Training to Vancouver

04 Wednesday Jun 2014

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Memorial Day weekend, with my having to take two floating holidays before the end of June, and Rich starting a new job, we decided to take a quick trip to Vancouver, Canada.

Our journey started on Thursday at 5:30 a.m. with Egg McMuffins and coffee at McDonald’s. We then headed south to the Bellevue park-n-ride to a catch a bus to the Seattle King Street Amtrak station. After checking in, we chatted with a special education school teacher from East Los Angeles, who along with three other friends, were also taking the train to Vancouver for several days of “partying.” Although, I suspect they were more interested in sightseeing and getting away from the smog, heat, and traffic, given East L.A. is the most populous place in California with 16,973.5 people per square mile.

Our seats were on the west-facing side of car #8, just ahead of the baggage car. Even though we were running a bit late, we weren’t concerned because our expected arrival in Vancouver, was a little before noon, providing us with most of the day to enjoy the city.

Less than ten minutes out of the station, however, just past the Marriot Waterfront, the train came to a stop. The conductor announced there was a flat spot on the engine’s tires, which they wanted to check. A flat spot occurs when a wheel has been dragged along the rail after the wheel/axle has stopped rotating, the result of faulty brakes or bearings, or if the wheel locks up.

We crossed our fingers, as the minutes dragged on. Finally, they announced the bad news: The train needed to return to King Street for the mechanical crew to assess the issue. We then waited another 10 minutes until the train was cleared to back-up. Once back to station, we were allowed to get off the train, at which point, we chatted with one of the maintenance people who explained the wheels were in bad shape.

Within in minutes, we were told to get back on the train, which traveled south for a few miles until it got to a turn-around (wye). Since there was an engine on the back of the train, this engine would be used for pulling the train with the bad-wheeled-engine tagging-along at the end. Car #1, which was initially in front of the train, was now at the back.

As we approached King Street, the train slowed and a maintenance man got on. He then walked through each car, flipping the seats so they facing forward. Unfortunately, our seats, which were on the left side of the train, ended up on the right. The left is preferable because it enables you to see out to the west and the Puget Sound.

Nevertheless, we were happy to be finally heading to Vancouver, over an hour late.

Train Travel Ain’t Speedy

Let me preface by saying, “I love taking the train.” It’s relaxing, stress-free, comfortable and scenic. Regrettably it’s not particularly fast. While in some sections, it zips along at a healthy pace – around 70 miles per hour – in others, it barely chugs along at 10 miles per hour. The curvy track in Washington, and especially Canada, coupled with rickety bridges, and waits for freight trains turns what would be a three hour trip by car into four hours by train. Or in our case six hours!

View King Street Station

King Street Station, Seattle

Plus, once you arrive in Vancouver, they initially unload all of the luggage, and then allow passengers to leave, starting with car #1. With us in car #8, we were the last to depart… and subsequently line up to go through customs. By the time, we hit the streets, it was nearly 3 o’clock! Fortunately, we’d packed food to eat on the train so our hunger was satiated with hard boiled eggs, scones, an orange, an apple, and trail mix.

Cranky and tired of sitting, I demanding we walk to the hotel, rather than figure out the bus system. We’d packed our clothes in a backpack (Rich) and messenger bag (Julie), so we just needed to start walking. Of course, what felt somewhat light after getting off the train, became progressively heavier with each step. Happily, the weather was splendid, the sites fabulous, and our determination energized by Starbuck’s frappuccinos.

Vancouver is known as the City of Glass with blocks of glass skyscrapers, divided into offices, condos, and apartments with birds eye views of English Bay, Coal Harbour, False Creek, and the Burrard Inlet. The fourth most densely populated city in North America – behind New York City, San Francisco, and Mexico City – Vancouver is masterpiece of efficiency. High-speed trains along with buses, and ferries whisk residents to-and-from work. Wide sidewalks make it pleasant to walk to whatever you need from up-scale, name-brand boutiques to restaurants, mini and suburb-sized grocery stores, barber shops and salons, PC repair, book stores, pet supplies, libraries, museums, performing art centers, shopping malls, hospitals and medical and dental clinics, florists, parks, marinas, and much more.

View Vancouver

Vancouver, B.C.

For more than a decade, Vancouver has been ranked as one of the most livable cities in the world, with the fourth highest quality of living of any city on Earth. On the downside, it’s Canada’s most expensive city to live in with the second highest overpriced real estate in North America. A 400-square foot condo in downtown starts in the mid $200,000. Near the Expo, a sign for high-rise under construction touted 1-bedroom condos, starting at $350,000. Check out some of the condos on Vancouver Condo.

Real estate is so loony in downtown Vancouver that if you can’t afford a condo, you can invest in a hotel room, and stay there for up to 30-days per year. That’s right for $168,000, you can purchase a 226-square foot room in the Marriott Pinnacle Hotel, and stay in the room for free for up to 30 days per year.

Room in the Sky

The walk from the Amtrak station to our hotel, the Empire Landmark was just 2 miles. Along with way, we passed many of the buildings, which were constructed in 1986 for the world fair held in Vancouver. Called Expo ’86, the fair featured pavilions from 54 nations and corporations, and was opened by Charles and Diana, Prince and Princess of Wales.

Both Rich and I went to the fair. At the time, Rich went with his girlfriend, mother, children, and nephew. I went with my mother. The only exhibit I remember from the fair was “Highway 86: The Middle of the Road.”

Making our way around False Creek, we walked by Science World, Plaza of Nations, and BC Place Stadium, all built for the fair. We then headed to Yaletown, where several high-rises were under construction. We stopped briefly at the Starbuck’s by the Microsoft Vancouver Development Center for frappuccinos before walking west on Robson Street to the Empire Landmark Hotel.

Robson Street is one of the key shopping zones with every imaginable store and restaurant from Aldo Shoes and Armandi to BCBG Maxazria, French Connection (which sported a sign that read “FCUK,” the abbreviation for French Connection United Kingdom), Gap, Foot Locker, Guess, J Crew, Lululemon, Sunglass Hut, and Tommy Hilfiger. And because Vancouver is a very diverse city, there is a plethora of Chinese, Japanese, Malaysian, Indian, Korean, Mexican, French, and African restaurants… along with bakeries, coffee shops, and juice bars. With blocks of high-rise apartments, condos, and businesses, every eating establishment was full.

View Empire Landmark

Empire Landmark Hotel

By the time we got to the Empire Landmark, I was super tired and cranky. Rich had made the reservation online as part of an Amtrak special. However, the offer was for a room with two twin bed, and it took several calls to the hotel to ask them to place us in a room with at least a queen-sized bed.

Needless to say, I was convinced our room would be on the 2nd floor of the 42-story hotel, with a view of an alley or next to the ice machine. I felt a bit more confident after chatting with Rachel, the desk clerk, who took a genuine interest in making our mini vacation a memorable experience. I could contain my glee when she announced our room was on the 18th floor. Surely, we’d have a view of something!

We took the elevator up, dashed around the corner, and inserted the key, and then in concert exclaimed “Wow!” Outside the sliding glass door was a VIEW! From the balcony, we had a 180-degree view, and were able to see Burrad Inlet, Stanley Park, English Bay, and everything in-between. We spent 15 minutes taking pictures from every angle.

While small, the room was charming, clean, and cozy with delicate white furniture, pretty sheets, and a lovely bathroom with chamomile shampoo, ginseng body lotion, birch leaves bath gel, comfrey soap, and fluffy ivory towels.

We couldn’t be happier!

Vancouver at Night

Refreshed after dropping off our bags and sitting for a few minutes, we set out for Stanley Park, which is 1,001 acres, encompassing miles of walking trails, swimming pools, aquarium, gardens, miniature railroad, outdoor theater, and monuments.

We started walking near the rhododendron garden, which was spectacular, and ended up by the seawall, which was crowded with walkers, runners, bikers, and in-line skaters. There are many establishments near the park where you can rent bikes by the hour. Many of the bikes we saw, I suspect were rented since they were stripped-down for leisurely riding.

Hungry after our walk, we sought out an ethnic restaurant. Rich choose a small “dive,” which offered freshly made saimin, similar to what he used to eat in Hawaii. He chose a soup with a miso broth, fish ball, slices of lean pork, boiled egg, noodles, bean sprouts, and green onions. Mine was similar, but made with a pork broth.

Our bellies full and feet refreshed, we set out for the Heritage District and Canada Place, which was originally built for Expo ’86. Resembling a large ship with fabric sails, it’s the main cruise ship terminal for the region. This is a great picture of what it looks like from above.

We wandered around, admiring the water and high-rises, absorbing the Zen of the city, and seeking out a place for a decadent dessert. With no bakeries along our path, we settled for A&W root beer floats. There are numerous A&W’s in Canada, but relatively few in America. Although, in America, they put soft-serve ice cream in their floats. In Vancouver, they dropped in an ice cream pellet, and added root beer. A bit strange, but tasty.

At any rate, our perception there’s an A&W on every corner was confirmed when I looked up on the internet there’s eight A&Ws from Tacoma to Everett, and seven just in downtown Vancouver, and at least another twenty in the neighboring suburbs. Canadians are obviously fans of A&W’s All American Food from hamburgers to hotdogs, chicken strips, and of course, root beer.

After a quick stop at Safeway for fruit, hard boiled eggs, and drinks for the following day, we then hobbled back to our room at 9:30 p.m., feet sore, but soul satisfied.

SkyTrain Around Vancouver

On Thursday evening, we’d plan to rent bikes to tour around the rest of Stanley Park, but the clear night turned into a rainy morning. Fortunately, Rich had grabbed a TransLink brochure, and talked to a street performer – in the transit center – who said we should ride the SkyTrains instead of renting bikes.

We awoke early Friday morning – after staying up late to admire the city from our balcony – and enjoyed a hearty breakfast in our motel room (food we brought or bought the night before), before pulling on our rain parkas, lobbed our bags over our shoulders, and heading to the nearest transit station to purchase all-day passes.

The driverless, automated SkyTrains run continuously, with no more than a 10 minute wait between trains. They’re clean, quiet, and highly efficiently. We enjoyed riding them for several hours to New Westminster, Richmond, and King George, watching commuters, college kids, and shoppers, easily hopping on-and-off, and seeing the many new shopping centers and high-rises being built near the SkyTrain stations.

At the Richmond station is the River Rock Casino Resort, consisting of a casino, two hotels, conference center, several restaurants, and theater for live performances. Upcoming performers include Martin Short, Justin Hayward (Moody Blues), Earth, Wind & Fire, Engelbert Humperdinck, Herman’s Hermits, and Boz Scoggs.

We had a sandwich bag full of Canadian coins, which we decided to spend in the casino, but when Rich went to turn it the coins in for script, they gave him a $5 Canadian bill, which is super cool with a plastic strip that has a cathedral and man, printed on it with iridescent ink. The bill is also embossed area. It was so pretty, I couldn’t bear to put it in a slot machine.

The pit boss, who figured out we were dumb-cluck Americans who were more interested in swooning over a $5 bill than spending it, explained all Canadian bills are color-coded, and equally ornate. Here’s the $20, $50, and $100 bills.

Bad Planning Lead to Disappointment

We’d planned on having dim sum for lunch in Chinatown, but with it only being 11 o’clock when we got back to downtown Vancouver. Instead, we opted to take a bus to the University of British Columbia (UBC). It was a regrettable mistake. Not only was the bus infuriatingly slow because of the traffic, and numerous stops, but we wasted time wandering around the campus, looking for totem poles I recalled seeing decades ago when I visited the museum with my mother.

The campus is ginormous, and we headed for “Totem Park,” when we should have gone to Museum of Anthropology at UBC. If we’d made it to the museum, we could have seen the totem poles by looking in the windows of the Great Hall! Plus, we would have seen the outdoor exhibits.

Instead, we trudged along, carrying our respective backpack/messenger bag, growling at each other, and getting more famished and thirsty, having only eaten an apple since breakfast. Frustrated, we traipsed back to the bus stop. Studying the map, we realized we could get off at the bus, and catch a SkyTrain to Chinatown. However, Rich got a phone call in the middle of transitioning to the SkyTrain, and followed the crowds up an escalator to an upscale department store… but the escalator was broken going down so we toured the floor several times before we found the elevators down…

Could it get worse?

Yes! Because it was nearly 2 o’clock, we didn’t think there’d be a good selection of dim sum at the restaurant we’ve eaten at previously. Instead, we chose Jade Dynasty, which advertised dim sum all day. It was the WORST dim sum we’ve ever had. Frozen dim sum from a convenience store would have been better! And it cost $23 for two cups of tea, and four selection of ghastly dim sum.

Even more disappointing, because we had to be at the bus station by 4:30, we didn’t have time to take a water taxi to Granville Island.

We did, however, stop in a Chinese bakery, and get three yummies for $5: a coconut tart, piece of Black Forest cake, and piece of mocha cake. Chinese bakeries have the most amazing pastries, buns, cakes, and other delicacies, at ridiculously low prices. Here is an example of what you might find in one of these bakeries.

With our mini vacation drawing to a close, we walked to the train station, and waited to check-in. We were amazing when we got the identical seats going back to Seattle, as we had coming, car #8, seats 11 and 12. This time, we were on the right side of the car to see the Puget Sound.

The rainy morning had turned into a sunny afternoon, and spectacular evening, making for a wonderful trip home. As we approached White Rock, British Columbia, we looked out over the ocean, and counted half a dozen blue heron… and then another cluster of blue herons… and two bald eagles on a rock… and more blue heron. The birds were obviously taking advantage of the low tide to hunt for fish before the sun set for the evening.

As we crossed into the United States, we saw a coyote in the marshes, and more blue heron and predatory birds. Because it’s nearing summer solstice, it stayed light for most of the trip.

Near Seattle, the conductor announced the Mariner’s game had just let out. Our first thought was “We’re never going to get on a bus.” As soon as we got off the train, we sprinted to the bus stop. Happily, there were few people waiting, which soon grew to a crowd. The bus, which finally arrived, was already full.

We pushed our way onto the bus, head to the back, and grabbed a handrail for the 20-minute trip to Bellevue. In spite of the conditions, people were gracious, striking up conversations, having come from the Mariner game or Northwest Folklife Festival.

Our 48-hour escape to Vancouver was a nice respite from our workaday lives, and the challenges we faced in the coming week.

Invocation #33: Tantrum

26 Monday May 2014

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The child rolls on the floor, fists pounding, legs kicking, big tears flooding down it’s checks, each new cry demanding that it be denied no longer. It wants what it wants. And right now.

We adults, of course, can’t indulge in such tantrums. We can’t throw ourselves on the floor, kicking and screaming. But, there are other ways to be bratty. Ways subtle and not so subtle.

We can pressure, and threaten, and coerce, even steal. Because we too want what we want when we want it. We too, resent being denied.

Then, sometimes, like the child, when we finally get what we were yelling for, we find we really didn’t want it after all. All we wanted was to assert our authority.

Or we disappointed. It wasn’t what we thought it would be. We had deluded ourselves.

O’Lord, teach us that we cannot get everything we want, and what we want is not always best for us. Make use see that difference between acquiring on our own, and the injustice of making demands on others for our own self-gratification.

O’ Lord, let the child in us outgrow its tantrums.

While grown people typically don’t engage in tantrums, laying on the floor, kicking and screaming, I think many people don’t outgrow the behavior they exhibited as children from timidity to bullying.

While my grandmother interpreted some people as asserting their authority to get what they want, even if they later discover it wasn’t what they coveted, I believe these people never had the self-control necessary to quiet their need to constantly get what they want. As babies, they were pampered, getting their way. In kindergarten, they were the ones grabbing other’s toys, and as they grew, they were the bullies, and overbearing teens who trounced on others.

In adulthood, they became entrepreneurs, top sales people, athletes, and promoters who are determined to “win” at all costs. Their tantrums evolved into tirades, intimidating and over-powering co-workers. They are the ones who always need the last word, the most praise, and the perceived, most prestigious positions. They trounce on others to cover up for their deficiencies and slipups.

Hoping these people realize there’s a difference between acquiring on their own, and the injustice of making demands on others for their own self-gratification is naïve. There are stark disparities in how baby boomers, Generation X, and Millennials or Generation Y, see the world. The latter have been shown to have an elevated sense of entitlement and narcissism, having been raised with technology an arms-reach away.

There’s no need to wait or be tolerant when answers are a click-away through a search engine verses wading through a book or encyclopedia. Photos instantaneous instead of waiting for film to be developed. Communication as quick as putting a cell phone to your ear, typing a few sentences (or characters), and clicking “send.” Since childhood, they’ve be entertained and coddled with access to programming that makes learning and passing the time fun and easy. Should they do poorly, they’re told “It’s okay. Everyone’s a winner.”

What’s to be done? There’s nothing to be done, but to realize and acceptance some people will never outgrow their tantrums, and will pin anything that goes wrong, impedes their quest to get ahead, or acquire what they want on the unfortunately people who cross their paths. For them, self-gratification is a higher calling than collaboration and working towards a common cause or attainment.

Invocation #32: A Misdirected Stare

12 Monday May 2014

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Some years ago at the supermarket, I was pushing a cart down the aisle. Up the aisle, with a child in her cart, came this pretty-faced, broad-bodied mu-mu-gowned lady.

Not until she drew alongside me, and her words heavy with sarcasm fell on my ears, “Did you have a good look? Did you see enough?’ Did I realize I’d been starting at her?

Stunned with embarrassment, I stood stock-still. She walked on, and even when she turned the corner, I could hear her voice angrily protesting to her companions about ill-mannered, oafs like me.

Coming to, I wanted to run after her, explaining that I wasn’t looking at her, but at the yoke of her dress. By coincidence I was making a dress similar to hers, and having trouble setting in the yoke. And that’s where my eyes were fastened, to see how the yoke of her dress was set.

I should have gone after her. I didn’t. My spirit wanted to, but my feet were rooted.

My explanation might not have made her feel better, but I would have one less regret to carry around on my conscience.

O Lord, all these little regrets. They lie asleep then suddenly awaken to prick our memory with the sting of a needle. And we must relive what we want to forget. Perhaps, they are meant to serve as reminders to be mindful of our manners.

As you age, and experience life, interacting with people socially and at work, the more regrettable memories accumulate. And while there’s a desire for a mental cleanser to erase them, there’s no cleanser, unless you’re devoid of scruples.

The worse regrettable moments are tied to sharp words, directed at a spouse, friend, or neighbor. It can be as an unintentional the slip-of-the-tongue when you point out something that’s troubling to the individual such as their weight, occupation, social status, or origin. Or it could be a well-craft barrage of words, designed to inflict emotional pain.

In either case, they’re awkward to take back, and can be difficult to recover from as the pile of insults, innuendoes, and barbs pile up.

My grandmother regards these “pricks of memory” as a reminder to be mindful of one’s manners. However, technology has resulted in a decline in manners. The niceties of truly talking to someone is now a call-on-the-run, a terse instant message, or hastily written email. One’s attention is reduced to sound bites, interrupted by buzzing phones, and dinging devices. No one is rude because almost everyone is preoccupied – getting updates, snapping selfies, responding to texts, checking an email, watching flicks, playing game or making calls or listening to what’s being piped into their ears via Bluetooth or earbuds.

Attention spans and courtesies have fallen off the ends of bell curves, becoming seemingly non-existent. As a result, if my grandmother would have spied the “broad-bodied mu-mu-gowned lady” today, she probably would have pulled out her smart phone, and brazenly snapped a picture of the women’s dress. She may have even posted it to Pinterest or maybe her Facebook page, commenting she was sewing a similar outfit.

Dwindling Wages Hard to Ignore

26 Saturday Apr 2014

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Thirteen years ago, I was a contractor for a large company in Hillsboro, Oregon. I had a cool job overseeing the architecture, and developing the content for a consumer-facing website. I also wrote a monthly newsletter and customer stories.

When it came time to renew my contract, I was told I was overpaid, and my contract would be renewed at a lower rate. It was a moot point because a week after my contract ended, I moved to Texas.

I always wondered what I’d done the 12 months prior to reduce my worth. Certainly, I knew a heck of a lot more than when I first walked in the door, and struggled to write two coherent sentence about the company’s products, let alone understand the ins-and-outs of their editorial and design standards.

Ten years later, I was hired for another contract role. This time with a Washington company. Along with overseeing their website (ranging from creating the content and architecture to managing the web developers), I was responsible for writing and overseeing their customer-facing blog, social media, creating sales materials, and collaborating with their public relations firm. And when they launched products, I was expected to be awake at 5 a.m. to ensure the updated web content, blog and social media posts went live within minutes of each other.

For this honor, I was paid $1.75 less per hour then I’d earned a decade earlier.

Flat wages? Higher expectations? Longer hours? Affirmative.

Nevertheless, I’m not complaining. Today, I earn $3 more per hour than thirteen years ago, and I have great benefits, work for a top agency, and do highly creative, fulfilling work. I feel lucky given the challenge of finding gainful employment in a marketplace where subjective factors carry a higher value than experience and accomplishments.

What’s got me “hot under the collar” is an email I received this morning. A local temporary agency was seeking people to ask survey questions over the phone in both Spanish and English. They pay $10.10 per hour, and expect candidates to work Monday through Friday 2 pm to 9 pm, and either Saturday or Sunday from 10 am to 6 pm for a total of 43 hours per week. The extra 3 hours per week equates to working nearly an extra month of work per year.

The pay for working 6 days a week is $434.30, less than $1,740 per month. The company graciously offers major medical, based on your gender and age. As an example, if you’re a 30 year old female, you pay $105.53 per month ($6.10 more than a 30 year old male) with a $2,500 deductible. Over the course of a year, you would be paying nearly 6% of your salary in medical premiums, along with the cost of your doctor visits, tests, prescriptions, and medical procedures up to $2,500.

After paying your monthly medical premium, you’d be left with $1,635.67 for housing, utilities, transportation, food, clothing, additional insurance (such as life and dental), and other expenses. You’d probably be stretched thin if you also had to support a family and pay child care.

Also in my email was a news feed with a link to an article in the Washington Post about the amount of money one would need to earn per hour, working a 40-hour week, 52-weeks per year, to afford a decent one-bedroom apartment.

The interactive map by US counties shows you need to earn $17.56 per hour or around $36,525 per year to afford a decent one-bedroom apartment in King County. That’s $13,942 more than the $10.10 job listed above

If you go south to Pierce County, you need $14.75 per hour. Better, but you’d still be short $8,096 a year for a “decent one-bedroom apartment.”

Income inequity People in Washington are better off than other parts of the nation, where the minimum wage is $7.25 per hour or around $15,080 if you worked 40 hours a week, 52-weeks a year. The minimum wage in Washington is $9.32 or $19,385 per year. The job advertised above, with earning 78₵ more per hour, and working 3 hours more week, nets an additional $1,623.

The inequities in pay across the United States are now getting front page coverage. The chart above from the U.S. Census Bureau clearly shows the unmistakable decline in income for the bottom 60% earnings flat for the next income bracket (pale blue).

It’s discouraging when job security is unpredictable, and the prospect of finding a good job diminishes with age.

Invocation #31: Touch Me Not

19 Saturday Apr 2014

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The words are meant simply as a mild rebuke for something the other had thoughtlessly done.

The tone was low-keyed. The manner polite. The intent friendly.

The other bristled and took offense. The retort came out angry.

So began an exchange of recriminations.

Friends are friends no more.

O Lord, why do people have to be so sensitive!

My grandmother was a copious writer. Recently, I found a notebook, which I thought was a collection of miscellaneous observations, but further reading revealed it was a diary from 1948. She’d typed pages of everyday occurrences and observations from the oppressive summer heat in her Burbank, California home to deep philosophical ruminations about world events.

She also wrote about family strife. Her husband, Morris, had seven eccentric sisters whose lives overshadowed the happenings occurring between my grandmother’s three sisters and three brothers. The latter lives, in contrast, were dull.

While the event my grandmother wrote about in the invocation above probably had nothing to do with her immediate family, it illustrates the perpetual drama, which became a part of her life, following her marriage. With seven artistic, energetic sisters-in-law, each trying to success in a world where making an impact requires more than determination, there were continual marriages, divorces, births, jobs losses and successes, housing changes, and bickering among each other and in-laws. Contributing to the discord was a generous helping of mental illness, ranging from narcissism to nymphomania and schizophrenia.

A Flee up a Tree

14 Monday Apr 2014

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I recently uncovered one of my grandmother’s whimsical poems. She was a prolific writer who could write everything from philosophical essays to silly poems for her children and grandchildren.

One day…
At a spray pool, near a day school,
A fat gray cat and a lean white rat,
Sat down on a mat to have a fine chat.

Meanwhile…
About fifty feet down the street,
As an alley where playmates meet,
A mean little brat with nothing better to do,
Was kicking at a vat with the top of his shoe.

Suddenly…
The mean little brat spied the gray cat and white rat
Sitting on a mat, having a chat.
“Oho,” said the brat, I’ll soon put a stop to THAT!
I can’t stand for fat cats to plat footsies with lean rats.

So-o-o…
With head bent low, nose to the ground
He scouted around like a blooded hound
Until a fat wood slat he found.

“He, he, he,” he giggled with glee,
Watch me have a dog-gone spree.
With one clean swat, I’ll scat the cat, bean the rat,
Then, “ho, ho, ho,” make them flee up the tree.

He sneaked around without a sound
Until he stood, as near as he could,
Behind the fat cat and lean rat
Deep in their soulful chat.

Lifting the slat like a baseball bat,
Making sure his grip was steady,
He braced himself, he got ready,
He got set…

Hey there… hold it…
Is everybody read?
Is everybody set?
Is everybody watching the mean little brat?

All right, then…
Here we go…
Ready… Aim… Bombs a-WAY…

Swish… POW… BOOM…
Wow! He missed!
“Drats!” little brat hissed.

With a start…
Gray cat and lean rat, whirled ‘round,
Mouths agape, eyes ‘astound.
In heaven’s name, what kind of game…

But…
Mean brat was already lifting the slat,
Getting ready, another swat.
This he time, he’d not miss.
Or his name wasn’t Sthunkie Bliss.

This time, no getting ready, no getting set
He was shooting off like a hopped-up jet.

He pulled back to fire up…

Gr-r-r-r-r-gr-rohr-rowl-lbulldogart2

What was THAT?
Mean brat jumped and let out a yowl.
He stood stock still,
But through his bones ran a chill
Then head turned ‘round,
Mouth agape, eyes ‘stound.
And when he saw… WOW… he almost
Fainted to the ground.

What was it he did see?
Well, there by the tree
Stretched on the ground,
Behind a tall mound,
Never making a sound,
Was a big black, curly-haired hound!

Slowly… like a status come to life,
Hound dog rose up on haunches
Big as fat men’s paunches.
His muscles began to quiver,
His tail gave warning with a shiver.

His face took on a scowl.
From his throat came a growl…
Who dare swing a bat at my friend the cat,
And my friend the rat,
Especially when I’m listening to
Their interesting chat?
Who dare!

Now who do you think began to shiver and shake
Like a lump of unbaked jelly cake?
And who do you think dropped the slat,
Started to run like a scaredy cat?

The man little brat?
You’re right. You’re hooten’ right.

And those feet pounded up the tree
Like they were being chased by a bumble-bee?
The mean little brat’s?
You’re right. You’re hooin’, tootin’ right!

And who laughed and giggled
Until their ears wiggled and whiskers squiggled?
Fat cat, lean rat, blooded hound, and everyone else around?
You’re right. You’re hootin’, tootin’, shootin’ right.

And who should be washing dishes, scrubbing floors
Soaping jelly-prints off kitchen doors,
Instead of messing around with
Fat cats, lean rats, and mean brats,
Blooded hounds atop grassy mounds
Coconut trees, and bumble-bees
Spray pools and day schools?

Who? Who?

You’re wrong! You’re hootin’, tootin’, double-shootin’ wrong!
YOU should be helping your Mom with
Washing dishes, scrubbing floors,
Soaping jelly-prints off kitchen doors…
NOT ME!

So hop to it, and don’t you cry,
Everything will be automated bye’ n’ bye.
Just wait until your Mom hitches a ride on a fly
To catch up with Daddy’s promise of pie-in-the-sky.

Rose Ridnor

Two-Day Island Staycation

06 Sunday Apr 2014

Posted by in Food and drink, Travel

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Several years ago, Rich celebrated my birthday by planning an elaborate surprise staycation where he revealed the details of what we’d be doing at the last minute, including spending the night at the Waterfront Marriot, and enjoying a Sunday brunch at the top of the Space Needle.

This year, he decided to do the same, and once again, he refused to reveal the details until the last minute. On Saturday, before Rich left to show a potential client a home, he told me to pack outdoor gear and my hiking boots. Although, after some consideration, he revised hiking books to Keens.

With our bags packed, cats and birds feed, house secured, and bellies full from homemade pizza, we headed to our Mount Vernon home, where my mother lives. Every week, we do her grocery shopping, gather the trash and recycling (we don’t have garbage pick-up in Mount Vernon so we have to cart it back to Kirkland), restock supplies, cook (i.e. chocolate pudding, chopped liver, chicken soup, etc.) and other household tasks that aren’t done by her caretakers.

After shopping, Rich thumbed through our Entertainment Book to find a place to eat. Unfortunately, most of the restaurants aren’t located in Mount Vernon or Burlington. With few options, I recommended Taco Bell. We’re never disappointed by cheap, but satisfying burritos, chicken tacos, and 99-cent cheese roll-ups.

That evening, we watched a flick on TV, and made sure everything was ready for the next morning, when the alarm went off at 5:30 a.m.

Off to Orcas

The first stop of our two-day staycation was McDonald’s. In early March, they had a newspaper insert with buy-one-get-one-free coupons. The day we received the insert, Rich raced down to a local apartment complex, and scrounged through their recycling bins, harvesting a stack of coupons. For the past month, we’ve been eating lots of McDonald’s food, principally iced coffees with vanilla flavoring and caramel Frappuccino’s.

Plus, each time we used a coupon, we got a receipt, which invited us to take an online survey. When you take the survey, you’re given a code, which can be used for purchasing… wait for the drum roll… buy-one-get-one-free breakfast sandwich or cheeseburger.

On Saturday morning, armed with a code, we started the day with buy-one-get-one-free Egg McMuffins and coffees.

With food in our stomachs, we headed to Anacortes to take the ferry to Orcas Island. We had an enjoyable ride over, arriving around 9 a.m. Our first stop was Eastsound, which is the main town, smack dab in the middle of the wishbone-shaped island. I didn’t know what to expect, but was pleasantly surprised. It reminded me of an upscale seaside town on the east coast with cool inns and bed & breakfasts, art galleries, bookstores, quaint churches, and hip restaurants, serving organic, fresh-off-the-farm meals.

We wandered around, snapping pictures, and unwinding from the week. One of the highlights is the Emmanuel Episcopal Church, which is on the National Registry of Historic Place. It comprises several charming, whitewashed buildings, and has a large labyrinth, which I walked around, contemplating the day when we can move to our house in Coupeville, and become residents, and not just visitors to the islands.

With it lightly drizzling, we were on the lookout for a place to pull up a chair and sit until the weather cleared. We spotted Brown Bear Baking. As soon as we opened the door, we were struck by the aroma of fragrant breads, buttery pastries, and fresh-brewed coffee. Ignoring the display case of sweet and savory goodies, our eyes drifted to the round, crusty loaves of bread behind the counter. We chose the Kalamata olive and rosemary loaf, but the counter staff accidentally gave us the fig and apricot loaf. It was a nice surprise… so tasty that throughout our trip, we ripped off and ate big chunks. And we resolved to purchase another loaf the following morning before we left the island!

As a side note, I’m glad Brown Bear Baking is ferry-ride away because it would be hard to resist their unbelievable loaves of bread, beautiful quiches, mouth-watering croissants, gorgeous muffins, dreamy cakes, and other treats. It’s much easier to refrain from grocery-store baked goods!

Scoping out Resorts

Our first stop was Rosario Resort, which one of my favorite marinas, and where the Moran Mansion is located. It’s the crown jewel of the Puget Sound, and unlike most exclusive resorts, the public is welcome to wander the grounds, and walk through the main building, in this case, the mansion. Check out the photo gallery to see what makes the resort a memorable place to visit… and stay by boat or car.

And read about our adventure at Rosario four years ago.

Next, we headed to Olga, which is the town time must have forgotten. It consists of a closed general store, and tiny post office. Or maybe we blinked while driving through the town.

Actually, Olga is very much like most of Orcas Island, lightly populated with quaint shops, inns, and bed & breakfasts (like the Orcas Hotel), discreetly tucked among the trees, which hibernate during the winter months, and open up in the spring through the summer. You can also visit Olga Pottery, which has very pretty, Asian-influenced vases, pitches, cups, bowls, and plates.

Our next stop was Obstruction Pass, which Rich claims we’ve moored off of during one of our charter trips. From a boat, most of the coastline looks the same!

On the east side of the island is Doe Bay State Park, and Doe Bay Resort & Spa. The resort is a labor of love, and designed to accommodate visitors from those looking for a rustic experience of pitching a tent to those wanting a relaxing vacation, complete with spa treatments and yoga sessions.

Rich and I walked around and were in awe of the campsites with names like antelope, baer’s lair, coot corner, crow’s nest, eagle’s nest, grouse grove, heron, hollow log, hummingbird, minke, and warbler. Our favorite site was seagull’s bed, which is a small site, perched on a high-bank cliff, overlooking the water. Seal landing is a bit larger, but so close to the cliff-edge that there’s a small fence so you don’t walk over the edge if you sleepwalk.

We’ve never seen campsite, which are not only smartly designed to provide privacy, but feature dramatic views.

Nestled between the camp sites are yurts and dooms, some of which have queen-sized beds. Three of the yurts are located steps from the water like the beach yurt.

The hostel is an affordable, and no doubt warmer place to sleep in bad weather. Along with communal beds, there have several rooms for couples.

My choice would be one of their cabins with a kitchenette, bed, table and chairs, electricity, bathroom, and a heater!

Along with accommodations, the resort has a general store, spa (we saw a naked man climb into one of the hot tubs… eck!), restaurant, yoga studio, rentals (kayak, boat), and of course, strategically placed benches for viewing the scenery.

I’ve already planted a bug in Rich’s head that I want to stay at Doe Bay for my next birthday!

Cozy Room with Surprise Inside

Still nibbling on our bread, we headed west to Deer Harbor, where we checked in at the Deer Harbor Inn. Rich had purchased a Groupon to stay at the inn. Our room was in the Log Cabin Lodge, which has eight rooms, four on the top floor, and four on the bottom. They also have a couple of cabins.

Our second-story room was lovely with a large pine bed, and matching chairs, and table. On the fireplace was a picnic basket, much to our surprise, filled with food for the next morning, including English muffins, hard-boiled eggs, bowls of homemade granola, bananas, and packets of jelly. In the small refrigerator was milk, butter, orange juice, and bottles of water.

After putting our bags in our room, we drove down to Deer Harbor Marina. We were hoping they had the huge ice cream cones, which we usually order when we stay in the marina. However, it being late March and still chilly, they didn’t have ice cream. Instead, we found several chairs overlooking the marina, and continued nibbling on the Brown Bear Baking bread, pretzels, and drinks we’d purchased earlier in the day.

A large black crow was also interested in what we were eating. He stood on top of the railing just a few feet from us. We marveled at the variety and color of his feathers. His head and cowl had tiny, soft, matte black feathers. His wings were covered with long iridescent black feather that glistened in the sun. The smaller feathers, covered the rest of his body, were deep, matte gray. Its legs and feet were covered with shiny black scales.

He (or she) was very elegant, and patient, waiting for us to place a few pieces of bread on the railing. He’d then pick them up, and fly down to a barrel where a pool of water had formed. After soaking the bread for a few moments, he’d gobble it down, and then fly to another bird, who was waiting with beak open for the regurgitated food.

When we switched to feeding the crow pretzels, he’d bury them in the planter boxes, no doubt for a future meals.

Once the crow flew off, we decided to take a walk around the marina. As we approached the end of a dock, a beautiful gray cat popped out of an open port hole on a small motorboat, dashed across the deck, leapt onto the dock, and raced towards us. It was a full-on cat attack!

She was eager to be pet, rolling over so we could scratch her tummy, and meowing her gratitude. She accompanied us to the boat where she lives. There was a cat bed in the pilot house where she must curl up at night.

Sticking to our Kool-Aide budget staycation, and not wanting a large meal after nibbling on bread all day, we opted to drive to a grocery store in Eastsound. We walked from one end of the store to the other until we settled on a bag of chicken tamales in green sauce (in corn husks), individual salads from the deli section, and a bag of Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies.

We returned to our room, and refrigerated the food, and then set out on foot for a walk around the area. We turned down the road to a residential area, and feed long blades of grass to two goats, guarding a boat repair facility, and then crossed over a narrow bridge to the other side of Deer Harbor.

At top of the hill was another marina. We thoroughly enjoy walking around marinas, looking at the boats, and strategizing how one day we hope to have a 35-foot Catalina sailboat, named Monkey About. “Come about” is a sailing term, and “Monkey” was the name of one of our cats, who passed away in Texas.

As we neared the end of one of the dock, we saw several birds perched on boats, squawking loudly. Less than 20 feet away, on a floating dock, was a bald eagle picking at a dead crab. Bald eagles are scavengers and have no hesitancy of taking food from other birds. Rich snapped quite a few picture before he flew away.

Back at the Deer Harbor Inn, Rich heated the tamales in the microwave in the common area, while I assembled the salads. While it might not seem like a fabulous dinner, we thoroughly enjoyed it in our cozy room, topped off with chocolate chip cookies.

Afterwards, we grabbed a couple of magazines, turned on the propane fireplace in the common area, and read for an hour or so. Sitting in front of a warm gas or propane is ten times better than a smoky, smelly traditional fireplace, which burns wood.

Warmed up, I recommended we hope in the hot tub. Rich was concerned because we forgot to bring our bathing suits, but I persisted, explaining everyone in the lodge had probably left for dinner, and most of the hot tub is obscured by the gazebo.

We took the minimum clothing with us, stripped down, hopped in the tub, and enjoyed the warmth and soothing bubbles, before jumping out, throwing on our clothes, and dashing back into the lodge. During that time, the only souls that saw us were some foraging rabbits.

Amazing Views with Each Turn

The next morning, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast (the items in the basket left in our room), before going back to Brown Bear Baking for a loaf of bread to bring home. We then drove to Moran State Park. Opened in 1921, the park initially consisted of 2,700 acres donated by Robert Moran, a shipbuilder and former major of Seattle. A few years later, he donated another 1,000 acres. Today, the park is more than 5,200 acres with more than 38 miles of hiking trails from gentle forest loops to challenging ascents.

In the 1930’s the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), built trails, roads, bridges, and 21 buildings, including the Ellsworth Storey tower, atop Mount Constitution. For our jaunt, we chose the Mount Constitution Loop, which is 6.7 miles, rated “difficult.”

We parked by Mountain Lake, which is 917 feet in elevation. We then trudged up to the top of Mount Constitution, which is 2,409 feet in elevation. The first mile or so was heart-pumping hard. The next two miles was a steady, but tolerable uphill climb. It was worth getting to the top because even though the Ellsworth Storey tower doesn’t look impressive in picture, it’s four stories in height, and provides what is considered one of the top marine views in the nation.

Originally built as a fire lookout, the tower offers a 360◦ view of the San Juan archipelago, Vancouver Island, and the Cascade and Olympic Mountain ranges. Plus, the tower is superbly constructed out of sandstone with wrought iron railings, door hinges and knobs, and other details, forged and shaped by CCC blacksmiths. At the top of the tower is an enclosed room with beautiful paneling and a heavy wooden door with ornate handles and hinges. I’m was awestruck by the workmanship!

Our decent back down to Mountain Lake, nearly 4 miles, was quick. We then drove to Orcas Village to catch a 3:00 ferry to Lopez Island, where we’d have less than an hour “lay-over” until we could get on the ferry to Anacortes. We reasoned it would be fun to spend some time on Lopez rather than hang-out on Orcas for a “direct” ferry to Anacortes.

Our plan would have worked out if there hadn’t been a mishap with the second ferry. We ended up waiting in the ferry line on Lopez Island for nearly two hours… polishing off the rest of the fig and apricot bread, reading magazines, and trying to get a cell phone signal.

Nevertheless, with amazing weather, it was enjoyable hanging out on the island, people watching, and taking two ferries. And we got to Anacortes 5 minutes before the “direct” ferry from Orcas Island. As we drove way, we could see the “direct” ferry circling in the harbor, waiting for the ferry we’d arrived on to leave.

As we drove back to Mount Vernon to retrieve the groceries we’d purchased a few days earlier, we reflected on our wonderful staycation… and the opportunity to escape from work, household chores, gardening, caregiving, and the myriad of tasks that need to be done.

Plus, Tuesday and Wednesday evening, we enjoyed Brown Bear bread for dinner. I poached eggs in minced kale, parsley, spices, and wine. The eggs were then placed on two thick slices of bread, which had been drizzled with olive oil. Layers on top of the eggs was sliced tomatoes, lightly cooked asparagus, and cheese. I then cooked everything in a 400◦ oven for 15 minutes. The eggs were slightly soft, and made the dish magically when poked with a fork.

Invocation #30: The Thief Within

24 Monday Feb 2014

Posted by in Invocations

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It is commanded: Thou shalt not steal.

The thief, by stealth or gun, can steal anything, and everything, depriving the victim of material goods, treasured possessions, even peace of mind, and trust beyond the reach of the thief. The inner resources, the inner strengths, the feeling of self-worth that enables the victim to surmount the loss and remain whole.

But what if the thefts are committed by ourselves upon ourselves? Like robbing the body of vitality and physical well-being be neglect or over-indulgence.

Despoiling the mind with drink and drugs. Indulging in self-gratifications that deplete mind, body, and soul, and destroy one’s sense of personal value and worth.

Denying oneself the satisfaction of accomplishment by chasing after mirages instead of realities.

And where shall we find our inner strengths and resources if we allow them to wither along the way?

If we victimize ourselves are we less the thief than the stranger who steals our gold?

O Lord, there is no greater wisdom than that embodied in your commandments, but may we add another: Thou shalt not commit theft upon thine own self.

Wow!

I don’t know if I can offer any commentary on what my grandmother wrote, besides admitting to the unequivocal theft upon myself. I’m not sure I chase “mirages,” but I certainly deny myself the satisfaction of accomplishment and squash my inner strengths and resources by habitually discrediting the quality of my work. Then again, maybe my dissatisfaction with my work stems from having to crank it out so quickly.

In my mind, what’s produced quickly can’t possibly carry the save gravitas as something mulled over for days, weeks or months. But, today’s work environment dictates a few do the work once done by many, at an accelerated pace, fueled by the speed of email, convenience of remote conference (and video) calls, and efficiency of PCs and devices.

Perhaps the real thief of inner strength, resources, and self-worth is technology. Like drink and drugs, it doesn’t discriminate or have pity. It lures in its victims, intoxicating them with power and entertainment. Consider the enticement of online games, social networks, videos, dating, and even pornography.

Thirty years ago, when my grandmother typed this invocation on a typewriter, she never could have imagined the bits and bytes of electronics could one day become more insidious and intoxicating than any theft one could commit upon themselves.

Innovation #29: The Harsh Reality

01 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by in Invocations, Rose's Writings

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It has come, O’ Lord, the moment of truth. A harsh reality must be faced.

And we don’t want to. We wish we could close our eyes and it would go away. It won’t. Try as we might, deny or mask over, a reality, out in the open or lurking in the shadows, can’t evaporate into thin air.

Despite pain and reluctance, we must face the problem. And when we do, a decision must be made. A harsh, crucial decision. A flat yes or no.

We know, O’ Lord, no matter whether personal or business, a parting, a staying, a giving, a taking, a beginning, an ending, life or death, there must be mind-searching, weighing, debating. And the final yes, or no, must be our own. It’s a lonely pathway.

Until then, O’ Lord, grant us the understanding to know that until we face our problem, we can’t solve it.

Grant us the courage to face it without flinching, the wisdom to choose the decision wisely, and the fortitude to accept the consequences.

Help us, O’ Lord, not to run away.

I wonder what issue (or issues) my grandmother was facing when she wrote this invocation. Was she referring to herself or someone else?

Several thoughts are running through my mind when I read this invocation. First, the synagogue where I attend, has been searching for a senior rabbi for the past six or so months. The current rabbi announced his retirement, and a replacement needs to be found. The junior rabbi, a wise woman, who’s been with the synagogue for over ten years, was one of the top six candidates. She wasn’t chosen, however. Two male rabbis were selected. Both declined, citing family issues.

A week later, the woman rabbi gave her notice. The synagogue is now left with having to quickly identity an interim rabbi or perhaps offer the position to one of the other top candidates. It’s a harsh reality.

My empathy for the situation, nevertheless, doesn’t reside with the synagogue, but the female rabbi who was passed over.

For the past ten years, she’s juggled driving 60 miles, several times a week, from Olympia, Washington, where her husband is a rabbi at another synagogue, to Bellevue, Washington, where she’s the junior rabbi. In addition, she has two young sons, the oldest celebrated his Bar Mitzvah last year.

She’s been a fine rabbi, education director, and advocate for women’s issues. She’s influenced the direction of the synagogue, making it a caring and inclusive environment that puts more emphasis on the welfare of its members and devotion to Judaism, than their status and monetary donations (often a determining factor in certain reform congregations).

Plain and simple, she was the logical choice to succeed the senior rabbi, and build on the reputation, direction, and aura of the synagogue. Aura is the correct word. A rabbi like her, who greets everyone that walks through the doors, looking them in the eye, and taking a genuine interest in their lives, is what turns a cold sanctuary into an accepting haven.

The harsh reality she faced was whether she should continue to say “yes,” in spite of the rabbi search committee saying “no,” or the difficult choice of choosing “no,” after giving ten selfless years to the congregation. She strove down a “lonely path,” but in the end, she made a thoughtful decision.

By not selecting the candidate with the most experience with the congregation’s values, its members, religious school programs, local, and extended community, the rabbi search committee disregarded their core duty of retaining and building on the momentum of the synagogue. Hopefully, they have the strength of character to accept the results of their decision.

Rich Lary Realtor Launched!

05 Sunday Jan 2014

Posted by in Family, Rich Lary Realtor

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Rich Lary realtor with Coldwell Banker Bain in KirklandLast week, we had a “soft” launch of Rich’s new website. It’s shaping up nicely with articles about local real estate, glimpses of the Pacific Northwest, home improvement, and of course, a few recipes disguised under “Cheating Gourmet.”

Please tell your friends about Rich’s new endeavor as a broker with Coldwell Banker Bain in Kirkland, and point them to www.richlaryrealtor.com and his Coldwell Banker Bain page.

Thanks!

Julie