Weekending in Love

Weekending.
It began in steady grey rain,
as all wonderful trips must
as we sat with ferry’s ocean view
as we said, it’s a strange thing
to ferry without children:
no endless loops aboard top deck,
no diaper changes in a diesel-rattling restroom
no puzzles in the galley.
We sat in the quiet
as we said, it’s a fabulous thing
to ferry without children.
Watching Meek’s Cutoff on the iPhone
we realized the only way to make it worse
would be to watch it standing up in a hot theater
eating endless salty popcorn, deprived of drink.
Sometimes watching a bad movie with Luke
is funnier than any comedy out there.
He cracks me up until my side hurts.
It had been 1/4 of a year since we traveled to the mainland together:
it’s a strange thing to drive over 35 mph,
it’s a strange thing to drive in a ten lane highway,
all rain and drizzle, horns honking.
We parked in a back alley
bookended in awe-smiling graffiti.
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The Ace Hotel:
love it.

Seattle’s Belltown neighborhood, blocks from Pike’s Place Market.
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Fresh, hip:
funk’s charming feel.  Murals, terrariums, hip match books for the taking.
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I recognized a Peabody, MA accent from the fine front-desk gentleman at vintage wooden stairs’ base.
It would be hard or haud for me to lose the part or paht of Massachusetts inside me.
We spoke of:
The Big E, the eastern states fair to beat all fairs every September in The Pioneer Valley.
Vermont, and a slice of extra sharp cheddah on top of a pie.
3 children and this as our 3rd time away in nearly 8 years.
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We got an upgrade to a king suite yeah, east coast hook up.  We smiled cool, no shared bathroom.  
Inside 116:
easy to find the balcony, the Bruce Lee movie on TV standing in a room so close to his grave.
But all we saw was one big mirrored wall.
Oh, it pivots.  So freakin’ cool.
[Insert ten minutes of spin, spin, spin, stop, walk through, spin, spin..]
We played a Scooby Doo secret passage scene from a 70s childhood memory before settling in for a nap.
Golden moment: deciding we want to nap and taking a nap.  Pure luxury.
The nap came after eating candy before dinner, not sharing our packages of peanut M&Ms.  Pure luxury.
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After walking a few blocks to the bar,
a Seattle City Arts Festival site,
we entered into a narrow if-these-walls-could-sing sort of theater
not much larger than our living room.
Intimate like this:
hearing fingers slip along guitar strings,
noticing eye color of a bassist,
studying guiarists’ tattoos
feeling breath atop microphones,
trying to keep my left arm from moving because the three charm bracelets I wear for each daughter chattered louder than the banjo, the violin, the harmony.
Before this evening,
I would have told you
Phish, 1990 in Northampton, MA
was the tiniest and most incredible venue I’d been a part of,
if you discount the kitchen concerts of college farmhouses in the late 90s.
I didn’t talk with each musician personally,
but I know we share a similar musical lineage
where Neil and Bob and Townes and Gillian sing inside our heads.
After each show,
we bought their vinyl,
refilled our beer,
shook their hands.
Some of their moms were there sitting
behind us, beside us.
We knew The Rendezvous felt like home to them,
and we were
so happy to be inside this:
Bryan John Appleby [HERE] picked up where we left off at Doe Bay
and is clearly soaring to the top of local performers:
poetic songwriting;
songs unfold beautifully like Northwest fog.
Joseph Giant’s [HERE] gravelly voice was raised on Willie Nelson and fine tuned in the NW punk scene.  Now, he’s all Ballard trucker country in white jeans and it sounded just fine to us.

Smokey Brights [HERE]:
happy.  The electric back and soul-y folk brings me back to nights with Moon Boot Lover in New Hampshire’s smokey bar.  It’s impossible not to sway and smile to these tunes.  I remember feeling this is perfect listening to them.
Now, these dudes are so excited to start their Fall tour it felt great to be happy for them, happy with them.

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Sons of Warren Oats [HERE]
I fell head over heals when I stumbled upon The Maldives’ lyrics at Doe Bay Fest.  Luke was smitten and their CD has been happily stuck on repeat in his truck’s not-so-sweet sound system.
Sons of Warren Oats is a sampling of insane acoustic strings and on-point lyrics from Maldives, Moondoggies and other Ballard besties.
We listened at stage’s edge to tunes on a borrowed guitar and I couldn’t help but think
if I wrote songs, I’d want to do it just like this.
I’d bet they’re written in black ink.

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Near 2 in the morning, new vinyl tucked under my arm,
we smelled pizza and walked in and got a slice to go.  Awesome.
We live on an island where just about everything closes at 9 so this was pretty damn amazing.
We sat up in our hotel room and watched some black and white movie about a fly that turned into a girl in distress.  I nodded off, pizza in hand and woke to some shoot-em-up Godzilla flick in black and white.  Hotel television at its best.
At 10 in the morning I woke, hot coffee and fresh waffles beside room’s white stillness.
So nice to sleep in.
So nice to not change a diaper,
so nice to not wake up at 6.
Seattle:
here the poles are covered in staples
& Chuck Norris do-it-yourself ads.
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We stumbled into Luke’s dream,
which could have been advertised under:
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For Guys Who Carry a Leatherman and drink PBR and like strange old wooden tools, hard-to-find files and dusty hardware from the 1950s.
It was fun to look around.  There was dusty weird stuff everywhere.
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We got lost driving in Seattle.
Really, really lost.
The Viaduct was closed, about to be torn down
telling stories about Boston’s Big Dig
and scaring drivers, commuters for tough times ahead.
We couldn’t figure out how to get to Ballard without Viaduct’s 99.
I know.
It was raining,
people were honking,
there was stand-still traffic,
red lights.
We were hungry,
in need of espresso.
We got even more lost.
We pulled over.

14 Carrots: all-day breakfast place.

Right.  In.  Front.
Perfect for a Saturday
all free range eggs with goat cheese and herbs
with yummy bacon chunks
and a delicious frothy mocha.
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Yup.  It was a wonderful date weekend.
Loved every minute of it well, maybe not the traffic part.
Love him and everyone we’ve created.
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It was nice to have the opportunity to miss the little ladies.
I’m soaking up extra hugs today.
Have a wonderful week.
:::
linking with Amanda today from the habit of being.

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