As you know, coffee shops are not in short supply. But, nowhere are they more plentiful than the Seattle area, where rival shop windows glare at each other from opposite corners of nearly every intersection. In 1971, in the Pike Place Market, Seattle gave birth to the single coffee shop that would become the mega chain, Starbucks. Although that first location no longer houses a Starbucks, it has been memorialized on sweatshirts (I have one), mugs, and other stuff. If not for an indisputable fact of geography, that coffee beans grow in many places in the world but Seattle isn't one of them, we might think coffee was invented here.
I never acquired a taste for coffee but I love the idea of it. People seem to connect on some basic coffee level, as if DNA-driven to do so. We non-coffee drinkers are fortunate that coffee shops usually offer good tea so we don't have to linger on the outskirts of the herd where predators can pick us off. I used to think it was a grown-up drink, for big boys and girls, but now high schoolers meet for coffee instead of soda. Archie and Jughead have abandoned the malt shop and now sip lattes with Betty and Veronica at coffee shops instead. The summer I graduated from high school I worked in a bank where I was the youngest person there. The only available beverage was coffee; people met at the pot in the morning before starting time, and again for scheduled coffee breaks at mid-morning and afternoon. Wanting to fit in with the big kids, and feeling thirsty, I poured a cup in solidarity with the adults, nursed it, and tried not to wince with every swallow. I kept a purse full of Certs to combat the nasty after taste and potentially lethal coffee breath. I assumed the taste would grow on me but I gave it up after a couple months and brought a can of Diet Coke every day thereafter. Actually, it was probably Tab back then.
Over the years, I've felt a tad melancholy over having started and ended a coffee habit all in one summer prior to my 18th birthday. Even before I'd ever heard of Starbucks, I knew coffee had raised its profile, gone gourmet, gotten really cool. Coffee had become a concept; that DNA-coffee molecule had risen to the surface making coffee the mainest of the main stream. I sought, and found, teas that were doing the same thing, however, they were doing it only for me. As one of the mere handful of tea drinkers operating in the coffee-fueled universe I kept wondering what I was missing. And yet, I was not a coffee virgin; I actually knew it had a crummy taste. Through experience, I knew I didn't like it.
Regardless of the known facts, I still felt as left out as the girl not invited to the popular kid's party. Even though I frequented a few favorite coffee shops, doing so while sipping tea made me feel like a country club guest on a day pass. Oddly, the other highly regarded beverage for which I never acquired a taste, beer, does not give me the same feelings of inadequacy. I can remain unfazed in a room full of beer drinkers while sipping wine, water, or even tea. Once, I attended a beer tasting party where I participated by taking the tiniest sips ever. None of the beers tasted good, but I marked my ballot by comparing them against each other, which was essentially what the real beer lovers did. In fact, my top choice was also the winner! That notwithstanding, I was pleased to have the beer tasting completed so I could enjoy another drink while remaining unperturbed that the majority continued sampling the beverages of honor. Of course, I probably felt a twinge of regret later in the evening when the host and hostess began serving coffee.
A couple of years ago, something I learned in a film gave me pause with regard to coffee. It rattled both the belief system and the pedestal I'd erected for the brown liquid which I, for so long, had felt repelled by, and yet desired. Upon learning this new information, I felt simply repelled . . . period. Coffee had gone over - no pun intended - to the dark side. It had crossed a line that nothing meant for human consumption should ever cross. I can give you the short version in two words . . . poop beans. For those of us out of the coffee loop, seeing The Bucket List probably introduced us to poop beans from Sumatra. For the first time, I felt fortunate for not drinking coffee. As such, no practical joker could ever hoodwink me into drinking the poop coffee.
The long version is kind of interesting, in a Darwinian/National Geographic fashion. Poop beans are not exclusive to Sumatra; they grow throughout the Indonesian Archipelago, East Timor, the Philippines, and possibly Vietnam. In these places lives a semi-adorable little creature with beady eyes and button nose, the Asian palm civet, that eats the red coffee berry wherein the seed, or bean, is contained. In a perfect example of natural selection, civets tend to eat the most ripe and sweetest of the berries, thus selecting the ripest beans. The bean passes whole through the civet's digestive system with some residual fruit matter still attached. The animal's stomach enzymes have a calming effect on the bean's proteins which would otherwise yield bitter tasting coffee. Apparently, this renders a coffee that tastes like caramel and chocolate. What's not to like about those two flavors? I repeat . . . poop beans. This story begs the question: Who was the first person to think it was a good idea, without yet knowing the enzyme/protein/bitter free angle, to try making coffee from the civet's poop beans.
Back when the harvesting of beans from civet poop was still a cottage industry, humans knew that each civet, in an effort to mark territory, would defecate in a specific location. Someone thought to call those places latrines . . . eeooow! The coffee people would then collect the civet feces from the known latrines. Now it's more common to have Asian palm civets roaming free within a coffee farm's specified boundaries. Either way, the beans are then washed (oh, I feel much better now) and only lightly roasted in order not to ruin the good flavor that this process naturally derives. Did I mention you pay dearly for the privilege of drinking poop coffee? Poop beans are the world's most expensive and a cup will set you back at least $30. You can't make this up.
A year or so ago, Starbucks marketing people created a program where customers can register their Starbucks cards on-line and enjoy free WiFi, among other perks, as long as the card is used or reloaded within a month of logging on. The other perks mostly pertain to coffee so the WiFi benefit attracted me . . . so simple, and yet so genius. By the way, no pun intended with my use of the word perks. Thanks to my card, I made much use of Starbucks' WiFi as I'd schlep my laptop to various locations, search job postings, and e-mail resumes all for the cost of a cup of tea. Technically, I wasn't required to buy the tea if my card had the required activity, but I've always felt obliged to make a purchase even if just making a pit stop in the restroom. Due to the perils of frequency, sometimes my favorite tea, African Red Bush, would get old and I'd experiment with other flavors. I found, despite taking my tea without milk, that I really liked the frothy foamed milk topping on a tea latte. Not sure how they do it but I'm sure it's good.
Since the summer, my daily walking schedule has led me to the restroom at the neighborhood Starbucks on my route, precisely for that pit stop, several times each week, where patronizing the establishment with a drink purchase demonstrates my appreciation for the convenience of using their clean facilities; and also means I make drink purchases repetitiously. In addition to African Red Bush tea, and my two favorite tea lattes: Earl Grey, and Vanilla Roiboos, I delayed monotony by ordering Passion iced tea lemonade on the hottest days, of which this summer held many. By September, when I received my birthday free-beverage postcard - another bennie of the registered Starbucks card - monotony had long since overtaken those attempts to keep it at bay. Despite having four different go-to drinks, the ad nauseum frequency of my visits had rendered them all tiresome, annoying even. I redeemed my birthday drink postcard for a Cafe Mocha with whipped cream. The barista helped me design it so the single shot of coffee provided merely an under flavor to the six pumps of chocolate. Perhaps the cravings of my chocoholic nature clawed their way to the surface after months without M&Ms and Peanut Butter Cups.
Turns out coffee tastes interesting when surrounded by chocolate and topped with whipped cream. Who knew? At first I thought I might order Cafe Mocha about twice a month. I'm now up to three times a week. Maybe it just tastes better in Seattle. Sometimes I want to order it a second time in the same day. What's next? Lattes? Espresso? Irish Coffee? Poop beans? Oh, man, this might be a slippery slope.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday Night Football and Other Time Zone Stuff
My cell phone with its Rhode Island area code accompanied me to the Pacific Northwest. Of course, why wouldn't it? In our modern era of nationwide calling plans there is no need to switch. This is fortunate because it would annoy me to have to create a whole new contact list just because I went to a new location. A task like that would probably take me a long time to complete, doing it the only way I would, in fits and starts. And besides, my peeps in RI don't want to have to edit their contacts either, or worse still, scratch out and rewrite my number in their phone directory booklets or Rolodex card files. That is if anyone besides me even uses those things anymore. I just can't let go of hard copy back-up even as I avail myself of modern technology.
The real advantage of keeping my 401 area code is that those RI peeps, my family and friends, can easily call me without incurring a toll, and I can do the same. Really, why would I need to change to a local phone number when I only know one person here? Susan and I have managed for several years with our different area codes programmed into our phones so we'll likely continue without even a hiccup. In fact, the real hiccup would erupt if I changed my number and caused Susan to have to edit her contact list and cross out . . . blah, blah, blah . . . see above.
My biggest pet peeve, which would be present regardless of area code, is that pesky three-hour time zone differential, the time diff as I've come to think of it. Upon arrival here, the clock in my cell phone corrected itself to the new time zone, apparently making me think all electronic devices could handle that task without my involvement.
Within a few days of my arrival and after learning the local "lay of the land" I drove my laptop to a nearby Starbucks in order to enjoy a cup of tea while using their WiFi to search local job postings. The parking spaces posted a two hour limit so, making note of the time on the dashboard clock, I removed the key, shouldered my computer bag, and exited the car. Later in Starbucks, completely immersed in scrolling, reading, writing, and e-mailing, I finally broke the spell and stopped to sip my still warm tea. In mid sip I thought to compute the time remaining at my parking space and glanced to the clock in lower right corner of my computer screen. Fortunately, I managed not to spit tea all over my keyboard when I realized that almost four hours had passed. My panic at the possibility of the car having been towed blocked any common sense questions from rising to the surface, like why was my tea cup still warm, and nearly full, and why had my butt not gone numb from sitting so long. I pretty much ran from Starbucks trailing power cords and splashing tea through the drink hole in the lid, only slowing when the car came into view with no tow truck or ticket in sight. As I drove away I again noticed the dashboard clock and felt confused and disillusioned. How could it be that not quite an hour had passed since my previous time check on that digital readout? Well, I think you get the picture.
Even though I can call RI and vice versa without a toll there is still that time difference to be dealt with. Questions like What time is it in RI? Is so and so still at work, eating dinner, sleeping? have to be answered before one number can be dialed, or rather, key can be depressed. The time diff still exists in the summer but the process seems to have a bit more leeway with later sunsets (on both coasts) and later kids' bedtimes. Nevertheless, gone are the days when I can think of someone and decide to call and say hi. Actually, I'm a shy caller anyway, with rules like not calling people before 9:00am or after 9:00pm, except in special circumstances, so this time difference thing is a big, fat horsefly in my already obsessive-compulsive ointment.
One recent special circumstance was the first day of school when it was OK to call at 7:45am because everyone was not only awake but in the car headed for school. Teddy was starting 5th grade so no big deal for him, but it was Austin's first day of kindergarten, his first day of school ever. I had to set an alarm for 4:45 in order to talk to them until they arrived at school, somewhat early because Teddy is now a member of the safety patrol. Even if he had not been selected for that and could go to school at the regular time, it would have only given me another twenty minutes of sleep. Being somewhat aware of the existence of time zones, Teddy asked me what time I had to wake up to call them. He seemed impressed. Austin, on the other hand, has no knowledge of that concept and only described his new school clothes so I could hold the proper mental image. After that call I considered getting up, but the darkness beyond my window seemed more middle-of-the-night-ish. So I didn't.
The time diff can also make returning calls a bit tricky. In an odd chain of events, one night I left my phone on the bed and didn't know I had a message until about 10:15 when I went to settle there and read until lights out. The message must have been almost exactly three hours old because my friend Chris said her time was 10:15. I had been brushing and flossing at around 7:15 which accounts for why I never heard the T-Mobile theme song and missed the call. Already beyond my 9:00pm cut-off time, I still might have returned a call at 10:15 if I knew the caller wanted to hear back from me. But, my friend's time was 1:15 and even people awake at that time don't want to hear their phones ring, no matter how many messages they left earlier. I vowed to call her the next day but didn't want to place her in a bind while at work so waited until late afternoon when it might be possible that she had left the office. Normally I would not drive and call someone just to chat but was on the road in between appointments when I called my friend at about 4:15, reaching her around 7:15 which was my time the day before when she called me at 10:15 during my oral hygiene ritual. Still with me? See what I mean? This stuff can make you crazy.
Returning to my earlier discussion of reasons why I should not change my phone number, I must admit to one disadvantage of my 401 area code. When someone else within that area code mis-dials another RI number similar to mine, I get a call. Generally speaking, wrong numbers don't bother me, but in a three month period someone several times, or several someones one time each have made such a mis-dial in the RI morning, perhaps trying to reach someone before work, reaching me instead, when I still have miles to go before I wake, miles to go before I wake.
In developments unrelated to the time zone turmoil, I have lost track of my New England sports teams. I saw three Red Sox games this summer when the Seattle Mariners played a 3-game series at Fenway over July 4th weekend. Those games were televised here as Mariners games but I watched them as a Boston fan. More recently, I rooted for the Mariners in a game against the Yankees, not because I've developed any attachment to the Mariners, but just because any team over the Yankees. By the time football season arrived, I'd resigned myself to not seeing any Patriots games (or Giants, my other favorite team) unless playing against the Seattle Seahawks. However, a few Mondays ago, having successfully navigated the time diff and talking to my daughter, she asked if I planned to watch the Patriots game. I asked if they were playing the Seahawks because I could probably get that game out here. She said, "But, Mom, it's Monday Night Football."
Of course! Monday Night Football is one game that everybody can watch no matter their map coordinates. I told my daughter that I'd get right on making dinner and then search all the unfamiliar cable channels until I found the right one and have it ready for the game. Around 6:45, with dishes stowed, I began scrolling through the guide until I saw the desired title. I tuned in and found the game already in progress. I checked the score and then the clock, expecting to learn how many minutes had already expired in the first quarter. I blinked and tried to refocus because the time remaining could not have been correct at 6:45 for Monday NIGHT Football. But, alas, that game's kickoff must have happened at 4:15 Pacific Time for there to be less than four minutes on the clock. The foundation of my world has a few cracks in it now that I must think of this decades old tradition as Monday Afternoon Football. Such words do not roll off the tongue.
Since then I've checked the TV listings every week and Monday _____ Football is listed at 5:30, a tad later than that Patriots game but still afternoon. I haven't watched since then. I tell myself I might if not for having to eat dinner. But really, it just hurts too much.
The real advantage of keeping my 401 area code is that those RI peeps, my family and friends, can easily call me without incurring a toll, and I can do the same. Really, why would I need to change to a local phone number when I only know one person here? Susan and I have managed for several years with our different area codes programmed into our phones so we'll likely continue without even a hiccup. In fact, the real hiccup would erupt if I changed my number and caused Susan to have to edit her contact list and cross out . . . blah, blah, blah . . . see above.
My biggest pet peeve, which would be present regardless of area code, is that pesky three-hour time zone differential, the time diff as I've come to think of it. Upon arrival here, the clock in my cell phone corrected itself to the new time zone, apparently making me think all electronic devices could handle that task without my involvement.
Within a few days of my arrival and after learning the local "lay of the land" I drove my laptop to a nearby Starbucks in order to enjoy a cup of tea while using their WiFi to search local job postings. The parking spaces posted a two hour limit so, making note of the time on the dashboard clock, I removed the key, shouldered my computer bag, and exited the car. Later in Starbucks, completely immersed in scrolling, reading, writing, and e-mailing, I finally broke the spell and stopped to sip my still warm tea. In mid sip I thought to compute the time remaining at my parking space and glanced to the clock in lower right corner of my computer screen. Fortunately, I managed not to spit tea all over my keyboard when I realized that almost four hours had passed. My panic at the possibility of the car having been towed blocked any common sense questions from rising to the surface, like why was my tea cup still warm, and nearly full, and why had my butt not gone numb from sitting so long. I pretty much ran from Starbucks trailing power cords and splashing tea through the drink hole in the lid, only slowing when the car came into view with no tow truck or ticket in sight. As I drove away I again noticed the dashboard clock and felt confused and disillusioned. How could it be that not quite an hour had passed since my previous time check on that digital readout? Well, I think you get the picture.
Even though I can call RI and vice versa without a toll there is still that time difference to be dealt with. Questions like What time is it in RI? Is so and so still at work, eating dinner, sleeping? have to be answered before one number can be dialed, or rather, key can be depressed. The time diff still exists in the summer but the process seems to have a bit more leeway with later sunsets (on both coasts) and later kids' bedtimes. Nevertheless, gone are the days when I can think of someone and decide to call and say hi. Actually, I'm a shy caller anyway, with rules like not calling people before 9:00am or after 9:00pm, except in special circumstances, so this time difference thing is a big, fat horsefly in my already obsessive-compulsive ointment.
One recent special circumstance was the first day of school when it was OK to call at 7:45am because everyone was not only awake but in the car headed for school. Teddy was starting 5th grade so no big deal for him, but it was Austin's first day of kindergarten, his first day of school ever. I had to set an alarm for 4:45 in order to talk to them until they arrived at school, somewhat early because Teddy is now a member of the safety patrol. Even if he had not been selected for that and could go to school at the regular time, it would have only given me another twenty minutes of sleep. Being somewhat aware of the existence of time zones, Teddy asked me what time I had to wake up to call them. He seemed impressed. Austin, on the other hand, has no knowledge of that concept and only described his new school clothes so I could hold the proper mental image. After that call I considered getting up, but the darkness beyond my window seemed more middle-of-the-night-ish. So I didn't.
The time diff can also make returning calls a bit tricky. In an odd chain of events, one night I left my phone on the bed and didn't know I had a message until about 10:15 when I went to settle there and read until lights out. The message must have been almost exactly three hours old because my friend Chris said her time was 10:15. I had been brushing and flossing at around 7:15 which accounts for why I never heard the T-Mobile theme song and missed the call. Already beyond my 9:00pm cut-off time, I still might have returned a call at 10:15 if I knew the caller wanted to hear back from me. But, my friend's time was 1:15 and even people awake at that time don't want to hear their phones ring, no matter how many messages they left earlier. I vowed to call her the next day but didn't want to place her in a bind while at work so waited until late afternoon when it might be possible that she had left the office. Normally I would not drive and call someone just to chat but was on the road in between appointments when I called my friend at about 4:15, reaching her around 7:15 which was my time the day before when she called me at 10:15 during my oral hygiene ritual. Still with me? See what I mean? This stuff can make you crazy.
Returning to my earlier discussion of reasons why I should not change my phone number, I must admit to one disadvantage of my 401 area code. When someone else within that area code mis-dials another RI number similar to mine, I get a call. Generally speaking, wrong numbers don't bother me, but in a three month period someone several times, or several someones one time each have made such a mis-dial in the RI morning, perhaps trying to reach someone before work, reaching me instead, when I still have miles to go before I wake, miles to go before I wake.
In developments unrelated to the time zone turmoil, I have lost track of my New England sports teams. I saw three Red Sox games this summer when the Seattle Mariners played a 3-game series at Fenway over July 4th weekend. Those games were televised here as Mariners games but I watched them as a Boston fan. More recently, I rooted for the Mariners in a game against the Yankees, not because I've developed any attachment to the Mariners, but just because any team over the Yankees. By the time football season arrived, I'd resigned myself to not seeing any Patriots games (or Giants, my other favorite team) unless playing against the Seattle Seahawks. However, a few Mondays ago, having successfully navigated the time diff and talking to my daughter, she asked if I planned to watch the Patriots game. I asked if they were playing the Seahawks because I could probably get that game out here. She said, "But, Mom, it's Monday Night Football."
Of course! Monday Night Football is one game that everybody can watch no matter their map coordinates. I told my daughter that I'd get right on making dinner and then search all the unfamiliar cable channels until I found the right one and have it ready for the game. Around 6:45, with dishes stowed, I began scrolling through the guide until I saw the desired title. I tuned in and found the game already in progress. I checked the score and then the clock, expecting to learn how many minutes had already expired in the first quarter. I blinked and tried to refocus because the time remaining could not have been correct at 6:45 for Monday NIGHT Football. But, alas, that game's kickoff must have happened at 4:15 Pacific Time for there to be less than four minutes on the clock. The foundation of my world has a few cracks in it now that I must think of this decades old tradition as Monday Afternoon Football. Such words do not roll off the tongue.
Since then I've checked the TV listings every week and Monday _____ Football is listed at 5:30, a tad later than that Patriots game but still afternoon. I haven't watched since then. I tell myself I might if not for having to eat dinner. But really, it just hurts too much.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Brought To You By My New Laptop
Isn't irony a bitch?
One should not make major purchases while unemployed. But, if one's laptop is dying and one needs to remain attached to the job market, where one's laptop serves as the umbilical cord, then one's back is against the wall and the inevitable trip to Best Buy is forced upon one. Oh, the irony!
Now a laptop isn't a refrigerator, but the a la carte fashion in which a computer purchase is conducted can make you choke upon hearing the final total of all those line items. I bought the second least expensive of the laptops on display only because the least expensive model lacked capacity required by my pattern of usage. The machine itself was almost a bargain, and would have been if it could have been acquired complete. The cost of those high-end laptops would elevate to refrigerator levels - some anyway - when all the add-ons were finally tallied. Even with the $50 discount applied to the cost of the software when purchased with a computer and similar half price for a year of anti-virus/-spyware I still experienced chest pains upon handing over my meager savings to Sam, the helpful young associate in the computer department. He told me about the two versions of protection plans offered through the Geek Squad, but I declined, explaining to Sam about my near inability to breathe and how another line item might cause a medical event. He thanked me for listening.
This contrasts with my computer buying experiences in RI where I always had a friend, relative, or coworker to advise me and/or do the actual software installations. My nephew, an IT guy, performed service on my previous laptop - after I dropped it - and probably prolonged its life to this point. As a non-techie, or techNO, I always had someone to guide me, or provide some hands-on help. It's interesting to note how my computer confidence level has dropped without that old circle of support. This laptop was bought in a vacuum without the luxury of "a little help from my friends" and, as such, I had to accomplish everything in one store visit, paying near-retail for it all, or risk losing access to Craigslist and Monster, and paying more in the end by shopping around and losing those in-store discounts.
I do love my new laptop, though. It's a Gateway - from the company that packs them in the black and white cow cartons. I believe Gateway is owned by Hewlett-Packard. I hope that's correct because HP just topped the Newsweek list of greenest companies. I like that I can get a lower-end model that services all my needs while supporting a company that embraces the earth. There are probably some companies that make refrigerators on Newsweek's green list, too, but suffice it to say I won't be buying one of those any time soon.
One should not make major purchases while unemployed. But, if one's laptop is dying and one needs to remain attached to the job market, where one's laptop serves as the umbilical cord, then one's back is against the wall and the inevitable trip to Best Buy is forced upon one. Oh, the irony!
Now a laptop isn't a refrigerator, but the a la carte fashion in which a computer purchase is conducted can make you choke upon hearing the final total of all those line items. I bought the second least expensive of the laptops on display only because the least expensive model lacked capacity required by my pattern of usage. The machine itself was almost a bargain, and would have been if it could have been acquired complete. The cost of those high-end laptops would elevate to refrigerator levels - some anyway - when all the add-ons were finally tallied. Even with the $50 discount applied to the cost of the software when purchased with a computer and similar half price for a year of anti-virus/-spyware I still experienced chest pains upon handing over my meager savings to Sam, the helpful young associate in the computer department. He told me about the two versions of protection plans offered through the Geek Squad, but I declined, explaining to Sam about my near inability to breathe and how another line item might cause a medical event. He thanked me for listening.
This contrasts with my computer buying experiences in RI where I always had a friend, relative, or coworker to advise me and/or do the actual software installations. My nephew, an IT guy, performed service on my previous laptop - after I dropped it - and probably prolonged its life to this point. As a non-techie, or techNO, I always had someone to guide me, or provide some hands-on help. It's interesting to note how my computer confidence level has dropped without that old circle of support. This laptop was bought in a vacuum without the luxury of "a little help from my friends" and, as such, I had to accomplish everything in one store visit, paying near-retail for it all, or risk losing access to Craigslist and Monster, and paying more in the end by shopping around and losing those in-store discounts.
I do love my new laptop, though. It's a Gateway - from the company that packs them in the black and white cow cartons. I believe Gateway is owned by Hewlett-Packard. I hope that's correct because HP just topped the Newsweek list of greenest companies. I like that I can get a lower-end model that services all my needs while supporting a company that embraces the earth. There are probably some companies that make refrigerators on Newsweek's green list, too, but suffice it to say I won't be buying one of those any time soon.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Initial Observations
I had hoped to have a job by the time I first posted to this new blog. That would have been big news, right? But, alas, no job yet. Nevertheless, I have been here almost two months and I do have observations. I guess the 1st observation is that it's almost as difficult for a woman of a certain age to find a job in the greater Seattle area as it is for that same woman in RI. The difference is - the good news? - that I have had interviews. That strikes me as a big deal after a dry spell of over six months with no interviews. I suppose I could get discouraged in that the number of interviews I've had accounts for a mere fraction of the job postings to which I've responded and resumes I've floated. But let's focus on the positive and that I've broken the no-interview barrier.
2nd Observation ~ Weather can be capricious. ~ People here talk about the weather a lot, although that's probably true everywhere. However, when I told other Rhode Islanders that I wanted to live in Seattle they said - in rather a she must be crazy sort of tone - things like, "You must like rain." or, "Bring an umbrella." I invited those naysayers to look around because RI was not without rain, and probably has a greater annual rainfall than Seattle but is just not known for it the way the Pacific Northwest is. It's kind of like a statistic I saw once about wind. Providence was ninth on the list of windy cities, while Chicago - The Windy City - was sixteenth. Go figure. Anyway, rain notwithstanding, the Pacific Northwest generally has milder winters with less snowfall, and cooler, less humid summers. I told those RIers I'd gladly trade some rain for a reduction in the winter/summer extremes. Call me crazy. ~~~~ I arrived in my new region on the 29th day without a drop of precipitation. It was the topic on every one's lips, and all over the local television news stations. Within a day of my arrival the area experienced some on and off sprinkles for a few days and then nothing but sun for days on end. Everyone I met seemed anxious for me to understand that the weather was not normal and I shouldn't become too complacent. At first it was OK because the temps peaked in the high 80s and the nights cooled for sleeping, then the weather got nasty in July. Temps climbed into the 90s and humidity climbed with it. Every day got hotter and more humid and sleeping became stickier and trickier. Things really got ugly on July 29 when the temp reached 103 and set a Seattle record. The irony of this is that reports from RI told of rain and cooler temps. It seems the oppressive heat and humidity I thought I'd escaped followed me. Within a few days of that worst day, the nights and mornings became cool again and people started complaining about the cold. It finally rained, but mostly at night and only a small amount during the day. That lasted about three days and felt pretty good. Since the sun has returned I've heard a lifelong Pacific North westerner remark that it's nice to have the sun back again after all that rain. All what rain? Before that small amount the area had only 3/10 of an inch of rainfall all summer. Now maybe it's up to 3/5 of an inch. Maybe. So it seems that no matter where you are that old maxim about New England weather is true. You know, the one that says if you don't like the weather just wait a minute.
3rd Observation ~ There is a remarkable lack of litter on the ground around here. I hadn't noticed it at first. I walk almost daily for anywhere from 40 minutes to two hours and finally one day I saw a ticket stub or something small on the ground. Then I realized that was what had been missing. I hadn't been slogging through broken glass up to my ankles and scraping gum from between the grid lines at the bottoms of my sneakers like I used to on most of my RI walk routes. My worst place to walk used to be in Pawtucket where the company I worked for was located about half way between a McDonald's and a Dunkin Donuts. In addition to the perennial broken glass and beer cans, the sidewalks there were always strewn with coffee and soda cups, burger wrappers, and discarded foodstuffs. I wonder what makes people do that, and not do it so much around here. It seems the only time I see a tiny bit of litter at all is right after the trash and recycling collection trucks have made their rounds. Inevitably, something falls on the ground during that activity. I could get used to this.
4th Observation ~ I'm losing weight. I could get used to this, too, but I probably shouldn't. I'm pretty sure it mostly has to do with all the walking, and a little to do with my having sworn off ice cream. I seem to have developed a digestive intolerance which manifests itself most aggressively after eating ice cream. I've not had any since before leaving RI. All my other faves like M&Ms and Peanut Butter Cups have disappeared in the wake of the ice cream. I mostly eat just regular meals, along with a protein shake after walking, and drink my usual copious amounts of water. The reason I should not trust this is that the conditions are temporary. There is a huge unknown factor as to how my schedule will work once I return to work. Nevertheless, I'm taking this ball and running with it for the time being.
5th Observation ~ Birds. There are eagles here! I've seen them in flight and perched in trees. And swallows - several at a time - will swoop down and fly circles around me while walking through grassy areas. They are snatching the minute insects that jump out of the grass as my feet stir them up. Is this why they are called swallows? Because they swallow the insects while in flight? ~~~~ But it's the black crows that are everywhere. I'm pretty sure I'd seen the occasional crow back in RI but here it would be noteworthy not to see at least a few from any vantage point. They cackle back and forth to each other from trees and utility lines; they laugh at me while I'm out walking. I half expect to walk into a plate glass window as though I've crossed into some sort of Windex ad in the Twilight Zone. But the eagles are pretty cool.
6th Observation ~ Knitting is big here. There's even a knitting guild I can join if I ever feel so inclined. I miss my RI knitting friends but Jonne, my teacher back there, told me I'd not have to worry about finding a new teacher to help me out of my knitting mistakes. He was correct.
7th Observation ~ When it comes to acting, Meryl Streep has - as the kids say - mad skills. Just saw Julie & Julia and it's good all the way around, but it shines when she is onscreen as Julia Child. Luckily, this film is appearing at the one movie theatre I know how to get to. It has become my go-to place for movie viewing. All other films not playing there will have to hurry to DVD so I can see them.
8th Observation ~ Meeting new friends and networking sounds easy in theory, but in reality, not so much.
9th Observation ~ When one is removed from one's element, one loses the ability to determine direction. In RI, I had a sense of the compass points but not so here. This is not helping since people give directions by describing a place as being on the northeast (southwest, etc.) corner of an intersection. That means nothing to me. I can't even get on the highway going in the right direction. Actually, that only happens while trying to get out of downtown Seattle. I can navigate the highways all right - mostly - from the east side (Kirkland, Bellevue, and Redmond). Of course, back in RI we give directions by referring to lost landmarks like the corner where the old Potter's gas station used to be. That wouldn't help me here, either.
10th Observation ~ No big surprise - I miss everyone back in RI, and especially Teddy, Gianna, and Austin. 'Nuff said.
Although I could add to this list of initial observations, I'll follow the example of David Letterman and others who have spearheaded the whole Top Ten List movement. Thanks for reading!
2nd Observation ~ Weather can be capricious. ~ People here talk about the weather a lot, although that's probably true everywhere. However, when I told other Rhode Islanders that I wanted to live in Seattle they said - in rather a she must be crazy sort of tone - things like, "You must like rain." or, "Bring an umbrella." I invited those naysayers to look around because RI was not without rain, and probably has a greater annual rainfall than Seattle but is just not known for it the way the Pacific Northwest is. It's kind of like a statistic I saw once about wind. Providence was ninth on the list of windy cities, while Chicago - The Windy City - was sixteenth. Go figure. Anyway, rain notwithstanding, the Pacific Northwest generally has milder winters with less snowfall, and cooler, less humid summers. I told those RIers I'd gladly trade some rain for a reduction in the winter/summer extremes. Call me crazy. ~~~~ I arrived in my new region on the 29th day without a drop of precipitation. It was the topic on every one's lips, and all over the local television news stations. Within a day of my arrival the area experienced some on and off sprinkles for a few days and then nothing but sun for days on end. Everyone I met seemed anxious for me to understand that the weather was not normal and I shouldn't become too complacent. At first it was OK because the temps peaked in the high 80s and the nights cooled for sleeping, then the weather got nasty in July. Temps climbed into the 90s and humidity climbed with it. Every day got hotter and more humid and sleeping became stickier and trickier. Things really got ugly on July 29 when the temp reached 103 and set a Seattle record. The irony of this is that reports from RI told of rain and cooler temps. It seems the oppressive heat and humidity I thought I'd escaped followed me. Within a few days of that worst day, the nights and mornings became cool again and people started complaining about the cold. It finally rained, but mostly at night and only a small amount during the day. That lasted about three days and felt pretty good. Since the sun has returned I've heard a lifelong Pacific North westerner remark that it's nice to have the sun back again after all that rain. All what rain? Before that small amount the area had only 3/10 of an inch of rainfall all summer. Now maybe it's up to 3/5 of an inch. Maybe. So it seems that no matter where you are that old maxim about New England weather is true. You know, the one that says if you don't like the weather just wait a minute.
3rd Observation ~ There is a remarkable lack of litter on the ground around here. I hadn't noticed it at first. I walk almost daily for anywhere from 40 minutes to two hours and finally one day I saw a ticket stub or something small on the ground. Then I realized that was what had been missing. I hadn't been slogging through broken glass up to my ankles and scraping gum from between the grid lines at the bottoms of my sneakers like I used to on most of my RI walk routes. My worst place to walk used to be in Pawtucket where the company I worked for was located about half way between a McDonald's and a Dunkin Donuts. In addition to the perennial broken glass and beer cans, the sidewalks there were always strewn with coffee and soda cups, burger wrappers, and discarded foodstuffs. I wonder what makes people do that, and not do it so much around here. It seems the only time I see a tiny bit of litter at all is right after the trash and recycling collection trucks have made their rounds. Inevitably, something falls on the ground during that activity. I could get used to this.
4th Observation ~ I'm losing weight. I could get used to this, too, but I probably shouldn't. I'm pretty sure it mostly has to do with all the walking, and a little to do with my having sworn off ice cream. I seem to have developed a digestive intolerance which manifests itself most aggressively after eating ice cream. I've not had any since before leaving RI. All my other faves like M&Ms and Peanut Butter Cups have disappeared in the wake of the ice cream. I mostly eat just regular meals, along with a protein shake after walking, and drink my usual copious amounts of water. The reason I should not trust this is that the conditions are temporary. There is a huge unknown factor as to how my schedule will work once I return to work. Nevertheless, I'm taking this ball and running with it for the time being.
5th Observation ~ Birds. There are eagles here! I've seen them in flight and perched in trees. And swallows - several at a time - will swoop down and fly circles around me while walking through grassy areas. They are snatching the minute insects that jump out of the grass as my feet stir them up. Is this why they are called swallows? Because they swallow the insects while in flight? ~~~~ But it's the black crows that are everywhere. I'm pretty sure I'd seen the occasional crow back in RI but here it would be noteworthy not to see at least a few from any vantage point. They cackle back and forth to each other from trees and utility lines; they laugh at me while I'm out walking. I half expect to walk into a plate glass window as though I've crossed into some sort of Windex ad in the Twilight Zone. But the eagles are pretty cool.
6th Observation ~ Knitting is big here. There's even a knitting guild I can join if I ever feel so inclined. I miss my RI knitting friends but Jonne, my teacher back there, told me I'd not have to worry about finding a new teacher to help me out of my knitting mistakes. He was correct.
7th Observation ~ When it comes to acting, Meryl Streep has - as the kids say - mad skills. Just saw Julie & Julia and it's good all the way around, but it shines when she is onscreen as Julia Child. Luckily, this film is appearing at the one movie theatre I know how to get to. It has become my go-to place for movie viewing. All other films not playing there will have to hurry to DVD so I can see them.
8th Observation ~ Meeting new friends and networking sounds easy in theory, but in reality, not so much.
9th Observation ~ When one is removed from one's element, one loses the ability to determine direction. In RI, I had a sense of the compass points but not so here. This is not helping since people give directions by describing a place as being on the northeast (southwest, etc.) corner of an intersection. That means nothing to me. I can't even get on the highway going in the right direction. Actually, that only happens while trying to get out of downtown Seattle. I can navigate the highways all right - mostly - from the east side (Kirkland, Bellevue, and Redmond). Of course, back in RI we give directions by referring to lost landmarks like the corner where the old Potter's gas station used to be. That wouldn't help me here, either.
10th Observation ~ No big surprise - I miss everyone back in RI, and especially Teddy, Gianna, and Austin. 'Nuff said.
Although I could add to this list of initial observations, I'll follow the example of David Letterman and others who have spearheaded the whole Top Ten List movement. Thanks for reading!
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