45

You know, I'm really happy with where I am.  Not just geographically, but in life.  I'm especially happy with the woman I chose to spend the rest of it with, and who chose me right back.  But some days require remembrances, and this is one of them.  And the aforementioned woman to whom I'm married is incredibly supportive of the need to remember.  She knows it's not about her, or any kind of comparison.  It's about family, and history, and respect.  And I love her for that.

Samantha would have turned 45 today.  I was in a very different place when I marked her 40th.  I was far angrier.  At an unfair Universe.  At the cancer that claimed her life.  At myself for surviving.  But here, five years later, I'm much more at peace.  I no longer write first-person letters to her.  I rarely feel her presence anymore.  I don't think it will ever seem fair, and I will never forget over twenty years with my high school sweetheart - which includes two children who are almost adults themselves.  It's important to mark these days, and to remember.  If only to contrast the present with the past.  It's all about perspective.

Happy Birthday, Sam.

Busy as Bees Doing Sweatshop Labor

A strange metaphor, perhaps, but it seriously seems like someone found the Busy Dial and cranked us up to eleven.  What Busy Dial, you ask?  I'll tell you.

Firstly, our tenant moved out of the cottage, allowing us to empty both of our storage units and begin Project Studio.  Figurative fires were lit under our figurative asses by the imminent arrival of summer vacation for the kids, which means that if I didn't have an actual office to go to work in, I would more than likely get zero work done while the kids were home all day.  And more imminently was the visit by my old high school buddy (and co-founder of our experimental college music project, Mozart Air Raid) Gordon and his wife Heather.  The great thing about the studio is that it can do double duty as guest quarters, as it has a very comfy (custom-made) pull-out sofa, and is self-contained with a kitchen and bathroom.  It ain't big, but it's private and comfy.

 

The reason for Gordon & Heather's visit to Seattle (from Portland) was a surprise weekend getaway for Heather's birthday (turns out she was born a day after Raechelle, same year even), spurred by the appearance of Florence + The Machine at the Showbox...

[insert all sorts of wacky antics - or "wactics" having to do with digging out last-minute tax records for the accountant]

[also insert Raechelle's birthday, in which she turned 35 and I assured her she was still gorgeous, because I'm good like that]

Now, about F+TM.  Raechelle has already put her thoughts to pixels, and it pretty much coincides with my experience.  The Showbox was the wrong venue for a theatrical show like Florence, mostly because the stage is in front of an open dance floor, so when there's a large crowd (like for Florence, for example), nobody under 6-feet tall can see anything.  In the future, Florence would do well to seek alternate venues like the Moore and Paramount theaters.

Just before the opening act for Florence took the stage, I checked my voicemail to find a message from the accountant.  Turns out Raechelle's first-time home buyer status last year + my second-time buyer status + Raechelle's new car + filing married = sweet!

We had a swell weekend, mixing casual hanging out with Gordon & Heather with being productive, including the Barmoire project and some general household organization and tidying.  We also had a fun Guitar Night: Special Birthday Edition.  Kayleigh brought her friend Lydia, and many strings were strummed.  Kayleigh has outgrown her small blue guitar, so she is now borrowing the Ovation acoustic Samantha gave me for my 22nd birthday.

Finishing off the weekend, Raechelle and I went to see The Miss Firecracker Contest, Twelfth Night's Spring production, at Youngstown.  It was directed by my stage manager on Deathtrap, and was really well done.

So now we're back to the work week, and I'm juggling several flaming batons at once:

• Writing the proposal for an anti-spam PSA with Dan
• Putting the finishing touches on the Game Master section of Arrowflight
• Making tweaks to the cover of the RADZ hardcover edition
• Working on the OA series pitch materials with Dan
• Storyboarding a music video for Kirby Krackle, which I am directing
• Getting Tyler re-registered for school
• Getting bids from contractors about the Studio (electrical, foundations, etc)
• Awaiting the arrival of my new workstation
• Awaiting the arrival of the high-gain wi-fi adapter for said workstation
• Trying to get the new website up and running

That's the Busy Dial on 11.

Aaaaand scene...

43

I awoke this morning at 3:30 on the nose.  I was in the midst of a very uncomfortable and visceral dream wherein I could not interact, only observe, as a very "amplified" version of my son's birth played out.  All the mistakes, all the interventions I now know were unnecessary, the related periods of fetal distress, all the regret and guilt (and the repeated thought: Thank God we didn't cut him on top of everything else...).  The dream ended abruptly with a gush of blood as Sam hemorrhaged and my brain kicked into consciousness mode.  

I think much of it had to do with Tyler's official report from the UW Autism Center, which tells a pretty clear story of his issues and probable roots.  That has weighed significantly on the collective mind of the family recently.  I also think some of it has to do with the fact that Samantha would have turned 43 today.

Kayleigh plans to bake a cake, and we'll probably sing Happy Birthday, laugh, cry and remember.  As it should be.

Don't get me wrong - I am incredibly happy and pretty darned satisfied with the turns my life has taken since those significant losses.  The children Sam gave birth to and nurtured through their early years are both amazing people in their own right.  I'm married to a wonderful, understanding woman, who realizes you don't just ignore two decades of history.  Each year it gets a little easier.  But there's no avoiding it.  A very special person in my life had her own cut short.  Avoiding talking about how sad that is doesn't make it any less sad.  So we observe, and grieve, and thank our lucky stars we have each other for as long as any of us have on this planet.

Happy Birthday, Samantha.

Daddy's Girl

In the midst of moving out of my first home after 15 years, arranging treatment for my son, planning my wedding and quietly observing what would have been my 19th wedding anniversary with Samantha (yesterday), I am happy to be greeted by a smile and a hug from my daughter, who turns twelve today.

I'm reminded of the relatively quick, complication-free labor and delivery (just over 4 hours), and the tiny, frail baby girl we brought home. Home to the house we're now packing to leave. Our cat, Gryphon, dwarfed her (as he'd dwarfed Tyler before). And now she's almost a teenager, taller than her stepmom-to-be, talented, smart and beautiful. And testing for her second belt in Tae Kwon Do.

Although I cannot tell you how ecstatic I am that TFMD is here to girl-bond with Kayleigh, I think the bond my daughter and I forged in the crisis of losing Sam and my father (and the house disasters that followed) will have a powerful, lasting effect on our respective lives.

My little girl is twelve today. That makes me smile.

Family Dynamics

Tyler turned 15 on Sunday.

Once again, I'm not going to go into detail on the situation, except to say that after three days in Respite Care, he has a new appreciation for his family. Once I was done walking on eggshells last weekend, I actually had a pretty good time. Doug & Ann brought lunch over, and we went out back and played some badminton (emphasis on the "bad"), followed by a trip to Kitty Harbor, a cat shelter/adoption service in West Seattle.

Tom came home with us...

Although he's altered and therefore not technically a tom, "Tom" was the name he came with. He was a rescue; he'd been kept in a chicken coop and the ammonia from the chicken feces had burned his pads and caused a lot of his hair to fall out. And yet, the moment I sat down, he was the first to come over and say hello. He was equally affectionate toward Raechelle and the kids.

The kids say his full name is Tom Shanks, but I call him The Colonel, because from the moment he arrived he was managing Elvis. He's about the same age and size as our other fuzzy boy, and they wrassle and play tag and get up to the usual kitty mischief.

Anyway, Raff came over for birthday dinner, and we had homemade lasagna and marionberry pie and watched The King of Kong (awesome).

Then my stomach cramped up, I got light-headed and lost every ounce of strength. Turns out I got a bit more sun playing badminton than I'd previously thought. It was mostly better by Monday morning.

Monday was spent running admin errands and talking to Tyler's school therapist, who helped us finally get the crisis care we needed with Tyler. Then counseling, then dinner, then trying to establish a new weeknight routine. So far, so good. Wednesday, Tyler begins seeing a child psychiatrist specializing in teens and trauma - we're hoping that will start him on a healing path.

This morning, I went in for my first dental check-up and cleaning in years. The ol' ivory is still good, considering the lack of professional maintenance. I didn't have a single cavity until I was in my mid 20s; I thank my grandparents for good dental genes (as they still have all their own teeth in their 90s). I'll have to get a filling cleaned up soon, and there's a suggestion to whiten a bit before the wedding (which I'm thinking about), but overall a big thumbs up from my new dentist. Who was Sam's old dentist. And they still had her in their system from back when she was on my insurance almost a decade ago. Now Raechelle's insurance lists me as "spouse" (which I guess is admin for "domestic partner" for the time being). I haven't had health or dental insurance since 2002, so it's nice to be covered again. We sometimes joke that I'm marrying Raechelle for her insurance and she's marrying me for my house. Whatever works, right?
I hope you all realize I'm joking...

So... the Duo shoot was cancelled last Sunday (Mother's Day), but Dan and I have been plotting our next move(s) when we can. I have the feeling that this is a crazy and stressful time for many of my friends and family members. Stupid Mercury Retrograde (or whatever scapegoat you'd care to blame).

I remain optimistic about Tyler's future treatment, now that we're no longer shackled to State mental health care. And I'm thoroughly impressed with TFMD. Apparently she must really love me (and the kids). She really earned her first Mother's Day stripes. And then some.

What the --??

Wow, no birthday post? What the heck's going on there in Downingland?

Well, let's see...

Awoke on Wednesday to a prezzie from TFMD. Get your mind out of the gutter - it was the Fantastic Voyage DVD I'd had on my Amazon wish list for some time. And a wonderfully mushy card. I had a very busy day scheduled, and was all set to have a happy and productive birthday.

I started having stomach cramps and a migraine before I headed to Ballard for lunch at Ray's with my stepmom. Lunch was great, but on the way home I really started to hurt. Unfortunately I had two additional errands to run downtown, and by the time I got home, it was straight to the bathroom with a nice long book and plenty of matches.

TFMD got home and we discussed our options, since the plan to make fajitas was clearly not going to happen. We ended up ordering a pizza for her and the kids (I ended up having a couple pieces later - with some Sprite) and watching the new DVD. After the movie ended, it was time for me to go curl up in a ball and let sleep rescue me. Not at all what I'd hoped for my birthday, but at least the kids were fine, no major upsets, no tears, etc.

Thursday was kind of a catch-up day. Drove up to Lynnwood to pick up some items for Sunday's shoot, ended up getting taken to lunch by my good buddy Steve, who is going through a rough time after his dad's death. It was good to reconnect. Got home in time to catch up on some work before TFMD got home and had to take Kayleigh to tae kwon do. While they were gone, I made the fajitas that were on the menu Wednesday, and they met with approval from The Woman. I think my margaritas were a bit on the strong side, but I didn't get a big complaint there.

Things with Tyler got a bit tense last night, but we managed to diffuse the situation and everyone got a good, heavy, deep sleep. Tyler has a doctor's appointment today, and I have a bunch of graphics work to do in prep for Sunday. And then tonight, TFMD and I are going to the Collider CD release show downtown at the Showbox. I'm technically on the job, shooting Kyle's various performances as I have been doing recently, but it'll be good to have a date night with The Woman.

This weekend is packed. A trip to Costco for the shoot's craft services, birthday dinner at Duke's on Alki, and the shoot itself.

The fun just keeps rollin'...

Oh, And...

.... .- .--. .--. -.-- / -... .. .-. - .... -.. .- -.-- --..-- / ... .- -- ..- . .-.. / -- --- .-. ... . .-.-.-

He would have been 218 today. And he doesn't look a day over 50.

Will Power

Happy Belated Birthday to The Bard.
The glover's son from Stratford-upon-Avon.
Bill to his friends.

William Shakespeare was 445 yesterday (although his actual birthdate is not known, he was baptized on April 26th and biographers have adopted April 23rd as their best guess for DOB).

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

- Macbeth

Happy Birthday, Edmund Downing

Edmund. Dad. Grandpa Bear. Robo-Pop. Brother. Son. Husband. Teacher.

He would have been 65 today.

Congratulations, Pop. You'd have been able to retire. [/sarcasm]

I miss you, Dad.

I love you, Dad.

Peace.

Tragically Delicious

Lots to cover today. Allow me to get right to it.

Kirby Krackle. Kyle Stevens and Jim Demonakos just returned from a promotional visit to NYC, where the album was very well received. And Kyle now has the footage I shot of his CD release set up on YouTube. Check it out.



Next up, Sam's birthday was yesterday. It also happened to be a pretty busy one, work-wise. I took a break in the mid-morning and opened up a music file. It's the recording of Fire Inside on which Sam's vocals mysteriously appeared when I was archiving our old music back in 2005, only without the acoustic guitar track and some different drums added. This way, I can play along live, and have a little birthday duet. And you know, it felt pretty good. My mood really improved for about half an hour.

Until I found out that an old and dear friend has cancer.
The same kind Samantha had.
He's having surgery on the 17th. They're gonna crack him and do a lobectomy on his lung, just like they did with my dad and Raechelle's mom.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

So that kind of licked me back into that fog. The blank gaze of the shellshocked soldier when confronted with a trigger that makes him remember his own past traumas. And as badly as you feel for yourself, it's totally not about you. It's about your friend/partner/spouse/child/parent with the actual disease, facing the actual surgery. So you just have to be stoic and march on.

With that in mind, after errand-running and kids' counseling and all that goes with that, Raechelle and the kids and I went to dinner at Pegasus. The kids were full of energy and conversation, and neither of us got a word in edgewise. Then we came home and sang Happy Birthday to Sam. The kids blew out the wax 42 on the cake I'd purchased from Safeway while Kayleigh was in her counseling appointment.

Which brings me to the title portion of the story.

I've blogged previously about hairdressers, baristas and other service professionals who insist on striking up conversation with the widowed, having no clue what they're gonna find when you do respond. On this occasion, it was a Starbucks barista at the kiosk/cart/thingy inside Safeway. I had a giant iced tea on order, and I had the chocloate cake that read Happy Birthday Sam on it, and a wax 2 candle, since we already had a 4 at home. Easy enough to mistake that for a young boy's cake, for sure. But once again, it was a case of prying too far. And it went something like this:

BARISTA
Awww, someone's having a birthday.

TD
Sort of.

BARISTA
Are they two?

TD
No. We already have the 4.

BARISTA
24?

TD
No.

BARISTA
(chuckles)
I was just going for the more desirable option.

TD
Mmm.

BARISTA
So who is 42?

TD
My late wife. She would have been 42 today. My kids celebrate it.

Sound of a record-player needle scratching, followed by crickets.

BARISTA
(shocked pause & look of sympathy)
Awww. I'm so sorry to hear that. You have a nice day.

TD
Mmm.

I would have liked to say something totally mean and snarky as all hell (which I will not repeat here), and that's why I'm glad my internal monologue filter is firmly in place when I'm out in public. I was also going to spout some battlefield wisdom about how grief is contagious and sometimes becomes more about the bystander's experience than the person actually affected, but you've heard all that from me before.

So let me just finish this up.

Happy birthday, Sam.
Kick it in the ass, Dave.
Good work, Kyle.

Peace out.

2/11/67

It rhymes. Handy, that. It helped me remember Samantha's age as well as her birthday. It's amazing what personal data of hers is still floating around in my head. I can still recite her driver's license and Social Security number, which seems weird to me now. Maybe it's because I had over 20 years to learn it, and she's only been gone for 4.

Sam's birthday has come and gone four times since she took her last breath in 2005. Each time, the kids and I have observed it, celebrated it. We go out to dinner, and we get a cake and put number candles for her would-be age on top. We celebrate a life ended far too prematurely.

I can't speak for my kids, but this year is different for me. Not because she would have been 42. This year, there is someone else in the picture. A partner. A fiancée. A mom-to-be. And it's got me in a weird place.

Let me be perfectly clear: this is all my own neurosis, my own baggage. Raechelle is totally supportive of celebrating Sam's birthday with the kids and me. She suggested continuing the ritual as per usual, with no deviation simply because she was now present. She completely understands missing someone I was with for over half my life, and although I do not put my relationship with Sam on a pedestal, reason dictates there will be days when the loss will be felt more acutely. The woman's birthday is one of those days.

As I said, any guilt I feel for being happily in a relationship on the birthday of my late wife is of my own manufacture. And I'm really working on making it go away. And Raechelle, bless her, is incredibly helpful by lavishing her love upon me and reminding me that Sam would want me to be happy. And she's right. I am fulfilling Samantha's last directive by finding a loving partner and remarrying -- for myself and for the children. And I'm very much in love and full of all kinds of hope for the future.

On the surface, it's a no-brainer. I'm incredibly happy and satisfied in my relationship with Raechelle. I can intellectualize it until the cows come home. But there's a hint of sadness and weirdness in my gut today. Understandably so, I think.

Perhaps it's just another milestone.
One of the last firsts.
And I know Raechelle gets that.

Slàinte, Sam, wherever you are. Happy Birthday.

Happy Birthday, Gavin!

Big shout-out to my "little" brother (who is taller than me by a full inch). He has been a real life saver for me, especially in the past couple years of dealing with kid issues and family therapy. He and his wife Michelle have been friggin' knights in shining armor when I have needed last-minute childcare or a shoulder to cry on, and they include both of my kids in recreational activities just because they like 'em.

Raechelle and I took them to dinner a few months ago as a thank-you for making it possible for us to date. I think we owe 'em another dinner by now.

Anyway, it's hard to describe the bond I share with Gavin, as it was forged in a lot of early family upheaval and trauma. It sort of goes beyond the average sibling connection - if there is indeed such a thing as an "average" sibling connection. We are perhaps closer in spirit (and far less competitive) because of the eight-year age gap than if we'd been closer in age. I am proud that he's taken up the family business and become an educator. The public school system needs more teachers of his caliber (and they need to be paid properly). I am thankful he and Michelle chose to stay in West Seattle to be close to us after Sam died. I am honored to have him as a brother.

Happy Birthday, Gavin. Love you, bro.

My Daughter

Eleven years ago, my daughter was born.

She was a Shettles baby, in that we followed the Shettles Method of Gender Selection in order to increase our chances of having a girl (since I have a preponderance of male conceptions in my family lineage, and we already had a beautiful little boy and knew that two was going to be our limit). Incidentally, my mom had used Shettles' principles to conceive my sister, and I'd recommended it to a coworker who was trying to conceive a second child with his wife (it worked for them as well). Anecdotally, it works pretty well - though I'm certainly the first to admit it's an imperfect science and there's been a lot of medical challenge to Shettles' work.

Anyway, Kayleigh was ready to come join the fun, giving Sam about 5-1/2 hours labor, total (from water breaking to delivery). We could never keep her from a party. As with Tyler's birth, we had a second birthing coach in the delivery room to run interference with the family and give me support when I was otherwise engaged with Sam's labor. They barely got the epidural in before Kayleigh Grace Downing made her entrance. Out popped a delicate little baby girl, and a proud papa cut the cord as our family doc attended.

It was the day after our 7th wedding anniversary, which created an interesting emotional dynamic, especially after Sam died.

From her earliest development, we knew Kayleigh (Old English, "rejoice") would be a performer (being the genetic product of two actor/artist/musicians). That theory is no less valid now, as she plays her clarinet, guitar, recorder, keyboards, bass and sings.

She's experienced a great deal more trauma and loss in her short time on Earth than most of her peers. And yet, she continues to meet the world with a smile and a hug. If I sometimes doubt my abilities as a dad, it is Kayleigh's amazing talent and attitude that re-inspire me to keep going. She's a testament to love and a resilient human spirit.

Happy birthday, Kayleigh. I love you.

Anniversaries and Birthdays

Paul Newman died, and today would have been my 18th wedding anniversary. Yeah, I'm a bit down (I'm allowed, thank you), but I'm also not so focused there anymore. A lot is going well in my life, and I choose to focus on that to a great extent. So while I raise a glass in spirit to Samantha on this day, she knows I have good things in front of me and don't need to dwell in the past.

TBGE wrote up her experience of hosting 11 year old girls for a slumber party, so I won't duplicate. But I will say that it was pretty much my experience from the last 3 birthdays (and she did an awesome job being the mom/host). This time, however, I got to go downstairs with a Guinness and my painting supplies, and transform the bedroom while I watched football. The Stanford-UW game was sufficiently close enough not to be an embarrassment (Card won). Saw some of the WVU-Marshall game highlights (WVU won), and probably the biggest news in the Pac 10 was that Oregon State beat USC for the first time since the 1960s, and University of Oregon slaughtered Washington State 63-14. Oregon has come to kick some ass and chew some gum, and apparently they're out of gum.

Sunday started with the usual coffee-with-Ron tradition (the lady at the check-out counter at B&N recognized us as we entered - "Wouldn't be Sunday without ya!"), but we'd arranged to cut out early so that Raechelle could take off for some Kim time. While Raechelle was gone, I took the opportunity to paint the last wall in the bedroom, catch the Kansas City-Denver game (while painting), and do some yard work in the front. I felt very industrious.

(Two shades of tan now compliment the steel blue carpet
and oak Mission furniture)

Raechelle came home and oohed and ahhed at the progress (which is why I do it, ya know). We cuddled up for a bit (between the painting, yard work and not hydrating, I was exhausted), watched some of the Chicago-Philadelphia game, made some dinner, watched some Buffy season 1, then put the kids to bed and collapsed.

It was a good weekend. Barriers were crossed, strides were made. Raechelle gave me a huge validation in her blog which actually made me a bit misty. Things are good.

This week, we have much to celebrate. Happy hour for Rae's last couple days in her old job, Kayleigh's actual birthday and family dinner Tuesday night, and on Friday, I'm taking Raechelle to Port Townsend for a weekend at the Ann Starrett Mansion. Look at us go.

Happy Birthday Matt

My brother Matthew would be turning 38 today.

Since the passing of my dad, my mom and I are now the only members of his immediate family unit remaining who were here when he was.

Big hugs, Mom. I love you.

At Last!

Something to be joyful about.

Happy Birthday, Dan Heinrich.

Salut.

Happy Birthday, Redux

This weekend was PACKED. And when I say "PACKED", I want you to take my full meaning.


Friday evening arrived, and so did Gavin & Michelle to hang with the kids and have pizza movie (over)night. I packed a bag and headed to Raechelle's for her former co-worker/occasional roomie Jessica's going away bash. We walked down to King's Hardware, a bar in Ballard which was crowded and very loud. Very meat-market. I had fun hanging with Raechelle and her work friends, and we proceeded to drink like a couple of adults with no kid-responsibilities. I haven't been able to just go pub crawling since the night of the fire. It was good, although there were apparently some ghosts for Raechelle, and she made a couple declarations later about not visiting certain establishments or drinking certain cocktails anymore, which I fully support.

We went back to Rae's apartment and got some sleep. The girl was a bit delicate in the morning, but I did not have any kind of hangover (blessings counted). Said goodbye to Jessica and Sam as they departed for Bellingham, then headed out to Costco to get the pies for the birthday party. In and out of Costco in 20 minutes flat, back to the apartment to shower and get dressed. Turned out to be way too hot to be wearing my new black paisley tie, but hey - I tried.

We met Trish and Dan at the Ballard Oddfellows Hall at Noon, set up for the party, hosted somewhere around 30 or so folks for Dan's & my combo platter of a 40th birthday party. Trish got movie popcorn bags and Sharpies for folks to write personal abuse to us. Dan made some beautiful remarks that exemplified why I love having him as a creative collaborator. Gavin showed up with the kids, and Doug & Ann were in fine form. Natasha Sims from OA was there, and ended up making new friends in Raechelle and Ann. Apparently there is to be some sort of shopping trip. Shoes may be involved. I find it best to not ask too many questions - just stand aside.

After we cleaned up the party, we took the kids back to Raechelle's apartment so that I could pack up and she could throw a bag together for that night. Kayleigh rode with Raechelle and Tyler rode with me back to West Seattle. We met up with Trish, Dan & Raff, chatted and worked on finishing the keg, then went to dinner at West 5 at the Junction. Back home for a movie screening: Death at a Funeral - loved it. About halfway through, Caleb & Shandalla showed up. They watched the rest of the film with us, then when it was over, everyone cleared out, leaving a very exhausted couple to hit the sack.

Went out to coffee this morning at the B&N Starbucks (I remarked that I almost felt like I was cheating on Ron - "This was our place!"), then headed to Target so Raechelle could look at some summer wear to take to West Virginia on her trip. Then back home where we just... chilled. And it was soooo nice. We had lots of good downtime, hanging with the kids and the pets, making plans and cracking each other up. Later, Rae's friend Jamie (whom I'd met previously), came out to the house, and we all piled into my rig for dinner at the Elliott Bay pub to celebrate Independence Day (aka Raechelle's first anniversary of The Breakup).

Raechelle finally left at 8:30PM. It's feeling more and more natural to have her here. We're planning dinner Tuesday night with one of her best friends (her "big brother"), whom I've heard tons about and can't wait to meet. Then Thursday night she'll stay over night so I can drive her to the airport bright and early Friday morning.

It'll be an interesting week with her out of state - I fully expect the absence will only cement things in a good way.

In the meantime, still waiting to hear back on the Duo pitch. Hold the good thought.

The Beginning.

I'd like to welcome my readers from Rhymes With Drowning over to this new chronicle. It's really just a continuation in terms of keeping track of what's happening in my life, but the whole concept is just a bit different. It's focused on what's happening in my new life, as opposed to what was keeping me anchored to the old one.

Yesterday we packed into the Sportage and headed north to Bellingham. We gathered at my sister's home and had a nice visit (including a game of croquet - how very Edwardian garden party of us). Caleb showed up and hung out with the family. It was good to see him, and it'll be good to have him back in Seattle at the end of this month.







(with seester)








(with Caleb)








(with mom - and my new birthday shirt)

Kayleigh stayed in Bellingham overnight and Tyler went back to Gavin's house for some hobby time, and so I found myself sans children for the evening. Called Raechelle (who was already shoe shopping in Westwood), and took her out to dinner at the Celtic Swell. The drizzly day had turned bright and clear so we wandered along the waterfront and watched the sunset. Well, we watched part of it. She'd brought Hedwig and the Angry Inch and was excited to show it to me.

Loved it. Loved it in almost the same way I love The Wall. Great music, more than a little disturbing, and brilliantly shot and edited - with gritty little animation sequences that reminded me of the stuff we were watching and doing at Mission College.

And of course I couldn't have wished for a better viewing partner. She was geeking out and pointing out things and telling me little behind-the-scenes nuggets. I think I'm dating a closet film geek, and it's kinda hot.

Anyway, that's the first post in Life 2.0. Pedestrian? Maybe. But headed in the right direction.