Ducks, Groundhog Day, Seattle Summer

If I could count the number of times I’ve been working on this patio as the amphibious Ride the Ducks-mobile drives by, silly quackers and hat-wearing driver and all…And I want so badly to be annoyed at the ridiculous, loud cheesiness of it all. And yet when I look up, those vacationing tourists onboard look so darn carefree and smiley (well the majority of them anyway), that I often can’t help but smirk-smile, too.

As they wait at the light in front of the statue People Waiting for the Interurban (a neighborhood fixture that locals like to dress up for holidays and birthdays and graduations and the like), the tourguide driver, like clockwork, pumps up the tunes:

“Ooga-chakka-ooga-chaka, I can’t stop this feeling…deep inside of me….”

It’s a bit like Groundhog Day, to be honest.

Ahhhh, Seattle summer, please stick around awhile longer. You are so breathtakingly beautiful, frenetic, busy, ADD, tranquil and magical—all at once.

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Bridge diver

Mtns

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*Days like these, thank you*

When self-employment feels daunting and stressful and uncertain and cuckoo, will you pretty please remind of days like these? It’s been a mighty fine week.

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The Ride

Last night, I went to bed feeling a little heavy. It had been a hermit-y day full of solitary work and, since the sun decided to scat, some (rare for August) drab, gray skies. I ached for it all—the imminent departure of my brother and sister-in-law from this city/country and the shocking and impossibly sad departure of the exceedingly talented Robin Williams from this Earth. I felt it all.

But sleep changes everything, and today was a new day. I filled it with some of my favorite things—a yoga class of Jessica’s, quality time with my brother, a productive work session in a bright and airy cafe.

What’s more, I encountered kind people everywhere I looked. The baristas. The patrons. Fellow riders on the bus. Just now, on a jam-packed, rush-hour #40, an elderly woman who didn’t speak a lick of English, insisted on carrying my grocery bag on her lap the whole ride home. Her simple gesture had such impact. Thank you, kind stranger, for helping me remember.

“We’re all just walking each other home.”~Ram Dass

Fremont sunset

Solo Mission Musica

A few weekends ago, I did something rather brave (for me, anyway). I went to a music festival alone about three-and-a-half hours from where I live. Sure, I’ve traveled abroad alone and moved abroad alone, but somehow this wee domestic venture felt like I’d passed a new milestone of sorts.

Anyone who knows me, has heard me rave about Pickathon, a magical, friendly, music-filled gathering in the Oregon woods. I went last year with two of my Seattle BFFs, and I was instantly SMITTEN. Wooded stages & barn venues dotted with twinkle lights, hay bales as seats, flowing wine & beer accompanied by tasty food (all local, of course), kind folks, a sea of tents under a calming canopy of green. Everything about it appealed to my inner kinda-hippie and my love of gooooooood soul-soothing tunes. It’s a sweaty, stinky, dusty affair with a little dose of over-the-top hippie-dippie and PDX hipster, and yet, I just love everything about it.

I’d waited a full year to return again; however, when the time came, I couldn’t find a single soul able and/or willing to join. Not a one. Womp wah. After some pleas, some long shots, some pity-partying and a good amount of fretting, I decided to suck it up and simply follow my gut. I wanted to go so badly, so why not go? Alas, I did (thanks to some gear borrowing and awesome cheerleading from some really special friends. I know SUCH good people here). I’m so glad I listened to those inner whispers. They didn’t steer me wrong.

Pine State Visit by Corinne Whiting

Pickathon canopy by Corinne Whiting

Pickathon sign by Corinne Whiting

Pickathon woods by Corinne Whiting

Food court by Corinne Whiting

Pickathon barn by Corinne Whiting

Shakey Graves by Corinne Whiting

In honor of incredible music, here are some great tunes to enjoy: