Posts Tagged ‘Seattle’

Let it snow while I reflect

December 18, 2009

A classic winter snowstorm, tracking up the coast from the south like the big ones that usually nail us, is on its way at this writing. At Best’s store today, snow shovels were flying out the door like Ryan Howard’s homeruns out of Citizen’s Bank Park. “What do they do with them from year to year?” one cashier asked.  “Who cares? I said.  “It’s job security for you guys.”

Meanwhile DelDOT’s been brining the roads to anticipate the ice.  Pretty work!

It’s 4:30 and it’s almost dark.  Just one more week and we’ll pass the winter solstice and the days will begin lengthening again. Merry Christmas!

I’m still thinking about a recent trip to Seattle where a granddaughter, Maisy Peach, was born.  Her papa, Ross, read her a story, “Don’t Lick The Dog” a couple of days ago.  She listened to each word and asked lots of questions.  Only a week old?  Can you believe it?  We’re sure she’s a genius.  Maybe she   was just thinking the questions. But she must be smart.  Megan was reading lots of baby books during her pregnancy. 

Here’s a quick picture story about the days leading up to the birth.

First, we ate fish tacos at the Coastal Kitchen up on Broadway and drank wine and beer and wondered whether Megan would give birth before we had to fly back to Delaware.  Fish tacos are a fine art in the Pacific Northwest.  The restaurant had a Cuban flavor and we liked it. C’mon baby.

A few days later we were looking in windows on First Street in Belltown, wondering how we would look in these creative togs made out of candy – red licorice and peppermints. We were also still wondering whether Megan would deliver – whether the stork would land – before we had to leave.

We took a side trip to San Juan Island, north of Seattle in Puget Sound, thinking we would fool the baby into thinking we had left.  “Maybe that will get her moving, since she’s already past her due date by 10 days for God’s sake.”  We enjoyed looking at alpacas at a farm on San Juan Island.  Wool clothing was beautiful and expensive.

Then we walked through a small state park with a beautiful lighthouse.  

There’s a great sculpture garden on the island with about a hundred different pieces spread over 20 or 30 acres.

A nice walk on a sunny day.

It was there that Becky filled out a prayer message and dropped it into a prayer spinner to be broadcast through the atmosphere of deep consciousness.

She prayed for a safe and speedy baby delivery and a healthy granddaughter.

Then we took the ferry back to Seattle, still waiting for the baby’s arrival, but getting close to our  departure date just one day away.

The prayer worked.  Maisy Peach decided to send Megan into labor the night before we left.  At 1:30 in the morning she and Ross were rocking and moaning in the living room, listening to mellow music, and just a day past the full moon.  Megan and her sister, Meredith, were both full moon babies.  Maisy Peach wanted to follow suit.  She came into this world at 10 a.m. Here she is with mom and pop three minutes after delivery.  Ain’t it cool?  And this is why we have to work so hard to make this world a better place.


Goin’ to the Chapel in a Purple Haze

December 3, 2009

Delaware native Tom Douglas operates several successful restaurants in Seattle.

SEATTLE: DEC. 2, 2009 – This town seduces you.  It’s easy to drink too much wine and espresso. So many options and, at this time of year, so little daylight. Don’t ask for the connection.  Chalk it up to alcohol and caffeine.

Today we ate lunch at a Tom Douglas restaurant called Serious Pie. (Douglas has Delaware connections and several other Seattle Restaurants including Lola, Palace Kitchen, Dahlia Lounge and Etta’s Seafood.) Serious Pie is seriously reminiscent of Half Full in downtown Lewes: artisan pizzas along with an extensive list of Italian wines and a shorter list of beers and ales. We ate two of their thin-crusted pizzas – about the thinnest and lightest crust we’ve ever had – and washed them down with a carafe of Pinot Grigio.

A few blocks later, we stopped into an espresso joint.  I’m too fond of lattes with caramel. The sound system was playing “Going to the chapel and I’m . . . gonna get married . . . ”

“Is that Jimi Hendrix?” I asked the young man as I was paying for my order.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“I was just kidding,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, kind of innocently.  “It doesn’t sound psychedelic enough.”

“But you know what is funny?” I asked, without waiting for an answer.  “Both of those songs came out during the same era.”

“This is a collection from the ’60s,” he said. “So that makes sense.”

I went on to tell him about seeing Hendrix and his band at Washington D.C.’s Shoreham Hotel in the spring of 1968.  He seemed genuinely interested.

“How was it?”

“Amazing,” I said.  “What I couldn’t believe was how much music those three musicians could put out by themselves.  Of course Hendrix and his bass player each had pyramids of amplifiers and speakers 20 feet tall and equally as wide, on each side of the stage.”

“I would like to have seem him,” he said.

“He was probably dead before you were born.”

“1987,” he said.

“Oh yeah, he was gone by then.  But you can go up on Broadway and see that great statue of him.”

Then I thought again of the contrast in music produced in that era.

“I guess it shows the difference between music produced under the influence of hot chocolate and music produced under the influence of LSD.”   He might have laughed.  I’m not sure.

He rung me up and walked away after giving me my change and four quarters for bus fare.  I threw some more words his way.  “I’m putting a dollar in the tip jar here for your education fund.”

“Not going to college,” he said.  “Going straight into business.”

“School of hard knocks huh?” I replied.


“You know what the school colors are don’t you?”

He looked at me inquiringly.

“Black and blue,” I said.

He smiled and Becky laughed, though she’s heard it dozens of times before.

“Do I get a discount for entertainment?”

“Next time,” he said, and smiled.

“Oh yeah,” I said, “Like that classic sign on the bar: ‘Beer is free tomorrow.'”