The Senate

Last night, I ventured to the U District (feeling about 100 years out of my league, BTW - a tribute to my impending 28th birthday) to see The Senate, a folk-rocky, harmonic, acoustic group with incredible talent. The venue, Cafe Solstice, is a coffee shop that (blissfully) serves beer and wine as well. Stella in hand and just feet from the stage, we enjoyed an energetic show peppered with light humor between bandmates and a truly memorable version of The Band's "The Weight" at the end. You can't help but tap your toes, stomp your feet and clap your hands along with this group's rhythmic tunes - my current favorite being "Ocean Song," the folk version of John Mayer's "Your Body is a Wonderland," though the comparison doesn't really do The Senate justice. For a group so young, they have a backwoods melancholy that belies their age and brings to mind Southern plantations and Appalachian mountains, and the truly heartfelt voice inflection in some of their more personal songs is a tribute to their songwriting capability.

The Senate, rocking their "face-melting acoustic riffage".

Moreover, I was so happy and content just to be out, frosty beverage in hand and surrounded by string-plucking melodies. At the end of the day, sometimes, it just don't get no better'n that.

The Great Fire of '09

Let's refer to this incident as The Great Fire of '09. Perhaps that sounds a little dramatic, given that the most damage done was to my poor lampshade (below), the ceiling (which I haven't been able to properly clean) and Baylor's paws, which became black with soot almost instantly. However, I'm hoping that by referring to this relatively small blaze as the "Great Fire" I will consequently be spared similar incidents in the future. Of course, probably a little more attentive caution exerted on my part would contribute to my personal safety as well.

So here's what happened: on a dry but gray Sunday afternoon last week, I was attempting to return to a semblance of normalcy after the holidays by cleaning, organizing and preparing for the week ahead. With the ubiquitous laundry mostly put away and an evening ahead in which to relax, I lit a few candles, including a lovely homemade beeswax taper given to me by a coworker. This was my first mistake, as I generally don't like to light tapers to begin with (too easy to knock over and start fires, as well as often drippy and waxy). My second mistake was in not trimming the wick quite enough. And my third mistake was in placing the taper several inches from my favorite kitchen lamp, which ought to have been far enough away, but for the lack of wick trimming. So, taper burning merrily, I turned away for a short time - probably 30 seconds - and suddenly began to smell smoke.

My first thought was that the taper was just burning more pungently than my other candles, and as I turned around to check on it, I discovered that both the top of the taper and my lamp were engulfed in flames! Not wanting to electrocute myself, I attempted to unplug the lamp - and unplugged the computer in my panic instead. Running around into the kitchen, I managed to yank the lamp cord out of the wall, drop all the burning items into the sink and attempted to douse the fire with water. By this time, the ceiling of the whole apartment had filled with roiling black smoke, the fire alarm was beeping incessantly, the dog had retreated tail between legs to the bathroom and the fire was still burning, and in fact, getting larger. Frantically looking for a towel to pat the fire out with (ha), I continued running water over the lamp, which finally succumbed to the cool wetness and died.

My place was still filled with smoke (and I was more terrified of the fire department showing up and getting in trouble than my own personal safety) so I ran to open the windows, turned on my floor fan full bore and began madly waving a towel around to get the smoke out. I managed to hit the reset button on the fire alarm, and thankfully, avoided the wrath of of those more fire-savvy men (though truthfully, it was a little disappointing - I mean, what girl doesn't want the fire department to show up?).

All in all, the whole episode lasted about 5 minutes, start to finish.

Here, the blackened remains of my faithful lamp, which provided warm light in 6 apartments across 3 states 1999 - 2009:

The most alarming part was simply how quickly it all happened - even in my 720 square foot studio, had I been even in the shower at the time, it could have been SO much worse. I laughed about it immediately after (with shaky relief) but fully recognize how fortunate I am. What I think happened was that the taper's wick simply burned much too quickly, causing a large flame that somehow caught the lamp next to it (which, let's face it, after almost 10 years of travels can't possibly have been particularly flame-retardant). This incident made me truly appreciate and respect the power of fire - and caused me to think twice about the candles I choose to light in the future.

So, my "relaxing" evening was spent cleaning the soot that fell over everything, and comforting the dog, who refused to come out of the bathroom for several hours. However, at the end of the day, if that's the worst that happened...well, I am very fortunate indeed.

Dog Day...Evening?

Last night, as the air was clear and the sidewalks relatively traversable, the Notorious D.O.G. and I ventured forth to the dog park for a much-needed outing in the snow. Normally, the Regrade park (Seattle's smallest off-leash dog park, at 0.3 acres) is a little bit sketchy due to its proximity to the bus line and ultimate dive bar located across the street (the kind that you steer clear of, not the kind that yuppies like me deem to have "character" and make it their new favorite divey haunt until some entrepreneurial investor sees an opportunity for an upgrade, purchases it, revamps it, offers better food and a mixology menu and ultimately folds because all the yuppies who frequented the establishment in the first place have determined that the old character is lost with the new management and have moved on to their second favorite dive, where the process begins all over again). However, in the snow, the park seemed less like a suburban enclave for druggies and the homeless and more a wintry playground for canine companions.

Baylor loves the snow. Upon being released in the dog park he peed on everything (this has nothing to do with the snow, of course) and then happily brought a tennis ball to me for a long game of fetch, which I tired of before he did (largely because I forgot my gloves, making searching for the ball in the snow a cold and unappealing process). Here, he took a break from our game to check out the other activity across the park:

Despite my freezing fingers and the fact that I was tromping on yellow snow with every step (much as I attempted to avoid it), I think I had as much fun as Baylor - more, perhaps, because I realized that sometimes my mangy little menace is just the medicine I need to snap me out of a funk. Watching him bound through the snow in his red fleece jacket brought the biggest smile to my face, and put me in a much better frame of mind for the rest of the week. At the end of the day, I know he's just a dog...but he has a way of bringing me back to the things that matter: love, selflessness and simple joys. Thanks, Baylor, for a dog day evening - it was a good one.

Reset Buttons and Other Frustrating Simplicities of Modern Technology

My heater is fixed.

Before I tell you how, it IS noteworthy to mention that I did try to fix the problem myself (it's that little bit of unapologetic narcissism that allows me to think that I am capable of such things) by unscrewing the grill cover (turning off the power at the breaker first) and peering intently at the complex coils, fans and wires that comprise my heater. Immediately upon removing the cover, I realized I had no idea what I was doing and spent the next 15 minutes trying to put it back on, as the screw holes in the wall are conveniently located juuuuuuust a few millimeters off from their cover counterparts and thus requiring a tremendous amount of patience for the cover's replacement (which I, naturally, do not possess).

So this morning I answered a knock at my door wearing my best (read: threadbare but warm) fleece bathrobe to discover Mr. Maintenance Man on the other side, having come at the most inopportune time to fix my heater. This is exactly the situation I was trying to avoid (read previous posts below). He stumped into my place, toolbelt jangling and making pleasantries in an unrecognizable but heavy accent, fiddled with the knob (duh) and in two deft turns of a screwdriver had the grill cover of the heater on the floor (damn him). "Ahhhhh," he said knowingly, "it needs to be reset."

Who knew wall heaters had a reset button?!

A tap of the finger and - tada! - heat was flowing into my apartment once again.

Damn the simplicities of modern technology and all the complications that ensue as a result of them. In the words of Judge Smails, "The world needs ditch-diggers too"...or in this case, maintenance men.

Snow Day!

I know today's snow is wreaking havoc on most people's lives, but I can't help but marvel at the way it changes my downtown environment - and crave more. After all, I'm fortunate enough that this truly feels like a "snow day", the kind you have when you're in grade school and you wake up to a white blanket outside and discover shortly after that - miracle of miracles! - your district is closed! It happens so rarely as an adult as to feel like a novelty (even if I was already going to take today off). Miracle of miracles - a snow day for me! Here, a shot of 4th Ave & Vine St looking toward downtown:


And even more than I do, Baylor loves the snow. He leaps, he bounds, he burrows his face deep in the drifts, rooting along for any scent buried beneath the flakes, then flings his head upward in a dramatic and joyful gesture, finally shaking his body free of the icy crystals in the way that dogs do, beginning at the head in a staccato movement down to his tail. I always wonder what dogs see, and think - and I think that they must know more than I give them (read: Baylor) credit for, because in the snow Baylor seems to look and truly survey his surroundings, taking in the familiar shapes as they are covered with mounds of white. Somehow, he always manages to look reflective (though I doubt he's reflecting upon much more than the next pure spot of snow upon which to lift his leg).

My family and I have done little things for those less fortunate today - my brother giving a stranded couple and their baby a ride home after their car plowed into a snow bank off the freeway, and me giving much more than the requisite dollar to the tenacious Real Change agent outside my local RiteAid. I know it's not much - and I write this not to seek a "pat on the back" but more to remind myself and others of our fortune, abundance, and joy. A "snow day" for me has served as a reminder of all I have, and all that I have still to give.

At the end of the day, I hope that many people, in some way, have found small wonders in today's weather. After all, who doesn't love a snow day?

Chilly Fingers, Toasty Toes

My heater is broken.

I just had it fixed. Okay, several weeks ago now. Somehow I've managed to lose track of time and it feels like it was just yesterday. But that's probably because just yesterday I told myself I would take care of it (just like the day before, and the day before that, and...).

So tonight I come home from a brisk walk on a chilly evening with the dog. and race to rip off my now-sweaty layers with red, claw-like fingers and immediately open the window, breathing deeply the fresh, crisp air I had run upstairs to escape just moments before.

I putter around my little apartment, on the phone and completing various domestic tasks - in other words, absorbed enough that I don't notice the cold fingers of night air creeping into the relative warmth of my humble abode.

I sit down to type an email - and find that my fingers have already cramped with December chill that now pervades the apartment. I turn to my wall heater (which provides enough heat for hamster-sized individual, by the way) only to discover - alas! - my procrastination has bitch-slapped me once again.

Reluctantly I drag myself to the bureau for warmer layers, where a mental debate ensues over several outfit options: warm and cozy or fun and sassy? As I run through the pros and cons of each in my mind, I realize I've been standing there for 10 minutes deciding what to wear for the dog, as it is highly unlikely that anyone of importance will be knocking on my door in the few remaining hours before bed that I even need to make this decision. Ideally, in the event that my fire alarm goes off and a barrage of fire fighters comes to break down the door, I'd like to be dressed in outfit #2, if for no other reason than to avoid the complete mortification of being seen by strangers in my favorite worn and torn pajama pants and T-shirt. So I laugh (somewhat derisively) at myself and select a comfortable (but presentable) outfit - just in case.

And then I realize I'm still freezing and curl up on my favorite chair with the dog for warmth, and make a mental note to call to have the heater fixed - tomorrow.

Inspiration

I met with a truly amazing, SUCCESSFUL woman last week, whose energy and vision and zest about her company has completely motivated me to be more fresh, unique, passionate, lively, outgoing, forthcoming and risk-taking than I've felt inspired to be in a long time.

One professional mantra that struck me: she said, "Be distinct." Find what it is you do well, and focus on it, and promote it, and own it and never compromise your distinction for the competition.

I dare to make this a personal mantra as well: to find what "it" is about me - what makes me distinctive as a friend, professional, significant other, family member and woman - and be true to it.

I always want to be doing more, but listening to this woman - this real-life, funny, practical, dedicated and successful woman - truly inspired me to greater ambitions for myself.

My success is a rolling wave on the open ocean, slowly headed for shore, about to crest in a crescendo upon glistening sands. I'm almost there. I will be there. At the end of the day, I just needed to be inspired.