I have an unpronounceable last name. I long ago gave up on correcting the pronunciation and am not at all offended when people get it wrong. A favorite story is a now-retired judge who would pronounce my name differently each time he addressed me in court. I don't care a whit. However, all bets are off if you spell my first name - Sarah - without the "H". It has become somewhat of a theory with me that there is a distinct difference between the Saras of the world and the Sarahs. And I do not mean that either is better or worse, we just tend to fall into different categories of personality. In my anecdotal experience, the Saras tend to be more the cheerleader types - girly and bouncy and life of the party types. The Sarahs, while also generally smart and funny and good to be around, tend to be less frilly and more, dare I say it, solid and straightforward. Which is why I will always, and I mean always, correct you if you spell my name wrong - because otherwise you will be looking for the entirely wrong person.
And, because I can't leave the letter "S" without paying some homage to the City of My Heart, here's to Seattle. I love it, I miss it, and as I was on the road most of the day yesterday, criss crossing the State of Minnesota but ending up in Brookings, South Dakota for the weekend, I desperately wish I'd have been on a plane to Seattle instead. You can read more about my relationship with Seattle here.
Showing posts with label Seattle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Seattle. Show all posts
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
F: Fremont
One of my favorite fantasies, after a particular trifecta of nastiness like I've had lately, is to picture myself leaving work, driving the airport, flying to Seattle, and spending a weekend going to old favorite haunts and breathing deeply of the home of my heart. Oh I wish.
One of my favorite places to go in Seattle was the Red Door in Fremont. It was one of the first places I ever went to taste "good beer" and it remained a go-to kind of place for me the whole time I lived there. Unfortunately, after the earthquake in the early 2000s (was it 2002?), the original building was damaged and the Red Door moved to a new location a few blocks away. I haven't been to the new one - it wasn't open yet when I visited the first time after the earthquake and we didn't go there for some reason when Sean and I visited in 2010. Fremont itself was (and I believe still is) a very cool neighborhood in Seattle. Funky shops and artists...that sort of thing. Right up my alley, even though I am neither funky nor artistic. Come as you are and fit right in no matter your personal style. Love it. I miss it.
Can I have a Widmer Hefeweizen please?
One of my favorite places to go in Seattle was the Red Door in Fremont. It was one of the first places I ever went to taste "good beer" and it remained a go-to kind of place for me the whole time I lived there. Unfortunately, after the earthquake in the early 2000s (was it 2002?), the original building was damaged and the Red Door moved to a new location a few blocks away. I haven't been to the new one - it wasn't open yet when I visited the first time after the earthquake and we didn't go there for some reason when Sean and I visited in 2010. Fremont itself was (and I believe still is) a very cool neighborhood in Seattle. Funky shops and artists...that sort of thing. Right up my alley, even though I am neither funky nor artistic. Come as you are and fit right in no matter your personal style. Love it. I miss it.
Can I have a Widmer Hefeweizen please?
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
1991 - a summer of change
In June 1991, I was 25 and had been married for about 2.5 years to my college boyfriend - my first real boyfriend actually. And by real, I mean he was my first mutually-acknowledged boyfriend, who met the parents, etc. I was miserable. I had a job but it wasn't challenging me in the least, I had very few outside interests or friends, and I had a husband who didn't seem to like me or care about me much.
In June that year, my in laws planned a lake cabin vacation and I went along for the week. My husband only came for a few of the days and he was a complete jackass. When we got home and I called from the inlaws house for him to come and get me (we were only about 30 minutes away), he left me hanging for hours before he made time in his (not)busy schedule to come over. For some reason, this little chain of events was the last straw. We didn't speak for the better part of the following week, and then I informed him that it was time for a divorce, I wanted the newer car and a couple other things but he could have the rest, and I would stay in the apartment until August, at which time I was moving and he could move back in and finish out the lease and keep the damage deposit. I think he was dumbfounded but relieved. And that was that. He moved out that next weekend. We sat at Perkins one night and filled out the divorce papers and filed them.
I chopped off my long shaggy hair and noticed that I started wearing brighter colors and even jewelry. I know I carried some resentments still, but it was so empowering to just recreate myself in whatever fashion I chose...
In late July or early August, I handed my letter of resignation in at work. That was another sweet moment. Because all the changes happening in those months were interconnected, I had actually held off telling anyone that I was divorcing my husband until just before I gave my notice at work - so it all kind of came in one big news flash - getting divorced, quitting my job, moving to Seattle.
And on Labor Day weekend, I loaded up my Toyota, with a futon mattress and a trunk full of stuff, and headed west for Seattle. I was headed for my friends' home, where I'd been told I could stay as long as I wished, but I had no job prospects or really any idea what I was going to do...I'm sure I felt very apprehensive in many ways, but it was also like a big blank page of my life, just waiting to be written.
In June that year, my in laws planned a lake cabin vacation and I went along for the week. My husband only came for a few of the days and he was a complete jackass. When we got home and I called from the inlaws house for him to come and get me (we were only about 30 minutes away), he left me hanging for hours before he made time in his (not)busy schedule to come over. For some reason, this little chain of events was the last straw. We didn't speak for the better part of the following week, and then I informed him that it was time for a divorce, I wanted the newer car and a couple other things but he could have the rest, and I would stay in the apartment until August, at which time I was moving and he could move back in and finish out the lease and keep the damage deposit. I think he was dumbfounded but relieved. And that was that. He moved out that next weekend. We sat at Perkins one night and filled out the divorce papers and filed them.
I chopped off my long shaggy hair and noticed that I started wearing brighter colors and even jewelry. I know I carried some resentments still, but it was so empowering to just recreate myself in whatever fashion I chose...
In late July or early August, I handed my letter of resignation in at work. That was another sweet moment. Because all the changes happening in those months were interconnected, I had actually held off telling anyone that I was divorcing my husband until just before I gave my notice at work - so it all kind of came in one big news flash - getting divorced, quitting my job, moving to Seattle.
And on Labor Day weekend, I loaded up my Toyota, with a futon mattress and a trunk full of stuff, and headed west for Seattle. I was headed for my friends' home, where I'd been told I could stay as long as I wished, but I had no job prospects or really any idea what I was going to do...I'm sure I felt very apprehensive in many ways, but it was also like a big blank page of my life, just waiting to be written.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Reward - some good ol' Seattle nostagia talk!
I am thrilled to report I am back home from work with MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! Therefore, I am going to reward myself with a recap of the wallowing I was doing of my Seattle memories for a couple weeks recently.
I dumped a husband, a job, and about 12 inches of hair, and pointed my Toyota west on Labor Day weekend 1991. I lived in 4 different places in 5 years, had yellow blonde hair (initially by accident and then on purpose) for 3 of those years, and learned a lot about rock music - like that the "in" folks didn't call it grunge for one thing. As a lifelong flannel lover - I fit right in!
The day I drove over the pass and headed toward Lake Washington, I was overcome with the feeling that I was home. I had never laid eyes on Seattle before, so I had no idea where this feeling came from but I continued to feel that way the whole time I lived there. Sometimes, when I fly in to visit and see the Sound or Mount Rainier for the first time, I still feel that tug. If there is anything to the belief in past lives or reincarnation, I am quite certain I must have had a prior tie to the Pacific Northwest.
I went through many phases when I lived in Seattle. First was just kind of proper and professional. Then bright and shiny objects started to catch my eye and I started accessorizing big time. The peak of this phase even had me in fake fingernails which was quite a game changer since I am a lifetime nail biter and am very hard on my hands as evidence by all the scars and dings. Remember Man Hands on Seinfeld? Yeah, something like that. I wore bright clothes and short skirts and high heels. And then I got tired of all that and let the blonde hair speak for me and went back to way more casual dress and dumped the accessories.
One of my favorite memories of Seattle was a place called the ReBar. My roommate at the time took me there for the first time and it was very much an "anything goes" bar with great dance music and good beer including my all time fave Widmer Hefeweizen. Much of the bar staff were cross dressers and while that was very offputting for my brother in law when he visited, I loved how having any and all people welcome (except the close minded) made it so much more relaxed and fun. Dance with whom you like and just enjoy it. And great people watching! I loved every night at the ReBar and am grateful to have had such cool friends to experience it with.
I never liked gardening or really even the outdoors that much in the midwest - bugs and 100 degrees and humidity kind of puts a damper on the enjoyment of digging in the dirt. Seattle was awesome! No bugs (except fleas, to which I am allergic, but which can be avoided by wearing crew length socks when gardening because they can't jump any higher than that) and rarely temps over 80. And everything grows! It was glorious and outstanding.
My friends were very into music. In the late 80s and early 90s, every guy you ever met was in a band. My roommate's boyfriend went to high school with Mike McCready from Pearl Jam and I dated a guy once who was in a band called Rototiller. My friend and I went to hear Rototiller once - her comment was "it sounds like 3 guys playing 3 different songs". I don't remember what they sounded like - I just thought the whole "I'm dating a guy in the band" experience was a trip! Once, my roommate dated a guy, and a guy friend of mine and I went along on a double "date" with them. My guy friend almost started a fight with the other guy over the other guy's claim that Bon Jovi was as good a band as ... and the comparison band escapes me. Probably The Who or something. Never saw my friend as mad as he was that night. But I can't hear Welcome to the Jungle without hearing my roommate and my guy friend slaughter Axl's wailing while driving around Seattle.
I learned a lot about myself in Seattle. I learned to let go of people who had let go of me. I learned that I was perfectly OK by myself and, in fact, often enjoyed being alone. I learned so much about diversity and how much I love hearing stories about people's lives. Most of all I learned to be true to myself - no more putting on one persona for some people and another for others. I am so grateful to the people I met during my five years in Seattle. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to go and do what I did. I am grateful that I didn't get pregnant during my first marriage, so I was free to go.
There will be more...one day I'm sure I'll learn to post photos with my posts and can show off some of my "looks" during the Seattle years. The culmination of my Seattle wallowing came last weekend when I found myself watching the documentary Pearl Jam 20. When I heard Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder singing together on a Temple of the Dog clip, I just about came out of my chair - I hadn't heard those songs in years and years. Must find that CD...
And now I'm going to read a book - The Scottish Prisoner by Diana Gabaldon. Point of interest: My two all time favorite series are the Outlander series by Diana G and Harry Potter...
I dumped a husband, a job, and about 12 inches of hair, and pointed my Toyota west on Labor Day weekend 1991. I lived in 4 different places in 5 years, had yellow blonde hair (initially by accident and then on purpose) for 3 of those years, and learned a lot about rock music - like that the "in" folks didn't call it grunge for one thing. As a lifelong flannel lover - I fit right in!
The day I drove over the pass and headed toward Lake Washington, I was overcome with the feeling that I was home. I had never laid eyes on Seattle before, so I had no idea where this feeling came from but I continued to feel that way the whole time I lived there. Sometimes, when I fly in to visit and see the Sound or Mount Rainier for the first time, I still feel that tug. If there is anything to the belief in past lives or reincarnation, I am quite certain I must have had a prior tie to the Pacific Northwest.
I went through many phases when I lived in Seattle. First was just kind of proper and professional. Then bright and shiny objects started to catch my eye and I started accessorizing big time. The peak of this phase even had me in fake fingernails which was quite a game changer since I am a lifetime nail biter and am very hard on my hands as evidence by all the scars and dings. Remember Man Hands on Seinfeld? Yeah, something like that. I wore bright clothes and short skirts and high heels. And then I got tired of all that and let the blonde hair speak for me and went back to way more casual dress and dumped the accessories.
One of my favorite memories of Seattle was a place called the ReBar. My roommate at the time took me there for the first time and it was very much an "anything goes" bar with great dance music and good beer including my all time fave Widmer Hefeweizen. Much of the bar staff were cross dressers and while that was very offputting for my brother in law when he visited, I loved how having any and all people welcome (except the close minded) made it so much more relaxed and fun. Dance with whom you like and just enjoy it. And great people watching! I loved every night at the ReBar and am grateful to have had such cool friends to experience it with.
I never liked gardening or really even the outdoors that much in the midwest - bugs and 100 degrees and humidity kind of puts a damper on the enjoyment of digging in the dirt. Seattle was awesome! No bugs (except fleas, to which I am allergic, but which can be avoided by wearing crew length socks when gardening because they can't jump any higher than that) and rarely temps over 80. And everything grows! It was glorious and outstanding.
My friends were very into music. In the late 80s and early 90s, every guy you ever met was in a band. My roommate's boyfriend went to high school with Mike McCready from Pearl Jam and I dated a guy once who was in a band called Rototiller. My friend and I went to hear Rototiller once - her comment was "it sounds like 3 guys playing 3 different songs". I don't remember what they sounded like - I just thought the whole "I'm dating a guy in the band" experience was a trip! Once, my roommate dated a guy, and a guy friend of mine and I went along on a double "date" with them. My guy friend almost started a fight with the other guy over the other guy's claim that Bon Jovi was as good a band as ... and the comparison band escapes me. Probably The Who or something. Never saw my friend as mad as he was that night. But I can't hear Welcome to the Jungle without hearing my roommate and my guy friend slaughter Axl's wailing while driving around Seattle.
I learned a lot about myself in Seattle. I learned to let go of people who had let go of me. I learned that I was perfectly OK by myself and, in fact, often enjoyed being alone. I learned so much about diversity and how much I love hearing stories about people's lives. Most of all I learned to be true to myself - no more putting on one persona for some people and another for others. I am so grateful to the people I met during my five years in Seattle. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to go and do what I did. I am grateful that I didn't get pregnant during my first marriage, so I was free to go.
There will be more...one day I'm sure I'll learn to post photos with my posts and can show off some of my "looks" during the Seattle years. The culmination of my Seattle wallowing came last weekend when I found myself watching the documentary Pearl Jam 20. When I heard Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder singing together on a Temple of the Dog clip, I just about came out of my chair - I hadn't heard those songs in years and years. Must find that CD...
And now I'm going to read a book - The Scottish Prisoner by Diana Gabaldon. Point of interest: My two all time favorite series are the Outlander series by Diana G and Harry Potter...
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