Alexie. The plan was we would all read his book and see him speak. The book was hilarious. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. The only complaint I have of the book is that it was too quick a read. I wanted more. Sometimes I hate to see a book end, because that means in a way I have lost my companion. I don’t have it too look forward to any longer.
He spoke directly to his audience in the book about his life with honesty and humor. The book is mostly autobiographical, with a few fictionalized sections. His character’s name is Arnold in the white world, but Junior on the reservation. And poor Arnold did not have it easy. Besides that he was abjectly poor with a drunk as a father and his tribe was dying of alcoholism, he had his own physical issues. His head, or globe as many of his peers nicknamed it, was abnormally large, especially as a child because of the disease known to many as water on the brain, medically known as hydrocephalus. This disease brought about seizures, which caused minor brain damage and some physical impairments. Also for some unknown reason, he had 10 more teeth than the average person. The normal person has 32 teeth; he had 42 teeth. And he loved books, any book he could get his hands on. His grandmother spoke English well, but didn’t read it well, but wanted to support his voracious reading habit. She would buy him any book with an Indian on the cover, which often times ended up being a romance novel. So he had a gianormous head, a skinny stick figure body, too many teeth, and was a book worm who wanted and needed more than the reservation could offer him. He decided if he is going to succeed in this world, he had to get off the reservation, and his only option in the end was to go to the whitest and most racist school in the area. I won’t give you the entire book report so I will stop there. But my favorite part of the book is that he included cartoons to tell his story, which I felt help describe his thoughts and feelings even further than the mere words. It made me wish I had a talent in drawing, but alas, I don’t. (click on the photos, you can read the writing)
It is interesting that the things we found so painful in our youth, so hilarious later in life. I have a great respect for people who can look back at those awkward and distressing years and reflect honestly and with humor. I only hope that one day I will be able to do the same.
The speech was free and in a nice size auditorium which was filled to the brim with the young and the old. An entire bus of elderly people from a retirement home came to hear him. We didn’t realize that until later, but as we walked into the auditorium, Kyle commented that something smelled of mothballs. I didn’t notice the mothball smell but I find that smell nostalgic. I am reminded of my great grandma and the many days we spent playing games at her house until she was not able to live on her own after the age of 97. But I digress.
He was just as funny to listen to as to read. One statement he said, I found thought provoking. Although he was half-joking, he said that he was jealous of females and how their affectionate behavior is acceptable. After the age of 9, it is not ok for boys to hold hands without being gay, but girls can do it their entire lives. He wanted to be able to show his affection with his male friends outside of the acceptable handshake. And it is true, but I never thought of guys as being left out before now. That is one thing that I truly love about being a girl is that I can be affectionate with my friends. I love that girls can hold hands, hug freely and rest their heads on each other’s shoulders. I miss that now that I am married and older. We don’t necessarily need that affection as much when we have husbands or partners, and that element is lost sometimes. I continuously go on tangents during this post, don’t I? Maybe it is because I didn’t have a clear understanding of what I really wanted to say in this post. I only knew that something about this man touched me, and I wanted to share a piece of it with you. So, although I can’t seem to keep my train of thought on a clear cut path, I hope you can take something from this. And if you have the time, do read the book. It is a wonderful read.
p.s. You still have time to write a caption for the previous post. I will decide on the winner sometime next week.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

In the working world

We had our first day of work with the Community Center of Redmond today, but evidently today’s work was volunteer work. In a school cafeteria smaller than my elementary schools cafeteria we held a promote extra-curricular activities fair. They were expecting 300 students but only about 30 students showed up. There were several activity booths including, lacrosse, (something I know absolutely nothing about since it is not considered a sport in Texas), a huge twister game, modern dance, video game programming, and the librarian who had all of her teen projects recently canceled was there passing out sparkly pencils. 30 pizzas were ordered, and although junior high kids can put pizza away like nobody’s business, we still had quite a few pizzas left over. For turning in a survey, the kids received an otter pop (those colorful frozen icee things that come in a plastic tube) . Some of the kids came back up to 10 times for more otter pops, I was afraid they were going to turn into Tiggers and start jumping through the roof. Either that or develop diabetes just from today’s sugar ingestion. I am still not clear on what our jobs will be, but I am not sure they know what they want us to do for them either, we are just going with the flow here. Everyone seemed nice, so that’s promising. More updates will follow as they unfold.
Also, we joined a gym here in Redmond which is exciting because they have lots of different classes such as kickboxing, pilates, yoga and more. We have tried the ab lab class with the drill sergent ab lady. It was more like a cardio ab work out. Thirty minutes straight of ab exercises without even a second imbetween to catch your breath. I started out with my hair in a ponytail, by the end, my hair band was holding less than half of my hair. The rest was sticking straight out as if I had been electricuted. Tonight we are going to try a new class called Zumba, it is supposed to be a mixture of Latin American dances with a cardio twist. I am super pumped. I just hope I don't make a fool out of myself!

Monday, September 15, 2008

The Puyallup Fair

BB wants to be a goat "baaa"
Kyle and the giant cow







When we first arrived in Seattle, mid August, the temperatures were in the 90's. Cool, in comparison to to Texas, but hot considering the lack of AC units in a state that only has 2 months of sunny skies. After our brief spurt of "heat," the sun lost it's nerve and went into hiding for several weeks, shortening their already pitiful 2 months of summer to 6 weeks. We felt lucky if the temperature reached 70 degrees on any particular day. But on our arrival, from Oregon, back into Seattle, the sun re-emerged, spreading it's rays and enveloping Seattle once more, except that the temperatures soared to a whopping 75 degrees this time, warm in the sun, cool in the shade. But never-the-less, we were thrilled. The weekend was forecasted to be beautiful, sunny and perfect for outdoors activities. Puyallup State Fair, a combination between a rodeo and a carnival, advertised for being epically fun, was our choice of activities. We jumped in the car and drove the hour plus through traffic to Puyallup. The first thing I noticed when arriving was the difference in the clientele between Bumbershoot, the music festival and Puyallup fair. The most noticeable difference being the average weight of the fair goer. While Bumbershoot patronage was mostly a younger crowd, but not limited to that, the Puyallup crowd was mostly families, and agricultural folks. The food at the fairs was a good indicator of the type of people in attendance. While we snacked on salmon and lamb at Bumbershoot, Onion burgers and fries were the peoples' choice at the Puyallup State Fair. The crowd at this event was unbelievable especially considering the expansive fair ground. We entered an enclosed building to stroll lazily down the aisles, looking at the different booths and vendors, however each aisle that we attempted to walk down was lined with people and strollers from one booth to the next leaving absolutely no space for breathing and or moving. I am used to crowds, and am not bothered by them for the most part, I sometimes even find them invigorating, but this was the most crowded besides NIOSA (night in old San Antonio) I have ever seen. We couldn't even find a space to fit our bodies to walk down the aisles. And the ladies bathroom was totally havoc, I was afraid I might not ever be able fight my way out again.
So instead of that enclosure, we went to visit the farm animals. We saw, cows, and I mean the most massive cows I have ever seen, goats and dwarf goats, Shetland ponies, giant rabbits, dwarf rabbits, and a creepy looking rabbit out of a horror movie.
Our favorite event, by far, at the fair was the mutton bustin. It is similar to bull riding in that the person is trying to stay on for as long as possible, but instead of a bull, it is a sheep, and instead of a cowboy, it is a child 6 years or younger and under 60 lbs. The M.C. would announce the child's name, age and place of residence. Armed with a helmet and a padded vest, the children who didn't back out at the last moment were placed on the sheep near the rear. The goal was to stay on longer than six seconds, but most didn't last a second before they flew into the special sand dirt engineered to be extra soft, but provided no help in the case of trampling. Some of the children understandably lost their nerve at the last moment but those who rode never fell gracefully. It was a great show which even went into overtime when two children tied. The little boy requested that he use the bathroom before he perform in the ride off, however when he returned, he no longer wished to participate. Mutton bustin was a really cute spectacle, a crowd favorite. I'm glad we got to see it! All in all, a fun day at the fair!
Hanging on for dear life
Creepy horror flick rabbit

(video of a little girl mutton bustin)



Thursday, September 04, 2008

Bumbershoot


Seattle has an arts festival very similar to Austin City Limits (ACL) called Bumbershoot that we attended this past Monday with Aunt BB. In my humble opinion Bumbershoot is better than ACL. The major difference between the two is that while ACL has an amazing line up of musicians with many stages and styles of music to choose from, Bumbershoot doesn’t stop with the music but extends it’s doors to almost all forms of performing art. There are about 5 stages of music, but the fun doesn’t stop there, 4 other stages are devoted to other types of performing arts such as comedy, film, monologues, and dancing for this weekend long event. Another major difference was the venue. The day Kyle and I attended ACL was the hottest weekend of the summer, and the sun bore down on us with no reprieve. Water fountains had hour long lines since no water stations were provided. Trees were the only shelter because the venue was in Zilker Park, entirely outside and heat stroke was a serious danger. Bumbershoot had many indoor stages along with the outdoor stages. If the 67 degree heat was too much for any of the Seattleites unaccustomed to the sun, shelter could be found. We began our day, satisfying our growling stomachs with a plate of cilantro salmon on rice, (not your typical carnival food.) We explored the park grounds, admiring Keniche’s architectural designs found on the grounds, the first being a metal dome shooting out streams of water called the International Fountain. Vendors lined the sidewalks with everything from “caveman jewelry for the modern men and women,” to very fashionable pasties. We abstained from buying the fascinating goodies, however much we wanted them, (we are on a budget you know.) We were grateful for the grassy knoll to rest our rumps while listening to a new form of music branded “country noir,” called Mark Pickerel & His Praying Hands. Our next activity was the comedy show featuring the author of “He’s just not that into you.” BB had requested that we see a specific feature at the movie stage, but by the time we arrived, the show was full. We wandered around some, catching the last song of Mariee Sioux, a Indie folk singer who sang a song about blood and flowers (I can't pander a guess as to what that was about.) The next movie showing was called True Stories and we chose it just for filling a time gap. As we sat in the theater, BB asked the name of the show again. We knew nothing of what we were about to see. Three documentaries that can only be described as bizarre, or as bizarro as my mom likes to say, followed. The first film was a French documentary about women and breast cancer. Pictures of naked women floating through the water was the main visual for the entire thirty minutes. The next documentary was all of five minutes and included a grumpy old German man and his giant rabbits. The third and final documentary was the only film in English, named Certain Green, but was no less weird than the ones before it. An old woman continuously talked about a certain green that she saw once but could never find again. In all honesty I have not idea what it was about, and I am not sure the writer and director did either. The highlight of our evening was listening to “Old 97's” a band I recently heard interviewed on NPR. We downloaded some of their music and we were delighted to discover that they were playing at this festival. We sat on the grass, but the music was contagious and made it impossible not to dance, even if only bobbing with one’s head. The day was a fabulous success! Too bad we don’t live in Seattle and can’t make Bumbershoot a yearly event.

(Sorry there are no pictures to go with this post, bumbershoot did not allow cameras with recording devices on the fair grounds, although once inside we saw several people with cameras, but we played it safe.)
p.s. You can check out the bands by clicking on the links and some of them have sample songs as well.

The International Fountain by: Keniche's firm http://www.nakanoassociates.com/

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Mushroom Hunting


The underside of a mushroom
Lots of the wrong kinds of mushrooms



We were sharing one pair of gloves
My Aunt BB has a good Japanese American friend named Keniche. His family, who almost all live in or around Seattle, have a tradition of mushroom hunting on the base of Mt. Rainier. These mushrooms only grow wild, cannot be cultivated and are considered a delicacy by many Asian cultures, especially the Vietnamese and Japanese. The French prefer a different mushroom that can also be found growing wild on the base of Mt. Rainer. Keniche invited us to come along on their adventure, well we actually invited ourselves, but who is really counting.
The day of mushroom hunting, starts with three little chickens running around the apartment with their heads cut off, as Buttercup anxiously looks on at the crazy humans. The mushroom hunting family tradition goes like this: meet at 85 year old mother's house, drive to secret mushroom location in inconspicuous, camouflage vehicles, making sure guests are blindfolded, search the woods for delicious mushroom while trying not to fall on butt on steep and slippery mountainside, after mushrooms are gathered a picnic ensues, potluck style, and if the crop of mushrooms is plentiful, cook a magnificent Japanese meal with said mushrooms. But we must return to the beginning of the story, headless chickens. Our contribution is dessert and salad to the potluck. However we are not overly prepared in the morning and we have a few setbacks, mainly dressing appropriately. Although the weather report forecasts a cold, yet dry day, they are only correct in the prediction of cold because it is far from dry, quite the opposite, one might even say wet. We wake up to a dreary, cold and rainy day, and realize we are not prepared for this type of weather. Our cold weather clothes are locked away in the forbidden vacuum sealed bags, that are only to be opened on our arrival or by a serious force of nature out of our control (according to my husband who had the pleasure of closing the bags in the first place.) We scrimmage through BB's clothing, for me not for Kyle. We throw many layers of clothing on, chop up veggies, run around in circles, search for our heads, and head out the door, late, for Keniche's mom's house. The family going today consists of the mom, the three (grown up) brothers, including Keniche, two daughters from one of the brothers, two cousins of the brothers, a great uncle and tiko the chow/lab mix dog who in my humble opinion, had the best time out of anyone on the trip. We head out to the secret location, and although we are not actually blindfolded, it is important that we keep this location a secret. The Vietnamese and others forage all of the other good mushroom spots and sell the mushrooms for a very lucrative profit to the tune of $40/Ib. They ask that we do not divulge this secret to anyone. I assure them, I have no idea where I am, and my direction sense dictates that what is in front of me is North, and what is behind is South, therefore, even if I was being held hostage and tortured for the location of these wonderful mushrooms, I would not be able to disclose their precious secret. We are handed walking sticks made from old pool table sticks and given a general description of what the mushroom looks like and where it might be found. Under the canopy of the forest, the rain is lessened, however the cold is increased. It seeps through my pants, and underpants and slithers around my legs.. The floor is squishy beneath my feet, the dead pine needles and leaves piled one on top of another until the entire floor is slippery, bouncy, uneven moonbounce. I wonder at the process beneath my feet, death and decay giving way to new life. Forests are amazing organisms living, dying, creating, destroying, but it is all part of a cycle. Death and destruction are not feared and loathed because from that death and destruction comes new life and restored health. Wildfires which occur naturally in nature are good for the growth of forests, not good for the people or homes that we have built in or around the forest, but part of the natural cyclical life of the forest. I crane my neck to look at the trees surrounding me, and realize that these ginormous, moss covered trees are older than me, older than my grandmother, they are centuries old. The dark and damp forest holds secrets deep in the roots of the trees. Did Tolkein have it right when he wrote that about the Ents, speaking and moving trees that are as old as anything, and wise from centuries of living. Were these century old trees wise? Did they hold close secrets unknown to anyone else on Earth? As I hunt for the mushrooms, I feel like the ginseng hunter from the book I just finished. I often transport myself into the characters in my book, but this scenario works out perfectly. This Chinese man has spent his entire life hunting ginseng in the mountains. As a boy, his father tells him, "Listen to the woods, it will give you the answers if you just listen." The sparrows song leads them to their beloved plant. He spends his life in solitude, finding joy only in hunting ginseng. I am no hunter, be it animal, ginseng or mushroom, but the woods force me to look within like no other place. My senses leap around like a jumping jellybean. Childlike joy, curiosity, inspiration, and fear are all emotions that swirl, and entangle themselves in my ribcage and around my kidnies. I pretend to look for mushrooms for a while longer, but having no luck, partially because I am not trying very hard, but also because there are no mushrooms to be found. I move my gaze from the floor of the forest to the location where the mountain top used to be visible. A cloud of whiteness has not only intimidated any bit of blue and grey into hiding, but has now taken over the top of the mountain. The whiteness moves quickly encompassing anything that stands in it's path. It is moving closer creeping towards us, slipping and sliding over moss covered stumps, decomposing logs, and the tallest trees. It is like the blob from the 1950's horror film, gathering speed and size as it eats it's prey. I wonder what it will feel like to be eaten by the white blob, but as quickly as it came, it descends back into the forest. The whiteness and it's mist/rain has spared us for the time being.
After an hour of searching and no mushrooms, not even rotting or eaten mushrooms, the search is over. This year is one of empty boxes. One of Keniche's brothers explains that sometimes they fill boxes full, while other years they go home empty handed. Maybe next year will be better. We spread our food out on picnic tables under an awning in a national park, to protect ourselves from the rain, but it does nothing to keep out the cold. The tip of my nose matches Rudolf, but I am enjoying myself and I love a good potluck. The spread is a very interesting compilation; rice, hot tea, teriyaki weenies, boiled eggs, sliced pork, green beans, spam sushi rolls, yes spam, pasta salad, not to mention our cucmber, tomato, avocado salad, and blondies. Most of the family ate with chop sticks, but I could hardly hold a fork with my ice-cold fingers, let alone chop-sticks. I even sometimes resorted to just my fingers. Keniche's family was friendly, hospitable and a very enjoyable bunch. We had a wonderful day exploring with them. We came home with empty pockets but full tummies and a bowl of good solid fun.



The Whiteness


click to see more pics.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Buttercup: A Cat's Memoir




Buttercup/ Pumpkin/ Pumpkinator: A Cat’s Memoir
Mow, mow… purrr. Oh, hello there, I wasn’t expecting company so soon. Come in, come in. Take a seat on the couch, take the blanket nearest you and lay it across your lap so that I may grace your lap with my presence. That’s right, just like that. The blanket is optional, but for your protection. As I am petted, and you are now to be the designated petter, I tend to knead, a habit I greatly enjoy but humans do not. It just goes to show, the lack of sophistication in the human species, kneading is a refined art, that only the most cultivated cat masters.
But I have yet to introduce myself, where are my manners? I am Princess Buttercup III. I am descended from a long line of royalty, as most cats believe about their family, which in my case is actually the truth. Of course I have no legal papers to prove my royal standing, but I know it to be true, as I feel the regality coursing through my veins. I assume the papers were lost when I was moved to the shelter from where BB rescued me. I take after my mother, a beautiful calico Queen, covered in enough soft, fluffy fur to make eight XL sweaters. I, like my mother, leave my fur all over the house in case my owner might want to take advantage of this fact and knit a sweater. I know, I know, I am so magnanimous, I just can’t help myself. My mother, however, was not able to give her most beautiful daughter the attention that she deserved because I am unfortunately the sibling to 8 other twins. Because there were so many, and my siblings didn’t understand my need for space in the womb, my tail has been twisted, and shortened in an unusual way. I prefer if my tail is not touched, but I view my tail as singularly stunning quality and believe it should be modeled as the next fashion movement, similar to the Chinese women crushing their feet to be small and delicate, so should cats follow in my example. Another one of my alluring qualities is that I have two eyes of different colors. Technically, an untreated infection as a kitten caused blindness in one of my eyes, but I see it as an uncommon and therefore royal trait.

My owner however, BB, an easily trainable and devoted human is unaware of my status as Princess and possibly one day queen and has therefore dropped the Princess from my name. I demonstrate my royal qualities daily, snubbing food, demanding attention, and sleeping where and when I please, which is often and frequently under the TV stand, it reminds me of a throne. I do not meow, but make a very delicate, high-pitched “mo” sounds, barely audible to the human ear. I need not risk damaging my vocal cords, and the humans should be listening for my call at all times. In fact, not only has BB dropped Princess from my title, which is insulting enough, she has given me many nicknames, pumpkin, pumpkinator, pumpkaroo, sweetums to name a few. She is a simple creature, as are all from the human race, therefore, I have not smote her for her error of grand proportions. Life in our new, tiny palace, sometimes referred to as an apartment by humans, is simple, yet pleasing. At least it was until those two other fowl creatures named Vanessa and Kyle invaded my territory. The day it happened, I was taking my daily nap, when loud voices, proceeded by strange smells entered the entranceway. Three huge suitcases, capable of carrying 20 cats apiece were drug up the stairs into our palace. I believed them to be new visitors who would soon be leaving, but as the days wore on, and the smelly humans did not leave, I became suspicious. For the first few days, I used my very effective method of ridding things I dislike, avoidance. I remained tucked away, in the office, far away from these lowly creatures, listening and spying until BB returned. Their activities were and are very limited. The thing with a screen and symbols, which is referred to as a computer, I believe, is always in front of them. The prettier one, posts blogs, while the uglier, taller creature plays a game called Runescape. I occasionally see him drawing. They leave the house for an activity they call “working out,” and cooking and eating seem to be the next common activity. After my avoidance method proved ineffectual on these over grown gnomes, I tested their intentions by sleeping in the same room they inhabited during the day, of course with one eye open. When they made no move to attack or kidnap me, I am worth quite a pretty penny you know, I decided to try their laps. It took some time before they learned my rules; no touching my tail, paws, underside or neck, when I stick out my paw, you are not petting enough, and petting is not allowed unless given explicit permission, aka: being in your lap. These creatures are acceptable for a temporary basis, and I have given my stamp of approval to BB, but only for a temporary basis.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Roadtrip Highlights: Chicago

















Chicago (We originally planned to visit our good friend Howard Chen in Chicago, but he decided to take an internship in San Fransisco for the summer! How selfish of him not to stay in Chicago just so we could visit him ;) So instead, we just thought of Howard as we wandered lost through the streets of the third most populace city in the US.)


Click here to see pics
  • Our first experience with couchsurfing.com was here in Chicago. A very positive experience, and I would recommend it to others.
  • To get a clearer idea about what this is here is couchsurfing.com's mission statement: Participate in Creating a Better World, One Couch at a Time

    CouchSurfing seeks to internationally network people and places, create educational exchanges, raise collective consciousness, spread tolerance and facilitate cultural understanding.

    As a community we strive to do our individual and collective parts to make the world a better place, and we believe that the surfing of couches is a means to accomplish this goal.

    CouchSurfing is not about the furniture, not just about finding free accommodations around the world; it's about making connections worldwide. We make the world a better place by opening our homes, our hearts, and our lives. We open our minds and welcome the knowledge that cultural exchange makes available. We create deep and meaningful connections that cross oceans, continents and cultures. CouchSurfing wants to change not only the way we travel, but how we relate to the world!

  • So basically we stayed with strangers that we found online and slept on their literal couch.

  • After driving about 3 hours to Chicago, we arrived at the home we were to stay at. She had left us a note leading us on a scavenger hunt to the key, however the ink that she had used had a strange and immediate reaction to the sun, and was nearly completely faded. We were able to pick out key words such as "the back" "stairs" and "silver ___" We found the key under a silver trashcan in the backyard and settled ourselves in.

  • Before we could adventure in Chicago, Kyle's online course took priority and he (we) took the online psych test. So much fun!

  • We then drove to Chinatown, several blocks away, parked our car, ate at a Vietnamise restaurant and took the train into downtown Chicago. Unsure of our game plan we wondered around until we saw a very important word on a poster, "free." It was the cultural center, featuring several different artists, including one who had photographed an abandoned wing of Ellis Island. The pictures were breathtaking, just remarkable.

  • We then found the tourist center, and motivated by a cheap, blue bag that said Chicago as a prize, went on a walking scavenger hunt of the "music district" of Chicago. The sights it took us to, however, were not very interesting, the walk was. Chicago is an amazing city, one that I might consider living in, if I weren't so adverse to the combination of extreme cold and lots of wind.

  • We then took a boat/lake tour of Chicago where we learned several interesting facts about the city. -The Chicago river originally flowed into the Lake Michigan, but when the river continuously caught on fire due to it's use as the cities trashcan, the city decided to reverse the course of the river to empty into the Mississippi River. - "The Windy City" nickname refers not only to the ferosious winds that sweep the city but also to the overly winded politicians biding for the 1893 World's Fair who incessantly raved about the glories of their city.

  • That evening we sat around with our roomates for the next couple of evenings, chatted about life, ate homemade guacamole and tortilla chips and stayed up late into the evening.

  • The following morning, we did not rise with the sun, nor did we rise until the sun was in need for it's mid morning snooze. However, we did rise before lunch time, therefore we were successful! We spent the day exploring Millennium Park, where the large mirrored object in the shape of a bean can be found, Navy Pier ( a trap more dangerous for tourists than a Venus fly trap is for flies), Chicago pizza, deep-dish style, way overpriced but ohhh so yummy, the Magnificant Mile, a mile of upscale shopping, aka: not for Vanessa and Kyle, and an evening of magical theater; Wicked! What an amazing show, it is up there with Phantom of the Opera.

  • I know, I know, you must be wondering if we left Chicago without getting a famous Chicago style hot dog. Not to worry, the following morning, on our way to Moline, we took a small detour of 45 min. to eat at Hot Dougs. It was worth the calories :)