Not quite the end of summer ...

About halfway through Labor Day weekend, summer returned for a brief encore here in the NW corner.

All the better to observe a convergence of birthdays and anniversaries, most of them happy.

Best place for this is Vashon, where last weekend my son celebrated his 40th. Although I lost track of just how many friends filtered through the cabin during the weekend, I do know we set 17 places for Sunday night's dinner. Guests ranged in age from 3 weeks on up. Nice to have a couple of 8-year olds running in and out, taking semi-supervised outings to the beach below the house ("Stay where we can see you!") and returning with handfuls of shells and "really interesting" stones. Puzzles and games that have been on the shelves for 30-plus years still have power to attract, even when a TV and videos are available.

(Thanks to Mary for the pictures!)

Patriotic interlude ...

Playing tourist in your own city is always fun, especially when you can reach some really nice places on public transportation.

Today I went to West Seattle, specifically Alki Beach, where a reduced-scale replica of the Statue of Liberty was unveiled as part of a community festival.


The statue was first erected in 1952, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the arrival of the Denny Party, first European settlers in Seattle. Boy Scouts and Sea Scouts raised money for the original statue, and they were present in force for today's celebration. Very important to the effort to recast and remount the statue was a man who took part in the original ceremony when he was a Scout. Today these Cub Scouts were intent on their beach catapult, lobbing small water-filled plastic bags at the troop members in the canoe! It was definitely a sanctioned activity - the bags were small, not many reached the canoe, and the cubs no doubt learned many valuable skills while building the catapult!

Near the beach, a wedding party drifted here and there. "We've lost our photographer," said the bridesmaids I met along the walk.


"We can't go on the beach," they said to the little girls. "We have pretty shoes on."

Because they were so decorative, I offered to take their picture.

And since this is Seattle, and a public occasion, and a lovely day, a troupe of cyclists wearing nothing much more than body paint and helmets whizzed by the crowd, drawing a few cheers (and a bit of eye-rolling.)

More about West Seattle here.

Is it November 5 yet?

I'm sorry, but this, the longest campaign on record, is beginning to lose me. Of course I'll vote, but until then could we please have some conversation about the real problems facing the country, as opposed to mindless shouts of "USA! USA!" Not to mention tiptoeing around the Republicans' VP choice because she is a woman. Any woman who refers to herself as a pit bull should be prepared for newspaper interviews, at the very least.

All week I've taken advantage of HD radio to avoid convention broadcasts. (What - it was on TV too? Amazing.) But last night, returning from choir practice, I flipped on the car radio, just in time to hear JM shouting above the roaring crowd, "Stand up and fight! Stand up and fight!" Commentators said other parts of the speech were offered to an audience almost reverently silent, but you cannot prove that by me.

Is this America 2008 or Germany 1933?

Earlier this week NPR flashed back to the 1964 Republican convention, and Barry Goldwater's famous assertion that "extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice..." Etc.

That summer I worked in SF, for a small film company. Our cadre of free-lance cameramen - all WWII vets, all passionate New Deal Democrats - worked the convention, and their unanimous opinion, after a week of listening to the rhetoric and being pushed around by overly zealous security people, was, "This is America's Munich."

Further adventures of Sparky.

Yesterday Sparky went AWOL, probably quite early in the morning, probably not intentionally. She often walks along the outside edge of our third floor balcony (as I hold my breath and try not to startle her!) and once or twice has slipped right off.

Fortunately, the ground underneath the balcony is spongy with ivy and dead leaves. After two previous "outside events," she appeared uninjured, and a little more cautious, but after such a long time (3 years) it's easy to forget.

Since I have always found her within a few feet of where she landed (but only when she wants to be found) I went through the usual drill yesterday - several forays around the building, calling, pushing aside underbrush and branches, thinking about leaving a trail of bonito flakes (her favorite treat.) Nothing worked until after dark, when a neighbor and I went out with flashlights. I shined the light into a tangle of roots and branches underneath a big laurel - and there she was, wet, staring-eyed, but unharmed.

Today I've kept the deck door closed. All day. And yes, I will finally find a way to block the place where she slips through the deck railing.

Worst part of searching for kitty yesterday was thinking I might have to add to the collection of "missing cat" posters accumulating on light poles around the neighborhood. Three local pets have disappeared in the last couple of months, and we're beginning to wonder just what is out there. Raccoons, which can be dangerous to cats, are a familiar sight, but now we wonder if the greenbelt is supporting a coyote. They've been seen in other parts of Seattle - with disappearing pets often the first sign of their presence.

As I trolled the perimeter of the building, I kept thinking about a major character in Kafka on the Shore - the one who returns lost cats to their owners - because he can talk to them. (Later he loses the ability, though the cats don't realize it.)

You have to read the book.

If you don't like the weather here - wait a minute...

After last weekend's rain, we're now getting a bit of really hot weather (well, it's hot for here - 89-ish today, and sticky.)

Tradeoff is being able to sit out much later than usual, and watch a huge round moon, the color of panna cotta, rise over the lake.

Finally finished Travels With Herodotus. While returning it to the closest branch library, I found (filed under "H" instead of "M") Kafka on the Shore, a Murakami novel I've been meaning to read for a year or two.

Murakami goes well with this.

Dog days are not so bad.

Because it rains here...

Even in summer (the real secret of Seattle weather is that there is NEVER a month without rain. Sometimes there isn't WEEK without rain.)

Yesterday I went to Volunteer Park, to catch my son's latest appearance (as Chief Weasel) in a theater-in-the-park adaptation of Kenneth Grahame's "The Wind in the Willows." After some preliminary sprinkles to which no one paid any attention, the skies opened up. Hardened rain-shruggers all, the audience pulled on plastic ponchos, opened umbrellas or dived under blankets - but finally the rain was too much for everyone, and the cast bade us a reluctant good-bye.

"Come back tomorrow!"

Of course. I have to find out how Ratty and Mole saved Toad from himself. This time I'll take a folding chair, to get off the wet ground!

The WWSRC (Wicked West Side Reunion Committee) met yesterday morning to swap stories and make notes on what we learned about putting on a 50th reunion. This could become a habit, as the stories (both old and new) get better with each gathering (even over a 9 a.m. breakfast at Denny's!)

Concert nerves? Not now.

But earlier today -- never mind. It's possible to play with shaking knees - just smile when you're finished and no one will ever know!

Everything went well. Our flute quartet performed about midway through sampler this morning. My three fellow performers were over some of their jitters because their other group was the opening act, at 8:45 a.m. Only (!) 48 acts total, and everything finished by noon, right on time.

After that it was box lunch, then final rehearsals, then some of us took a walk into downtown Walla Walla, where the main street was blocked off for a YMCA basketball tournament that seemed to involve about 1,000 very tall teenagers who had all their friends and family there to cheer them on.

Just before the final concert began, our 11-member Medieval Women's group (aka "Mea Culpa Chorale") finally had time to do the two numbers we've practiced since Wednesday - substituting the two-story foyer of the concert hall for a cathedral (not many of those in this part of the world.) We resonated beautifully - and probably got more attention than if we had been able to perform elsewhere.

Best surprise for the band came when our dapper director (who led the U.S. Navy Band for many years) stepped on stage - in full naval commander's dress uniform. This after telling us he would probably wear "nice slacks and a dark shirt." For the audience, the other surprise was that the number listed in the program as "March for the Class of 1907" was actually a new arrangement of "Anchors Aweigh." We were sworn to secrecy all week, and in dress rehearsal played only the very first section so as not to give away the real name of the piece.

Final event tomorrow morning is a gathering down by this lovely stream that runs through the Whitman campus. Then I get to go home!