Snapshots: Gasworks park

On my family's last day in Seattle last week, we stopped at Gasworks Park on the north end of Lake Union. This park used to be an actual gas works plant, and when they converted it into a park they kept some of the old features.

Of course, people can't resist putting graffiti on the structures, even though it's fenced off. I'm sure the city of Seattle isn't crazy about these decorations. I think they're charming, though.

And, totally unrelated, here's a photo of my beloved boys and me (and my new bookshelves) on Mother's Day. It's rare that they dress up, so I had to have Chris capture the moment before they shed the nice clothes. Can you tell we're related?

Mother's Day

What I'm doing today: I had choir this morning from 8 till 12, then I got to go get waffle sandwiches at a food cart with my husband and Evan (Ben was working). Portland's food cart scene makes me very happy, so I didn't mind that this was not a decadent brunch buffet with a chocolate fountain like we did that one time when I didn't have choir on Mother's Day, but instead a ten-minute chowing down of waffles at an outdoor picnic table next to another picnic table where the people had their little dogs on the table top (which--I'm sorry, I like dogs!--but that's just gross).

Tonight we'll be going out for a nice dinner with my in-laws. No waffle carts for them, no dogs on the table. Steak.

What's been happening on Worducopia: It's been pretty quiet here these past couple of weeks. I've had my sister visiting and was in Seattle for most of last week, so I have a couple of posts up about that. Nothing about anything literary for two weeks. Hmm.

What I'm reading: Book Club meets here on Tuesday and I'm, like, 50 pages in on The Lemon Tree. This is not optimal. (!!!)

Also, the sad story of Wildwood is that, after a very promising start, it got too long in the middle, then started looking up again, and then....

(er, Colin Meloy, if you're reading this, just stop here because no good will come of you reading on.)

Three chapters from the end...as the characters head down the road for the final battle scene....the huge climax of the entire long novel....I asked Evan if he was ready to read the next chapter with me and he said:

"Can we just stop Wildwood? I'm tired of these characters and I really don't care what happens next. It'll be a big long battle.... but I just don't care anymore."

So, there you have it. We put it down, with three chapters to go. Charmed by the characters and the setting, delighted by the drawings, drawn in by the story.... It just went on too, too long. For the boy who had the patience for every last page of Little Women.

I still want to do a Wildwood photo walk, though.

What I'm watching: We started watching Once Upon a Time last night on Netflix. After two episodes, I'm looking forward to seeing more, but not entirely hooked yet. It feels like it hasn't quite gotten started, I guess.

We also watched Secondhand Lions, which I enjoyed a lot until I totally fell asleep and missed the last 15 minutes.

What I'm thinking: That, on this Mother's Day, I feel so incredibly lucky:
For the two boys who make motherhood a joy 99% of the time, a mom I adore, and a lovely mom-in-law who is oh-so good to us. Not to mention the husband who helps hold it all together. Then there are all my mama friends (including my sister) who inspire me and support me as we stumble along together, pretending we know exactly what we're doing in this crazy, beautiful adventure.

Seattle snapshots

We took lots of photos of our wonderful trip to Seattle, but most of them are on my husband's computer. For now, I will share a few that were taken on my phone.

We concluded that if we had a kayak we'd just as soon haul it out of the water and portage, rather than hang with the big boats inside the Ballard locks. According to the worker I asked, though, the kayakers who go through the locks are not insane. "We take good care of them,"  he said. Aw.

This was not the most impressive vehicle in America's Car Museum in Tacoma, but it was definitely the funniest.

I didn't take any photos of the fish stall guys tossing fish around in Pike Place Market, but I did snap this shot of the friendly monkfish. 

I'll be writing more about my Seattle adventures when I write up my post for the Pin it and Do it Challenge . . . unless, of course, I fail my own personal Complete-a-Challenge-and-Write-Up-the-Post Challenge (There is no link. This challenge only exists inside my head).

You, too, can post a Saturday Snapshot! For details, or to view more participating photos, see At Home With Books.

Blogging on the Bus

I'm on my way home to Portland with my sister, after spending the better part of 5 days in Seattle. My sister (who lives on the east coast) had a convention there, so she flew into Portland and we drove her up, spent a couple of nights, drove home, then I turned around the next day and caught the bus back up there.

I brought The Lemon Tree along with me to read but I'm having a hard time getting into it. I expected it to read more like fiction, but there's a ton of historical background that needs to be covered in order for the story to make sense. I'm hoping that once I get further on, it'll go faster. Book club is Tuesday and I'm still on page 31. My time in Seattle seemed better spent walking around looking at things, writing, and researching agents, than reading. Oh, and making a nice fountain for the hotel:

Hotel Max, where my sister and I stayed after my family went home, has a very nice lobby. A low table near the front desk holds a lovely glass water dispenser with lemon water in it. (Also: free gumballs! Because they're a quirky, artsy hotel.) My sister was asking a question at the front desk and I decided to pour myself a cup of lemon water. I did so, then turned around to listen to my sister's conversation with the clerk. After a moment I noticed the sound of gently trickling water behind me, and thought to myself, "I didn't know they had a fountain . . . "  Well, they did now! The "fountain" was the water dispenser, which I apparently had closed in a special way that allowed the water to gently trickle all over the floor of the lobby. I quickly snapped it closed for real, and one of the doormen appeared with a towel to wipe up the puddles all over the table and floor.

Really, the fact that I'd gone without spilling so much as a drop of water, for three full days, made it feel like I hadn't truly arrived in the city at all. So it was a relief to have that over with.

Maybe I should post my new lemon fountain craft idea to Pinterest?

Kenzie's thoughts on Delirium (Lauren Oliver)

Sometimes I spend hours, spread out over a few days, agonizing over what to write about a book that touches me deeply. If you're a blogger, you know exactly what I mean. It can be totally counter-productive.

When I saw Ben's girlfriend's reaction on Facebook to Delirium by Lauren Oliver, I had to ask her if she'd let me re-post it here. Kenzie is 15, and one of the things I love about her is that she's an introvert who doesn't hold back when she writes--she just goes for it.

Here, then, are Kenzie's thoughts upon slamming shut Delirium:

Have you ever read a book, that made you happy, sad, and angry, all at the same time?

And it bubbled up inside of you, making you wanna scream for joy, and anger.

And you felt so helpless to the emotion, that you had to slam the book shut . . . but only to reopen it again a minute later,

Because it has much more power over you, than you would like to admit?

That's me. Right now.

Thanks to: "delirium" by Lauren Oliver.

I hope Kenzie will let me post more of her book rants here in the future--or write them in her own blog. I haven't read Delirium, and yet after reading these brief words about it, I have more of a feel for it than I might get from a full-paged review. And I know I have to read the book. As Kenzie said in the comments on her post: "It's the best book, and the worst book, which is a good thing."

Synopsis of Delirium: They didn’t understand that once love -- the deliria -- blooms in your blood, there is no escaping its hold. Things are different now. Scientists are able to eradicate love, and the government demands that all citizens receive the cure upon turning eighteen. Lena Holoway has always looked forward to the day when she’ll be cured. A life without love is a life without pain: safe, measured, predictable, and happy. But with ninety-five days left until her treatment, Lena does the unthinkable: She falls in love.