I headed out of yoga last night, chatting with S. all the way, after she kindly waited while I talked to our teacher for a bit. She's refreshing: we should talk more, hang out more, but neither of us seem to be able to find the time.
The first bits of a thunderstorm were letting loose: I offered to drive her over to her car, parked about a block away, but she declined since she likes having the walk after yoga. Wish I could think like that, but for me, it's all I can do to get there on time. Stupid work getting in the way of my yoga. ;)
While driving home, I watched the rain evaporate off the blacktop as mist from the heat of the day, and when safely ensconced at home, enjoyed the thunder accompaniment. I love summer thunderstorms. It's foggy this morning, and cool, following the storm. I'm enjoying it very much.
There's a summer dish I've been craving since Monday that Dad used to make every once in awhile: a (from memory) really simple cucumber-and-vinegar dish. I meant to call and ask him about it on Monday, but got sidetracked with mom and planning for a trip we've just scheduled for November. Very exciting stuff, but I'm not going to trust that it's real until I'm on the plane. It's that surreal.
The Google (ha) isn't helping me with the recipe either: all of them have either mayo and sour cream, and I don't remember that at all. Dad, check me on this: it's just thinly sliced cucumber in white vinegar with sugar stirred in, right? And then chilled? Is it that simple, or is my memory just failing me?
Summers are always more than a bit nuts for me: you'd think it would be our down time here in Admissions, but it's not. It's cleanup time for some things, plus Spend a Summer Day prep and the six days themselves, plus the new web app going up each year.
That said, I wish I could get some time away to go see the boats my Dad's captaining these days. Take the new Black Point tour, perhaps. That's one thing this area is lacking: I love the mountains, but the lack of large bodies of water is something I miss pretty regularly. We've got streams, occasional rivers, but no convenient ponds or lakes. But maybe I just got spoiled with that big pond at the last place mom and I lived in Woodstock, then the Mississippi in St. Paul, then of course Lake Geneva.
Water's calming, stilling. The soft grandeur of the mountains here have a similar effect, but it's entirely different in feel. Seattle's were much more imposing, but distant. But their water was much more immediate. The Sound, Lake Washington, Lake Union, Green Lake: I saw almost every one of these regularly while I was there, most of them daily. They're spoiled with water and mountains.
I really need to make a fuller entry and notes about my visit there: I've just been so pushed for time lately, and I keep pushing off commitments, which is a problem. I'm not even finished with crunching the photos from the trip. But I took 3,700 shots, so that's kind of understandable. What I've put up so far you can see here. Oh, and Dad? Check out the Ballard and Nordic Heritage Museum sets. Ballard was originally settled by Scandinavian immigrants, so they have events like "Tivoli Viking Days" (I'm not making this up), and they have an actual, honest-to-goodness and still owned by the family Danish bakery and a bunch of Scandinavian foodstuff grocers, plus a bunch of retirement homes that are named for the groups they were either founded by, or primarily serve--all Scandinavian-based names. And you'll see some familiar items in the museum set. ;)
It's really as if Seattle was making a serious play for my attention: the seafood was exquisite, the sushi was the best I've ever had in my life, plus all this Danish heritage stuff? Sold. Y'know? That's another thing I've missed here: there's a lot of Dutch, a lot of German, a lot of miscellaneous Eastern European, in terms of original settlers, but not much Scandinavian stuff at all. Minor complaints, it might sound, but for someone who wants to keep connected to that community, keep the language I learned in good speaking shape, that's a powerful lack. And a powerful selling point for a place that has it.
Now, I'm not going anywhere for a year at least (I'm in a lease, if nothing else), but I have given it some thought, though not anywhere approaching serious, "how would I do this"-type thought. I've got time enough for that. But even aside from all the college friends who moved out there, I also know a couple that recently moved out there from Madison, so I should have all the practical advice on how to do it right and well if I should need it.
And I have friends there. Not only the college clan, but folks I'd known before only online, who I met when I went and spent two pretty full days with and became almost immediate fast friends. They're some of the most immediately awesome people I've ever met. You know how you start liking people more the more you get to know them? Not these folks. Right off the bat, they were far too cool to be true. But enough raving about them. The point is that making new friends is one of the most scary parts about moving. With Seattle, at least, it wouldn't be as much of a concern for me.
Done raving about Seattle. Dax and L. keep teasing me that everything's better in Seattle, since I keep naming things that are. I've had to chastise them that no, not everything is (I can name a couple things off the top of my head that are distinctly better here: traffic being a big one), it's just that the things I remember best and thus talk about are.
Back to the here and now. I smell like peaches this morning, due to my peachy BPAL Chaos Theory I got last year at this time. I'm really glad I put it on this morning. I tossed on my off-white cardigan, and the danger of leaving cardigans in my office for when I need them is that they start to smell like my office. But that's been the case with every office building I've ever known: they have a building smell, and after all day in it, that building smell will cling. But maybe I just have a sensitive nose.
Yesterday was a day-long meeting about this year's budget proposal. Let me repeat: Day. Long. Meeting. Wasn't as painful as I thought it would be, though. Though I drank far more coffee than I usually do (the usual amount being zero).
I was also by far the youngest one there. I noted it and thought it was weird, but I don't think anyone else noticed. Except for at lunch, where I had mentioned yoga, and then everyone at my table leapt in to describe their various back problems, sciatica, neck injuries, etc. One guy's back had seized and he had collapsed while walking up his block, just laying there until some stranger helped him. Carried him to his truck, drove him to his house, deposited him in his bed. When he still couldn't move, he eventually called 911. Bizarre. Makes me none too keen to get older. ;) But I guess that's a good reason to be starting yoga before I need it for physical therapy or some such.
I'm debating going to classes three times a week rather than my current two. I love it, it makes me feel awesome and I can tell I'm making progress. I'm still amazed at a few things I can do that I certainly wouldn't have been able to before starting (or when I was in that down time before I picked it back up again). It's just a time issue. As is everything, it seems.
Speaking of which, I should really get to it.
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