Celebrating your roses.

You're lovely, but you're empty," he went on. "One couldn't die for you. Of course an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than you altogether, since she's the one I've watered. Since she's the one I put under glass. Since she's the one I sheltered behind a screen. Since she's the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except for two or three for butterflies). Since's she the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she's my rose. 

~ The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint

Happy Valentines Week. 

On Travel Plans

I'm leaving on a jet plane in T-10 days and it's official!

Last night, in a hazy, tired blur, I decided NOW was the time to buy tickets to New York. I'm a state of the art procrastinator (really though, the how-to manual may be my first published endeavor) but I get things done, solely because it'll occur to me at 12.32am that 12.32am would be a great time to accomplish x,y, and maybe z if time allows. Last night's x (due to it's magnitude, we'll allow it to cover y as well) was the last of my tickets for my trip.

For those of you who haven't heard the attempt to talk about March in a nonchalant manner, the choking back of wild cries of excitement, and the pounding of my heart when the words "warm weather" come to mind,  I'm taking off for a few weeks to see a few of the very dear and not so near, and cross a few places off the Bucket List.


Turkey first to go see the jelly to my peanut butter, the Jeeves to my Bertie, the Sriracha to my culinary experience: Hannah McMillan. The Hagia Sophia, Ephesus and the bazaar with the addition of a certain Brent Miles (and Ryan Closner if he has not yet been arrested) are also in the works. We do have day allocated to an old fashioned spa date at a Turkish hammam and I have high hopes for several evenings at salsa-inclined bars.

 Then it's off to Sri Lanka to see the much missed rents, eat my fill of rice and curry (everyday, mind you), and spend several weeks of tea filled good times with my beloved Melissa. Several things I can't wait for include (but are by no means limited to): seeing my littles from two summers ago, getting a good solid sunburn in the process of lying on the beach for way too long, prawn springs rolls at Flower Song. Bring it.

To round it off, I'm hopping off the plane for a brief stint with our lovely Tashlet in New York. I've always wanted to see the statue of liberty, you see, and eat a hot dog from a street cart. Maybe I'll convince her to see a Broadway show with me.

We will miss this one. 

And then I'll come back to start my next post-internship Seattle chapter.

Wednesday.

Happy Hump Day!

(That happy day of the week when the weekend is just a downhill coast away)

Snowpocalypse 2012. Happy New Year!

I'm back! With renewed zeal and fervor, induced in part by my snazzy new blog background and in part by one of twelve new years resolutions. I think it's number eleven.

 And so a Happy New Year to you dear reader! I hope that wherever you are and whatever your situation, your Christmas and New Years eves and days were blessed - full of family and food and same-such good things. For my part I have never been fed so well in my life.

This was my first Christmas away from my mama and papa and little brovskys, and I missed them immensely...but I was taken under the expansive wing of the Bulthuis clan (immediate and otherwise) and had a glorious time delving into new traditions like Clam Chowder Christmas feasts, candle light services and endless supplies of holiday fudge. Note: I attempted to make fudge myself a week later, forgot a key ingredient - I'm still not sure which key ingredient, probably one of the three ingredients fudge is made of - and therefore produced a grainy, globular sort of a mass that could have been frosting, could have been brownies, and was most definitely not nearly so magical.

I am very grateful for this wonderful family's always open doors. I was also grateful to spend some good phone time with my rents...and hearing about their Christmas gala of 15+ people and an American turkey (so much for desperately missing their kids...).

Moving swiftly on, January started of with a bang here in Seattle. Ie: We just survived what we affectionately christened Snowpocalypse 2k12. A komo news weather warning and five inches of snow later called for a city-wide shut-down. Businesses closed their doors and turned out the lights. The few cars that braved the elements spent a day skidding into fish tailing buses (many of them left on the side of the road till real temperatures decided to come back). Thousands of people went without power.

And we reveled in it.

Snowmagedon day one called for a sleeping in, brunching on waffles and mimossas and sledding with what felt like the entirety of Queen Anne. Nothing brings people out and together like a good snow storm, clearly. People were all over the streets (much to the chagrin of the one or two crawling cars who made it out of their driveways), sipping on hot coffees, tucking into fur-lined hoods, and heading to the slopes (we have many of those). What we found: Tupperware boxes are not ideal sleds. Saucers are. Cookie sheets are iffy. On a sled, the distance of Queen Anne hill can be covered in roughly 20 seconds.

Snowmagedon day two brought forth more sleeping in, pancakes instead of waffles, card games and wine, and walks in the frosty muffled dark.

And so it went until it was the weekend. And here we are Sunday night, relaxed, rested and staunch believers in the Komo Blog - which, besides being accurate, has a marvelous flair for the dramatic. What a rough life we do lead.

Tim Wheeler

A person who works with his hands is a laborer and a person who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman. But a person who works with his hands, his head and his heart is an artist.

~ A wise man.  

Thank you Tim Wheeler of Tim Wheeler Masonry, your father was an insightful man.  

Sailing.

Last weekend, dear reader, was lovely. Markus and I headed to Port Orchard primarily for the memorial service of an incredible lady who was a good family friend of the Bulthuis clan. I personally didn’t know her well, but my word she was an amazing woman. It was sad and beautiful at the same time, and as the flute swept the service to a close, I felt myself being challenged to live a life even half as full, gracious and giving as hers was.

We sauntered around pretty Gig Harbor thereafter and went out to Indian food – and I have confirmed with myself that tika masala is always, without fail, a sure-fire win.

And then joy of joys, Sunday morning dawned and after church I got to go sailing! Minus the sails, because there is only so much a sail can do with wind that is but barely a breath. Still I was on a sailboat, I was on the open water and I saw a jellyfish in the wild. Need I say more?

I was a huge help, obviously, what with my boat know-how and mad sailing skills. No. I tell a joke. This particular trip was set upon mainly to haul the boat safely to shore from her buoy (it was a dirty breakup), and my skills with effective mechanical problem-solving are limited to adjusting the temperature settings on the space heater, and maybe lighting candles with a clicker. I was graciously asked to step into the role of photojournalist, which I did with much pride and gusto. 

 

Cheers.

Misrepresentation.