Wednesday, December 28, 2005


One thing I noticed about Seattle while I was there: Seattle LOVES it's Nutcrackers. Loves. Though perplexed by this revelation, I didn't try to understand the city's fascination with the painted novelty nut-remover. I decided instead to respect this strange cultural obsession, to observe the rituals of the indiginous peoples of this land by paying homage to the various commemorative shrines, or "cracker-spots" set up around town. I took a few pictures of these sacred, celebrated toy monuments whenever I could.

Here is a playful Nutcracker, diligently guarding the Market like a sprite guards a forest:

A feminine 'cracker; beautifully decorated in a floral-pattern mosaic. This could be some sort of tribute to a primitive diety, or maybe an offering to the ghost of a long-forgotten local banshee. Courtney Love perhaps?:

Despite his incredulous expression, Ryan has assured me that he LOVES Nutcrackers, just like the natives of his chosen homeland:

Even stranger than this hypnotic 'cracker is the strange thing taking place before it. Yes, my friends; this is Kyle on a cell phone. Truly, these objects inspire bizzarre occurances:

And here is the scary "Nightcracker," guardian of the lower streets of Seattle, foe of wrong-doers and criminals, commando in the war on the uncracked, and the primary reason I remain afraid of gay toy soldier holiday items:

Seattleites are a strange people indeed.

Monday, December 12, 2005


I was woken up yesterday at 8:30 by Carl McHoverton, who was at that moment hovering over the bed with a robe in his hands, saying something to me. I said something back to him that sounded like this:
"C'mon, get up! The eggs are burning, the eggs are getting cold," he said.
"Muhhh???" but I complied, slogging out of bed and flopping downstairs in his robe and slippers. Wherupon I discovered two sets of eggs. My eggs, which were still warm, and his eggs, which were not in fact burning. Thank god we sorted that out.

Somewhere in the middle of forking my waffles and eggs down my throat, he springs on me, "hey, I want to go to Pebble Hill today!" Pebble Hill, for those of you who do not know (which is probably all of you), is the nondenominational church that Carl used to attend a few years ago. Conversation continued thusly:
"Pebble Hill. We can totally make it to celebration if we leave soon."
"You are serious."
"Yes! Let's go! Hurry eat faster get dressed water the cats water the Christmas tree c'mon put shoes on!"

So that's how I ended up at church yesterday, knitting and listening to an inspirational sermon. Of course, the minister threw in antecdotal notes about life with his gay partner; the wholesome boy shoveling the sidewalk had dreadlocks; the congregation included a man who wore a dress and his new breasts to service, and an anouncement by one of the community leaders reminded the congregation about the upcoming Solstice feast.

What kind of topic might be discussed by such a minister in such a place? The title of the discussion was "What Star are You Following," roughly translated into hippy speak as (and I kid you not) "Follow the Disco Ball in Your Heart."

Sunday went on to include a drive to New Hope and delicious Thai food in a charming yuppie cafe, but "Follow the Disco Ball in Your Heart?" That there is a priceless moment of togetherness that you just can't recreate, ever.


The Seattle Minutes
Part 4

Wednesday, November 30

10:30 am Put K-Dawg on shuttle to airport. Good thing I was here; he could have gotten lost in the driveway or tripped on some leaves.
10:45 am-5:12pm knit sock, wash dishes, knit sock, watch The View, knit sweater, put dishes away, knit sock, take shower, knit sock, rifle through friend's medicine cabinet, knit sock, etc.
5:13 friends come home; enjoy meal and Simpsons
8:40 leave apartment at perfectly reasonable time in order to make 10:45 flight to CLT
8:42 Get last eyefull of the Space Needle (or Speedle, as the locals call it)
8:46 Gaze upon fair visage of the city that has fed me so well; say a silent ciao
8:47 Pass creepy logo eyes staring down at us from high atop the Starbucks HQ like some caffein-pushing big sister, just letting us know that she's watching
8:49 Bid adeiu to the rolling hills and fresh radio grooves that seem to eminate from them
8:50 Lean forward in seat and say, "Oh shit. I forgot my cell phone"
8:51 Drive back to apartment
9:00 S-money retrieves phone from kitchen
9:01-9:15 big eyefull, last visage, fair sister, ciao Speedle, etc.

9:25 arrive at airport, give hugs goodbye at United check-in sidewalk
9:26 realize I am fly ing U.S. Air; walk there instead
9:32 check in
9:34 security shake-down. Wonder how many times in my life I've done this
9:39-10:03 Meander through gift shops, searching for junk to blow money on. (truffles for mom...what makes these truffles any more Seattle? I mean, Seattle isn't exactly known for it's chocolate...aah..the guilty airport I-didn't-buy-you-anything-yet buy) What would boyfriend like? useless Speedle novelty statuette? A box of salmon for $29.99? um.....shot glass? no...I mean, what says "Seattle" that my boyfriend would enjoy? What?? Settle on box of tea from the Market Spice place.
10:04 cursory glance at food court offerings. Studiously avoid the gaze of Starbucks.
10:05 somehow not hungry. Make way to gate

10:20 board plane
10:25 find seat. Over wing again. Thank god I'm here; these people probably have families to go home to. Seat next to me is empty.
10:45 take off
11:05 drink cart: should I get some coffee?
11:06 No, tomato juice again. Coffee would probably suck. I'm spoiled after all the mornings of good, strong coffee at boyfriend's house. Man, does that guy love his coffee...

Friday, December 09, 2005

Wherein We Meet the People; See the Sites

The Seattle Minutes (expressed here in day form, because it's been a week and I can't remember the minutes anymore)
Part 3

Saturday: Drive up and down many hills and one-way streets so that we can eventually find and gawk at the bridge troll. We sneer at his monstrosity, gasp at his unfortunate plight, and peer up his gargantuan nostrils. I force friends to pose for pictures in front of the troll that all of them have already seen.

Sunday night: Prying ourselves away from number puzzles and knitting, Steph, Kyle and I walk down through the seedy part of town to a closed bookstore; press noses to glass forlornly. Pass many nutcrackers placed around the city in promotion of The Nutcracker. Wish to take pictures of nutcrackers; do not due to prevalence of boisterous homeless specimens roaming streets and overall creepiness of nutcrackers at night. Nutcracker.

  • Meet Ryan for peroshkis at the Market. Savor delicious homemade hot-pocket type thing filled with mushrooms, broccoli and cheese; pretend I am a Polish fisherperson on the way to the docks.
  • Kyle and I walk around Market; see fish trade made famous by Real World Seattle.
  • Take pictures of nutcrackers. (yay for broad daylight)
  • Take pictures of mountains.
  • Take pictures of water.
  • Lose camera.
  • Search frantically.
  • Find camera in own bag; hang head.
  • Go to Elliot Bay, delicious multi-leveled bookstore of my dreams where Harry Potter would have gotten his school books had Harry Potter been set in Seattle. Bookstore is now curiously open for business.
  • After consuming delicious berry/pineapple pizza lovingly handcrafted by Ryan, we decide to go to Dragonfish again. Drunkery and a self-indulgent sushi fix ensues.

Tuesday: Ryan takes us on the sceneic tour of the coldest parts of town so we can meet Steph for lunch. We have Mexican. Will the eating never cease? No, it won't.