Perils of Caffeine in the Evening

Father’s Day was stellar here, weatherwise, and my son consented to an afternoon’s paddle on Lake Union and up the ship canal to the Ballard (well, Hiram Chittenden) locks. Much more enjoyable than a tie or a pair of socks.

I know it appears he’s waiting for Dad to catch up, but I’ll have you know it was actually ME allowing HIM to rest.

A flotilla of sailboats waits for the Fremont Bridge to open.

…which it did, right above us.

I’m thinking this vessel’s last paint job coincided with the release of the Rubber Soul album.  Caveat Emptor!

We returned home to a dinner of barbequed king salmon to complete our nautical interlude.

but did I hear correctly that John Kerry tried to liplock John McCain’s tender anatomy and got turned DOWN?!!!  And , upon my return, that slurping and gulping audible throughout my home state was that same John McCain cleaving to George Bush’s member? 

The McCain pursuit appears to be an act of penultimate desperation, akin to amputating a limb on a battlefield, and it doesn’t say much for the Democratic leadership’s faith in its stable of candidates.  McCain’s not even a SortaCrat - look at his voting record, listen to his rhetoric on issues dear to the Democratic platform.  The League of Conservation Voters gave him 53% last year, and that was by far the highest rating ever.  1999 was 9%.  He’s even more consistent in his pro-life views.  As vice-president, would you really have wanted him casting the deciding Senate vote on any issue you cared about?

The trip home (Toledo) over the weekend was nice, if a little short.  They save up little jobs for me to do when I come, and sometimes I find myself doing things that I’ve put off for years at my own house.  It used to be tough to squeeze a quarter out of them for mowing the lawn, but now I change a couple light bulbs and they’re so effusive you’d think I graduated from Harvard.  I still didn’t get the quarter, though.

Weather, despite dire predictions, was very pleasant until Sunday evening.  At Detroit Metro, my Milwuakee-bound plane pushed back as rain started to pelt the window, drove in a couple circles, then parked on the tarmac in a line of other planes as the airport was closed while thunderstorms cavorted in the area.  I’d gotten upgraded, and while we sat there, flight attendants served drinks and snacks in first class.  While I enjoyed the wine, I couldn’t help feeling the animus of those sweating in out in coach.  Any time a delay like this happens, especially in Detroit, I automatically think of the infamous snow incident there, when some 8,000 passengers were kept on planes for hours.  However, we revved up after only about 45 minutes, and were on our way.

When Women Vote, Democrats Win

At first blush, this appears to be a celebration of the salubrious effects of women’s suffrage.  But that’s my left coast talking.  Here in the midwest, it may just as reflexively be apprehended by many with a wistful sense of regret.

I’m flying off to Toledo to spend a day with my folks, then on to Milwaukee for a marathon work week.  It’s been a pretty intense few weeks.  The reward comes in two weeks when we head for Ashland, OR for a week of plays and hiking in the Siskiyous.  We do this trip every year, and seem to lengthen it each year as we find things we like to revisit in the area.  I’ll check in from the rust belt later today.

I’ve been thinking that, since I started working from my grotto in the house, I didn’t get to see downtown Seattle very often in the daylight. We whip down there at night for shows, or blow through on our way to the airport or to catch a ferry, but it’s been a long time since I simply wandered the streets. So last weekend, we played gawking tourists for a day, starting at the Pike Place Market.  In front of the original Starbuck’s store, we stopped for a bit and listened to a solid a capella ensemble:

Walking on down First Avenue, we came across the venerable Lusty Lady strip club.  They always have a pithy, corny, ribald aphorism on their marquee:

Further up First is the Seattle Art Museum, with it’s kinetic Hammering Man sculpture.  (A local tavern has a miniature parody of this piece on the sidewalk called the Hammered Man, its black silhouette hoisting a bottomless pint.

No Seattle tour would be complete without at least one stop at an espresso stand or shop. Although Starbucks has contributed a lot towards enforcing a fairly high quality standard wherever they plop down, you can still spend $3 for a crummy pull if you’re not careful. My favorite stand downtown is Monorail Espresso.  It’s no longer anywhere near the monorail, but they pull a terrific cuppa.  I remember standing at their old location waiting for a drink when I heard that Challenger had blown up.  This photo captures the angst of the overqualified barista:

One thing we wanted to see on our trip was the Seattle Public Library’s new remodel, designed by Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas.  I’ll include photos from inside it later.  As a warmup, we marveled at the supercilious industrial chic of this Nordstrom’s window display.  All of our paint crews here in Seattle dress this stylishly.

Today was mostly a blah day, atmospherically, chilly and overcast. But as dinner drew to a close I started seeing elements that usually point to a sunset worth watching. I wandered upstairs with my camera and spent the next 45 minutes sort of slackjawed as the colors of the clouds and the Olympic range changed kaleidoscopically each minute.

30 years ago today Mrs. Perils of Caffeine and I were married in Findlay, Ohio. We had moved in together after college, to the consternation of both families, in Bowling Green while I took some courses and waited for life to whisper something definite in my ear. The situation with the families didn’t improve, and we finally decided to get officially licensed.

We were over-the-top bicycle enthusiasts then, and thought it would be the height of whimsy to ride our bikes to the ceremony. We’d heard that the mayor of Findlay, the self-proclaimed “only Democrat in Hancock County”, would perform the honors free of charge, so we grabbed a good friend as witness and rode the 25 miles to Findlay. We encountered a strong headwind, the relentless kind of wind in Ohio unencumbered by trees or hills, and tucked in behind a farmer’s combine for several miles. As a result, the bride arrived at her wedding with chaff in her hair.

Afterward, we rode back to Bowling Green in time for the bride to work her shift at the restaurant at the Holiday Inn. She either liberated, or they gave her, a nice hunk of steak, our friend brought a cake and we had our wedding banquet after she got off work.

We could have, probably should have, given the families the opportunity to throw a traditional wedding. It would have healed a lot of things and made life a little easier for all of us in the years to follow. But I was stubborn, self-absorbed and - look at me - not really ready to deal with rooms full of people asking me what I was doing with my life.

All in all, though, things have worked out well. Though my parents live 2,000 miles away, I visit with them 5 or 6 times a year; my mother-in-law now lives with us as an invited guest; and the marriage has outlived the Kingdome and a gaggle of sovereign nation-states.

(Edit 6/7/18: all parents mentioned herein besides ourselves have long since passed on.)

Photo was taken on the ride home after the nuptials. Click photo to enlarge

Ack.   Not real inspired this week, for whatever reason.  We’re approaching the solstice, though it seems like winter just ended.  The above usually represent the penultimate flowering in our yard: the wild digitalis, the double-white mock orange supplanting the spent lilacs and infusing the area with an almost obscene aroma.  In the upper left is the result of our early spring.  The montmorency pie cherries are beginning to ripen, even though we usually don’t expect them until July 4.  I believe we’ll be picking them in two weeks.  Of everything we plant and nurture in the yard, I’m most taken with the digitalis, which we do nothing for except mow around.

The Zero 7 show was very enjoyable.  They’re not a band that’s going to define their generation or anything - their music is purposefully “listenable” as a background, chilling-out vehicle.  Still, there’s something compelling about it that makes me want a fix of it every cuppla days, on the headphones, drink nearby.   Maybe I need more “chilling” lately than I think I do.

Their live act is polished without being slick.  The first time I saw them, I was expecting to see two guys sampling all kinds of stuff and no other musicians evident.  Instead, they travel with a full band - drum, bass, lead guitar, two keyboards, and four solo vocalists that share the stage very nicely, and back each other up seamlessly.  We go to a lot of shows featuring more challenging stuff, but this one seemed to hit us right where we needed it.

We’re off to the Showbox tonight to hear Zero7.  It seemed like a great idea a month ago, when we were drinking wine and listening to When It Falls, their new album.  Now, however, with me recovering from a cold that my wife’s just coming down with, and it being a school night, it seems just a tad harebrained.  The tickets are paid-for and waiting at Will-Call, so, dammit, we’re going.  I’ll letcha know how it is.