Early December

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A at his 14th birthday party. I was in anthropologist mode, listening to a complicated trivia game he made up for his partygoers to play.

The mornings lately start like this:

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And get to this:

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The Danish String Quartet is my current favorite group–they’re coming to Seattle in February!

The latest book I’ve read: Radio Free Vermont by Bill McKibben is a short, fun, what-if scenario about seceding from the Union. It references Trump and Tillerson but shies away from any really hard-hitting commentary.

Last, incidental student poetry from the back board:

  1. Seattle-area students getting their grumbles in:

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2. Seniors already chomping at the bit:

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3. But very much still kiddos:

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Late Autumn Asserts Itself

November whirled in with hours of snow yesterday, though none of it stuck, with the temperature hovering at 34 degrees or warmer. We’re in this magical, paradoxical, liminal season of brilliant decaying leaves, crisp air that smells like wood fires and pine needles, and on this Saturday afternoon, tea, good books, and GF goodies from Jake’s Pickup.

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The hummingbirds are still here!

I think they might be Anna’s Hummingbirds, which have started to stay through the winter in Seattle. There’s at least one of these minuscule beauties around our house who lets me get very close; it was one of my summer projects to tame it by stints of sitting right under the feeder to read. I had to turn my pages very slowly.

tasha at park

Tasha’s with her beloved egg for herding–she’ll stick her nose under it and drive it forward at mad-dash speeds, but because of its ovate shape, she can’t accurately predict its path. She’ll buck it up in the air, travel a few feet with it bouncing on her forehead, change directions and race with it crunching through the park leaves (cottonwood) or our yard (Japanese maple) while we cheer her on or giggle at her antics.

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Last night we had fun with an idea from a Neil Gaiman tweet: type in ‘I was born’ and then write your autobiography from your predictive text on your phone.

Here’s S’s: I was born and I don’t want you so bad. My family is going on in my head.

Here’s B’s: I was born in the future. I have a patient who just consulted with the pharmacist for you to grab my love.

Here’s mine: I was born in the orange bag with the water in my house. Hi, I hope you’re doing good. Hope your day was wonderful. You are wonderful.

End of October

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This is the majority of my costume this year: a diction fairy crown. 🙂

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The afternoon of this Halloween was quieter around our house than any year before. It’s sunny and dry for the first time in a decade of Halloweens here, and in the garden, we’re still picking cherry tomatoes; I went out this afternoon and found some extra little jewels: late-ripening raspberries from our newly-transplanted canes!

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This Saturday Bainbridge Island Art Museum opened their gorgeous Dia de los Muertos celebration.

Miss S as a senior

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S wanted her senior photos outdoors, in nature–that was the extent of her request for a setting that would reflect her personality. Helpful, clever, insightful, effervescent, S at 17 years old is a joy.

Bonus: I get to be her English teacher this year! 🙂

Photos taken at Battle Point Park by our lovely, super-talented friend M.W. (at http://www.falafelandthebee.com)

 

Bainbridge in Bloom and BARN

The Bainbridge in Bloom garden tour is an annual event on the island, hosted by private garden owners, and produced by the Bainbridge Arts & Humanities Council. They hire musicians to play throughout the gardens, and yesterday I got to experience two gorgeous places as I sang with my women’s chamber group, Byway.
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I figured out what these are: Allium Nectaroscordum, or Mediterranean bells. The bees love them.

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Also, Bainbridge Artisan Resource Network (BARN) had their open house on Saturday afternoon. The concept is progressive and brilliantly executed; it’s a community gathering point for physical resources and materials as well as knowledgable, talented individuals who teach and guide. There are 11 studios: Book Arts, Fiber Arts, Glass Arts, Kitchen Arts, Metal Arts, Electronic and Technical Arts, Jewelry and Fine Metals, Media Arts, Printmaking, Woodworking and Small Boat Building, and Writers.

I want to do it all!

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Prom 2017

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Heading out for BHS prom (K lent me a dress, so even though she wasn’t there, her sparkle was).

Dinner at Cafe Paloma with P and D beforehand was such a treat that I was tempted to stay and talk much longer. We did stay until closing once, with R and her brother J when she was here on a rare visit to Seattle.

I love Seattle in the summer–when we left the restaurant after 8 pm, the light was still glorious against the downtown buildings while we walked north to the art museum. As a prom venue, the Seattle Art Museum has some cons: required catering service so pricey that the food for the evening was ice water; echoing space=few smaller rooms in which to congregate and talk. It also has some pros; the art collections on the third floor are very cool, especially their Northwestern Native American collection.

I was struck by the hi-low atmosphere of young adults in formal dress wandering through the galleries while rock music surged through the museum. It’s representative of late adolescence, which embraces contradictions and is extraordinarily open to multiple ways of seeing things. I’m really going to miss this graduating class–In Don DeLillo’s words, “it is not possible to see too much in them.”

November Happenings

Early in the month, we took the girls to see Portuguese Fado singer Mariza. This is the second time B, K, and I have seen her perform here in Seattle, and we found that Mariza’s style and substance has evolved.

This interview  partially explains her evolution to include quieter, intensely emotional songs. I was strongly reminded of Jacques Brel, whose “songs were written not to be sung but to be performed. He delivered them with such pained and profound emotion that he, famously, ended each concert dripping with sweat.” Fado expresses disquiet, longing, loss, and as sung by Mariza, it was a prescient expression of many of us in late November.

20161112_193953K won her category at the Puget Sound chapter Fall competition of NATS! We are so proud of her.

2016-11-17-19-00-2013 years old! A. recently read or heard about the concoction called Ambrosia Salad, and asked for that instead of birthday cake. 🙂

2016-11-20-13-16-15Opening gifts at his party here.

2016-11-24-09-35-01This year’s Turkey Trot was sloshy, muddy, rainy, and cold but our times were better than last year! S continues to be an encouraging and inspiring personal trainer–I’m so grateful for her positive attitude.

2016-11-24-14-02-45Peaceful, quiet, calm Thanksgiving afternoon with the nuclear family, including Tasha.

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Everyone (but Tasha dog) soaking up the beauty at the Bloedel Reserve.

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2016-11-25-12-47-32Gratitude when I wake, gratitude as I eat, gratitude as I walk, read, talk, write, ruminate, run, sleep. This is the way.

 

 

Identity

Personal identity: a concept worth investigating in nearly every work of literature and art.

The etymology of the word is an interesting angle; identity (from Latin idem) means “the same”, so I suppose maintaining the same characteristics over time gives us our identity.

The Picture of Dorian Gray raises the issue of exerting influence over others’ identities and being open to influence. K’s character, Sibyl Vane, undergoes a radical shift in her personal identity–from actress/chanteuse to beloved and lover of Dorian. This is the important take-away: In the first identity, she is an independent agent. In the second, she is dependent on someone else to help her maintain that identity. Therein lies the tragedy.

Look: K on the cover! The article inside neglects to mention Scott Breitbarth, the musical director and choreographer for the show, so this is my shout-out to the brilliant work he’s done!

2016-10-30-09-57-21We went to the 5th Avenue’s production of Man of La Mancha last night, and this was the question the play raised for me:

How does a person’s commitment to their personal identity play out for tragedy or triumph?

A truth about life: change is all there ever is. So does someone inflexible in their personal identity suffer? Similarly, does someone too malleable or changeable suffer?

Man of LaMancha reminded me of 1984, which I’m re-reading right now. The scene with the Knight of the Mirrors who disabuses Quixote of his illusions is strikingly similar to the later O’Brien scenes with Winston Smith. Smith, who looks in a mirror and has a difficult time coming to terms with the person he is, or was, or will be.