Feeling Better & Seattle

After feeling kind of blue about the Boy for the past few days, I am starting to feel better. Maybe that time in the Lego room has helped. Maybe because my trip to Montana is coming up in less than a week. Maybe my grief is starting to abate.

Maybe I am feeling better because fall has started in a good way. Of course, I miss the start of school for the Boy and being part of the school community, but arts season is upon us, thank god. I think the art gods and fairies decided to start right after the equinox when the daylight in Seattle shrinks to nothing. Last weekend, I saw Whim W'him Seattle Comtemporary Dance Company with a friend. Contemporary dance can be kind of weird (there was one dance where the performers had made bizarre facial expressions the whole time), but it can be refreshing after seeing Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty over and over. While I love the Tchaikovsky ballets, they are very formal. This weekend will bring the Seattle Children's Theatre opening night and Carmina Burana at the Pacific Northwest Ballet.

Which makes me think about Seattle. I met guy on my recent trip to Chicago who said his favorite city in the U.S. is Seattle. I can agree with that, but I wondered when he saw Seattle. It is easy to fall in love with Seattle in August. If he had said he loved Seattle in December, then I would have been seriously impressed, but then maybe not if our moderate winter beat the arctic chill of midwest in the winter. Instead, he saw Seattle in April, May and September, which is just about right. The weather in Seattle can be kind of fussy then, but can also be lovely. More than other cities, I think the ever changing weather can play a big role in how Seattle feels. Any season in Chicago can have bright, blue sunny days, even super cold days in January. Seattle isn't so fortunate. In addition to rainy winters, the daylight hours shorten from sixteen hours at the summer solstice to less than eight at the winter solstice.

Today was a typical Seattle fall day. The morning starts of cold and dreary, and then by the afternoon the clouds have burned off and it is sunny and warm.

I guess my mood this week has reflected the daily weather patterns. It started out kind of blah, but then slowly got better. I guess my mood is getting better, too. Last night, I was on the Wilderness Therapy mediation phone call for parents. Even though the Boy finished a month ago, I love to list to Hector's soothing voice one a week. (Hector is the Yoda of parent/child relationships in Wilderness therapy.)

The first half of the call is listening to Hector. The second half parents get to ask a question to the group. I realized how much better I am feeling when I was able to offer support and advice to a newbie parent on the call who was overwhelmed with grief that her daughter was sleeping under a tarp in Colorado instead of attending her Homecoming Dance.

I think right now my mood about the Boy would be like noon at Pike Place Market--gray and kind of gloomy, but the forecast shows brighter skies coming up soon.

Morning

Morning. I had to sneak that geranium in the left corner so this picture wasn't too bleak.

Pike Place Market at lunch. Still kind of gray.

Elliott Bay in the evening

Along Elliott Bay

Mt. Rainier is hiding behind clouds.

April -- The Month of Contrasts

I've been offline for a few days.  We went skiing in Whistler for the first part of Spring Break.  Here are two scenes from my yard yesterday:

And today it rained almost all day.  We took the kids to the Pacific Science Center to see the new Spy exhibit.  (Very cool.)   Jack made a nice steak dinner with mushrooms, asparagus, mashed potatoes and spinach salad.  As we were finishing dinner, I looked up and saw this out the window.  I screamed when I saw the big flash of color.  We all rushed outside to get a look.  "This is payback for all of the rain this spring," Jack said.  My daughter grabbed her phone and mine and was taking pictures with two phones at the same time.

While we were looking at the rainbows, Fox made it to the dining room table and grabbed the last bit of my steak.  I am not sure how our little Houdini did it.  The chairs were pushed in, but obviously not enough.  He didn't touch the mushrooms or asparagus or potatoes.  Just the steak.  The Boy witnessed Fox's crime.  I offered him (Fox, not the Boy) the last sip of my wine to wash it down, but he refused.

Cabin Fever v. Wanderlust

cabin fevernoun informalirritability, listlessness, and similar symptoms resulting from longconfinement or isolation indoors during the winter.

In the past year, I have been having bouts of cabin fever, and not just in the winter.  I feel the urge to get out of Seattle and visit someplace else.  Anyplace else.  I am not sure why.  I used to be one of those people who was happy to stay in town and was an expert in the "stay-cation."  One year a few years ago for Spring Break, I took the kids to the top of the Space Needle for lunch, topped off with the ice cream sundae with the sparkler for dessert.  The kids loved it and so did I.  It was expensive, but it cost far less than going out of town for a week.  Like a good vacation, I remember it years later.

My staycations don't need to be as extravagant as lunch at the Space Needle.  We've spent many summer and winter days at the zoo, or taking a bus to the Pacific Science Center, the Children's Museum, the Seattle Aquarium, or Pike Street Market.  We would go to parks and beaches and other outdoor places.  My daughter and I once went to see a movie (Nannie McPhee) in Ballard.  It was sold out, so we spent the afternoon visiting the library and adorable gift shops.  We went to Cupcake Royale and watched skate boarders at the Ballard skate park dive into the bowl.  It was wonderful. 

The kids outgrew the Children's Museum, but the rest still hold their attention for a while.  And there are plenty of places in town we have yet to explore.  There is the Seattle Underground Tour we've been meaning to take, as well as explore bakeries in West Seattle. 

What caused the sudden need to get out of town, to visit some place different?  I am not talking about taking the annual summer vacation, or the winter trip to visit relatives.  This is cabin fever strikes hard.  Is my house too small?  Are my kids too loud?  Is the sky too gray and the ground too wet?  All of the above? 

wanderlust |ˈwändərˌləst|nouna strong desire to travel : a man consumed by wanderlust.

The best guess is that my kids are getting bigger and thereby more portable.  Maybe it is my old wanderlust showing up in a different form.  Maybe I've had wanderlust all along, and the kids were too little so I had to suppress it.  Or the thought of planning a trip and getting ready to go was too exhausting so I gave up before I started.  Now they are old enough for them to pack their own bags and enjoy things beyond the routine.

When I lived in Chicago in my twenties, I didn't think I had cabin fever or wanderlust, but then I could come and go as I pleased, more or less.  I also traveled a lot for work, with O'Hare as my gateway. I have been to almost every city in the U.S. with a metro area of more than one million people.  There are  a handful of exceptions, including Oklahoma City and Salt Lake City.

The Time I Saved a Woman and her Baby's Life

It was just another sunny spring day, except it was within the week where there were several high profile traffic fatalities in Seattle.  It made me want to drive only after not having a drink for four years.  Seriously.  The city was shaken.  This, however, is a good story for that tragic week.  Another good part of this story was that I kept my cool.

I was driving to pick up my son at school to take him to a doctor's appointment.  This was a regular appointment--his ten year old check up.  I was on NE 50th Street and had just crossed over I-5 when I saw a late model Jeep turn on to 50th a few dozen yards ahead of me.  (If the US were metric or I were Canadian, I would have said about 30 meters in front of me.)  Smoke was coming out the tail pipe in a not so pleasant way.

"That car needs its emissions checked," I thought.

As I got closer, I smelled something burning.  "She needs her oil changed," I thought.  (Not that I have any idea how cars work.  Just a guess here.)

The driver stopped at the traffic light at Latona.  I hung back, not wanting to get too close to this poorly behaving vehicle when I noticed small flames coming out from under her wheel well.  I hung back for about four seconds, thinking I didn't want my car to catch fire.  I also assumed the driver would be getting out, and I wanted to give her room.  After five seconds, I realized the driver didn't know the car was on fire.

I pulled up next to her, rolled down my window and said, "Pardon me.  Your car is on fire."  My voice was about excited as the computerize woman who says, "We're sorry.  The number you have dialed is no longer in service.  Please check the number and try again." Maybe I was even more calm than that.  I was like Siri and the woman on my GPS combined.  The operator is a little snitty when she says, "Please make a note of it," as if she has been sitting there all day live responding to wrong numbers.

"I need to move my car out of the intersection and it won't move," the driver replied while fiddling with her phone.  She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, with curly brown hair.

"Your car is on fire. You need to get out of your car,"  I replied in my automated operator/Siri/GPS voice.

"But my baby is in the car."

"You need to get you and your baby out of the car.  I will pull around the corner and call 911.  You get out of the car."  There is an espresso shop on the corner.  In three tenths of a mile, left turn.   Please try again.  

I pulled on to Latona and got out my phone.  While my voice was even, my hands were not.  I could not type in my passcode to unlock the phone.  I tried twice and then I hit the emergency call button.

I told the 911 dispatcher there was a car fire.  I read a nearby street sign to make sure I did not have a bout of verbal dyslexia and give her the wrong location.

"Are there flames coming out of the car?" the dispatcher asked, in the same tone of voice as "Do you want fries with that?"  I imagine 911 dispatchers are trained to be remote car mechanics and figure which ones are real problems and which cars are overheating.

"There were flames.  I don't see them now.  I see red coals, though, underneath the car." I know it wasn't really coals, but something metal was hot enough to turn red.  "Oh wait, now I see flames again coming out the bottom."

"Is there anyone in the car?" she replied as if she were asking "Can I super-size that?"  I am not bashing this poor woman.  She probably deals with hysterical people all day calling about nonsense.  And then once in a blue moon the real call comes where there is a bona fide emergency.

"Yes, there is a woman and her baby in the car."

"A BABY??!!!"  This was said in the tone of voice of "There is a baby in a burning car???!! What could be worse than a baby in a burning car?"  Not much.  Two babies in a burning car?  "Is the baby still in the car?"

I was around the corner, so I got out of my car to check.  "Nope, not yet."

Silence from the 911 operator.  This was not good if the 911 woman was scared.  If Vegas had odds on who would be cooler in a crisis, a 911 operator or me, they'd be like 100 to 1 with the safe bet on the operator.  I tried to help the operator so I kept talking, giving a running commentary as if I were doing play by play for a football game on the radio where people can't see what is happening on the field.   "The mom is at the door, she is getting the baby out...and the baby is out of the car."

The dispatcher let go of her breath.  I think her heart began to beat again after pausing for a few moments.

"I'll send a fire truck and ambulance right away."

After the call, I walked over to the mom, who was standing about seven feet from the car, or two meters for the Canadians.  I didn't think it was a good idea to stand so close to the car.

"Let's step back," I said, looking at the baby.  The baby was wearing one of those hospital newborn t-shirts with the super wide neck hole.  The baby's face was lumpy and his head bobbled as if the night before he learned how to hold it up.

We all stepped back about twenty feet.  As we did, the hood of the car was engulfed in flames just like a marshmallow in a campfire.  Whooomp.  Then the fire went down.

"Diaper brain," a friend called it, the sense of life blurring by in those first weeks of motherhood.  This is was the mixed up time for this mom when her brain is being re-wired to take care of baby, when down is up and up is down.  Of course she couldn't leave the car.  Her child was in it.  She couldn't take her baby outside on the street.  That would be dangerous.  But she couldn't see the flames.  And I did.

"Do you need to use my phone?" I asked.

"No, my friend is coming," she replied.  "My cell phone had lost its signal, but I reached her."

"Very good," I said.  "Are you sure you don't need anything?"  The baby stared at me with his big brown eyes.

She told me she was fine, as she watched her car smolder.  This was all in the voice of a mother of a newborn who can't believe she is standing on a corner watching her car burn.

I drove off to school get my son for his check-up.  The fire truck raced by as I pulled away.  Unlike the other crashes, this one thankfully had no journalists, no television cameras, no tragic ending to make the town weep.  No story for the Seattle Times--just a story for me, a mom and a baby.

So Close, and Yet So Far...

Last Friday, the family and I tried a new restaurant in our neighborhood.  This spot has been there for ages, but it was new to us.  We've lived in Seattle going on nine years, and there are pockets in our corner of the world we have never explored, gaps in my geography.  The restaurant we visited is two blocks from our neighborhood school, and we have driven past it thousands of times.  How could we have never visited a place so close?

And it was wonderful.  This little Greek restaurant had the most perfectly roasted chicken I have ever tasted.  The wait staff was friendly, the decor was comfortable and we ran into neighbors.  I have my daughter to thank.  It was her idea to try this restaurant.  Otherwise, we rotate through a list of three restaurants.  My kids generally prefer the familiar.  I tried an experiment where every other time we ate out, we had to try someplace new.  I'd let them scroll through Urban Spoon and pick a place.  This plan fell by the wayside, and we were back at our usual bar and grill or Mexican place.

It is not just this cozy corner restaurant that I've skipped.  Here I confess the places I've never been:  Bainbridge Island.  The Olympic Peninsula.  Alki Beach.  Whidbey Island.  Unless this summer, I had never been to Mercer Island.  I had driven under the island on I-90, but never set foot on it.

This the challenge of living in such a rich and vibrant part of the country.  There are so many choices, yet we stick with the familiar.  Stepping off of our well worn path was like taking a mini-vacation without the hassle of traveling.  I love to travel, yet I wonder why I have to leave town to try new places.  It is time to bring my spirit of adventure mindset home.