Return to Kingston

Pure bliss - that is how I still feel after arriving home from our sail yesterday.  Sun, wind, warm-enough clothes (including fast-drying pants, necessary on wavy days when you forget to put on your foulies before going out).

Trent and I left the house around noon. Destination: Edmonds for lunch. When we originally dreamed about our weekend, we contemplated doing an overnight, but it was more convenient to leave without packing cushions, sheets, sleeping bag, blanket, toiletries, a change of clothes and everything else but the kitchen sink.

As we made our way to Shilshole, the clouds fled, leaving space in the sky for the glorious sun! The wind was from the north 10-15 (hovering around 14 for most of the journey). Jib up, we avoided the Puget Sound Spring Regatta, leaving the two groupings of big boats behind. Surprisingly few other cruisers were about, given the rare combination of sun and wind.

Trent and I both wore our new Rock Lobster shirts, but still needed warm jackets for the upwind journey (the high was 61, but that is definitely not warm enough for summer clothes).

Oh, what exhilaration! To be heeled at a not-too-scary degree in my perfect sailing weather. The sound of Rock Lobster whooshing through the water. The wind vibrating the backstay. The random birds flap-flap-flapping across waves. Bliss, flow, pure happiness.

About two hours in, we realized that we were both hungry and that it would be just a little bit faster to go to Kingston, so we changed destinations. I was a little worried about disappointing my three loyal blog readers by repeating a destination, but c'est la vie.

We arrived near 4 and took advantage of the free two hours of mooring. Because we pulled in right after the ferry did, there was a short line at our restaurant of choice J'aime les Crepes, where we ordered a special (ham, mushrooms, dijon, spinach) and a chicken supreme (lemon artichoke pesto - mmm) and shared them outside in the sun. My taste buds leapt at the first tang of mustard. Someday maybe, I'll actually order a sweet crepe, but so far the temptations of a savory one outweigh allure of nutella or strawberries and whipped cream.

Seeing as we had brought our ever-present Boggle and Bananagrams, we needed a place to play with a little less wind, so we headed off to Majestic Mountain and were dismayed to find it locked, even though it was not yet 5 and the sign read "open". Knowing we still had more than an hour before our parking "expired", we meandered up to town, past the Kingston Firehouse Theater and the Grub Hut, past the coffee stand with only outdoor seating to a business we had noticed the last time we were in town. The Axe Handle Cafe has a surprisingly charming interior for a restaurant in a strip-mall: old window frames and pictures of historic Kingston decorate the walls. Trent ordered a mocha, which he declared "pretty good", while my chai was perfect - foamy and not too sweet. We shared a cinnamon streusel muffin, crumbly and again, not overly sweet and quite good.

After two rounds of Bananagrams (we each won one), we returned to the marina in the sunshine and flowers, the weather such a contrast to our January visit. Heading out, the wind by Kingston had dropped to only 10 (5 in some spots), but when we got farther out, it picked up to around 17. We flew home with a top speed of 9 knots, the asymmetric spinnaker fighting Trent all the way. Such a lovely contrast - sitting on the high side of the boat, wind streaming on the way out, followed by a flat, warm sail, surfing on the waves with the wind at our backs.

By the time we returned to the dock, we were exhausted and already plotting our next sail. I can't let another three months go by without getting on the water again. Maybe the wind will cooperate today...

Minimalizing: A Journey

I believe I mentioned it in a previous post - I follow minimalist blogs (Be More With Less, Miss Minimalist and Zen Habits) and have read enough books on minimalism that I could practically write a book or teach a workshop on the subject. Only hold onto things that you use regularly or that you find beautiful and give you joy. One in, one out (or more out, depending on what stage of the journey you're on). Etc., etc., etc.

I am an aspiring minimalist - not the type that only owns 100 items or the kind that sleeps on a mattress on the floor or makes you bring your own plates to a dinner party, but one that longs to live lagom - with the just right amount for happiness. I want to feel cozy and comfortable without feeling as though my possessions define me or control me. Occasionally I daydream about what it would be like to live on a boat or in a trailer - to be able to pack up and move on at a moment's notice.

It started before our last move with the memory of the boxes of textbooks from the prior move that I had not opened once in seven years. Textbooks are HEAVY and I didn't want to lug them again, so we parted ways. I realized I was never going to do calculus exercises for fun or re-read Spanish poetry from the 1500s. I went on to give away clothes, wine glasses, candle holders, stickers and the strange things that you have no recollection of acquiring in the first place. The "take a treasure, leave a treasure" stump near my house became my new best friend (though I never once took a treasure).

I could so easily become a hoarder. As a child, I longed to hold things that my parents and grandparents had held as children, knowing there was a special essence or quality about them that new items just could not possess. I feel environmental guilt over any wasted item and try to hold onto things past the point of any logic. And I feel giddy when I find a new use for an old item. When I started writing regularly in the morning, I gave a shout of triumph when I found a couple of college-ruled notebooks and loose-leaf paper that I hadn't used since grad school (12.5 years ago).

So knowing this tendency in myself, I try to avoid bringing new non-consumables in the house. My mother-in-law gives me certificates for trapeze or a spa for gifts. My hobbies don't require too many props. Running requires new shoes every so often. A steady stream of books runs in and out of the house thanks to the library. Pen and paper don't take up too much space. And I have enough outlay of knitting needles and leftover yarn to last years (but only fill a couple of grocery bags in my closet).

The hardest things to give away are things attached to my fantasy self who:

• bakes cheesecakes regularly (and totes them with a cake carrier)
• sews or repurposes clothing
• creates craft projects on a knitting loom (rather than just using my knitting needles)
• wears sexy heels
• needs a special pan to cook paella
• wears makeup more than once a decade
• hosts high tea
• plays guitar in a folk rock band
• reads chapter books to the children in my life

Are you holding onto anything for an old dream?

Scenes from an Oakland Adventure

(Note: I recently returned from a trip to the Bay Area to visit Erin and Dan (my sister and brother who relocated to a land with over 250 sunny days per year) and to participate in the Oakland Running Festival's 1/2 Marathon).
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The sun is warm and the sky is clear as Erin, Dan and I walk to Arizmendi, the employee-owned bakery with addictive fresh-baked focaccia. The streets are crowded with vendors selling "hella Oakland" t-shirts and a dread-locked man crocheting hats on the spot. The strains of Happy waft over to us. When we turn, a couple is in a car is clapping along and moving in an impromptu dance party. We reach our destination after passing the Lakeshore Cafe, a popular breakfast destination with outdoor seating. In line at the bakery, Dan spots a coworker picking up a pizza to share with his wife. We get our orders to go (today's special has asparagus and basil included in the yummy-ness) and eat the treats as we walk around Lake Merritt, the Green Lake of Oakland.
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"Let's go Oakland" clap-clap-clap-clap clap-clap. "Let's go Oakland" clap-clap-clap-clap clap-clap. It's the following day and Dan, who will soon be running his first 50-miler, is supporting me in the half marathon. His support includes pacing, passing over bananas or vegan Gu packets before my energy flags, and encouragement of me and the other runners. Last year, his chanting drove me a little crazy (probably because it was mile 12 and I just wanted to be finished), but this year, I join in the clapping along with a chorus of other runners and spectators, saving my breath for the run itself. I also appreciate the cheers of encouragement from the city - especially the congregants of the local churches wearing their Sunday-best. Later on, we go through my two favorite parts of the course - the ring of fire at The Crucible and a fire breathing dragon. Though I've never taken advantage of it, it's the only running event I've participated in that gives two drink tickets to fancy beers (from 21st Amendment). Of the three courses that I've completed, this is my favoirte - the only one I've signed up for a second time.
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"Moo cow! Moo!" Jana, my sister-in-law, rolls down the car window and screams. One turns to her, a puzzled expression on its wide face as we pass. "I got a point! You get a point for each one that looks at you".

Erin tries the next batch of cattle, getting the attention of two cows and a startled bicyclist. Tired out from the morning's race and worried that the car ride (original destination Point Reyes, new destination Stinson Beach) will never end, I pass on this particular game.

"It's not a road trip if family members don't annoy each other". Earlier in the trip, Jana set the GPS to Latvian, which only she could understand. On the way to our lunch destination in Fairfax, we somehow got turned around.  "Oooh Dan - I don't know what you did, but the Latvian lady is pissed - and you don't want to make a Latvian woman mad".

To avoid her wrath, we continue in her charted direction, even as it takes us two miles in the opposite direction of her original (and correct) advice. We stop at a taco place where the one employee is moving at glacial pace and a packed German restaurant before finally choosing Grilly's Mexican Food for fish tacos (Erin notes the oddity of eating tacos in hippy Fairfax, when she lives in Fruitvale) to reverse the hangry (hungry/angry) moods.

We continue on our merry way and after the cows, finally reach Stinson Beach, a long sandy beach with foaming waves and a lone talented surfer. When I get cold, Erin buries my feet in the sand, insisting it will warm my frozen toes. We finish up with a long walk on the shore analyzing the jobs of the dogs (a favorite game of Jana's). One is a dog of leisure - a fun-loving dog- who at home obviously wears a Hugh Hefner robe and smokes a pipe.

We drive back to Oakland as night falls and hungrily fall upon the food at Chai Thai before parting ways.

Breaking Up with Facebook?

It's been one month.
One month without reading through status feeds. One month without clicking "like". One month without logging in to Facebook.

My sister Erin gasped when she heard my plan and asked, "But how will you see all the cute kid pictures?" Others asked if this was just for Lent or forever. Still another, who has never been on Facebook, mentioned her aunt told her that because of that fact, "I don't know what to talk with you about" - like reading status updates had taken the place of the give and take of conversation.

I admit that there are things that I've missed, like wondering whether Ashley had her baby yet. Just as I was about to call or email someone to find out, husband Mel saved the day with an emailed birth announcement. Or learning that a number of coworkers had seen pictures of me before an organized run that I hadn't even looked over yet, which only served to remind me that you can run, but you can't hide from Facebook - parts of your life are there even if you no longer are. And a few times, people have suggested that I could log on "just to let people know you have a new blog post" (obviously not everyone is as enamored of RSS feeds as I am).

This morning on NPR I tuned in to a segment on Facebook quizzes - how marketing companies LOVE how we not only give them information about us through quizzes like "which Harry Potter character are you?" or "how would you die on Game of Thrones?", but we encourage and cajole friends to do the same. And I've long given up thinking that anything posted to Facebook ever remains private no matter how much you track their privacy changes.

I'm still not sure whether I will get back to my lurking. Even just 15 or 20 minutes a day seems excessive and it feels a little overwhelming to have the wave of voices cascading over me again. But I do miss those videos of my favorite little ones...

Would you ever give up social networking?

Do One Thing Everyday That Scares You

"Do one thing everyday that scares you".
I first became aware of the Eleanor Roosevelt quote a few years ago through the book My Year With Eleanor by Noelle Hancock, one of those oh-so-popular do-something-unusual-for-a-year-and-write-a-book-about-it-books. It's a premise that I want to embrace more fully.

In fact, my domestic weekend (spent blissfully Farmer's Marketing, running, eating Turkish food and watching The Grand Budapest Hotel with friends, plus cooking an early St. Patrick's Day Dinner) seems mighty tame, especially considering the documentary Trent and I watched last week. Maidentrip is the story of fourteen year-old Laura Dekker from Holland who sailed single-handed around the world. When the story was actually in the news, it seemed foolhardy - that no person that young could make that decision. After watching the film, my outlook changed completely - it would have been a shame to keep her from her dream. And most impressive to me is that she realized at such a young age that life is about appreciating the journey, not reaching a destination.

I'm feeling a little uneasy in my comfortable life - like I've done everything (with the exception of having children) that society expects and I need a new challenge. It's as though I'm getting ready for something, the exact nature of which still eludes me. So as I try to capture a thought that is just on the tip of my tongue or my brain, I count the number of scary things in my life that may help me grow:

• traveling to a new country
• volunteering in a direct service organization
• seeking out more intense sailing experiences
• taking classes in writing or radio
• figure out my one unusual thing to do for a year and write about it

While we won't be packing up and moving to a sailboat or biking across the country anytime soon, both options certainly are fun to dream about. What are your "someday" fantasies? Do any of them scare you?

Brompton Mystique: or Is a Folding Bike for Me?

For a blog titled "Bicycling Librarian", I've been doing remarkably little writing on either bicycles or librarianship, so for those who have been feeling cheated, here is my first bicycle post ever!

"Hey, are you that one with the tiny folding bike?" asked a hipster dad as I walked sans bike across 50th and Meridian.

"Yes".

"Girls, do you remember when she showed us her bike? It's so tiny, it can fit into a bag almost!"

Wow, the power of the Brompton. I am a mini-celebrity in my own neighborhood.  Today, the father with his two curly-haired daughters, who I had ridden past months earlier on the ride home from the bike store. Yesterday, the elderly Chinese woman who surprised me by lifting it at the bus stop exclaiming, "it not too heavy - how much it cost?"  Another day, a woman with her two young children, who shyly admitted that she was just as excited as her five year old to see it unfold.

Better, at least, than the teen at Everett Station (one of the sketchier transit stations I frequent), plantively asking, as his voice broke, to ride it around "just a little", swearing to bring it back as his friends scolded him to "leave the nice lady alone".

I have never been one to buy flashy or trendy toys, but if any item has inspired curiosity, awe and attention, it has been this elegant piece of machinery that can slip unnoticed under my desk.  This marvel of engineering that can transform in 2 minutes or less.

I can't say that I wasn't warned. The good fellows at Electric & Folding Bikes Northwest laughed as they told me, "You'll get noticed. Guys who buy them come back swear that they are girl magnets. They can't get around Green Lake without someone hitting on them". But I was not deterred. There were two regulars on my morning bus with folding bikes and the time had come for me to get one as well to avoid lengthening my already agonizing commute.

Every day, I offer novelty to the bus-riding masses, building community through conversations with strangers. With the bike, I cannot be incognito, no matter how groggy or anti-social I may feel on a given morning.

Overall, it has been a smart purchase, allowing me passage on the bus with a bike without being told to wait for the next one or leave it locked to the 45th Street Freeway Station hoping it will still be there upon my return.

Do you have anything that keeps you from being anonymous?

On Writing

I recently went to A Muddy Cup* for coffee with a new friend who is a published author. Over my outrageously decadent Nutella mocha, I asked her to fill me in on her writing process, after which she asked, as people often do, if I write. There seems to be a widespread perception that every children's librarian has a half-written fantasy novel tucked away in her underwear drawer.

I said no, that I don't have a story begging to be written, nor for that matter any great talent. And then she asked the simple question that started me down a breadcrumb trail, "but do you ever just do it for yourself, because you enjoy writing?" Hmm... while revising proposals and crafting work emails do not make my heart sing, I noticeably perk up when it is time to haul out my First Mate's Log, which documents our summer sailing trips through the San Juan and Gulf Islands.

So now my goal is to read less to give me time and space to write - basically, consume less, create more. When I do read, I've narrowed my focus to memoirs, books on writing, best books of 2013 and new books from favorite authors. I admit, not quite a laser-beam focus (and I still managed to read 18 books in February), but I have been scribbling during bumpy bus rides and have posted blog entries once a week since MLK Day.  And I feel much more like the writers of my fantasies, going on artist dates and making lists of wishes and passions.

In a bit of synchronicity, I was approved to go to the Western Washington University Children's Literature Conference, which I just returned from. It featured an all-star line-up of Jennifer Holm, Laura Vaccaro Seeger, Nic Bishop and Steve Sheinkin (his book Bomb is so good). I've been to two of these conference in previous years, but this year's speeches particularly resonated with me.

My takeaways:

• You don't need a special space to write - your bedroom or kitchen table will do
• If someone or something makes you nervous, there's probably a story aching to be told
• Lessons learned from life come together in unexpected ways
• Be ruthless - sometimes you have to cut something you love to create a stronger whole
• There are far more lizards and snakes being delivered via FedEx than I ever realized
• Don't worry about a particular audience, write what thrills you
• There's lots of meat in family stories

So I'll see how it goes.  My goal for this blog was to post at least 8 weeks in a row and reassess from there. Next week is week 8 and I'm leaning toward continuing. I'd like to chat a little more with my parents about their childhood stories. I know surprisingly little about their favorite dinners, toys and best friends from childhood. Even if it doesn't turn into a writing project, it should still be worthwhile.

Do you have any new projects that you're working on? (Yes, I will keep asking questions in the hope that SOMEONE posts a comment on a post other than my 20 things for 2.0 posts)

*yes, I realize that it is strange to post a Facebook link during my fast, but they don't have a website and I feel like I should promote a site or page that they created, rather than relying on Yelp