Friday, April 29, 2011

Good News

Several crotchety people in my periphery have complained this week about all the royal wedding hoopla. You want to know what I think?

When the world holds its breath, it's always for bad news. Earthquakes, terrorism, assassinations, scandals. Today the world held its breath for hope and joy and BEAUTY. Alexander McQueen-style beauty. Ancient tradition-style beauty. It's not everyday we can all stand up and cheer. (Except for Grace Van Mumsen.)

Long live the queen!

Thursday, April 21, 2011


Tonight reminded me that the traditions of my faith are not always as inspirational as I expect them to be. Por ejemplo, UPC's Maundy Thursday service was tonight, and even though I don't know what Maundy means (capitalized?), we showed up with our small group hoping for some reflection, some beautiful music, some shared sense of the importance of Good Friday and then Easter! I love Easter! I was excited to THINK and REFLECT and PREPARE.

But we were late to the service by almost 30 minutes. So we arrived midway through a sermon about Hosea (Um, where's the story about Jesus, people?), and we sat in the back row and smelled strongly of waffle fries, since that's what had made us late. Waffle fries from The Ram, and the waitress who served them so slowly. Anyway, the point is that we didn't get a chance to put ourselves in the right frame of mind. I didn't, at least. Strike one.

Strike two occurred when I recognized a fellow pew-sitter in the parking garage after the service, and I stopped her to compliment her hair. She was STUNNED. And not in a flattered way, because her hair was so awesome that she obviously knew it was gorg. She just said, "I don't think I know you!" I'm sorry ma'am, we just sang a hymn together. Can't you just say thank you? Sisters in Christ, much? It was exactly what I don't like about a big church. Or maybe I just didn't like this lady.

Strike three? While waiting 15+ minutes to exit the parking garage, from whence all church-goers came, a shiny black Mercedes refused to "do the zipper" as we tried to merge down the ramp. Again, we just sang a hymn together.

And so on the way home from Maundy Thursday, I didn't reflect on Christ's death and resurrection, I pondered 1) why The Ram is *never* good, 2) how to get hair like that lady, and 3) why I have such ridiculous expectations when it comes to church. I am accustomed to flawless musicianship, strong preaching, policemen directly traffic. I appreciate a community that values excellence--but have I become a spoiled churchgoer? Yes! Yikes!

I think I need a visit to Mexico and a rousing round of Alabare to get my attitude in check.


Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Before Bed

This is one of those things that is super fun to watch right before you fall asleep. I wonder what you'll dream about?

Friday, April 15, 2011

Marketing Genius?

These ads were personally selected for me thanks to Facebook's fancy "I will read your mind and generate links that make you want to BUY or PARTICIPATE" software.

Except they aren't working for me.

True Life: I am working retail

A few months ago it was clear this whole homeownership gig was going to be a LOT MORE MONEY than we planned. And we planned for a lot of stuff, but who can imagine a house with brand new windows would *literally* be 61 degrees all winter? No matter how much one pumps the heat, frigid we remain. I finally feel justified when I go to REI for high quality ski gear.

Thus, I got another job. Have I already told you this? (Side note: I'm going to put it all out there today and tell you that this new, sent-from-heaven medicine called Pristiq also affects my memory. I am upbeat, energetic, not depressed, which is the point (!!), but boy do I forget my thought in the middle of the sentence. Time will tell if this side effect is tolerable. But for now: spacey!)

What was I saying? Just kidding, I looked at my last paragraph for a refresher. I got another job. I'm making coffee at a new little shop in South Lake Union called Kakao. (Please don't stalk me if you're a weirdo.)

I LOVE IT. But first I hated it. First of all, I haven't really been a coffee drinker since I am so naturally energetic. Duh! So I didn't feel confident in terms of what the drinks should taste like, or what people meant when they said no foam. Foam? Like a mattress? What was I saying? This was also compounded by some very, very low expectations set for me by my friend Rory.

"I promise you that all you need to know about making lattes can be learned in one afternoon."

Maybe the fact that Rory is my age, has a master's in creative writing, likes to do calculus for FUN (Still? Who does that?), and has a column for McSweeney's should have tipped me off that my learning curve might be steeper. But it didn't. Because I am not depressed but spacey. Unlike Rory, who has his career in the bag and kicks ass.

After several miserable training sessions, from which I left covered in scalded milk and espresso stained fingernails, I nearly quit. I even planned a little speech about why the bus schedule had changed (it did), but somehow I persevered. Just kidding, we were just desperate for the money!

But it got better. Little by little, I got the hang of steaming milk. And I have learned all about the bouquet of espresso, and thanks to the early mornings, my body is happy for the caffeine. One day someone ordered a breve and I had to stick my head under the counter and pretend to look for lids, but actually I was googling breve. But nobody caught me, and that lady left happy.

Best of all, I have made lovely friends. The fellow baristas are my new favorite people--they are all in grad school and inspire me to get gutsy with my vocation--and the customers. I think baristas in Seattle serve more as bartending therapists more than I knew. What to say to all the Amazon employees that think nothing of coming TWICE a day for a $4.00 latte and a heart to heart?

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Friday, April 8, 2011

I am not pregnant. But I love this.

What does having a baby feel like?

"It's like when you're a little kid, and it's the way you feel on Christmas morning as you race down the stairs, and you can't even wait for the day. And you cry a lot because you're so tired and excited at the same time."

Image from
Paraphrased from