A rock climb



A winters day view of the rocks



                                          

Who can resist the allure of scaling a rocky peak.  The playground has all kinds of climbing equipment but it was left behind for the fun of running down a grassy hill and then scrambling to the top of the rocks. 

                                                   

Kalina and Bianca had just met but when you have reached a summit together there is a special bond.  And if you get to slide to the bottom in a joyous descent you have really had a good day.

                                                                                    

Dream the dream



Victor Hugo







Poor Little Cosette





  It was like a dream to me.  Les Miserables the 25th anniversary production was in town and I finally made it to the theater to see it.  Victor Hugo's timeless story of redemption,love and sacrifice set to beautiful lyrics and music is irresistible.  It is so universally loved that it has played in 41 countries and in 21 different languages.  Still I was surprised when Erika's sister and mother who speak Brazilian Portuguese were excited to see this English version.  But no wonder when the story is in one form or another beloved by so many.. Erika told me it was a most favorite book of her fathers. We went to the opening night and it fulfilled all expectations even though we were in one of the last rows at the top of the balcony and we were lucky to get these seats at the last minute. 





Opening night of Les Mis at the 5th Ave theater



The presentation was  'grittier' then the 10th anniversary show I fell in love with on PBS to fit the harsh lives of the characters. The brooding backdrop scenery was inspired from Victor Hugo's own paintings.  The voices beautiful although I wish Eponine had toned it down a wee bit.  Who am I - one night at a musical in the past two years and now I'm a critic?

And then another wonderful night at Les Mis with my brother,Floyd (who remembers seeing movies at the 5th Ave in its former life).  We both commented on the intensity brought to the stage by the players .  Having seen it just two weeks before it was amazing to think that these performers can make every show the perfect experience.  I had never thought about  what it takes to do that night after night.



I may have the musical Les Mis out of my system now that I took it in for six hours this summer.  But the story keeps reverberating in my head and so I will re-read the book that started it all. 

And I just have to toss this in the mix.    Les Mis song in modern and practical setting   At the protests in the Wisconsin Capitol this year, the music of the Students at the Barricades  fits the moment and still stirs the crowd.  Not the heartpounding professional theater version but hearfelt just the same.   

Low Tech help..or how I got home without a GPS

My saga began after an evening shift ending somwhere around midnight.  It was a Sunday night like all others except I suddenly found myself lost in Seattle.   In a span of a few minutes it seemed I went from comfortably toodling along in my car a very short distance from home to facing an uncertain future in alien territory.   The experience might have made an interesting Twilight Zone episode in retrospect.  The lifeline to West Seattle from I-5 is the west seattle bridge and occasionaly the on ramp is closed which it was that night.  In those instances, I normally pass the exit , keep heading south to the next off ramp and work my way back.   But I just had to try something new.    Before I knew it I was driving through industrial south seattle where every road had barriers and detours.  I hadn't realized how much of south and west Seattle is awash in road construction



Every possible route home foiled!!!



In my younger years, I would easily get lost as my sons can testify to. They no doubt remember frantic searches for the right road while sitting in the back seat with their mom at the wheel...  But I'm pretty confident in my older years having navigated successfully to many places over the decades.  I did learn from experience.  So I wasn't too worried (just slightly) that I was in this unfamiliar area in the dark and that every hopeful road to rescue told me to go elsewhere.





Prospects for getting home turned grim.  I was getting nowhere fast. Passing scenes like this gave me the eerie feeling that I was in an alternate universe - no people just concrete and steel.  This was the mood I was beginning to succumb to as the clock was ticking and I was farther and farther from my comfy bed.  I had completely lost track of location.  I didn't know my east from my west and I really needed to head west. 

Then I remembered I had a compass.  When I hiked with the Mountaineers you had to carry the 10 essentials.  This is the one essential that I thankfully still carried in my car.  I probably would have made it home without this low tech device (which appeared a beautiful vision in that dark night)

Brunton compass made in USA

but by pointing the magnetic needle north, my shiny yellow compass told me I was heading east. This knowledge saved me endless frustration.  I still had to use my wits (which were pretty frazzled by this time) to find my way home through every obstacle known to road crews.   And then once on my own familiar roads, the world turned back to its normal friendly feeling.  And yellow is now my favorite color.

Do you want to be friends?

Making friends as children is such a straightforward process.   You see a cute and friendly looking person of your own size.  A tentative sharing of smiles and then a little 'hi'  starts the exchanging of names and a bit of shy conversation.   Maybe they are thinking   'you are small like me, we giggle at the same things, you look nice... 

Before long they were  holding hands.  I remember making friends like this when little.   A simple 'Do you want to be friends - Okay'.  

An Ode to fathers

  Dads are a lot of fun.  A pictorial.

                                                   A rollicking rollover in 2009

A fun chase in 1948

A Garden of Surprises

Grrr, I was thinking as I looked down from my 2nd floor window to see the jungle that had overtaken my yard.  My townhouse has a relatively large backyard.  The ubiquitous WestSeattle townhouse usually has a fairly small patio  but I actually have a patch of land!   I don't enjoy it much though so I tend to forget of going to it.  Picture yourself in a fishbowl -  towering windows from 2 neighboring places looking directly in to what should be a little sanctuary.  I can imagine the tsk,tsk of neighbors seeing my Hydrangeas being strangled by creeping Morning Glorys.   But then I remind myself, if I can only see my yard by getting up to the window and peering down to get a glimpse, why should they be in the business of seeing what is going on in my yard.  Pretty unlikely.  And when I get myself roused to go out there, I get so into the pulling of weeds and pruning bushes that I'm happy to be there.    So thorough has been my forgetting of the place, that when I got in to the thick of the pulling of weeds, I discovered these beauties that I had transplanted from Matt&Erika's yard.  I didn't remember that I had put them in the ground last summer. 

Continuing in to the thick of the brush,  to my great surprise this spring here was the lovely Bleeding Heart plant thriving and bigger than ever.  I have given up this plant for dead at least 3 times.  The first and most egregious lack of care was leaving it in a pail of water and forgetting to even plant it for a year.  But when it wouldn't give up, I felt I owed it a place in the soil where it was left to its own devices through drought and cold and still hung on.  Last year it was almost completely destroyed by some hired help who couldn't distinguish the weeds from the flowers.  We had a bleeding heart plant next to our front porch where I grew up so I'm very fond of this little hanger on.

I have always admired hydrangeas but had never had one.  It was never the right place or time or enviroment to have one. So a few years ago, I lovingly planted two  hydrangeas and did all the right things.  I hovered, I watered and fed my prized little plants.   They produced such big beautiful blooms.  And then last winter happened.  It was such a bitter cold that there was nothing left of these evergreen hydrangeas  but a few pitiful brown stems sticking up from the ground.  That is it I thought - I'm not destined to grow my favorite plant.  Imagine my surprise and joy to see this leafing and budding in the midst of my overgrown garden. 

These plants have pretty much taken care of themselves.  If they work that hard to live in my garden, I am happy to have them. 

Art appreciation

 When I was in grade school, I had a fear of art.  I had math anxiety too but it was nothing compared to how I felt when it when it came time to 'bring out your crayons and scissors and make this project'.  My blood ran cold...    The reason was I felt like a klutz.   While it seemed to me the other kids were confidently folding and cutting paper and  producing a perfect snowflake as expected, I was still trying to figure out the first fold and ended up with no snowflake at all.  A sort of artistic dyslexia if there is such a thing.  At least that is how I remember it.   Bianca is boosting my self esteem.  She thinks my artwork is amazing! I produce pictures on command.  Her most frequent request and favorite works are our self portraits... "make me... make you.."

It's all in the teamwork as we decide together shall we wear hats?Shall we wear ballet shoes?  "Oh yes!" 

Partners in Art

I'm going to have to expand my repertoire to keep up with her. 


Face by Nana and Dress by Bianca