Category Archives: Seattle

New Apartment

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We have moved out of the quirky little section of the city we were living in and funny thing is it had grown on me. I had become one of the neighborhood characters. This occurred to me after a particularly harrowing day. It was a long day at school, no detail even needed, I hopped in my car and was ready to be home for some R and R. Sure enough I hit bumper to bumper traffic. After spending over an hour in this I realized that I was almost out of gas. I managed to get out of the creeping mess, get gas, and merge back into the mess. Over two hours later I had made it to the apartment. I ran in the building and up the stairs as nature had been calling over an hour ago and DRATS there was no toilet paper. I had not bought any because we were moving soon and I didn’t want to have to pack extra stuff. Also, it’s tough when you have to carry your groceries home to lug paper products around. I had tried to ration this last roll. I grabbed my apartment keys and bolted to the Safeway a block down the road. I grabbed my quilted six-pack, checked out and started the sprint back. As I was running full speed down the street in nice teaching attire with my junked running shoes on lugging a six-pack of Charmin, I realized I’m fitting into the craziness of this neighborhood. I am the person that just weeks ago I would have seen and thought “What in the world?!“ When living in the city and having to carry all of your groceries back home things are not bought in bulk. It’s not like back home when you open your garage door to find that your mother has built a pyramid stockpile of toilet paper and paper towels in your garage as a housewarming gift. The spaces are so tight there’s no extra storage and you can’t lug extra stuff around. Thus you see people carrying weird stuff around because that’s the only way to transport things. It’s funny how places and things you cannot stand end up having a soft spot after you have experienced them or learned to appreciate it for what it is. Now that I am in the burbs I am missing the constant excitement of opening my door to discover clowns and pirates, being able to walk to the store, taking Baker for a walk and running into every breed of dog. There is something very fun about city life. Now that school has started I am taking my time in the burbs to relax and enjoy the shorter commute but during my weekends I find I’m longing to take a trip to the funky side of life just over the 1-90 bridge.

The Art Teacher’s Dilemma

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The interesting thing about being an art teacher is that it is such a huge category of teaching. When one is certified it spans from being able to teach kindergartners to twelfth graders. That is implying you are capable of dealing with a five year old or an eighteen year old. It also means that you should be fully capable of teaching graphic design, how to use a pencil sharpener, digital photography, wet darkroom photography, the primary colors, how to blow your nose, ceramics- hand building and wheel throwing, coloring, using crayons, and printmaking, So anytime an art teacher takes a new job they can be expected to do anything related to the arts and to teach it to any level. I like to think of an AP lit teacher teaching first graders to read from the Moonbeams book. (I have a specific teacher in mind and this thought makes me chuckle). This job cannot be broken down into specified jobs because there is not the budget nor the demand. If I were certified as a ceramics teacher it would take forever for me to find a job. So switching jobs for an art teacher creates quite a dilemma. I am spending countless hours retraining myself for a different age level and new subject material. It’s like starting over. Although my high schoolers could learn the kindergarten gluing song and enjoy it I can only take the past experience so far.

Church Take Two

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I am going to summarize this post by writing bongo drums and can I get an amen? Not surprising enough it was the bongo drums that put us over the edge. I don’t mean to sound like a fuddy duddy but some musical instruments just don’t belong in church and bongo drums is high on my list.

Hemp Fest

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We have found a great running route through the Olympic Sculpture and Myrtle Edwards Parks. Baker loves the route. There are artsy sculptures and it travels right along the water. On clear days there is a great view of Mount Rainier. On a Monday run we started noticing signs indicating “A Special Event” would be happening in the park the following weekend. On the next run vendor tents were being assembled and I began to think that maybe it was a food event. Most of the tents were advertizing junk food; now that I think of it, munchies. The park became increasingly crowded over the next two days and the special event posters now had plant leaf logos on them. During the Thursday run Steven and I started figuring out that this special event had strong enough references to pot that despite our naïveté we were able to pick up on it. This last run on our favorite route included interesting aromas, shady characters and more tie-dye than should be allowed. As soon as we returned to our apartment the Internet research had begun. Sure enough a block from our apartment Hemp Fest would be occurring starting that weekend and lasting for a smoke infested week. Not only did this put an end to running for awhile it also increased the abnormal activity outside our cute little apartment. What we thought would be a minor inconvenience turned out to be a huge ordeal. This Hemp Fest was no small fest, it turned out to be a flocking of every stoned hippie from Southern California to northern Washington state, drug paraphernalia right outside our building and being used in the wide open. Let’s just say scales fell from my eyes. My little conservative Midwestern roots were shaking; I began to seriously question the West Coast life style.  The gorgeous mountains are in eyesight! The rain forests are a short drive away. That is what I came out here for and now I’m shutting my windows and forcing Steven to walk Baker because I’m afraid a short stint outside will alter a drug test. (Steven informs me I am being a tad over dramatic but there are some strange ones outside. Let’s just say I’d take the SeaFair clowns over this group).  Thankfully our apartment building has a parking garage so I can pull in, get on the elevator and never put a step outside. I get the daily updates about the state of things outside from Steven. The admission tickets are specifically designed to be used to roll joints and apparently they are littering the sidewalk. I am bunkering in for the week. Midwestern Values how I miss you.

Side Note- while I thought I had escaped the craziness, this is the commercial that keeps playing on TV.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXfIteCae4w

She looks like she’s been plucked from Indiana and just bought her sweater set from Chicos. Can you imagine if THAT played in Indiana?!??!!!

Real Estate Lingo 101

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After looking at over seventy houses and fifteen apartments I have been able to translate real estate language.

Hidden Gem = house is located in a terrible neighborhood

Quaint Bungalow = no updates have been made since the thirties and you’ll be lucky to fit your couch in the living room

Bring your tool belt = $50,000 worth of repairs are needed to make it livable

Opportunity Knocks = the house is a tear-down

Newly Updated = some cheap new linoleum has been slapped down and it kind of fits the space

Ready to move-in = the house has been vacant for a long time

Desirable mother-in-law suite = ummm… no (This is what Emily would refer to as her section of the house)

Ample off-street parking = there’s a yard

I have to say some realtors have a way with words and are talented photographers. Reading and seeing a house on the internet is a vastly different it’s real life counterpart.

Grub and Grunt: A Taste of the City

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After two days of school orientation I had one day off. I was tired and half considered lounging in the apartment and hiding away from city life. I was checking emails and got an inspirational message from my friend Beth. She wrote about seeing a pig food truck based in Seattle on TV.  I made finding that truck my day’s mission. My Orca, public transportation card, had arrived in the mail and I had downloaded the One Bus Away app for my smart phone. I threw the card and phone in my purse, smooched my sweet Baker and tucked him in the safety of his cage, and set off. I walked to the bus stop and managed to use my phone to figure out the correct bus. I followed everyone else’s lead and swiped my Orca card on my way on the bus. I got off on Pike Street, a place I suspected a pig shaped food truck might be located. I wandered around aimlessly for a bit. Then in true Kady style I remembered my smart phone. Whenever there is a question to be answered, a fact to be looked-up, or a place to be noted my in-laws and husband have taught me to efficiently use a smart phone. I googled “pig truck Seattle” and managed to figure out the truck was two blocks away. I then realized I had no cash but using my phone again I located a Chase bank. With money in hand I approached the truck and ordered a “sweet and tangy pulled pork sandwich and a ginger lemonade.” It was delicious. To document the find, I snapped some photos on my phone. I walked around Pike Place Market and then used my phone to dictate which bus I would take to get to upper Queen Anne. Once in Queen Anne my phone told me which blocks to turn and walk to get to Nancy’s Sewing Basket. I had finally found my quaint sewing shop. The shop specializes in apparel sewing and offers some of the best classes in Seattle. I picked up a shop schedule and headed to the cupcake shop. To celebrate my days travels I picked up two cupcakes and made it back to the bus stop. My phone was unable to tell me that I needed to pull the chord to make the bus stop so after missing my stop the bus stopped at the next one and after a short walk I made it back to the apartment feeling like the accomplished city girl.

Several years ago Steven came home from work super excited because he had a developer android cell phone. It was before any smart phones had come on the market. He told me it could check emails, message and look up maps. I told him it was stupid and I didn’t know who would want to do all that on a phone. Steven, I am so sorry I didn’t have to foresight to see all of the pickles my phone would get me out of and all of the directions it could provide.

Why I Now Hate HGTV

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Our temporary housing has cable, some hundred channels, and two TVs. This is a huge change from our one Indiana TV that always had perfect PBS reception and occasionally three other channels.  Since I have made house hunting my mission I have had the TV permanently on HGTV. I thought of it as a way of doing my homework and figuring out the real estate market.  After three weeks of HGTV and house hunting I now have a bitter resentment for station. I have targeted my disillusionment toward three shows.

1) Holmes Inspection       I watched many episodes of Holmes Inspection and like to think it taught me to have a special eye for catching faults in houses that a realtor might overlook. I’m beginning to think that my realtor is getting frustrated at my constant mention of cracks, feeling the floors sloping, looking for multiple layers of shingles, correct plumbing connections, inspecting for tube and knob electrics, and smelling for mold.

2) House Hunters      Unlike House Hunters one does not find the perfect house after looking at three options. Also, rarely do the husband and wife agree on the perfect house. For example, the cuteness of a 1910 Tudor trumps practicality in my mind; poorly insulated windows, a bathtub located off the living room and a closet sized kitchen trump cuteness in Steven’s mind. (Steven won).

3) Property Brothers   I now know that when I have found the perfect house an interior decorator will not graciously decorate the entire thing nor will a contractor make all of the improvements needed to create a dream home, much less for free.

 

After looking at seventy some houses and having my hopes crushed three times as I thought I had found our Seattle nest I am moving on. My options are limited, I can’t find a house and my dear mother in law will not allow me to live under the Fremont Bridge, although it seems to be a popular location and allows dogs. I have exactly 20 days until Steven, Baker and I are kicked out of our apartment. I am now starting the apartment hunt. I am looking for an apartment that will accept an energetic dog with a mild bark problem and has room for a bit of storage for our hobbies; which includes nine bikes, camping equipment for all seasons, art supplies, and sewing necessities.

A Long Sunday

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This Sunday started our first Sunday of the church hunt. Having searched in Fort Wayne for a church where we felt like we belonged gave us a chance to try out different congregations. I was really hoping to find a group of welcoming people to make the sting of missing home a little less painful. The church was promising and I won’t go into length but it wasn’t a fit for us. Communion is a sacred time but I could hardly contain my laughter because in my church handout in bold was written, “Please partake in communion by taking a piece of gluten-free bread.” We will continue the search.

The Sunday continued with me having a hankering for a little crafting. Having packed my sewing machine in deep storage so as to focus on relocating in Seattle and adjusting to a new job I found myself having missing my newfound hobby. Online I located what seemed to be a “quaint” sewing shop near Pike Street where the ferry terminal was located. I knew Steven’s excitement over taking a ferry would allow him to overlook the agony of going to a fabric shop. As we approached the city block this side of town had a very different feel; the kind of anything goes sort of feel. According to the GPS we had found the store but I had trouble locating it because of the glowing sign next door. Still excited I leapt out of the car and through the front door of Stitches. A man behind the counter was gluing googly eyes on a giant peacock feather and smiled at me when I entered. As a former elementary art teacher I can appreciate the fun of googly eyes but I cannot think of a project that would involve a peacock feather. Keeping to myself I ventured further in with Steven in tow behind. After a brief glance at bolts of fabrics I saw rows of sewing patterns. As I flipped through I noticed many different underwear styles for men and women. It is about this time in a fabric store that I brace myself for groans coming from Steven. I thought I heard a chuckle. I decided to ask the guy working about the class schedule. Excitedly he explained the small class sizes and pointed up to the wall where a bag and a pair of undies were hanging demonstrating what the classes taught. I stayed long enough to not be rude, muttered something about “ooh wow… I’ll have to check my schedule and call back” and left the store completely deflated to the muffled snickers of Steven. I am starting to learn how websites can really oversell a company. Now in a grumpy mood I put on my best happy face because Steven had been non stop talking about taking a ferry ride. We drove to where we should park and spent the next twenty minutes or so circling around looking for a parking spot before giving up for a parking garage. I stayed outside the car while Steven went to the kiosk to get the ticket. Apparently my frantic screams and hand waving was not enough to hurry the process as it took sometime for Steven to return with the ticket. As soon as the ticket was on the windshield I bolted for the exit. It was the smelliest garage ever. I could describe the smell but won’t. I am definitely found out this isn’t the cleanest city. It is all about being green but picking up after oneself is a different story. We made it to the terminal, bought our tickets, and were standing in the departure line when out of the blue Steven said, “I am really tired, these tickets are good for a month. Why don’t we go home and watch the Olympics?” I couldn’t have agreed more. It was a long and painful day of feeling out of place and figuring things out. The ferry ride could wait another day.

Searching for the perfect coffee shop

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Being known for cute coffee shops I thought I would spend part of the day sipping a latte and reading. I had vowed to find the cutest coffee café this area of Seattle has to offer. Our apartment is located at the bottom of an enormous hill called Queen Anne. Very little is located at the bottom of the hill but I have found the further up the hill directly correlates with the cuteness of the shops. I huffed it part way up the hill, out of breath and legs burning when an oasis appeared before me and I could travel no further. At the Starbucks counter I was ordering my usual grande vanilla latte.  Defeat.

I tried again the next morning. Making it further up the hill I settled on Café Ladro; a place I’m certain is not a chain and will offer some latte foam art to boot.  It was all I had hoped for; cute yet slightly weird (it’s the west coast), a little foam art on top of the latte and a steady stream of regular customers. As I munched on a bagel and enjoyed a coffee that is fair-trade, organic, and shade-grown I tried to figure out which waste bin to use: the food product, compost, paper or recycling bin. The paper bag for the bagel had a wax lining so I thought that would take it out of the paper category and it did have cream cheese on it which might make it go in the food bin as food soiled products go there. I gave up on not offending the Seattlites and shoved everything in the trash.  I chalked up one success for the day, finding a coffee spot.

Little Dog Big City

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Baker and I are struggling through the move together. With Steven at work all day the two of us are left to make our way.  Baker’s biggest disappointment is the lack of green grass. He was sure Steven and I kept talking about how lush and green Seattle is and all we’ve been able to offer are cigarette laden one square foot patches, which is clearly inadequate as useable space.

Baker is a spirited, loud dog and has now moved into a high rise. His bark is something we have been working relentlessly on. I understand there are reasons that a dog barks and it seems cruel to put him in a shock collar when he could be barking for a very good reason.  I have focused the training on his barking at people. My general rule of thumb with Baker is that if it were socially acceptable for me to bark at someone in public and I would then Baker is allowed to bark. For instance, when he insistently barked at the man wearing navy blue tights with white anchors and vinyl military boots, I allowed him.

The stairwell and elevator are very confusing for Baker. If the elevator doors open and someone is standing there it scares the lights out of my dear dog. After a nice stroll outside we entered the lobby and the elevator doors opened to reveal a man traveling up from the underneath parking garage. Baker let out an alert bark which caused a high pitch screech and hand flailing from the dramatic elevator man, which caused Baker to jump into my arms while barking wildly. I simultaneously yelled for the guy to just keep going, close the doors and keep going. I waited for the next elevator hoping that the doors would open to reveal an empty car.  I have to admit I was laughing.

Sometimes animals have a better sense of things then we do. Their instinct is pretty much still intact while ours only kicks in at certain times. Since Baker has boycotted drinking the apartment water I trust his instinct and will be boycotting the water as well.

Baker and I are relying on each other to figure out the city and make the best of our situation during the day. We both leap for joy when Steven comes home from work.