First news: We got a condo. We closed almost a month ago. Like when I ran for School Board, I stopped blogging a) because I was busy looking for a condo, b) I didn't want potential sellers to read my inner thoughts and c) once we got the condo, we needed find furniture and that was a huge endeavor. Now that the place is livable (minus kitchen supplies like pots, pans and food), I have a few moments to write.
The week before we found the apartment we bought, I thought we'd never find a place in a location we liked, in a building we liked, that fit our space needs and had a nice layout and was affordable. I thought our search would be like two circles in a Venn diagram that have no data points in common, never touching.
Just as I was beginning to despair, the Seattle Condo Gods smiled upon us and we found a really, really cool town home.
Tonight, Jack and the Boy went to see Warren Miller's latest pre-ski season, testosterone fueled epic.
"Do you want to go?" Jack asked.
"No," I said.
"I feel bad going out with Peter and leaving you alone," Jack said.
He should never feel bad about male bonding with his son. Ever.
I went down to the condo, dropped off the dog, and then headed out to find a place to eat. Should I have cassoulet at Cafe Campagne or go some place new? I walked around and remembered a place my friend Diane and I used to visit for lunch when I was a stay-at-home mom. So I went to Le Pichet for dinner, a posh French bistro around the corner from the condo. I sat at the bar and ate dinner with Michelle Obama. I got the last copy of her new book at Third Place Books today. The bookseller had read up to chapter five and was crying about how good it was. We joked about how Oprah was endorsing it, as if Michelle Obama needed promotion.
In the opening of her new book, she talked about a night after Obama was out of the White House and she had an evening alone without her family. Barack was out of town, and her daughters were out. This was the first time she was truly alone. She went to the kitchen to make toast, and there weren't any White House kitchen staff there helping her watch the bread turn brown. She loves her family and her old life, of course, but still she had a night alone. And it was awesome.
As I was eating my steak, I overheard a man tell his wife how he needed her to support him working more. She listened quietly, and drank more wine. I looked out the window, watching city life go by. I left the restaurant, walked down the block and around the corner, and I was home. Fox was waiting for me at the door. I don't think he left the door since I left for dinner. I took him for a walk along the waterfront.
It was awesome.
Le Pichet, 1933 First Avenue, Seattle WA
This blog is about the little and big thoughts that pop into my head. I once read that when Flannery O'Connor walked into a bookstore, she would want to edit her published works with a red pen. In the digital world, we have the luxury of tweaking things up after we've hit the publish button. I can be a perfectionist/procrastinator, where waiting for the ideal means little gets done. Here I will share what is not--and likely will never be--perfect.
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