a corner of the cloak.

"...and conclude, for the thousandth time, what a wild and blessed gift,

What a bloody and magical machine it is, what a slather of stories,

What an endless thicket!  You really and truly could be issued fifty

Lifetimes and spend each of them addled and muddled in wonder

And never understand or even see more than a corner of the cloak."

-Brian Doyle, from A Corner of The Cloak

Well, look who just had a half dozen strokes of kismet fall upon their poverty-stricken shoulders! Ashton (grad student), Amy (currently unemployed) and I (sugar mama non-profit employee) somehow found ourselves the world's most beautiful townhome in the Central District (that's the view of Quest Field from my deck!), and I couldn't be happier.  Like, granite countertops, 3.5 baths and hardwood-to-die-for happy.  I love coming home at the end of the day.  Love it. 

We're definitely in a different world than our Wallingfords and Greenlakes of yore.  A trip to Starbucks becomes a mini-UN meeting as I am surrounded on all glorious sides by Eritrean women with gorgeous scarves, old black men playing chess and tipping their hats at girls who walk past with espresso, the occasional lost-looking Latino teenager, sweet-faced retired Asian couples with matching sweaters, perky Garfield students with braids and magenta tennis shoes... the faces hold stories, and the lips are more willing to speak them to a stranger.

In the parking lot, inevitably, Omar comes to sell me incense.  "It's handmade, home-made, it's only a dollar!" he encourages me, his hands reaching from his pristine alabaster robes to extend an offering of his wares.  "I'm allergic, remember, Omar?"  (This is only a small white lie.  I just despise the scent of incense because it reminds me of middle school, when my theater friends wore too much black eyeliner and listened to grungy music, and I secretly wanted to listen to R&B and throw everyone's blown-glass incense holders out the window)  He backs away instantly.  "Baby, baby, I would never want to do anything to hurt a woman like you!  You are so beautiful."  (Flowery prose that leads me to wonder if it's not just incense that Omar lights at home...) "Oh, thank you Omar, I hope business is good today!"  I hop into my car to arrange my coffee and my files and my sanity before work, and Omar taps on the hood to call through the windshield, "Because of you, I WILL have a great day."

Our first Saturday in the new dream house, Dower and I abandoned all the moving boxes and went on a walk.  It was all I could do to drag my exhausted body through the neighborhood but I was revived by the echoing ululations of what sounded like a party-- a big one-- and we followed the billowing smoke through the sidewalks.  As it turns out, Ethiopian churches really do know how to party.  A few hundred beautiful people (what is UP with East African bone structure?  Could they be any more perfect?!) were chanting, dancing, and celebrating a holiday that was unknown to me (I have since looked it up, and let me just say that Meskel sounds WAY more fun than Labor Day).  I was pretty thrilled when I realized we were about three blocks from my new house, and hoped the smoke would sweep its way over our rooftop to impart some of its intrigue on our home too.

But ok, the neighborhood is a little hood.  Frank's friend got shot in the middle of someone else's drug deal at Parnell's, the corner store 2 blocks up from us.  Our landlord chastises us for not keeping every lock firmly secured on the gate to our yard.  Hardly a week goes by without witnessing some dude getting apprehended by the po-po, or hearing some racially charged argument at Subway, but there is nothing boring about living between MLK and Jackson and Rainier.  And really, no matter where you live or what you do with the long hours that create a day, is there any substitute for wonder at the world, for seeing new constellations under every leaf and fully expecting beauty and strangeness to leap out from every corner and catch you off guard?

three glorious days in washington.

No work. All play. Three days of my favorite kind of travel-- at home, with people I love.

Poulsbo and Port Gamble with dad. Coffee, books, and laughing like we used to when things were a little different... a little time capsule of being happy and simple together.

Oh, yes please.

Seattle dinner with three of my favorite girls. Lots of wine, lots of food, lots of love.

Mukilteo with my best friend at his new condo. Big windows with nothing but water and mountains and the ferry behind them. Ice cream like in elementary school. Diamond Knot brewery growlers. Magenta sunsets. Picking out midnight constellations from the hot tub and late night poached eggs before bed.

Puyallup with the boy. Sunny day reading in the park, Mexican cervezas at dinner, and tricking him again into antiquing with me.

I am so, so home and it feels so, so good.

a belated feliz navidad

Christmas in Sucre was full of picana (the national holiday dish that contains whole ears of corn and up to three kinds of meat), a huge pot of mulled wine that we used to drown out how much we missed our friends and family, and watching Carla open her Christmas presents and try to be feminine with her new doll. We're lucky to have Jorge and Lumen, our surrogate parents here, but it just wasn't the same having Christmas entirely in Spanish and not having my momma there to hug.

But as our Christmas present, you wonderful people gave us over $1500 for the kids at Ciruelitos, and we couldn't be happier. THANK YOU so much for the help; they are already planning to get the roof and windows fixed (these summer storms are not gentle, and building repairs are much needed) in addition to feeding the kids for the next month.

AND PLEASE CHECK THIS KID OUT! The day after we started raising money, he showed up with this Seahawks hat on! He had no idea what it was, but we took it as a sign that we were meant to be at Ciruelitos. On a side note, if anyone is interested in a solar panel project, the girls are working on getting the government papers filed to start a greenhouse with a solar panel to start growing their own vegetables onsite. We can't stay to help, but if anyone has an interest in sustainable development projects on a micro scale, this place is a dream. Your help was just so humbling and generous, and the only glitch we have found is the fact that Bolivian banks are extremely difficult to work with. Other than that, Ciruelitos sends love and they are grateful for everything you've done!

Go Hawks.

tell your mom you love her!

My first real kiss was Ian Lombardi, the school bad boy who wore leather jackets and drove a cool car and helped my mom make chicken dinners. He went to culinary school in Italy and started a restaurant in Tacoma last year called Merende. I was going to stop by and congratulate him before I left but somehow, time slipped away from me.


I just found out that Ian killed himself the day after we landed, and I can't stop shaking. I think of all the people in my life who mean so much to me and don't want to waste a minute in telling them. It's so cliche to talk about the transience of time and how life is short, but reading the obituaries and seeing familiar faces is just a reminder that I don't want to let a day go by without hugging my mom and telling my world how thankful I am for each person.

If you're reading this, you mean more to me than you know. Don't forget to pass it on... today, not tomorrow.

wuv. twu wuv.

In 2004, Malia and I stood at a roundabout somewhere in Northern Ireland and met a dozen people for the first time.

Five years, several cross-Atlantic moves, a few disappointments and frustrations and joys later, Malia is married to one of the random Irishmen we met that day. That summer changed the path of our lives-- we wanted to go to Africa but we got sent to Ireland ("First World?! Aw, no wayyyy"), found out that actually we loved Ireland, and now neither of us would have changed it for anything. The summer we first spent on the Emerald Isle caused our hearts to expand in directions we didn't expect (or always really want), and it brought Malia to Peter: a quietly hilarious boy who loved trees and dreamed of arriving at our doorsteps in America driving a wood-panelled station wagon. And on Saturday, after five years of chasing each other down, Peter slipped a ring on Malia's finger and they became permanent boyfriend/girlfriend!

When Josh got up to read during the ceremony, I was overwhelmed with gratefulness for having a tight little group of four that has made it half a decade and will hopefully make it for many more, for being a part of Malia and Peter's intersecting lives from the first minute, and most of all for genuine love.

Thoughts from the Disconnect

So Peter Rumbles graced us with his presence in early December, and out of all the questions he asked, the one that got to me most was: You could do this at home, couldn't you?

I thought; yes, but would I?

Would I voluntarily move to one of the worst parts of the city, isolating myself from my best friends and a fun life in favor of buckling down and focusing on Seattle's problems? Probably not. More than likely, I would (and will) move to a comfortable area that makes me feel safe. I'll find a spot that doesn't have any glaringly obvious social problems. I'll avoid the spots that I wish weren't as bad, ignoring the reasons they are bad in favor of surface judgements. But I really really wish that that weren't the case. I wish I would always be forced to examine life, the world, and what I want my role in it to be as closely as I do now. Forced to look at my own shortcomings head-on, and have the time and space to work on them.

I am so lucky. No, actually blessed.
I'm blessed because I have a family that misses me and wishes I were at home with them, which means a lot when you're wandering around without a clue, 6000 miles away. Just knowing they're there.
I'm blessed because I have an education! When many of my kids don't even know how to spell their street name, I realize even more that that's not something to take for granted.
I'm blessed because I have a lot of friends who I really really think are the best people on the face of the earth, and they're willing to make great efforts to stay friends even when we don't live just down the hall.
I'm blessed because I have 22 years of amazing memories and experiences, and I get to wake up every day and add more.
I'm blessed because God really is showing me every day what my gifts are and how I am supposed to be using them.

I'm blessed because I get to live in a world that is absolutely fascinating. It's depressing sometimes, frustrating, and makes me want to rage at the injustice crawling all over it... but it's hopeful, it's funny, and it's full of people and places and stories that make me want to jump up and down I'm so excited they exist. And it's seriously awesome to be able to live in it.
I'm a blessed girl and I'm still learning just HOW blessed I really am. What a world.
And to travel. I am really lucky I get to travel.