city city

[ The Olympics and ferry - from Alki, West Seattle ]

I really do love this city.

I knew it was *mine* soon after moving here - the first city I've ever lived in. Very quickly, Seattle and me, we got along. The more or less temperate climate, the just big enough art and music and food scene, the pseudo west coast vibe (we are so not in California) that's slower but just uptight enough for my New England blood to understand, and the mother. fucking. mountains. There is no getting over or used to the intensely raw beauty of the Pacific Northwest. Every time I round a corner and suddenly BOOM mountains in my face - how can I not just lose it?

Recently, I've been feeling the love for the city in what what seems suspiciously like a grown-up way - I've put down roots here, I'm involved and invested in the well being of the city itself, I care who gets elected to office, I recognize people on the street, I have my favorite places.

Reading Rachel's guide to Seattle reminded me again how glad I am that this is where I ended up after college. My very own starter city.

a good egg

[Ova!]

Yesterday a friend pointed me towards this article published in Honolulu Magazine, written by a friend of hers who has donated her eggs six times. I was curious to read about her experience - I've considered the idea of egg donation, for many of the same reasons she first did: quick, "easy" income (embarrassing? but true) to help supplement a dangerously meager income. There are always expenses that we struggle to meet, and always the background thought that if we could just find a source for say... $5,000... we could put it towards that major looming cash-suck (car? travel? wedding? health care?). The most basic research into what a donation would entail has so far scared me off - and Hee's account of the pseudo-menopausal donation month confirms a level of emotional and psychological fragility that I'm not interested in willfully reaching.

This piece, though, resonated with me - from the tangential perspective of reproductive rights, and as a young, educated woman considering the implications of childbirth and both the responsibility and power of my potentially-life-giving-lady-parts. Hee has a compelling voice, and her account is so personal, so brave, that it is at once "uplifting and heartbreaking" (as my friend put it). And not only that, she is a gifted writer - there are moments of poetry in what could be read as a medical account. Writing about her current relationship, and her certainty that they will never have children (although he wants them), she says:

As much as possible, I keep our love wandering the borderlands of my heart, fearing that he will only keep me until he finds a woman who wants the family he wants. (I don’t do this well; love sneaks in, flips on the projector, teasing me with the trailer from our unreleased future together.)

Beautiful, right?

She also acknowledges her own hypocrisy - she expresses not wanting to bring children into a world that has too many hungry and suffering children already, and also notes that she has at least five offspring living in the world (total number of successful births from her donations = unknown).  Considering that the donations went to couples unable to conceive on their own, the numbers kind of even out - if every couple in the world had one child, the population would be halved in a generation. Obviously that's not the reality, but does Hee's choice to not have a family of her own offset the gift of family she's given to so many others? Or does it just complicate her own role in population growth?

Life in the Pacific NW

One of the benefits of managing social media for the day job: stumbling across random links like this. How amazing are these shots captured by Seattle City Light's cameras in the Skagit River Watershed?

[The study this spring captured images of a herd of 30+ elk!]

City Light acquired a large acreage in the Watershed to preserve and enhance (and in some cases restore) natural habitat; as part of the deal for any company that wants to industrialize an area, they need to mitigate their impact through dedicated restoration and/or preservation. There are similar deals being made along the Duwamish River in South Seattle, an area of dense industrialization and struggling habitat. It's amazing to see the diversity of wildlife living and using this one patch of habitat - recognize that little tree in the center of the shot?

[Barn Owl - the hippest owl]

We're sometimes campers, sometimes hikers, sometimes backpackers (every year, we wish we were more so), but rarely do we get to experience such a close up relationship to the animals in our region. These images are making me jealous of Seattle City Light...

[Black. Bear.]

Read your Lasagna

Have you seen this? What a fantastic and weird expression of the art of cooking. I love thinking how many hours went into the making of this ingredient-book itself...

Seattle spring

On the one hand, Seattle certainly earns the moniker "Rainy City." On the other (and as a karmic trade-off for the 8-9 months of dreary, grey, wet, cold, seeping drizzle) we get 3-4 months of absolute perfection. That weather-bliss is still a good three months off, yet, but springtime offers a day here and there of respite.

[Relief! Blue sky!]

When you spend so many months without even a hint of sky - just a thick blanket of grey - the wide open space is a massive and welcome breath.  And those moments of sunshine coax the flowers into blooming, and the many cherry trees in our city explode in the most awesome way.

Back to work.

[Installation at Smoke Farm - artist unknown]

We returned home after two and a half weeks traveling, almost two weeks ago.  The transition back into a work schedule hasn't been fun, but it's also too easy to slip back into a familiar routine. So much of our trip was spent in conversation (with each other, and with the friends we visited) about how to do what you want to do, and how to get paid to do it. We were rejuvenated and inspired to make some small but significant changes to our work lives, to clarify our goals, and to take steps to break out of the routine that has us kind of stuck. But like I said; too easy to slip back into. Stupid routine. After a week of work and being tired in the evening, and a grouchy resolve starting to settle back over our home, we had the first slap-ourselves-in-the-face moment this weekend. And movement, albeit small, forward.

I've been finding pockets of time to reflect on the trip - to remember the physical experience and sensations, to keep it in my body, and to remind myself of the conversations and small exchanges that made me feel present and alive in the moment. Hoping that this space encourages me to continue that reflection, and challenges me to recognize the good stuff in all the noise.