i_id: (Default)
[This entry is nonfiction, but not an accounting of a true event. It is a mashup of the conversations I’ve had with various people since I began declaring my intent to sail around the world.]

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I'm going alone. )

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This entry was written for [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol, a Survivor-style LJ write-off. Voting starts tomorrow and will be a weekly thing until there is Only One. Wish me luck.
i_id: (Does that make me wicked?)
Dad's a fiend for arriving early, when we go to the theater. I don't know what instilled such a horror of being late in him, but it's so strong that he grows restless an hour before he heads out to any engagement. In this instance, on Sunday, it meant leaving home at nine for a two-hour drive to a one o'clock showing. The four of us yawned and piled into his new SUV, stopped for breakfast at our traditional half-way point (The jockey-themed McDonald's between Marysville and the Tulalip Indian Reservation) and still got to Seattle by eleven. We found parking near the theater, under a mall well within Bog's convention-centric stomping grounds, and settled into the Barnes & Nobles there to pass the hour before the theater opened.

There are some horrible people in the world. Not many - I am not so much a cynic as that. But more than enough. Having wandered around the bookstore, I settled onto a stool in the sci-fi/fantasy corner to check my texts, and was browsing the shelf beside me, running my fingers across the glossy even spines when suddenly they scraped across a surprise of cold metal. Some person, maliciously, had slid razor blades, the trapezoidal, thick sort you find in heavy-duty box-cutters, between the novels so that their cutting edges were all but flush with the spines, invisible to the casual eye and waiting for someone to do just what I had done. If my fingers had been moving more quickly, or down instead of across, I'd have been sliced.

I found two, between three adjacent books, and after a quick check turned up no more, took them straight to the customer service desk. The woman there was understandably concerned, alarmed even, and gratifyingly quick to go straight to the section I showed her, starting a thorough search for more. By the time we had to leave, they let me know they'd found no more. Hopefully, there were no more to find or miss.

We were in the theater before noon, joining the throng milling about the gilt and plaster lobby. The Ozdust gift shop was doing a brisk trade in glittery t-shirts and themed perfumes ('Popular' in a bubble-shaped pink bottle and 'Wicked' in tall green glass). They had nothing I much wanted, though I vaguely regret getting nothing at all. I wish they'd had a pin for my hat. Someone said they had such a thing on their website, but no joy.

They opened the doors just before the crush got unbearable, and we found our seats, off to the left under the mezzanine. Good enough seats, for the ticket price. Dad and I wandered down to peer into the orchestra pit. Wicked travels with its own musical troop, perhaps half a dozen musicians, and they flesh it out with local talent in whichever city they're playing. Here in Seattle, they'd accrued a percussionist of the foley-artist variety, whom Dad knew distantly through a circuitous path of friends and band-mates. So we talked shop, us leaning on the ballustrade and him trapped in a pit of drums and sundry. He had an amazing collection of toys and tools for keeping beat and making all the sound effects of the musical. Some of them, a set of tiny thick Zildjin cymbals, made Dad go a bit Elphabian himself in envy. This man had gotten an 8-set in the 70's at $26 a note. Today, they closer to $200. If I ever win the lotto, I know what to get him for a birthday.


And then the lights went down. (Cut for spoilers) )
i_id: (Steampunk me)
So, yesterday started off slow. I peeled myself away from the computer to drive [livejournal.com profile] wanderingoddity  to the transit center in Everett, since on weekends, her 'I can get to Seattle by city buses!' plan goes all awry. She paid me with one (1) tank of gas, because she is a nice sister. Mission was a success, she got on her bus. She'll be home Monday. (She'd damn well better be, she has work.)

After that, I hung out in a grocery store cafe, and RPed via my magical internet phone for a while, and talked to people. And ate a delicious chonda bagel. Must have bagels more often - I'd forgotten that I actually like cream cheese.

Then the urge to be a responsible adult bit again, so I tried to go find the North Region Office where I'll have to report at eight on Wednesday morning for training. Everett is entirely set on an angle, and poorly signed, but I found the place easily enough, and marked it on my GPS. Nothing will keep me from getting back there on time now, mwahahah.

So then the responsible adult went and found two of the three geocaches closest to the NRO. They were both nanos, bah, but fun was still had.

Then, on the way home, I stopped in at my Aunt J's, because I had in the car a book that I wanted to give her. She wasn't there, but Grandma was, watching the three cousins. I hung out for a little while, and got myself invited to a family party back down in Everett. My cousin Tim graduated with a degree in computers, today. So a bunch of family I am tentatively related to through one or more marriages was gathered in a very substantial buffet down there. I'm not ashamed to admit that I gorged. Mm, sushi. Mmm, Mongolian grill.

So back to Aunt J's house, then. Or almost back. The kids are mad about geocaching, so they pleaded and pleaded for me to find them a cache. So we pulled over at the park just shy of their place, and my magic interphone found us two possibilities. The first one was a bust. No luck at all. (Checking later revealed that it was a micro in the nettles, something my magiphone doesn't tell me.) The second one, though, took us up into the campground, and for a nice 1/3mile hike out into the ferns. Grandma came with us, which surprised me. We found her some sturdy walking sticks and helped her over the deadfalls. She was huffing and puffing by the time we got to the cache (mostly due to our wrong turns), but in good humor. It was a great cache, best I've seen in a long time. Big ammo can, full of swag, atop a scenic cliff looking down towards the mouth of Port Susan. The kids each got something, and I left a small handful of swag, and signed the log for all of us. Going back to the car was a much shorter walk, though keeping up with L and A was tricky.

Back to the house then. T was wild to go find two more, a little ways north of their place, but it was nine at night, and after the horse chores were done, it was beginning to get dark. And bedtime was looming. So instead, A and I went down to play with Luna, her ancient, patient mare. I rode bareback for the first time in my life, and didn't fall off or piss off the very large mammal under me. And after that, I made my farewells and went home.

A bath was much needed. I smelled of buffet and horse, and itched comprehensively from sunburn and nettlebite.

And then this morning I went to church, which I haven't done in a long time. I think I'll go back after training is over.

Tick

Jun. 4th, 2009 10:41 pm
i_id: (G is for Grue)
So, baby shower last Sunday. Was kind of cool. Nice to see people donating time and money-in-the-form-of-gifts to support a mom-to-be. I'm not sure if the sprog is going to be my second cousin or my first cousin once removed or something like that. He's my dad's brother's son's son. I can call him that, right? He's going to be huge. And I will buy him squeaky toys and take him hiking and sailing. He's due this coming Tuesday, and tomorrow, I'm going to go have dinner with my cousin and his wife. Who knows, maybe I'll get to witness the miracle of birth in the movie theater.

...

What'll it mean for the boy's psyche if he's born during a late showing of Angels and Demons?

Other than that, I... um... drew a Grue.



(You all knew I can't draw, right? I can't draw. Grues are not saucy centaurs.)

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