Man, this was a decent day off!
I slept in – a rare feat lately, considering how late I usually stay up at night – and woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in a couple of weeks.
Once I got my internet’en done, my shower taken, and laundry started, I headed out to run errands. I dropped in to SportClips for a free neck and over-the-ear trim, and then hit up Wally World for some sundries. I even had a “healthy” lunch at the in-store Subway, consisting of a 6” sub with no cheese or mayo and a Diet Coke.
Pawn X-change was next, where I scored with a complete, unopened collection of Godzilla films, each disc containing both the original Japanese versions and the American versions. I also grabbed a few other flicks worth checking out, including The Reader, which we watched tonight.
When I got home, I spent three or so hours digging viciously tough PNW dandelions out of our front yard, weeding and trimming our garden, and transplanting strawberries - which I had originally planted in a too-shaded area - into a pot. My bad habit of forgetting to wear gloves while maintaining the yard led to many blisters and my hands being stained brown, despite multiple scrubbings with a Brillo pad-like loofah.
When K got home, I grilled up some chicken skewers, which we enjoyed on some pita bread with my own tzatziki sauce and veggies while watching The Reader and cuddling.
Not too shabby.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Feasters and Fremont
First and foremost, I should let you that Katherine’s importance to the State of Washington was recognized almost immediately after she was notified of her impending termination, and that she will be gainfully employed within the same department – with no loss of pay or benefits – the day succeeding her last day in her current position. Work ethic and networking can pay off! Not for me, I know, but yay for her!
She will also be cutting her commute by more than half, which will save money and allow her to spend more time baking me pies and gossiping over the fence with the neighbors.
And on to our recent weekend…
Katherine’s grandfather George and his wife Kim have been RVing their way across the country, stopping and visiting friends and family and scoping out whatever scenes and sights they feel inclined to park at. Their plans included a stop through our neck of the woods, planned for Wednesday night through Sunday night this past week.
Now, since I worked a mid shift Wednesday, was off Thursday, and working my usual close shift Friday, the plan was to meet everyone for dinner Wednesday night, spend the day with the in-laws Thursday, and then the weekend, which had been requested off for the Fremont Festival months ago.
A more-or-less minor wrist injury at work sent me home early Wednesday and kept me out Thursday, so I wound up with an unplanned four day weekend. Yay. Sort of.
A brief note on the injury: an impact deep in my wrist joint while doing dishes days before caused swelling which intensified over the next few days. The swelling caused increasing pain and a numbness and tingling in my hand and fingers because it partially cut off circulation. In theory, I could have worked on “transitional light duty,” meaning not lifting weight over such-and-such a poundage, not doing repetitive tasks, etc.
The doctor asked me one question, though, before saying I needed to take a couple of days off: “Can you work a shift without using your right hand?” I couldn’t honestly answer yes. Working a shift one-handed would cut the tasks I could complete by half or more. I did not see how I could explain to a customer that I couldn’t slice them a quarter pound of ham because I had a boo-boo. Our customers tend to be a little less understanding than that.
So, I wound up with one day off sandwiched betwixt three scheduled days off. What that meant, though, is that I had an extra day to spend with the Feasters. Hmm…
My Feaster-ama began Wednesday night, arm in brace, when K, George, Kim (the latter two having already had a tour of our house) went to dinner at the underrated PNW burger masters Burger Express here in Federal Way. They seemed impressed.
Thursday it was just the three of us, as my wife seemed to think it was important to go to work and earn money to pay bills and what have you. She’s stupid like that.
In theory, it should have been a smooth trip; we were going to head to Seattle and do the touristy things at 9:00 in the morning or so. Some unplanned (on my part) activities, such as relocating the RV to a KOA Kampsite, talking to people on the phone, and shopping all led to a delayed start.
We finally got on the road, though, and made our way to Metropolitan Market, their first visit. Like gourmet kids in a gourmet candy store, they were both very impressed with the selection of beautiful, fresh, local, and superior products. We all vowed to return later that night.
We drove to Pike Place Market next, one of my favorite parts of Seattle and of course one of the most popular tourist destinations. Although it was sunny and hot out, the fact that it was a weekday kept the crowds at a minimum, and we were able to enjoy some of the foods, merchants, and music of the Pike. We enjoyed chowder from Pike Place Chowder (best in the world, far as I’m concerned), drank beers at the Pike Place Brewery, bought a lovely floral bouquet for Kat, and had a generally good time.
After a tortuous commute back to F-Way, we met K at Met Market to get dinner. Cheeses, handmade bratwursts, salad from our own garden, and Met Market Red #5 wine, Red Hook Slim Chance Ale, and Jack and Coke made up our pretty spectacular dinner. Our neighbor and landlord Barry was watering his lawn while we were enjoying our appetizers, and I invited him over to share our feast. He dropped in for a bit, sharing beer and cheese, and it really made the meal feel complete; food, family, friends, and spirits. Good effin’ times.
On Friday we were slightly more on schedule. We had planned to go to Mt. Saint Helens, but an overcast sky in the area meant we would not be able to see the mountain, thereby defeating the purpose of a three hour drive there and a three hour drive back.
Our backup plan suddenly became a trip to Olympia to see, in order, the Capitol, downtown, the farmer’s market, and Cabela’s.
While Katherine and I have been to Olympia and taken the Capitol tour, it was very interesting to see it again with a different guide. I learned a lot more info, and of course the grandparents learned a fair amount themselves.
After the tour, we hit up a local seafood restaurant for lunch, and for a touristy place, it was pretty decent.
We headed to the Olympia Farmer’s Market next - walking if you ask me, hiking if you ask them – to catch the last fifteen minutes or so of the day. It was a very pretty market, and worth a visit, if not worth a trip.
Afterwards, we headed to Lacey, the city where Katherine actually works, to the Cabela’s store located there, which is to George what an unguarded DVD warehouse is to me. To the layman, it is an extraordinary outdoor outfitter, as well as a rather macabre exhibit of animal trophies. I myself could spend a paycheck or two in there without trying.
Right before dinner, we stopped in to 99 Bottles, a massive beer store with damn near every beer on the planet available for purchase by the single. I stocked up on some Lithuanian brews, Kat on some hard ciders, and George on various fruity mish-mashes.
For dinner, we put aside plans for cooking out again to visit The Rock, a fair local pizza chain famous for rock-n-roll themed dishes, a kickin’ soundtrack, and the Bucket, a literal bucket full of rum and juice. Everyone enjoyed the pizza. I enjoyed pizza and Buckets.
Saturday, as a family, we headed to Fremont, the former art-homo-hippie district of Seattle, currently the art-yuppie-techno district, but still one of our go-to neighborhoods when looking to kill time in Em City. I had asked off for this weekend long ago, way before we knew that any family would be in town, and we were unwavering in our devotion to make it to the famed Fremont Fest.
Fremont Fest is a summer solstice celebration, with a fair, parade, artists, music, and more. Last year we made it to the Sunday portion of the weekend affair, and had a blast. This year, we made it a point to get there early enough to catch the parade and the nude bicycle show.
The nude bicyclists came first, a stream of painted but otherwise nude cyclists that roll through the streets, all bouncy and dangly and what not. It was…interesting.
The parade followed, and it was a real taste of Seattle. There are no motorized vehicle and no advertising or banners allowed, keeping it more “real.” Drag queens, drum lines, floats dedicated to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and Hare Krishnas are but a few of the groups that tramped through during the course of the parade. It was refreshing, fun, and very enthusiastic.
After the parade, we stuffed ourselves with festival fare and hit up artist shops and the car show. I also go information (along with George) about the local Masonic lodge, which I will be investigating more closely over the next several weeks.
After the festival, we went home and grilled up venison steak, scallops, and vegetables for dinner. After dinner, over bourbon, wine, and cigars, we sat on the patio and had a wonderful conversation including Masons, drugs, funerals, and, for some reason, 9/11.
We all agreed to sleep in on Sunday, and after a good nap, we had a brunch consisting of wild hog sausage, apple fritters, fruit, eggs, French bread, banana bread, Café Ladro coffee, fried potatoes, and o.j. We were all more or less sick afterwards.
After breakfast, George and I headed to Champion Arms in Kent, a gun shop and shooting range. There we popped a hundred or so .22 rounds from a rented pistol and fifty .38 rounds from George’s brand new, never before fired snub-nose into some targets. It was one of the best times I’ve had in a while. Shooting is fun, and I am actually damn good at it, which makes it more fun. If my wife ever agrees to let me buy and keep a gun around, I would definitely make it a hobby.
When we got back, the lot of us headed to Indochine, an awesome Asian-fusion restaurant here in F-Way, only to find it closed on Sundays. Not to worry; next door to our favorite Asian bistro is our favorite Italian restaurant La Casa Bella, which is where we ended up taking George for his day.
All in all, it was a great weekend. We enjoyed hosting people in our house for the first time, and got to squeeze in many of our own favorite activities.
The Flying Spaghetti Monster, converting followers on the street.
George Feaster, bringer of fire!
In the governor's chair in the capitol conference room.
Dirty car art.
Veterans for peace or something.
Cabela's Outfitters.
She will also be cutting her commute by more than half, which will save money and allow her to spend more time baking me pies and gossiping over the fence with the neighbors.
And on to our recent weekend…
Katherine’s grandfather George and his wife Kim have been RVing their way across the country, stopping and visiting friends and family and scoping out whatever scenes and sights they feel inclined to park at. Their plans included a stop through our neck of the woods, planned for Wednesday night through Sunday night this past week.
Now, since I worked a mid shift Wednesday, was off Thursday, and working my usual close shift Friday, the plan was to meet everyone for dinner Wednesday night, spend the day with the in-laws Thursday, and then the weekend, which had been requested off for the Fremont Festival months ago.
A more-or-less minor wrist injury at work sent me home early Wednesday and kept me out Thursday, so I wound up with an unplanned four day weekend. Yay. Sort of.
A brief note on the injury: an impact deep in my wrist joint while doing dishes days before caused swelling which intensified over the next few days. The swelling caused increasing pain and a numbness and tingling in my hand and fingers because it partially cut off circulation. In theory, I could have worked on “transitional light duty,” meaning not lifting weight over such-and-such a poundage, not doing repetitive tasks, etc.
The doctor asked me one question, though, before saying I needed to take a couple of days off: “Can you work a shift without using your right hand?” I couldn’t honestly answer yes. Working a shift one-handed would cut the tasks I could complete by half or more. I did not see how I could explain to a customer that I couldn’t slice them a quarter pound of ham because I had a boo-boo. Our customers tend to be a little less understanding than that.
So, I wound up with one day off sandwiched betwixt three scheduled days off. What that meant, though, is that I had an extra day to spend with the Feasters. Hmm…
My Feaster-ama began Wednesday night, arm in brace, when K, George, Kim (the latter two having already had a tour of our house) went to dinner at the underrated PNW burger masters Burger Express here in Federal Way. They seemed impressed.
Thursday it was just the three of us, as my wife seemed to think it was important to go to work and earn money to pay bills and what have you. She’s stupid like that.
In theory, it should have been a smooth trip; we were going to head to Seattle and do the touristy things at 9:00 in the morning or so. Some unplanned (on my part) activities, such as relocating the RV to a KOA Kampsite, talking to people on the phone, and shopping all led to a delayed start.
We finally got on the road, though, and made our way to Metropolitan Market, their first visit. Like gourmet kids in a gourmet candy store, they were both very impressed with the selection of beautiful, fresh, local, and superior products. We all vowed to return later that night.
We drove to Pike Place Market next, one of my favorite parts of Seattle and of course one of the most popular tourist destinations. Although it was sunny and hot out, the fact that it was a weekday kept the crowds at a minimum, and we were able to enjoy some of the foods, merchants, and music of the Pike. We enjoyed chowder from Pike Place Chowder (best in the world, far as I’m concerned), drank beers at the Pike Place Brewery, bought a lovely floral bouquet for Kat, and had a generally good time.
After a tortuous commute back to F-Way, we met K at Met Market to get dinner. Cheeses, handmade bratwursts, salad from our own garden, and Met Market Red #5 wine, Red Hook Slim Chance Ale, and Jack and Coke made up our pretty spectacular dinner. Our neighbor and landlord Barry was watering his lawn while we were enjoying our appetizers, and I invited him over to share our feast. He dropped in for a bit, sharing beer and cheese, and it really made the meal feel complete; food, family, friends, and spirits. Good effin’ times.
On Friday we were slightly more on schedule. We had planned to go to Mt. Saint Helens, but an overcast sky in the area meant we would not be able to see the mountain, thereby defeating the purpose of a three hour drive there and a three hour drive back.
Our backup plan suddenly became a trip to Olympia to see, in order, the Capitol, downtown, the farmer’s market, and Cabela’s.
While Katherine and I have been to Olympia and taken the Capitol tour, it was very interesting to see it again with a different guide. I learned a lot more info, and of course the grandparents learned a fair amount themselves.
After the tour, we hit up a local seafood restaurant for lunch, and for a touristy place, it was pretty decent.
We headed to the Olympia Farmer’s Market next - walking if you ask me, hiking if you ask them – to catch the last fifteen minutes or so of the day. It was a very pretty market, and worth a visit, if not worth a trip.
Afterwards, we headed to Lacey, the city where Katherine actually works, to the Cabela’s store located there, which is to George what an unguarded DVD warehouse is to me. To the layman, it is an extraordinary outdoor outfitter, as well as a rather macabre exhibit of animal trophies. I myself could spend a paycheck or two in there without trying.
Right before dinner, we stopped in to 99 Bottles, a massive beer store with damn near every beer on the planet available for purchase by the single. I stocked up on some Lithuanian brews, Kat on some hard ciders, and George on various fruity mish-mashes.
For dinner, we put aside plans for cooking out again to visit The Rock, a fair local pizza chain famous for rock-n-roll themed dishes, a kickin’ soundtrack, and the Bucket, a literal bucket full of rum and juice. Everyone enjoyed the pizza. I enjoyed pizza and Buckets.
Saturday, as a family, we headed to Fremont, the former art-homo-hippie district of Seattle, currently the art-yuppie-techno district, but still one of our go-to neighborhoods when looking to kill time in Em City. I had asked off for this weekend long ago, way before we knew that any family would be in town, and we were unwavering in our devotion to make it to the famed Fremont Fest.
Fremont Fest is a summer solstice celebration, with a fair, parade, artists, music, and more. Last year we made it to the Sunday portion of the weekend affair, and had a blast. This year, we made it a point to get there early enough to catch the parade and the nude bicycle show.
The nude bicyclists came first, a stream of painted but otherwise nude cyclists that roll through the streets, all bouncy and dangly and what not. It was…interesting.
The parade followed, and it was a real taste of Seattle. There are no motorized vehicle and no advertising or banners allowed, keeping it more “real.” Drag queens, drum lines, floats dedicated to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and Hare Krishnas are but a few of the groups that tramped through during the course of the parade. It was refreshing, fun, and very enthusiastic.
After the parade, we stuffed ourselves with festival fare and hit up artist shops and the car show. I also go information (along with George) about the local Masonic lodge, which I will be investigating more closely over the next several weeks.
After the festival, we went home and grilled up venison steak, scallops, and vegetables for dinner. After dinner, over bourbon, wine, and cigars, we sat on the patio and had a wonderful conversation including Masons, drugs, funerals, and, for some reason, 9/11.
We all agreed to sleep in on Sunday, and after a good nap, we had a brunch consisting of wild hog sausage, apple fritters, fruit, eggs, French bread, banana bread, Café Ladro coffee, fried potatoes, and o.j. We were all more or less sick afterwards.
After breakfast, George and I headed to Champion Arms in Kent, a gun shop and shooting range. There we popped a hundred or so .22 rounds from a rented pistol and fifty .38 rounds from George’s brand new, never before fired snub-nose into some targets. It was one of the best times I’ve had in a while. Shooting is fun, and I am actually damn good at it, which makes it more fun. If my wife ever agrees to let me buy and keep a gun around, I would definitely make it a hobby.
When we got back, the lot of us headed to Indochine, an awesome Asian-fusion restaurant here in F-Way, only to find it closed on Sundays. Not to worry; next door to our favorite Asian bistro is our favorite Italian restaurant La Casa Bella, which is where we ended up taking George for his day.
All in all, it was a great weekend. We enjoyed hosting people in our house for the first time, and got to squeeze in many of our own favorite activities.
The Flying Spaghetti Monster, converting followers on the street.
George Feaster, bringer of fire!
In the governor's chair in the capitol conference room.
Dirty car art. Veterans for peace or something.
Cabela's Outfitters.Friday, June 12, 2009
Remember what the dormouse said...
SOME of the many pills I've been prescribed for this or that over the last six months. I'm old and sickly...After a panic attack at work on Thursday, I found myself in Urgent Care getting EKGs (again) and being asked a million questions.
The good news out of it is they are going to look into the likelihood that my thyroid issues and subsequent hormone yo-yos are responsible for my tight chest, shortness of breath, dizzy spells, and so on.
In the meantime, I was given a nice handful of lorazepam to "take the edge off" when and if I have any other episodes.
One thing I'm sure of is that this is not stress. My life is pretty low-key, once you get past my cancer ordeal, my wife's layoff, working too much, not seeing Katherine as often as married couples should see each other, feeling like my shifts at work tend to be the ones that get the shit end of the stick waved at them, my "promotion," being far from family, and my constant battles with zombie cyborg ninjas.
Crap...I need a pill.
The good news out of it is they are going to look into the likelihood that my thyroid issues and subsequent hormone yo-yos are responsible for my tight chest, shortness of breath, dizzy spells, and so on.
In the meantime, I was given a nice handful of lorazepam to "take the edge off" when and if I have any other episodes.
One thing I'm sure of is that this is not stress. My life is pretty low-key, once you get past my cancer ordeal, my wife's layoff, working too much, not seeing Katherine as often as married couples should see each other, feeling like my shifts at work tend to be the ones that get the shit end of the stick waved at them, my "promotion," being far from family, and my constant battles with zombie cyborg ninjas.
Crap...I need a pill.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A grand day out
My one day off this week was today, and it was also the day that Katherine cashed in a sick day before losing her job for the State of Washington, so we headed to Em-City to kick around.
The main reason for our trip was my appointment with the surgeon who removed my thyroid. The appointment was a follow-up to my February and March surgeries, to make sure my incision was healing ok. Before I could mention the fact that my scar had been stinging and seemed very tight of late, Dr. Rowland walked in and mentioned that the scar had "thickened up on" him. After explaining to him that, to my knowledge, I had no West African nor Mediterranean blood in me, he seemed even more surprised. Apparently certain ethnicities scar more readily than others, but as a pasty Anglo cracker, I don't fit the mold.
His solution? Five injections of steroids into my incision. I won't lie; they hurt like hell. I mean, injections in general sting, injections of steroids hurt a little more, and injections of steroids into a painful scar hurt like seventeen bitches on a bitch boat.
After my brief but painful appointment, we drove to the nearby Lake View Cemetery, permanent home to several local celebrities, including Bruce and Brandon Lee (photos of them here), Princess Angeline, and many of Seattle's founders.
We kicked around, looking up historical and interesting graves, and then crossed the street to the Boren Park Overlook, a patch of ground overlooking the lower-lying Boren Park, the University District of Seattle, and Lake Washington. It was really quite impressive.
We then walked down the street to Volunteer Park, one of the oldest parks in Seattle. There we visited the Volunteer Park Conservatory, a green house and home to thousands of different species of plants, from orchids and cacti to carnivorous plants and -sadly not on display at the time - a giant corpse flower. I was very astounded with the variety of plants, and we even ended up taking home a couple of small carnivorous plants to eat up any wayward fruit flies that happen to wander into our kitchen.
We explored the rest of the park, stopping at a water reservoir and a sculpture outside the Seattle Asian Art Museum called "The Black Sun."
We then climbed the 107 steps to the observation deck at the top of the Water Tower, which offered beautiful views of Seattle, Lake Washington, and even the Bellevue skyline. There was also a historical exhibit on Seattle's parks which was informative and interesting.
Our tour of the park ended with a brief stroll down Millionaire Road, admiring the mansions that in their day were inhabited by the richest citizens of Seattle, and today are inhabited by still really stinking rich folks.
For lunch we hit up Bimbo's Cantina, formerly Bimbo's Bitchin' Burrito Kitchen, a local burrito joint we had tried to find on a prior visit, but were unable to track it down due to relocation.
The burritos were ample and somewhat customizable. Mine contained roasted potatoes instead of the standard rice, and I added some goodies from their add-on list including cilantro-lime sour cream and housemade guacamole. It was filling and delicious, probably the best burrito I've tasted to date. The house music was a tour of indie, punk, post-punk, and garage rock, and the decor consisted of gauche Mexicana art (lots of black velvet paintings and crucifixes) and Mexican wrestling paraphernalia. Definitely worth another visit.
After we got out of Seattle, we stopped in Tukwilla to take in the latest Pixar film Up in Disney Digital 3-D. It was much more "adult" than I had expected, and while the kids in the audience were laughing at the silly parts, we adults were brought to tears by the heavy stuff. Much better than I had expected, and proving once again that Pixar puts more into their films than most other studios these days.
It was nice to have a relaxing day off without too much expense or stressful timelines.
One of the orchids in the greenhouse at Volunteer Park.
Carnivorous pitcher plants, so large they have been known to trap and digest mice. Very "Little Shop of Horrors."
An angel and an angel's trumpet.
Volunteer Park Conservatory.
The Water Tower in Volunteer Park.
The family plot of Arthur Denny, discoverer and founder of Seattle.
The main reason for our trip was my appointment with the surgeon who removed my thyroid. The appointment was a follow-up to my February and March surgeries, to make sure my incision was healing ok. Before I could mention the fact that my scar had been stinging and seemed very tight of late, Dr. Rowland walked in and mentioned that the scar had "thickened up on" him. After explaining to him that, to my knowledge, I had no West African nor Mediterranean blood in me, he seemed even more surprised. Apparently certain ethnicities scar more readily than others, but as a pasty Anglo cracker, I don't fit the mold.
His solution? Five injections of steroids into my incision. I won't lie; they hurt like hell. I mean, injections in general sting, injections of steroids hurt a little more, and injections of steroids into a painful scar hurt like seventeen bitches on a bitch boat.
After my brief but painful appointment, we drove to the nearby Lake View Cemetery, permanent home to several local celebrities, including Bruce and Brandon Lee (photos of them here), Princess Angeline, and many of Seattle's founders.
We kicked around, looking up historical and interesting graves, and then crossed the street to the Boren Park Overlook, a patch of ground overlooking the lower-lying Boren Park, the University District of Seattle, and Lake Washington. It was really quite impressive.
We then walked down the street to Volunteer Park, one of the oldest parks in Seattle. There we visited the Volunteer Park Conservatory, a green house and home to thousands of different species of plants, from orchids and cacti to carnivorous plants and -sadly not on display at the time - a giant corpse flower. I was very astounded with the variety of plants, and we even ended up taking home a couple of small carnivorous plants to eat up any wayward fruit flies that happen to wander into our kitchen.
We explored the rest of the park, stopping at a water reservoir and a sculpture outside the Seattle Asian Art Museum called "The Black Sun."
We then climbed the 107 steps to the observation deck at the top of the Water Tower, which offered beautiful views of Seattle, Lake Washington, and even the Bellevue skyline. There was also a historical exhibit on Seattle's parks which was informative and interesting.
Our tour of the park ended with a brief stroll down Millionaire Road, admiring the mansions that in their day were inhabited by the richest citizens of Seattle, and today are inhabited by still really stinking rich folks.
For lunch we hit up Bimbo's Cantina, formerly Bimbo's Bitchin' Burrito Kitchen, a local burrito joint we had tried to find on a prior visit, but were unable to track it down due to relocation.
The burritos were ample and somewhat customizable. Mine contained roasted potatoes instead of the standard rice, and I added some goodies from their add-on list including cilantro-lime sour cream and housemade guacamole. It was filling and delicious, probably the best burrito I've tasted to date. The house music was a tour of indie, punk, post-punk, and garage rock, and the decor consisted of gauche Mexicana art (lots of black velvet paintings and crucifixes) and Mexican wrestling paraphernalia. Definitely worth another visit.
After we got out of Seattle, we stopped in Tukwilla to take in the latest Pixar film Up in Disney Digital 3-D. It was much more "adult" than I had expected, and while the kids in the audience were laughing at the silly parts, we adults were brought to tears by the heavy stuff. Much better than I had expected, and proving once again that Pixar puts more into their films than most other studios these days.
It was nice to have a relaxing day off without too much expense or stressful timelines.
One of the orchids in the greenhouse at Volunteer Park.
Carnivorous pitcher plants, so large they have been known to trap and digest mice. Very "Little Shop of Horrors."
An angel and an angel's trumpet.
Volunteer Park Conservatory.
The Water Tower in Volunteer Park. "The Black Sun."
The family plot of Arthur Denny, discoverer and founder of Seattle.No pity party...
Katherine was recently informed that due to the several billion dollar deficit our state is suffering, her services for the Department of Health and Human Services would no longer be needed.
The good news? She didn't like her job and was massively overqualified for it. The bad news? We like to eat and use electricity.
Pity news? Our neighbor and landlord has told us he would rather reduce rent or whatever would help us out to stay in our house, since we are "golden" and after he paid to paint, clean the place, make any minor repairs, and advertise for a new family, he'd actually be saving money by hooking us up on a rent discount for a couple of months.
Optimistic news? Kat has already lined up some possible jobs. Nothing set in stone, but glimmers of hope.
Please refer to the following lyrics for more:
I was working hard at hardly working, just another typical day,
when I got the word she wants to see me when I go to pick up my pay.
Well, it's rare I'm called into the office; then she has me close the door.
When I heard the words I'm being let go, then my jaw almost hit the floor.
There'll be no pity party, no pity party here.
No time or room for worry, anxiety or fear. There'll be no pity party.
I'm going to have some fun discovering what might lie ahead, what's next beyond the sun.
I could say I never saw it coming. I could kick and scream in surprise.
When, in truth, I'd wanted to be leaving, but I thought the choice would be mine.
She could say the operation's changing and that I'd done nothing that's wrong.
Deep inside I know I'm pulling the strings and it's my doing all along.
This is not a blessing in disguise. To me there's no disguise at all. What happened helped me to actualize where I didn't think I had the balls.
And now, opportunity's come knocking, 'though it's sooner than I had planned.
And if some of my foundation's rocking, then it's time for me to expand.
It has been high time for my beginning to be doing what I'm here for, and to make the most of all of my life that I hear knocking at the door.
No Pity Party Here, by Mick Terry
The good news? She didn't like her job and was massively overqualified for it. The bad news? We like to eat and use electricity.
Pity news? Our neighbor and landlord has told us he would rather reduce rent or whatever would help us out to stay in our house, since we are "golden" and after he paid to paint, clean the place, make any minor repairs, and advertise for a new family, he'd actually be saving money by hooking us up on a rent discount for a couple of months.
Optimistic news? Kat has already lined up some possible jobs. Nothing set in stone, but glimmers of hope.
Please refer to the following lyrics for more:
I was working hard at hardly working, just another typical day,
when I got the word she wants to see me when I go to pick up my pay.
Well, it's rare I'm called into the office; then she has me close the door.
When I heard the words I'm being let go, then my jaw almost hit the floor.
There'll be no pity party, no pity party here.
No time or room for worry, anxiety or fear. There'll be no pity party.
I'm going to have some fun discovering what might lie ahead, what's next beyond the sun.
I could say I never saw it coming. I could kick and scream in surprise.
When, in truth, I'd wanted to be leaving, but I thought the choice would be mine.
She could say the operation's changing and that I'd done nothing that's wrong.
Deep inside I know I'm pulling the strings and it's my doing all along.
This is not a blessing in disguise. To me there's no disguise at all. What happened helped me to actualize where I didn't think I had the balls.
And now, opportunity's come knocking, 'though it's sooner than I had planned.
And if some of my foundation's rocking, then it's time for me to expand.
It has been high time for my beginning to be doing what I'm here for, and to make the most of all of my life that I hear knocking at the door.
No Pity Party Here, by Mick Terry
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