s|ice: The Last Morning of Winter

The layers of gray are slowing strolling through the Seattle Sky this morning. I’m sitting on the 2nd floor of Peet’s Coffee and Tea in Fremont glancing out to see construction workers in their orange and yellow surgery scrubs giving a face-lift to a bridge. There is a shaggy dog tied up across the street at who gets up from his morning nap every now and then to peek around the patio chairs and catch a glimpse of any intruders or friends that might interrupt him. A group of casually dressed gentlepersons are next to me talking in the foreign language of legalese about lawsuits and contracts and cell phone companies. The older guy on the left is dominating the conversations… almost like a mentor who listens too little and yet always has something good to say. Before hand, another businessman, this time in a suit was doing some office work and making some phone calls. He apologized for his volume and out of place context and offered me an untouched piece of Zucchini bread that wasn’t going to be able to accompany him to his 10am meeting down the street. After an initial questioning, I thankfully accepted – it made my less than tasteful chai go down easier. Naomi is at a TESL conference at SPU for the day and I have lunch plans with an old co-worker, which includes a beer and a geo-cache.

Last evening Naomi, James, Jana, and myself had balcony seats to see Patty Griffin. She did a fantastic job with both the acoustic upbeat hand clapping songs and her soul connecting ballads of depression and incompleteness. The band played around her – it wasn’t an overextension of anything; no rock hard guitar solos or drum breakout sessions. Everything was used to give background and context and ambience to her and her song at that moment. The band enhanced the perfection of the song, even if the piano wanted to sabotage the scene with some of its off-key rebels. She was on of my must see before I die artist. And now I’m closer to death but with the anticipation of also being closer to life.

It is the last morning of winter. Spring is officially here at 5:07 this evening. May the things that died this cold season past stay dead if the Divine desires. But for the sake of hope and change and resurrection may new life come. Leave this winter cold behind and embrace the coming sun

s|ice: Victoria

awake.backpacks.leave.snow.bagels.chai.a-severe-mercy.canada.parking.windy.ferry.rain.bus.nap.scooters.laurel-point-inn.brown-water.tv.dine-by-the-water.sleep-in.late-breakfast.coffee.walk.geocache.sit.cuban-cigar.the-god-delusion.read-some-more.drive-back.wrong-exit.fruit.movie-never-seen.home.

it was one of those slow-down-don't-think-about-school-or-planning-or-conquering-just-think-and-be-with-and-enjoy-each-other-while-travelling-experiencing-laughing-kissing-being-silly-semi-random kind of weekends.

Victoria, BC

I believe that genuine inloveness is rather less common than the romantic novelists suggest. One who has never been in love might mistake either infatuation or a mixture of affection and sexual attraction for being in love. But when the 'real thing' happens, there is no doubt. A man in the jungle at night, as someone said, may suppose a hyena's growl to be a lion's; but when he hears the lion's growl, he knows damn' well it's a lion. So with the genuine inloveness. – Vanakuen