call me cindie
Seattle stays light until 9 p.m. in August. The late-night sunsets make you want to be outdoors.
Did I mention there's lots of good coffee to be found?
After two and a half days of worky stuff, Daisye picks me up and we flee to an island (Bainbridge), where we do what we do best: shop for books, old clothes and antiques, and drink coffee and talk.
It's an artistic island. This dog is clearly a local muse.
Back in Tacoma, there's an art festival going on. Really talented students draw perfect copies of famous paintings in chalk on the sidewalk. We wonder what it would be like if they did their own stuff. But a few feet away, a group of guys who seem like they belong in a Judd Apatow movie are doing improv that involves a lot of slow motion and fake swordplay. They are not as funny as a Judd Apatow movie. Maybe doing your own stuff is overrated.
Daisye and I hang out at her very cute apartment, home to Kinks, Necco and many antiques and cool crafty inventions. Daisye is currently considering turning a 1950's Japanese box featuring a puppy and the faded words "Leave a note!" into a shrine.
With Necco's help, she takes needle and thread to the vintage jacket I just bought. It's wool with some patches I like sewn on the back, but unfortunately the middle patch says "Indie," which we agree makes the jacket the opposite. "You could change it to say 'Cindie,'" Daisye suggests, but since I don't know anyone named Cindie, she covers it up with a less loaded patch.
Yoshiko picks me up for part two of my weekend in the greater Seattle/Tacoma area. I worry that it will be a little weird because Daisye and Yoshiko are exes and haven't seen each other in a long time. But it's fine, of course, because we're all grownups here, or at least the cats unite us. Yoshiko has recently begun what I want to describe as a personal journey, except that sounds like it would involve crystals or something. Suffice to say she's doing big things in her life. And big inside changes sometimes necessitate outward representation. Hence our first stop: a tattoo convention (just for ideas). Pirate ships seem to be big this year.
After an amazing soul food dinner (in a restaurant packed with white people; such is the current nature of Capitol Hill), it's back to Espresso Vivace.
Then on to Yoshiko's new house in Des Moines, a simultaneously old school and postmodern arrangement--she lives upstairs, her dad lives downstairs, and two half-sisters (her dad's ex-step-kids), a brother-in-law and three nieces live in the front house. There are zucchini and swiss chard and basil and strawberries growing in the yard between the houses. There are chickens and I think one of the nieces mentioned bunnies. And of course there is Yoshiko's Shiba Inu, Kenji the one-eyed wonder dog. He is shy but smart and sweet. He's very good at guarding the bathroom should anyone try to sneak in at 2 a.m.
AK welcomes me home.
Did I mention there's lots of good coffee to be found?
After two and a half days of worky stuff, Daisye picks me up and we flee to an island (Bainbridge), where we do what we do best: shop for books, old clothes and antiques, and drink coffee and talk.
It's an artistic island. This dog is clearly a local muse.
Back in Tacoma, there's an art festival going on. Really talented students draw perfect copies of famous paintings in chalk on the sidewalk. We wonder what it would be like if they did their own stuff. But a few feet away, a group of guys who seem like they belong in a Judd Apatow movie are doing improv that involves a lot of slow motion and fake swordplay. They are not as funny as a Judd Apatow movie. Maybe doing your own stuff is overrated.
Daisye and I hang out at her very cute apartment, home to Kinks, Necco and many antiques and cool crafty inventions. Daisye is currently considering turning a 1950's Japanese box featuring a puppy and the faded words "Leave a note!" into a shrine.
With Necco's help, she takes needle and thread to the vintage jacket I just bought. It's wool with some patches I like sewn on the back, but unfortunately the middle patch says "Indie," which we agree makes the jacket the opposite. "You could change it to say 'Cindie,'" Daisye suggests, but since I don't know anyone named Cindie, she covers it up with a less loaded patch.
Yoshiko picks me up for part two of my weekend in the greater Seattle/Tacoma area. I worry that it will be a little weird because Daisye and Yoshiko are exes and haven't seen each other in a long time. But it's fine, of course, because we're all grownups here, or at least the cats unite us. Yoshiko has recently begun what I want to describe as a personal journey, except that sounds like it would involve crystals or something. Suffice to say she's doing big things in her life. And big inside changes sometimes necessitate outward representation. Hence our first stop: a tattoo convention (just for ideas). Pirate ships seem to be big this year.
After an amazing soul food dinner (in a restaurant packed with white people; such is the current nature of Capitol Hill), it's back to Espresso Vivace.
Then on to Yoshiko's new house in Des Moines, a simultaneously old school and postmodern arrangement--she lives upstairs, her dad lives downstairs, and two half-sisters (her dad's ex-step-kids), a brother-in-law and three nieces live in the front house. There are zucchini and swiss chard and basil and strawberries growing in the yard between the houses. There are chickens and I think one of the nieces mentioned bunnies. And of course there is Yoshiko's Shiba Inu, Kenji the one-eyed wonder dog. He is shy but smart and sweet. He's very good at guarding the bathroom should anyone try to sneak in at 2 a.m.
AK welcomes me home.
Comments
that dog is winking at me.
As for drawing your own stuff being overrated... I have to admit my first thought was that chalk replication is so much more impressive than my original.
N: Elliott Bay Book Co. and the Richard Hugo House are must-sees.