January Happens

"Time's fun when you're eating flies!" (Kermit)

At the Commodore's Ball.
Davy twistin' the night away.

   Oh, we’d heard about the travails a Pacific Northwest winter blows into the lives of its folk. The darkness that sucks the spirit right out of you. The cold that, once it reaches your bones, won’t thaw ‘til the coming spring.

   Instead of donning more fleece and adding happy lamps to our decor, we decided to savor whatever fun passed our way. Fun, after all, sheds its own warmth and light.
   Our first bit of glee came on January 3rd, when, unlike most marine sales, we bought a boat and sold a boat on the same day, providing us the two best days in a boater’s life on a single day. This happens with great regularity in real estate because the purchase of one house is often contingent on the sale of another, which is probably contingent on yet the sale of another house, which is . . . . .. (It’s amazing houses ever get bought and sold!) 

The Seattle Boat Show
featured sea planes (!!) and
boat tables.

   Naturally, on January 4th, we hopped in Isadora (she with her automatic transmission), and drove to Lake Union to board our new chariot, L’Esprit. Also, naturally, David wanted to start her up and take her somewhere, like the fuel dock and the pump-out station. I on the other hand wanted to know how we’re supposed to dock the behemoth, since I was going to get to handle the dock lines.
   You have to understand that I’m scared to death of the water, so jumping off a boat onto a dock thrills me not. It’s one of the reasons I prefer to drive a boat, besides not wanting to mess up my manicure. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to drive a twin-engine power boat (I hear it’s rather like operating a wheel chair), so I played the deck ape.
   Fate had it that Lake Union's non-floating docks are built high enough to be level with our deck, which made getting on and off the boat a dream. The fact that there was no wind also helped. All in all, we had a hoot cruising back and forth on the lake, avoiding sea planes, and forgetting to pull in our fenders (the Ocean Alexander folks must have cringed if they spotted us out there).
   Then the fun stopped, as we knew it would, for she needed yard work: propellers, bottom paint, wiring, window stuff, plus all the items our nitpicky surveyor told the insurance company we needed. All is good. It’s a boat. We should have her by mid-February.
Darwin 101

   Surviving winter’s hardest part required us to remember three things.

More lovely sunset
views from our deck.

   First, we had to check the propane tank on a more regular basis, because we discovered two days before Christmas Eve company was due to arrive that we had an ounce of fuel remaining (I exaggerate). Cripes, we’d been here since the beginning of March and never required a refill, then suddenly, cold weather hits, and we’re using a tank a month. Now we watch the tank like a hawk!
   Second, we learned that cold air equals dry air. I couldn’t figure out why my house plants kept wilting, when I’d just watered them like five days before. In SoCal, watering houseplants once a week was plenty in the summer, and every ten days in the winter. I've had to change my ways.  
   Third, we learned to stash the umbrellas somewhere they couldn’t be found, because, honestly, no one up here uses them. Really. I've added umbrellas to my list of things I haven't seen in almost a year, right next to graffiti. 
Brrrrr

   How cold has it been? Nothing like it was around Thanksgiving, when our pond froze over for almost a week, and our fish got their noses a bruised a bit. Fifteen degrees it was then!
   Still, it’s been cold enough for it to snow right after Christmas and on my birthday, which we celebrated with a birthday lunch at Prima Bistro in Langley, on Whidbey Island, instead of dinner, so we could get home before the snow arrived. 

Man watching us
descend Langley's steps
to the bay.

  It was a lovely lunch, done my favorite way. Order some wine and a bowl of parsnip-pear soup to share, followed by oysters on the half shell and then roast-beet salad with fourme d’ambert, etc., etc. Afterward, we took a much needed walk down several flights of stairs to the shore below to size up a possible sea landing for this summer and decided it’s a go. Langley’s a lovely little town facing the mainland. Quaint. Hospitable (Langley Inn). Picturesque. Another locale to add to our total love for and fascination with our new home. We came home and took a nap. 

Top: Looking SW toward
Lopez Island's tip; Snowy leaf
suspended by a spider-web
wisp.

   The next morning was especially lovely since it snowed all night. The picture through the window shows a snow-laded leaf dangling on a spider web.

   A little aside here: Prima Bistro is owned by very good friends of David’s office manager in Newport Beach, Maureen Vadman, and her husband David,which sweetened the trip even more!
Yachties
   We’re so glad we joined the Fidalgo Yacht Club located in Skyline, at the Fidalgo Island’s northwest corner. We’ve met wonderful, friendly people whom we’ve discovered to be extremely knowledgeable about everything we’ve found ourselves lacking: understanding of the tides and currents which make SoCal seem like a lake; the best places to find food and fuel in the archipelago; anchoring in six-hundred feet of water; plowing through a prone forest floating as a mass through the channels between islands; going through the rapids that form between islands (Don’t: Wait for slack tide!); docking; catching shrimp, lobster, salmon, and crab; cooking shrimp, lobster, salmon, and crab; expeditiously getting through Canadian customs; and where the not-to-miss scenic spots are between and including Olympia and Alaska. 

Redundancy at work!
Grill-dinner-in-the-rain.

    Unlike SoCal, most people up here only boat from April to October/November, which seems oddm but understandable, to us. Our favorite times to stay home and varnish were the summer months, so we’d have plenty of free time in the fall, winter and spring to hit the islands. Now our usual week-long stay at Two Harbors at Catalina's isthmus between Christmas and New Years is but a memory.
   But since people aren’t off boating in the winter, they’re having tons of fun at the club. Grill-your-own-steak nights. (That’s David in the picture grilling our steaks in the, you guessed it: RAIN.) Bar nights. Preparing for the club’s first cruise in March to Anacortes. I know! We’re already in Anacortes. History has taught the club that March cruises to further destinations stand a pretty good chance of turning into weather disastera. In April we’re going all the way to La Conner, and in July we’re taking our SoCal sailing buddies Hank and Gail Salerno with us to Vancouver Island for Victoria Splash. There’s more, but I can’t remember.
   I unfortunately will not be going to La Conner because . . .
Watch Out for What You Volunteer For
   I volunteered to lick envelopes and apply stamps for the Whidbey Island Writers Conference in April, and ended up being named the Chat House Coordinator.
   Let me step back and describe the Whidbey Island Writers Conference, because it is very different from most, which take place at a resort, institute, or hotel. Since Whidbey boasts no big hotels, they have their writer-led sessions in people’s homes, big beautiful homes with views to nirvana and back. Fireside chats, they call them. So I’ve been spending a significant bit of my time driving down to Coupeville to check out homes, etc. The residents are extremely generous!
   The big draws at this year’s conference are Garth Stein (The Art of Racing in the Rain) and Priscilla Long (The Portable Writer’s Mentor), two books I strongly recommend.
   I’d have to say one of the greatest side effects to my volunteering for the conference has been the drive. Driving southward, the Olympics tower in my view. Driving north to home, the Cascades rise before me (actually to the right a little!). Wowzer!
Time to Read
   One little habit winter has abetted is reading.
   It used to be for Davy, that by the end of a day spent reading the news, legalese, unbrief briefs, and convoluted contracts, he lacked any appetite for fiction . There is, after all, a limit to how many words one should have to deal with in any given day.
   Our move has changed all that.
   Now it’s a common sight to find Davy curled up with his Kindle, pressing the Next Page button, and smiling at some piece of wit he’s just read. He recently finished The Art of Racing in the Rain and is now pretty well through Shipping News. (I only know that because he told me. One never knows where another is on his Kindle unless one illicitly sneaks a peek. Do unto others. . . . )
   My December/January reads:
   Stones into Schools- a fascinating read that offers details about Afghanistan’s and Pakistan's history, sociology, and geography rarely mentioned in the news.  
   Parrot and Olivier in America – Peter Carey was short-listed for the Man Booker Prize with this view of America from a French Perspective. Thought I’d run into de Tocqueville at any page turn! (I also loved his True History of the Kelly Gang.)
   Visit from the Goon Squad – Wild and wonderful characters in wild and wonderful short stories that glue together like a novel. I’m sending a copy to Lisa, she of San Francisco and NYC.
   Breakfast with Buddha – Pretty good plot with pretty good characters who leave you with pretty good thoughts about improving the quality of your life. It was also fun to read a road trip book that followed our recent route so closely.
   Saving CeeCee Honeycutt - Oh, dear, what to say? Quirky characters, interesting writing style, but, eek! The plot! I like my characters to grow and transcend the trouble they’ve seen. I was disappointed.
   Portable Writer’s Mentor – Yum. If you like to write and want to take your writing semi- or fully seriously, add this book to your shelf.
The Great Visit

   Besides boatie stuff, I would have to say the highlight of my month was my visit with Kirsten Roth, whom I’ve known practically all my life, but hadn’t seen for the forty years. We knew each other as tots, and all through grade school and high school. Our parents (Ragnhild and Thormod Cook and Johanna and Burton Roth)were best of friends in a circle of Norwegian expats living in San Pedro and Palos Verdes, who'd sometimes gather at the Seaman's Church on Beacon Street (where I was baptized) . My parents were from Mandal and Oslo; hers were from Stavanger.
   In high school we’d make our parents open-face sandwiches while they were in the living room playing bridge.
   The last time I saw Kirsten, we’d both graduated from college, I’d just bought a house on Mira Mar in Long Beach, and she was off to Russia to learn the language as part of her career with PanAm (or was it SAS?? I can’t remember.).
   Sadly, I didn’t even know her mother died a month before my father died in 1979. How do things like that slip by?
   There was so much to catch up on, and I'm glad we live so close (eighty miles) because we'll have things to talk about for the next twenty years. Our parents must be smiling down from heaven!
   It was a truly wonderful lunch at the Boat Street Cafe, even though it was cut short by my getting lost. (Someday I’m going to do one long rant about Seattle streets and how if you get off on Mercer Street, there is absolutely no guarantee there will be a Mercer Street upon which you can drive.)
Looking Forward
   Midwinter's a couple of weeks away. Already the sun's descending later, and little garden weeds of peeking out of the ground (ugh!). We can see why people get excited at spring's foreshadow. And we can see why people love it in the PNW, despite its dark season. We wouldn't give up this experience for the world!