Remembering Pearl Harbor

Much as I've studied about World War II, I never spent a lot of time reading about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. For me it was like learning about the Civil or Revolutionary Wars. They happened, of course, on U.S. soil; but so long ago...way before my time.

I suppose it is, in part, my ancestry that led me to focus more on the European Theater instead of the Pacific. To my knowledge, I'm not related to anyone who fought in the Pacific War so I wasn't personally affected. But, aside from that, the Pacific War was confusing. I didn't know why we cared about Japan's invasion of China, or why England fought over Burma, or the significance of the Battle of Midway. Little did I know that one of the main reasons we were dragged into the Pacific War had to do with oil. Hmmm...some things just never change.

Believe it or not, after I read Winds of War and War and Rememberance , I had a better understanding of the Pacific War's nuances than I learned from any history teacher in school; but it wasn't until I had the opportunity to visit Pearl Harbor last week that I truly felt the loss of the 2,280 military personnel and the 68 civilians who perished 64 years ago today.

Visiting Pearl Harbor is a humbling experience. The National Park Service maintains the landmark meticulously, urging visitors to treat the U.S.S. Arizona with the utmost respect for the shrine it has become. Prior to visiting the memorial, we were led into a theatre to watch an overview of the events leading up to and on December 7, 1941. It was a Sunday morning, just before 8:00 a.m. when a fleet of Japanese pilots flew into Pearl Harbor from three different directions. A second wave ensued and by 9:45 a.m. nineteen naval vessels, including eight battleships were destroyed.

Silence blanketed the theatre after the film had finished and the crowd quietly filed through a corridor and onto a ferry that would bring us to the memorial.

Once aboard the memorial, I couldn't help but think that I was standing above a mass, watery grave of the 1,000 victims who perished on the Arizona. Their names engraved in the shrine room heightened this awareness and my sadness was compounded by reading clusters of the same last name which, according to our guide, was not a coincidence. The Arizona was home to families of servicemen--some brothers, some fathers and sons. But what had affected me most was seeing names of those who had died in 2005, 2001, 1998, and 1982. Those were the men who survived that fateful day but chose to return to the Arizona as their final resting place.


I left the memorial with a heavy sense of sadness and I wondered if, what I felt, had anything to do with experiencing 9/11--not firsthand, of course, but one who became paralyzed by the same fear and terror every other person alive experienced that day. Would I have felt the same emotion about Pearl Harbor had I not lived through an attack on U.S. soil? And will our son view 9/11 as I did Pearl Harbor? Because by the time he's my age, he'll have learned about a tragedy that took place long ago...way before his time.

An Open Letter to the Clerk at My Neighborhood Bartell's Drugstore

This got rejected by McSweeneys. A pox on you Ed Page!

Dear Sir,

Notice that I start off addressing you appropriately, for, unlike you, I have learned to respect others.

Now then, my reason for writing to you is as follows: At least once a week, for years, I've been coming to your pharmacy--whether it's been to fill a prescription for myself, my mother, my husband, my son, or my dog. My loyalty primarily lies in the fact that the store is a convenient 5 minute walk from my house--with the next closest pharmacy two miles away. I feel you know this piece of information and therefore, use it to your advantage as justification to be a collossal asshole to me every time I come to the store.

I have no idea what it is about me you despise. I know it can't be my three year-old son, since you've often initiated conversation with him and have indicated to me before how much you adore children; nor is it a reaction to the way in which I treat you since, despite the fact you've earned zero respect from me, I still manage to force a smile while I give you my order. No, if I were to take an educated guess--it would be that you're a crabby old fart who's just sitting out the rest of your working days behind a pharmacy counter, doing nothing more than the two things you absolutely must do to keep your job: take prescriptions and, once filled by the pharamcist, ring it up.

Case in point: Last Thursday when my son and I arrived to place an order, you asked me if we were going to stay and wait to have it filled. I asked how long it would take and you replied, "Approximately five to ten minutes."

"Great," I said, "we'll wait."

"Shall I page you when it's ready?" you asked.

"Please do," I said, smiling.

Waiting for five to ten minutes for a prescription is doable with a toddler. Waiting 30 minutes is not. My three year-old is a busy child, with a busy mind, and hands that are equally as busy. No one expects a toddler to sit still for more than five minutes. And so, spending five minutes following him around the store--watching him play with the blood pressure machine, the scale, the chair massager, and then making a beeline to the toy aisle--and arguing with him for the remaining few minutes because he will not get a toy--is manageable.

However, doing all of the above-mentioned activities AND THEN follwing him to the candy aisle--arguing over the fact that there will be NO CANDY; and realizing that it's past his lunch hour so the child is set to detonate in T-minus five minutes; then, diverting him to the toothbrush aisle so he could replace his electric fire engine toothbrush, but realizing he intentionally made a left instead of a right to head back down the toy aisle; and prying his little hand from the strategically-placed toddler-level Matchbox cars and protecting my ears from the high-pitched shriek followed by a temper tantrum fueled by desire. And perhaps, Mr. Pharmacy Clerk, I might have remained composed if I HADN'T seen you from behind the counter WATCHING US WITH A SMIRK ON YOUR FACE as I placed my child in a time out for being such a little shit.

After several deep breaths and watching my son transform from a gelatinous mass back to his solid form, I approached the pharmacy counter and I calmly asked,

"How's that order coming along?"

To which you calmly replied, "Oh, it's ready."

And I stood horrified as I watched you walk to the back of the room--to where you hang the COMPLETED prescription orders and when you returned, I asked,

"Why wasn't I paged?"

"I don't know," you said as you shrugged your shoulders. "If I tell you that you'll be paged when an order is ready, it means that the pharmacist will page you. Not me."

And so, dear sir, my only wish for you is that when you're wallowing in your own filth in a nursing home bed, and you've pressed your call button for a nurse to change your linens, that the nurse who actually does come in, merely shuts off the call button and says,

"I only come in to shut off the call button, not to clean up your shit."

Sincerely yours,
LFM

Heatless in Seattle

We came home last night from O'ahu to a very, VERY cold house! The furnace is kaput and it's Sunday--which means the repair service is going to charge us double time and a half for having a look see. Never mind about the parts...if they can get 'em. I guess that's the price we pay for owning an old bungalow, eh? The only warm spot in the house last night was the heated bathroom floor and I seriously contemplated sleeping there.

The trip to Hawaii was awesome, of course...how can you go wrong with 80 degree weather every day? But talk about extremes! We went from 80 to 30 degrees in a matter of five hours. On Friday night, I got up in the middle of the night to crank the AC in our room. Last night, I slept with two comforters, a blanket, sweats, long johns, a heating pad (cramps) and my dog pal Moofie, in addition to Pa. I'm so frickin cold in here that I'm about to sit in my car for a few hours, just to enjoy the heated seats.

Well, as soon as we're up and running again (read: fingers not stiff from the cold), I'll write more about the trip. Honolulu was nice, though not as nice as Maui. It was way more crowded and a little on the cheesy side, but for the most part, very relaxing and WARM!









I really could do this every day.

Progress!

Today's writing session helped me break through my clogged little chapter nine.

I see light at the end of the tunnel.

Only five more chapters to go before I start from the beginning edit it alllllll over again! But I'm getting way too ahead of myself.

As an aside, I'm currently reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand and if you've ever read it before, you'll probably remember that it's a frigging HUGE book -- 1150+ pages in the hardcover edition. So far, I'm on page 230 and it's fantastic; but it's due back at the library by next Friday--so, uh, no pressure there, huh?

It's funny because I was at the Greenlake Community Center playroom today with Mr. Na and I pulled the book out of my knapsack and began to read when this woman came up to me and said,

"Oh, that's such a great book. How do you manage to get through something like that in here?"

I laughed because I hardly noticed the high-pitched shrieks and annoying sounds coming from the assorted, woebegone toys until she said something.

"Well," I said, "if I can make it through a whole page without having to find my child or break up a fight over a toy, I consider that a success!"

She warned me about the three hour long speech in the middle of the book that takes, like three hours to get through--so I guess I won't be reading that at the playroom.

Maybe I'll try and get an extension and read that passage on the beach!

Morrissey's new release, March '06

This was such a great article--so enjoy:
Morrissey Unveils Ringleader Tracklisting, Release Date

Matthew Solarski reports:
Suaver than the Fonz, more loveable than the Coz, the Moz (aka Morrissey, aka Stephen Patrick Morrissey, aka the reigning godfather of eloquent mopery) has a new record just for you. Scouring the moors of England far and wide, Pitchfork has retrieved all three quintessential components of a satisfyingly Mozzy news blurb: title, tracklisting, and release date. Actually, we just waylaid the NME after class and copped the stuff from them. It was a good waylay, a good waylay.

Ringleader of the Tormentors arrives March 20, 2006 in the UK courtesy of Sanctuary Records, and presumably March 21 in the U.S. If these titles are any indication, Morrissey's playing all his standard cards: king of ostentatious romanticism, queen of woebegone sulkery, jack of neo-chivalry, ace of bile, and level-three Charamander. Or he just used the Internet Morrissey Song Title Generator.

The royal flush:

01 I Will See You in Far-Off Places
02 Dear God Please Help Me
03 You Have Killed Me
04 The Youngest Was the Most Loved
05 In The Future When All's Well
06 The Father Who Must Be Killed
07 Life Is a Pigsty
08 I'll Never Be Anybody's Hero Now
09 On The Streets I Ran
10 To Me You Are a Work of Art
11 I Just Want to See the Boy Happy
12 At Last I Am Born

Portraying the wizard of Moz on his bloggy website, been-there-done-that producer Tony Visconti (David Bowie, T. Rex, Thin Lizzy) exclaims that he is "two thirds of the way through one of the best albums I've ever worked on, with...Morrissey at his best." Said site also features a photograph of Moz at the mixing boards sporting what appears to be a "Mozalini" English football jersey. Controversial!

Visconti also alludes to album-recording escapades with an Italian children's choir and legendary film-scorer Ennio Morricone. We already scooped you on how Moz and Vis are recording in Morricone's former studio, located in the catacombs of a seventeen-century church. Could there be more? For the answers to this, and the mystery of how Morrissey's new record can be both "balls-to-the-wall" and "perhaps the most gentle so far", keep your mice perennially stationed at the ‘fork.

* Pitchfork Review: Morrissey: Live at Earls Court
* Pitchfork News: Morrissey Titles New Album
* Morrissey: http://www.morrisseymusic.com/
* Tony Visconti www.tonyvisconti.com

Not Such a Bad Little Tree

Now you can own your very own little Christmas tree like Charlie Brown.

Me, Myself and Na

Hi-dee-ho friends! No, I haven't fallen off the planet (yet), just hangin' out with the Naster while Pa makes a trek to Paris, London and Bordeaux these next few weeks. You'd think I'd be freakin' jealous--and part of me is, since I'd love to spend the weekend in Oxford too--but we're off to Oahu the day after Thanksgiving, so that's keeping my spirits high.

I've been a reading fiend lately. I guess since I know it's the end of the year, I want to get as much reading in as I possibly can. A friend once told me she'd read something like 75 novels last year and, um, I haven't even come close. I'm up to 33--but in my defense, I've read quite a few 800+-page epics. Right now, I'm reading Stephen King's book On Writing and it's grand.

Speaking of cool things to read, be sure and check out this week's Seattle Weekly featuring "24 Hours in Music" in Seattle--which includes John Richard's morning program on KEXP. All I need is a caffeine drip and John in the Morning and I'm usually good to go for the day.

I'm a happy-go-lucky simian since I'm going to see the Dandys on Monday at the Showbox. My friends who are about to embark on their own Ukrainian adoption are doing a new-parents-to-a-toddler dress rehearsal with Mr. Na while I go see the show. They're so totally awesome for sitting for me!

And while I'm on the subject of awesome friends, a dear pal o'mine has decided to go into the cake decorating business. Cake sculpting is more like it, since her creations are quite extravagant. She's looking for a clever name, so if anyone has any good suggestions...

And finally, from my writing desk...I'm trudging through a really shitty chapter in my manuscript right now and it's killing me, so don't ask. I spent a fair amount of time on it yesterday and I think instead of caving in and watching The Apprentice tonight, I'll work on it instead. Um...at least that's what I'm telling you!

Time for Mr. Na's bath. Ni'Night.

Weather Forecast Tonight For France

This one's for you, honey!

!@$!!%& !!

After weeks of nothing but great days, I have to admit, yesterday just flat out sucked. Just moments before I was going to head up east to see Alyssa's new digs and to spend the afternoon writing and writing and writing, Mr. Na and I got into a messy car accident that, as he so eloquently told Pa, "Gave Mama's car door a big boo boo."

What can I say...we were driving during the "tons of rain" downpour and as I was about to enter a small roundabout in my neighborhood...SMASH! A woman coming from the left plowed into my car door.

Oddly enough, Mr. Na barely felt a thing (gotta love that German engineering) and wondered why I was turning off the car in the middle of the road muttering "shit (I said 'shoot,' honey...'shoot')". The woman was kind enough--admitted her fault and after we exchanged information, I drove my poor battered car home.

Yes, I'm thankful no one was hurt. Better still, thankful I wasn't
this poor man. I just hope the rain lets up enough for me to run not one but TWO laps around Lake Union tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Follow up: Despite the rain, I ran 13.5 miles on Saturday. Kinda wish I had run today instead of yesterday since the sun's out! Aw well!

Today's weather forecast according to Bloglines:



Weather Forecast for Seattle, WA
Tuesday
Overcast.
Tons of Rain.
Temp. (°F) 48° | 52°

TONS of rain! That's a first!

Today, my short runs have officially moved indoors.

Happy Halloween!

Mr. Na as Thomas the Tank after Trick or Treating at KEXP. You can hear him on today's Cheryl Waters show during the 12:45 p.m. streaming archive at: www.kexp.org.

Gimmie a U!

Mr. Na on the UW football field while he waits for his Ma to finish the Dawg Dash.

Well, Bring On the Dancing Horses!

From Pitchfork News:

Echo and the Bunnymen Plan New Single, Tour

Zach Vowell reports:
Echo and the Bunnymen, the oft-underrated granddaddies of this whole new wave revival thing, will continue their lengthy post-reunion stretch with a new single, "In the Margins", from their latest album, Siberia. In stores October 31 in the UK courtesy of Cooking Vinyl, the single is backed with an acoustic take on "Nothing Lasts Forever" and an instrumental version of "In the Margins".

The band's classic "Lips Like Sugar" will be remixed by Way Out West for Future Retro, a Rhino Records compilation of remixes of several 80s favorites. Rhino's favorites, that is. The comp will be released in January 2006.

By that time, we predict Echo and the Bunnymen will be basking in the glow of having completed their current tour, which takes them through Europe and America, from now until mid-December. (Southern California atmosphere-mongers Innaway open the American dates). Heaven up here:

10-27 Manchester, England - Academy
10-28 Leeds, England - Blank Canvas
10-30 Birmingham, England - Academy
10-31 Portsmouth, England - Pyramid Rooms
11-01 London, England - Shepherds Bush Empire
11-03 Cologne, Germany - Prime Club
11-04 Hamburg, Germany - Grunspan
11-06 Berlin, Germany - Columbia Club
11-07 Copenhagen, Denmark - Vega Jr.
11-08 Amsterdam, Holland - Paradiso
11-10 Antwerp, Belgium - Hof Der Lo
11-12 Barcelona, Spain - Bikini
11-13 Madrid, Spain - Arena
11-15 Paris, France - Trabendo
11-18 Washington, DC - Black Cat *
11-19 Boston, MA - Axis *
11-20 New York, NY - Irving Plaza *
11-22 Philadelphia, PA - Theatre of Living Arts *
11-23 Toronto, Ontario - The Carlu *
11-25 Chicago, IL - Metro *
11-26 Minneapolis, MN - Fine Line Music Cafe *
11-28 Denver, CO - Gothic Theatre *
11-30 Boise, ID - The Big Easy *
12-01 Portland, OR - Wonder Ballroom *
12-02 Vancouver, British Columbia - Richard's on Richard *
12-03 Seattle, WA - Showbox *
12-05 San Francisco, CA - The Fillmore *
12-06 Los Angeles, CA - House of Blues *
12-07 Anaheim, CA - House of Blues *
12-09 San Diego, CA - House of Blues *

12-16 Liverpool, England - Carling Academy
12-17 Liverpool, England - Carling Academy

* with Innaway

* Pitchfork Review: Echo and the Bunnymen: Siberia
* Pitchfork News: Echo and the Bunnymen Schedule North American Tour
* Echo and the Bunnymen: www.bunnymen.com
* Cooking Vinyl: www.cookingvinyl.com

Shucks! I'll been in Hawaii when they play the Showbox.

Beautiful day for a run

Hard to Hold (a 56 year-old)

His return to General Hospital may give me a reason to start watching daytime television.

Funny thing is, though...no matter how old I get, I just can't seem to bring myself to lusting over a 56 year-old. Egads, I can't believe how old he is now!

Silly, isn't he?

No word yet on my open letter...wah!

Great article on the best radio station out there

KEXP featured in today's Seattle Times.

The Collector

Long ago, before it became highly unfashionable to admit patronizing Starbucks, my husband used to collect the store's city mugs. Not wanting to cheat by making purchases on e-Bay, he took care to buy mugs in every city he traveled, or would accept mugs as gifts from people who visited a city and remembered his rapidly-growing collection. Now the city mugs (roughly 25 in all) sit crowded in one of our cupboards in the kitchen, not really being utilized to their fullest extent since they each hold 20 fluid ounces and that would be one hell of a huge cup of coffee.

It wasn't so much the mug as it was the thrill of the hunt. Part of going to a place like, say, Maui (I know, not a city, but we do have the mug) warranted a stop in Starbucks and the purchase of a mug (and a double tall, nonfat dry cappuccino with three Equal on the bottom for him and a double tall, split-shot, non-fat latte for me). Even today, when we visit different cities, he wanders through a Starbucks in the hopes of finding a long-retired city mug; however, there are certain rules to his quest: #1-(which I've already covered) they have to be from a city in which he (or someone else) has visited; and #2-they must be the old city mugs (circa 1994) not the newer ones, which are ugly. There are exceptions when people send the "wrong" city mugs as gifts. We forgive them and love them just the same.

This collection-thing is nothing new. As a young boy, my husband used to collect old beer cans--which, even back then he applied certain rules. He then progressed to certain sports paraphenalia (only cool stuff, though, like Cal Ripken's ball or Ken Griffey Jr.'s bat), in addition to baseball cards.

Being a collector is in his blood since his parents are avid collectors and once owned a Hallmark store/hobby shop which fueled their passion. They are SERIOUS collectors, as in they collect EVERYTHING from gas station signs to old Fisher Price toys. Casually mention that you like cerulean blue Fiestaware pitchers and BAM! one is in a box shipped to Seattle the next day. Comment on the cool Streamline Moderne salt and pepper shakers circa 1933 that are in their kitchen and BOOM! they're mine to keep since they already have two sets. It's crazy, I'll tell ya.

Now that he has a son, my husband's latest hobby is very similar to the city mug collection. Since he travels to Europe frequently, he now collects soccer jerseys for Mr. Na--though he's promised not to overdo it. Of course, the silly-heads we are, we never bought a soccer jersey for him when we were in Donetsk (his birthplace)--which happens to be a huge soccer town. And while the Shakhtar Soccer Club has a totally swank website, there's absolutely no way for foreigners to purchase goods online. So we're hoping that when we go back next year, we might find a way to either make it to Donetsk, or purchase a DCC jersey. For now, Mr. Na is sportive in his new Roma jersey and his new Deutsche jersey, compliments of Cousin Jens.

I can't complain though. It could be far worse. My husband could be into collecting Harley Davidsons or hatchets or guns.

But then, he wouldn't be my husband, would he?

The Great Pumpkin Patch

Mr. Na visited his first real pumpkin patch (as in, not the one in front of Albertsons) today. The farm did not disappoint as it violated every copyright law to include wooden Peanuts characters throughout the patch--including Snoopy, who sat perched on the Great Pumpkin.

After picking out three of the most suitable pumpkins, we entered the giant 5-acre corn maze and about halfway through it, I heard the worst words a mother could ever hear when she's stuck inside a 5-acre corn maze:

"Momma, I have to go poop."

We made it, though, thankfully--despite having to backtrack and then run clear across the field, and uphill to the nearest porta potty. I must say, potty training has paid off tremendously! I highly recommend it. :-)



Anyway, between today's events and his soccer class yesterday, where he actually scored three goals**, and taking him to see the new Wallace and Gromit movie on Friday night, we sufficiently wore the little guy out this weekend.






















**we're talking toddler soccer here, not, like, the real game for big people. Actual scoring may vary.

What Papa Does When He's Got Too Much Time On His Hands...

...He creates a New World Order (with ants and Legos).

Spider Myth DEBUNKED!

Ha! And here I thought I was a Snapple Statistic.

From the UW's Burke Museum, I present to you "Just Plain Weird Stories".

Myth: You unknowingly swallow an average of four live spiders in your sleep each year.

Fact: This very widespread urban legend has no basis in fact. It exists in various forms; another common version is that you swallow an average of 20 in your lifetime. (At 4 per year, that would make a very short lifetime of 5 years...) A correspondent in Pennsylvania had heard a version that involved swallowing a pound of spiders (while sleeping) in one's lifetime. (That would be over 20,000 average spiders, for a lifetime of 5,000 years at the 4 per year rate).

For a sleeping person to swallow even one live spider would involve so many highly unlikely circumstances that for practical purposes we can rule out the possibility. No such case is on formal record anywhere in scientific or medical literature. Since this page first appeared, I have heard from one person who found a small harmless spider hiding in her ear (which is possible), another who claimed to have had one in her nose (but had no evidence that it wasn't already in her hanky), and one who claimed that when she was a young child a spider leg was found by her lips. But not one person has claimed that a spider entered his or her mouth.

The Shining - REDUX. That's Comedy!

This guy is destined to become, like, the new Martin Scoreseeeze for cutting a new trailer for The Shining and turning it into a comedy.

You can read about it here, too, since I'm too lazy to go into detail.

Sweatshirt Saturday

Ahhhh, fall is in the air and my senses were treated with pine, lavender and rosemary during my 6-mile run this morning. I love running just after it rains, though sometimes it can be a bit slippery and tricky to navigate through the puddles around the outer loop of Greenlake.

It's the perfect day to wear one of my softest sweatshirts from my Alma Mater and just hang out around the neighborhood. I hope to get some writing done today.

We saw Everything is Illuminated last night and I thought the film was great despite mixed reviews. It's quite different from the book, but I fully expected that. I don't know that Jonathan Safran Foer's beautiful exposition could ever be fully recognized on the screen, and I highly doubt Liev Schreiber ever intended to take that challenge.

Speaking of difficult novels, I just finished The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. Despite Franzen's pretentious abuse of 50 cent words throughout the novel, it's a story filled with multi-dimensional characters that stick with you for a very long time; in fact, I had a dream about Denise last night though I can't for the life of me remember what it was about. I think it had something to do with Country Spare Ribs and Sauerkraut. I recommend reading it, but before the holiday season kicks into high gear.

Speaking of food, my client has roped me in to doing one more week's worth of work which is good and bad. While I certainly don't mind the money, I find myself hungry throughout the entire day pitching pasta or asian spices and poor Mr. Na doesn't have nearly as much fun with me if I'm stuck in my office making media calls. I don't get to write as much either (or at least think about writing more!)

I can't complain too much though. I get to work from home and wear my comfy sweatshirt!

Happy BBW!

I know, I know--it's Wednesday, so I'm a little late in posting this; but ever since I helped pack up my cousin and send him back to the Fatherland, I've been freelancing for some food clients.

In any event, it's "Banned Books Week" and if you poke around on the website, you can find 100 of the Most Challenged Books according to different decades. I'm always amazed by what makes the list (and pleasantly surprised I've read most of 'em!)

Back to work for me! I'll leave you with a picture of a big ol' elk we saw while hiking in the Hoh Rain Forest this weekend.

Busy me!

This has been a very exciting week, largely due to the fact that my long lost cousin is here from Germany. Although I had EVERY intention of having my ENTIRE manuscript revised and ready for him to read, he is armed with the first five chapters and so far, he's given it two thumbs up. Phew! Not a bad review. Sure, sure there are a few aspects that need tweaking, but he's set me straight on a few issues (i.e. writing "relocation" not "deportation" and the fact that the Nazis would never have rounded anyone up on Christmas Eve...but that's me, always erring on the dramatic side!)

My cousin arrived here safely on Saturday, though he should have been here Friday night (he missed his connection from Toronto, no thanks to Air Canada). He loaded us up with a ten year supply of Milka chocolate which is pretty funny considering that Pa returned from Italy on Saturday and brought me a backpack loaded with Milka, too...I'm going to replace their spokescow if I attempt to devour the chocolate on my own (which, by the way, isn't THAT hard for me to do).

Let's see, for the most part, he's been doing the touristy stuff on his own. But on Sunday we went for a 40 minute run which took us through Fremont and on part of the Burke Gilman trail. This evening my cousin whipped up his specialty schnitzel which, I might add, is the best damn schnitzel I've ever had, hands down.

On Saturday, he and I are off to the Olympics to hike the Hoh River and Rain Forest, which, I hope, will be the highlight of his trip (well, that and seeing me of course!)

And how's Na throughout all this? Well, he scored himself not one but TWO soccer jerseys on Satuday: one being from Deutchland, of course and the other from Roma. Pa got to spend about 15 hours in Rome on his way home from his meeting--and even chose to stay awake all night to get as much in as he could. I have a feeling, though, he'll be back there again soon enough.

Bush visits New Orleans

I gonna BBQ this sucker and have it with a hurricane at Pat O'Briens!

Happy Anniversary Chimpy!

Today marks a special day in the PaNaMa household. Six years ago, I looked into Pa's eyes (as best as I could because the sun was in my own) while I held his hands and said "I do." And while the day also marks the anniversary of our country's most devastating tragedy to date, Pa and I still manage to celebrate quietly, albeit indulgently.

We stayed here last night, which at one point had been made famous by David Lynch as its exterior was The Great Northern Hotel in Twin Peaks. I spent Saturday afternoon getting pampered (or marinated, as Pa calls it) in the Spa and then we ate dinner while watching a glorious sunset over the Olympics--the sky colored brightly in popscicle orange and azure.

Mr. Na spent the night with his Nana, but Pa picked him up this morning where we three ate the most gi-normous three-course breakfast. (Two of my three courses are in the fridge and will be consumed later in the day). Afterwards, we headed to the airport so Pa could catch his flight to Italy.

Hard to believe we've been married for six years and tomorrow will mark eight years to the day we met, when, oddly enough, he had just returned from Italy, Paris, Germany and Austria. We met at intermission during the one-man show Keuroac at the Velvet Elvis . Afterwards, mutual friends of ours were getting together at the Garage and he offered me a ride since my car was parked at Harbor Steps. As we drove to Capitol Hill, he turned his CD player on and out of the speakers rose the most horrid sound I had ever heard.

"What IS this crap?" I asked, as I curled up into a little ball on the passenger seat to ward off the offensive noise.

"It's Jovanotti," he replied.

"Jova-who?"

"He's big in Italy."

"And David Hasselhoff is big in Germany," I thought.

On our next date, however, (which I guess was considered our first "official" date) I had a chance to peruse his CD collection at home, where I found a lot of R.E.M., INXS, Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Peter Gabriel. The clincher was that I believed he might have been the only other person on the planet to own Material Issue's International Pop Overthrow. I pretty much knew--then and there--that our collections might blend nicely together.

But there's so much more that I love about this man I married. It'd be trite just to say, "Oh yeah--he's smart and funny"; but this is a guy who studies Natural Language Processing AS A HOBBY and once Dave Eggers found out he had written this, he said, "Dude, that was you? That was AWESOME!"

But deeper still, he's a man who inspires me every single day. He's so incredibly passionate and committed to everything he touches, it makes me tired just to watch him and at times all I can do is stand there in awe. I've seen him transform our house into the most beautiful home with his own hands. I've travelled across the world with him--from Australia to Paris, London, Prague, and Ukraine--where I watched him connect with a little boy that would soon become our son. I've mourned with him through the four gut wrenching years of infertility where he agonized over injecting me with drugs day after day and stood by my side through our losses.

It hasn't always been easy and we've had our share of fights that would make anyone recoil; but I wouldn't trade places with anyone in the world. Without him, there'd be no Aspen in Chains, Jazz Dog, Petrospectives, or Coney Dog Bowl. No one would be wondering, late at night, how credit unions made money. There'd be no Chester and Baby. And my three year-old son wouldn't be saying "That's comedy, Mom!" to my jokes.

As I write this, my husband is somewhere over the Atlantic--probably sleeping--though he may be developing another list. I hate when he travels without me (partly out of missing him and partly because I wanna go too!) but even more so today since it's our anniversary (and--yeah, the whole 9/11 thing kinda creeps me out too). But we had a great weekend and the best thing about his leaving is, as he tells me and Mr. Na, "Papa always comes back!"

Mr. Na's First Day of Preschool

As the title implies, it was a big day for us. We began our little guy's school season by laying out his clothes the night before and doing a little early celebrating at Mix Ice Cream Bar.

I must've been a little too excited because I found myself asking him multiple times this morning if he was excited; but sensing my glee, he smiled and went along with it. When we arrived, 8 other beaming parents were waiting as if Mr. Willy Wonka himself was going to let us inside his factory. And at 9:30 on the dot, the doors were opened and we made a mad dash to the classroom, where the teacher greeted everyone with a smile. She showed each child their own cubby and accepted boxes of snacks from the eager-to-please, overachieving parents.

Mr. Na went straight for the toys and I hung back a little bit to make sure he wouldn't miss me when I left. I finally came up to him and gave him a kiss--letting him know I'd see him soon.

So what did Mama do from 9:30-12? It was a beautiful morning, so I went for a 4.5 mile run. I had time go home for a shower and out for a Mocha Frappuccino Light and then returned to school, where the 8 other parents were waiting to pick up their children. At 12 on the dot, the teacher opened the classroom door and Mr. Na ran up to me saying, "Mama!" followed by his new favorite question, "Can I play a little bit?"

His teacher told me he had a great day and is very well socialized (pat, pat, pat)!

Once on the playground outside, the questions began:
"So what did you do at school?"
"Dunno."
"Did you play cars and trucks?"
"Yes!"
"Did you make new friends?"
"Yes!"
"What else?"
"I played with Play Doh."
"Did you have a snack?"
"Yes!"
"What was it?"
"Crackers with peanut butter in them!"
"Mmmmmm, those are yummy!"
"Yeah, and I got a toothbrush!"
"You did? What color?"
"Green."
"Oh cool!"

Speaking of school, I just found out my 22 year-old niece just got a scholarship to Smith College. I'm in absolute awe. She went from having such a rough and tumble childhood, to losing both her parents within two years, to dealing with lifelong Bipolar Disorder. I wish her the absolute best and only hope she follows in Sylvia Plath's academic footsteps!

Mr. Na's Choo Choo Fund

Mr. Na had his first lesson in economics this week. I think he may be the only three year-old I know who earns up to $.75 a day for doing simple chores around the house and keeping his Thomas the Tank underpants dry all day.

It really started out as an incentive to stay dry. Pa and I are frustrated with how close Mr. Na is from being 100% potty trained, yet still it's so far away. He mostly just lets it fly if he's too busy playing with his toys and unless we tell him to go to the potty every two hours or so, he won't go. So, by the end of the day, if he doesn't wet his pants, we make a big deal by giving him two quarters and follow him to the kitchen where he deposits them into his very own piggy bank. If, however, he wets his pants, we take him to the potty, bring in the piggy bank and remove one quarter for the deed.

So to hold Mr. Na's budding but still short attention span, rather than wait until he saved $20, we took him to the toy store on Saturday and allowed him to pick out a choo choo. He picked out Annie and Clarabel, plunked his piggy bank on the counter (Pa stealthily whipped out his credit card and pocketed the quarters for household redistribution).

The verdict? So far, so good. He's definitely understanding consequences, but I'm firmly convinced now that there is NOTHING anyone can do as a parent to speed up potty training. Kids master it in their own time. He hasn't worn diapers in the daytime in 9 months, but he still doesn't understand that there's a difference between not wanting to go pee and not having to go pee. Although I'm thankful, I just wonder why it was so easy for him to be bowel trained.

In any event, our economics lesson is a win-win. Mr. Na unpacks the silverware basket in the dishwasher every morning and he's learning responsibility and the value of money. We still have some kinks to work out, but over time, he may very well be making more than his mom!

Merde!

We found out Thursday that Mr. Na's Pa needs to be here in the U.S. for a very important meeting at the same time he needs to be in Paris for a very important meeting. For some reason, the very important meeting in the U.S. is MUCH MORE important than the meeting in Paris--so the powers that be have asked him to stay home--at least until the very important meeting (which lasts for two days) is over, and then he can go to Paris. Not on September 2, as was planned, but by--oh, say the 7th or 8th--FIVE OR SIX DAYS LATER. He still needs to be in Italy by September 12.

This is very bad on several different levels: First off, Mr. Na, Pa and I have plane tickets to travel to Paris on September 2. Pa's work has offered to pay for any change fees associated with cancelling the trip, which is very generous. This means Mr. Na and I won't be going, which also means Pa and I would be apart on our anniversary.

So, no Paris for the Naster and me--at least not next week. I take comfort in knowing "We'll always have Paris..." NOT!

I ran 12 miles today and had to laugh at about mile six when "Hold On" by Yes came on my MP3 player. I suspect Chester, the midwestern brown squirrel, slipped that in unbeknownst to me. All things considered, though, it was an appropriate song for halfway through the run!

Let the countdown begin...

I really hate the term "girl power" and it grates on my nerves whenever I hear "you go girlfriend" but this morning, hearing it from someone as a means to motivate 5,000 women as they were about to embark on the Danskin Triathalon was kinda cool.

I dunno how I managed to roll out of bed at 6 a.m. to watch the start of the Danskin after running 11 miles yesterday--but I'm so glad I did. The moon was still bright over the Space Needle and the sun was just rising up over the Cascades as I parked a few blocks away from Lake Washington so I could bike in to cover as much ground as possible during the event.

At 7:10 a.m., friends and family members stood on the edge of the lake, cheering as wave upon wave of color-coded-capped swimmers lapped from the boat launch--half a mile out--and back. I was amazed by some of the women who chose not to wear spring suits as the water had to have been about 45 degrees.

Once they completed the swim, they ran across Lake Washington Boulevard to the bike station to ride 12 miles--from Genessee Park through the Mount Baker neighborhood and onto the Express Lanes of I-90 to Mercer Island.

I glanced at my watch when I saw the first runner make her way southbound on Lake Washington Boulevard. She arrived in less than one hour from the start of the race. Truly an inspiration.

The coolest thing about the race was that women of all ages, all shapes and all sizes competed. Whether it was just to finish the race, or to improve from last year's time, 5,000 women raced this morning in the 100th Danskin Triathalon.

You girls ROCK! See ya on the race course next year!

The last time I was at a listening party hosted by Capitol Records, I was an underage intern for the Media and Artist Relations department in Hollywood and it was for Eric Martin's I'm Only Fooling Myself--prior to his stint with Mr. Big.

Fast forward 18 years later--when, last night, not only was the listening party hosted on behalf of The Dandy Warhols, the drinks on the rooftop patio of the War Room were gratis, compliments of the band.

Not much has changed, though, in Capitol's style of industry parties--except maybe for a new generation of overworked and underpaid A&R reps (18 years ago, Tom Whalley was still an A&R guy, working on the U.S. launch of Crowded House). The tchotchkes were still lame (last night's was a Dandy Warhols disposable lighter for "Smoke It") and the band members were milling about--checking their watches to see what time they could escape without being in breech of contract.

Nonetheless, the crowd was intimate and the album is worth buying on 9/13 (although my husband was pretty underwhelmed). So for those of you headed into Portland tonight to catch up with the band at Masu, it'll be worth your while to come early to beat the rush and sip cocktails Dandystyle.

Photos from top to bottom: Yours truly (age 19) with Rodney Bingenheimer at some Capitol party; last night's parting gift; and Courtney Taylor-Taylor with Le Femme Monkita-Monkita.

I had a wonderful writing week--and I plodded through most of chapter four and actually wrote an open letter and submitted it to McSweeneys. It's a good one, too...so hopefully they'll agree and publish it! If not, I'll just post it here once I hear from them.

I ran ten miles on Saturday--and did great--until I fell down my friend's basement steps and bruised the shit out of the top of my foot. She treated me to Cupcake Royale for pain and suffering, though, so I couldn't complain! I was going to run today but my foot is bothering me too much, so I'll swim today and try and run tomorrow.

Mr. Na's Pa took the GRE on Friday, scored an obnoxiously grand score on both the verbal and math; and now with tomorrow's deadline hanging over his head, last night, he was holed up in his office pulling an essay out of his ass in the Eleventh Hour so that he can submit his application for getting his Masters in Computational Linguistics. And what I've read so far, it rocks!

I bought Mr. Na Miroslav Sasek's This is Paris book and I think he loves it as much as I loved Sasek's This is Munich book when I was a child. He's pretty excited to sail the toy boats in the Jardin du Luxembourg and this will be the first city where he'll ride in the underground choo choos. Big fun!

So that's about it from me. I hope this coming week is as productive as the last. It doesn't look like I'll be completely finished editing my manuscript before my cousin arrives, but I'll let him fly home with at least the first half.

Au revoir for now!

Dandytails

This just arrived in my inbox from the Dandys. I know where I'll be on Thursday:

Hey yeah.

We're going to have some cocktails next week in these cities near you.

9pm is the cocktail hour with our suitcases in tow.


monday 15th san diego cocktails - side bar

tuesday the 16th atwater village (LA) cocktails - bigfoot lodge

wednesday the 17th san francisco cocktails - otis bar

thursday the 18th seattle cocktails - war room

friday the 19th portland cocktails - masu


you'll likely need to be 21.

see you, rockers.

Mr. Na and the Blue Angels

Every first Thursday-Sunday in August, we're treated to the Blue Angels frolicking in the skies above Seattle. It's fun to go downtown during lunchtime to see and hear them practice for their part in Seafair as they put on quite a neat little show.

This year, I decided to take Mr. Na to Seafair on Lake Washington for a closer look.

I'm not a big Seafair Fan. My husband calls hydroplane races NASCAR on water and I tend to agree. So I knew, going in, I wasn't going to plunk down $25 to see a bunch of people wear inflatable hydroplane hats on their heads. Still, despite the fact that it took two hours to get there by bus, it was thrilling getting to the park in time for the airshow.

I love King County Metro's website for their awesome "Trip Planner" tool. All I needed to do was type in my address and the address to Genesee Park and it figured out the routes and times for the bus rides. So, our 9 mile trip, in reality, should have only taken 45 minutes and one bus transfer; but I made the grievous error of listening to the busdriver who, at the International District, asked those of us who were going to Seafair to come to the front of the bus. Upon doing so, he instructed us to get off at the next stop and walk to Safeco Field to catch the Seafair Shuttle.

"But wouldn't it be easier for us to be let out at S. Rainier at McClellan?" I asked.
"Well, either way--but these shuttles will take you directly to the grounds," he answered.

Figuring the bus driver would know better, I got off at the designated stop with Mr. Na in tow and looked southward, to Safeco Field--which was across the I-90 onramp, down a street that had no sidewalk, but a posted sign that read, "Pedestrians are prohibited on street." The only trail included a trek across a deserted parking lot, across train tracks, around the Qwest Stadium, and to the other side of Safeco Field. As we ambled down the scary street (thank God it was Sunday--no traffic), we were stopped at the train tracks for the world's longest train to pass. Mr. Na was ok with this; I was not. And it was straight out of a cartoon, too--because as soon as the end of the train was in sight, another train, coming from the opposite direction, whizzed past on the second set of tracks.

Twenty minutes later, we rounded Qwest and Safeco Fields only to find the queue for the Seafair Shuttle wrapped around Edgar Martinez Boulevard. To add insult to injury, the shuttle was $3; but there was no turning back, at this point--so we waited in line...and waited...and waited...

Packed like sardines, the bus crept up Columbian Way until it finally made its way to the grounds. We spread our picnic blanket out on the field and watched the Blue Angels dive, roll and zoom.

I gotta tell ya--my son has incredible patience for a three year-old. He was really, really good yesterday and looked at our botched outing as an adventure. And why wouldn't he? After all, an adventure involving bus rides, choo choos, baseball stadiums and the Blue Angels is the best kind. Next year, however, I think we'll just stay at home and once noontime rolls around, look up!

I'm Gonna Tri

This week I made the decision to finally do a triathalon. Ok--not like the Ironman or anything--just the Danskin, which is much more realistic for me! What stopped me from wanting to do it in the past was not really thinking I was a strong swimmer (that and I really hate swimming in lakes). But over these past few weeks, I've been taking advantage of the olympic sized swimming pool at my gym and swimming 32 laps twice a week (32 laps = 1 mile). I'm still a little slow--about 1:15 minutes/lap--but like running, at least I'm pretty confident I can cover the distance.

Unfortunately my decision to do the Danskin is a bit too late for this year--seeing that the Seattle Danskin is in two weeks and registration closed way back in March; but this will at least give me enough time to train and have fun! I still plan on doing half of the Seattle Marathon this fall and maybe the Whidbey Island marathon next May. I ran a 9 miler today: down Stone Way to the Burke Gilman trail, around UW up to Ravenna Park, through the backside to Cowen Park, to Ravenna Avenue to the top of Greenlake; around the top of Greenlake, along 99 (Na and Pa drove past me on the way to lunch--lucky dogs!) back down to Greenlake Way/Stone Way.

I wish I had this much energy for my manuscript. I haven't picked it up at all this week, but once I'm done posting this entry, I'll open it up. I think my stalling is due, in part, to reading War and Rememberance. I'm somewhere toward the end--where two characters are in Terezin and as I'm reading, I keep thinking, "Hey...my characters go through THAT" or "Dammit, I was gonna have them do THAT..." and so I feel like even though I had thought these elements through before even picking up Herman Wouk, I feel like I'm lifting ideas. Sigh!

I guess that's the price I pay for reading books similar to mine. I can't help it though, I love reading this stuff as much as I love writing about it.

Smoke It!

The Dandy Warhols new single "Smoke It" is now out. I heard it yesterday on KEXP and Rhapsody and it's--it's--it's...smokin! The new album Odditorium or Warlords of Mars is due out September 13--just in time for Na and I to return from gay Paree.

Incidentally, if you're a Dandys fan and you've yet to see DiG, what the hell's stoppin' ya? Admittedly, I really didn't know much about Brian Jonestown Massacre, but the documentary delves deep into the band's multiple implosions, fueled by Anton Newcombe, who's one crazy, but amazingly talented dude.

What I loved most, though, was the "You Were the Last High" video: a total homage to Duran Duran! Yeah, yeah, I'm a little slow, given that the video's been out forever--but it's not like I have oodles of free time to watch MTV2. I think the last time I had that much ample time, MTV was still cool (1982?)

Anyway, I have mixed emotions about missing the Dandys/BJM at Lollapalooza. On the one hand it would have been very cool to see them together; on the other hand, I don't think I'd have survived the stifling Chicago heat.

It'd be nice to see the Dandys again. I saw them at Bumbershoot in 2003 and it royally sucked. They were put in the worst possible venue at the Seattle Center and the accoustics were atrocious. Ah, well! Next time!