Farewell, Seattle.

 

Seattle, WA

I remember the first time I visited Seattle back in February 2017. The idea of leaving Minneapolis was not a new one – I had been contemplating an exit for a few years, but I wasn’t clear on a landing spot.

After my final angiogram at the University of Iowa in spring of 2016, I felt freed enough to put a real plan in place – I would no longer be tethered to this region of the country. Over the summer leading into the fall months, I aggressively interviewed with PetSmart corporate in Phoenix. Twice. The recruiter was convincing; I was looking forward to the dry heat of Arizona

Where The Magic Happens: Pike Place Market, Seattle

Nothing happened there. As a result, I took a gig at a software company with a satellite office in Minnesota. It was a strategic move - the option to telecommute opened the door to “location exploration.” The tech giant is headquartered in the heart of downtown Bellevue, WA – a “suburb” of Seattle.

My only references to the Emerald City were Nirvana and the cast of 1998’s “The Real World,” – I was 10 when it aired on MTV.  The opening scene for the show included a shot of the famous fish throwers at Pike Place Market.

Google told me the skies were overcast for most of the year and it rained a lot.

“I can do that – it’s not snow!”

This would be my ticket out of the Midwest. This would be my ticket into corporate marketing.

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For my 29th birthday, I decided to book a flight – I wanted to see and feel the energy of Seattle before I made a permanent leap; I’m a calculated risk kind of gal. 

The landscape from above heights in the plane were breathtaking – snow capped mountains, the rigidity of the terrain. The vegetation blossomed as we moved closer to small towns and bigger cities. I’m not an “outdoorsy” person by any stretch, but I can appreciate the beauty and importance of lush greenery and clean air.  

I stayed at the famous Green Tortoise Hostel downtown. The patrons at the hostel were varied; travelers from all over the world passed through to stop and crash for a few nights.

The Green Tortoise staff treated us kindly, putting together tours for those that wanted to get to know the city at a more intimate level. I happily signed up and was given the chance to see the [once] popular and thriving neighborhood of Capitol Hill. Ride the light rail transit for the first time. Pass the Jimmy Hendrix statue in front of Blick Art Materials. Walk through Cal Anderson park. See a live band at the Cha Cha Lounge.  Drink a cheap Rainier Beer. Restaurants, bars, art, music – my Midwestern eyes were overwhelmed by the stimulation.

On the day of my birthday, the sky greyed over with a coat of wetness hitting the ground.  I got up early and walked across the street to Pike Place Market, finding a cozy spot at Storyville Coffee to jot down a journal entry:

2.25.17, Seattle. Happy Birthday!

“Today is my birthday – I can’t believe I made it out here. I can’t believe it’s happening. Seattle. 29. My God – I don’t know how to feel.  I’ve been up since 3:30am. Can’t sleep, my mind is racing. Can I move here? Start over? It’s hilly – driving would be a bitch. That scares me – I’m already a shitty driver. It’s so different here, but still a little familiar. Seattle is like a Minneapolis/Denver hybrid. It’s so far way from everything. I’m starting to get scared.  It’s also expensive here – everyone I meet, confirms the high COL.  

I met a guy last night on Bumble who just so happens to be from Iowa, lol.  The artsy type – he paints. Super liberal, friendly. When I first arrived on Thursday, I met this woman from Canada – she reminds me of [name redacted].  Bleach blonde hair, short, super chill. Great style.

The ambient music in this coffeeshop is fitting for my mood: somber. 29. Twenty-fucking-nine.  I can do this!  The fact of the matter is – I don’t have a choice. [Company Name Redacted] is headquartered, here.  If I want to get into marketing, this is the way to do it! I have to move.”

The skies eventually cleared enough for me to take a solo walk around Downtown, into Belltown. Ensconced between skyscrapers and a two-story Target, I watched crowds of people rush the market on a Saturday afternoon.

Trudging up first avenue on an incline, a chic French breakfast spot caught my eye – the line was long, but I didn’t care. After waiting for 45 minutes, I was let in to be placed at the bar area. An older couple sitting next to me, overheard ramblings with my family over the phone – they wished me “Happy Birthday” and extended a friendly gesture by paying for my food.

Seattle Skyline Featuring The Oh So Famous: Space Needle.

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I came to Seattle with ideas about what wanted to accomplish. My little sister and I road tripped from Minneapolis - I knew no one. When she dropped me off my heart sank, fearful of doing this alone, but opened quickly to the endless possibilities of what could be.

I gave Seattle a good try. I did, but I didn’t accomplish any of my initial goals during my 3-year stay. What I did do, as cheesy as it sounds, is make lifelong friendships. Rediscover self and formulate redirection.

Here’s what I will miss: long nights dancing to 80’s cover bands and 90’s jams.

First Thursday Art Walks in Pioneer Square ▪ Friendsgiving when many of us couldn’t make it home ▪ Seattle coffeeshops ▪ Tinder date recaps with my old roommate and new girlfriends ▪ Metropolitan Market ▪ slow hikes among the countless trails of Washington state ▪ Beacon Hill ▪ my dance studio in Greenlake ▪ beer festivals and farmers markets. The local band scene and sing-along events.

Eccetera.

Circumstances surrounding my departure are sordid, long and ironic. I’ve recounted the story multiple times and don’t feel the need to get into it again.

2020 left its’ mark; the kind of reverberation that will last for a while. In this tense climate, many people have had to adjust and pivot - I am no exception.

The frustration and sadness that I had to leave so soon before planned is still there, but the realization around why it was necessary, is not lost on me.

Sometimes, life comes at you fast. Sometimes you just need to go home.

Mood Music: Take Me Home, Country Roads - John Denver

Method to my Madness.

 

Preservation Coffee & Tea

I had an entire post whipped up for mid-February, but unfortunately, it didn’t save. I ended up having to start over so I decided to scrap the mid-month entry.

Ugh. Anyway.

This year’s birthday trip took me down the coast to visit my family in Modesto, CA - they are recent transplants from Iowa and I was their very first visitor!

I Like This Picture…Alot.

For 4 days, I was surrounded by 6 kids under 17, my adult cousin and his wife. I had a great time, but it was a not-so-subtle reminder that children are a massive undertaking that require customized attention for each individual knucklehead. The way my selfishness and lack of patience is currently set up….it’s going to be a minute, mom :)

The desire to absorbed into something familiar [and maybe a little bit warmer] came on the heels of the #seattlesnowpacalypse that caused disruption throughout the city. It was a bit unusual for this area; we don’t normally get snow like that.

Well, we did: about 4-8 inches in Seattle proper – a little more on the outskirts.

Now, for a true-blue Midwesterner, 4-6 inches? Child’s play.

From my perspective, the #snowpacalypse was a mere dusting - in Minneapolis, I would see up to 10 inches of nightly snowfall with negative degree temperatures for several weeks.

I scoffed at the PNW theatrics: a few hours prior to the first system  [there were 3] the grocery stores were packed – meat, milk, bread? Gone. Lines to the back of the store. Instagram and Twitter feeds were flooded with pictures and videos of the madness.

You would’ve thought it was Y2K all over again!

Later that night, the City of Seattle put out a press release stating that they had about 36 plows for the whole city. 36. The second system moved in shortly after the first. The last came a few days later.

36 plows.

For an entire week, Seattle Public Schools were closed and it was heavily advised to stay off the road.

A lot of folks worked from home and maintained a limited social schedule: Seattle is already full of terrible drivers, add snow to the mix and you’re asking for a death sentence.

No ma’am.

What did that mean for me? I had a lot of free space to do some writing.

About a month ago, I consulted with my therapist when I was having difficulty with the manuscript – I would come across certain points in the story and freeze or get visibly upset.

She suggested that I create distance between myself and the events by basically writing in third person.

“You’re too close to it right now”.

I found this strategy interesting: remember way at the beginning of my writing journey when I was composing my memoir as a fiction novel, “loosely based” on real events [throwback posts here & here]? Yeah. The whole reason I had chosen to do that, was specifically to create distance – I knew this sort of visceral, emotional reaction would happen.

Once you crack open Pandora’s Box….

In 2016, I wasn’t quite ready to deal.

Spotlight: On The Inside.

I took my therapist’s advice. Using “she”, “her” “them” and “they,” I have been able to punch out way more in a given space of time than normal. I find it easier to revisit certain events with this sort of separation intact.

I like this excerpt in particular:

“She was cleared by her neuro team to return back to Minneapolis - back to her former life, back to work, mid-March 2013. Her feelings were ambivalent; yes, it would be easier to stay in Iowa, live a humble life, follow the path of many of her peers. Work her way up at an insurance company surrounded by people who were unfamiliar with her current circumstance. Find a nice-enough man to marry. Have a baby. Buy a house. Be a mother. Raise some kids. Maybe take a vacation every so often.  Her family is in Iowa. A familiar existence was within reach. She had the power to choose - her mother’s words continued to echo, piercing parts of her psyche that needed confirmation: “you have to go back and finish what you started. You have to go back and live.” She thought about certain things that she wanted to accomplish. The opportunities and experiences that she would miss. At 25, she was entering a second phase, a chapter that would require her to push harder than she ever had - for healing first.  A challenging road lie ahead. Her brain did not operate in the same way it previously had: memories were shorter, comprehension was slower, words took more time to find. On March 11th 2013 - her mother’s birthday - she made the trek back to the “Minnie Apple”. “Black Betty” was loaded with her things: a couple of suitcases filled with clothes, a computer bag, books, folders full of files, notebooks and the like. Her parents asked her to call at their usual halfway point - the rest stop at the Minnesota entry. Her old friend was waiting. The road down I-95 N that had become routine, would now lead her to a strange new world.”

When I get to the editing process, I’ll have to go back and revise the narrative prospective - for now, it’ll do!

Mood Music: Walking On The Moon - Cas Haley

Recalibrate.

 

Slate Coffee Roasters

I had to take a little hiatus at the end of October; it was unexpected. The initial plan was to complete a stellar NaNo – that was a fail. Whomp. NaNoWriMo kicked my whole entire ass in 2018.

I used the majority of my NaNo time, to do more organizing of the story [jotting down ideas and producing a sort of storyboard-esque vision] and less writing.

In terms of word count, the results weren’t great guys. I got up to maybe 2,000. Ugh.

I’m reminded, yet again, of NaNo 2016 – that fall I broke up with my toxic ex, America was set aflame and I decided to hug a pack [or two] of L&M Menthol 100s.  

Back then, I was able to push through; I needed a distraction from all of the calamity happening around me. NaNo was my outlet. If I recall correctly, 2016 was the first year I decided to participate. I wanted to prove to myself that my ex nor the incoming Commander-In-Cheeto could stop me. I came out strong – that blog post is here.

In 2018…not so much. Unfortunately, the attempt to reach my personal goal of 10,000 words was futile – I had way too much going on, including some health issues and the death of my Grandmother that made it difficult to produce. My heart wasn’t in it. My mind wasn’t focused.

Good News: after spending some much needed time in Iowa with my family, I feel a lot better. More relaxed, more inspired, more centered. I spent two weeks in the trenches of a rural encampment [well, not really, just my parents house, literally in the middle of nowhere]. Point is: no traffic, no lights, no sirens. Nothing but stars and cows.

Truth be told, I was at this coffee shop for my NaNo post back in October. O’well.

The first week of my stay was somber. Most of my paternal side was in a dismal place as we mourned the loss of Grandma Ruthie. Even now as I write this, it doesn’t seem real. You always think you will have people, until you don’t. I was sure we would have her another 10 years.

I miss my Grandma, dearly. She was widowed in 1994 when my Grandpa died of cancer. Shortly after, her mood switched; she was never quite the same. Ruthie was a cantankerous woman – I’m sure my natural irritability comes from that side of the family. She was also brazen, loved the outdoors and showed ardent fearlessness, having spent her young adulthood in a post-war, Jim Crow era when things were certainly separate, but nowhere near equal.

Grandma didn’t take no shit and could back it up with her quip-y comebacks.

She gave zero of the fucks.

Grandpa James was the only one that could soothe her – when he passed, Ruthie’s ruthlessness, worsened. She was angry with him for leaving and spent the next 24 years taking it out on everyone within a 2 mile radius. We loved her regardless, but Grandma was a very complicated woman.

In 2016, she was admitted to an assisted living facility and hated every minute of it. She had to be moved to different residences throughout metro Iowa. Ruthie was a difficult for the staff to deal with.

Sidebar: as an adult, I recognize that a large part of my personality comes from my father, which by extension, comes from her. Slightly neurotic, aggy, and almost always pessimistic. Except when I drink: at that point, I’m giggly and overly affectionate. I love to knock back a blonde ale or sip a super gingery moscow mule.

Ruthie was miserable and had, had enough. In 2018, she saw the eyes of her grandchildren…all 8 of us. And her own children too – including the one in Minneapolis who she fought tirelessly for years over things that no longer matter.

I honestly think older folk know when it’s time; they can feel it in their soul.

She died December 5th 2018. It was decided that her funeral would be held on her birthday – December 15th.

Blood red casket. Stylish ensemble with a matching church hat.

Get it Grandma! She wouldn’t want it any other way.

The weather was unusually nice – warm and sunny in mid-December. With the exception of the latter half of the second week [if you follow me on IG, you may have caught my little “incident” involving a rental car and a mud pit] the whole of my trip saw gorgeous, clear skies!

Week 2 was a little less depressing; the majority of my days were spent shuffling through terrible reality TV, attempting to find space to see friends and other family from my mother’s side…and Tinder swiping. My Dad had the nerve to ask: “So are you having fun with that?”

Ugh. Daddy?!

I digress.

Babies are no longer babies – we have high school graduates and a handful on the edge of entering those tragic years. Voices have dropped 4 octaves, hair is longer, boyfriends are now in the picture. Time is a-flying. My cousins who I remember as children are full blown teenagers! Acne and all, ha.

I miss so much of their transitions being on the west coast!

Now that I’m back in Seattle, I’m settling in to the new year with a new[ish] mindset – it’s time to get this show back on the road.

Mood Music: In A Sentimental Mood - Duke Ellington & John Coltrane