Pictures, Shmictures
Today I feel like reliving my past. So I'm going to relive ... August and September.
The first week of August, Josh and I went to Portland, Oregon, for my friend Halle's wedding to her very lovely husband, Todd. Josh and I were extremely excited: We'd always wanted to go to Portland, and we weren't going to miss out on going to Seattle while we were up there, so it also gave us the opportunity to cross two more states off our We Want To Visit Every State In The U.S. (Even Kansas) List.
On a personal level, I couldn't wait to see Halle and meet Todd. I met Halle in college. We had some journalism classes together and we both worked on the State News, which was the greatest thing I ever did at Michigan State. And then I graduated and moved home, and I sulked, jobless and aimless. And about a month after I moved home, I got a surprise call from Halle, who was working at an ad agency as a copy editor and was looking for a freelancer. That kicked off the next two years of ski trips and canoe trips and nights out dancing and pasta parties and working at a job that could have been utter drudgery if the people weren't so fabulous. Halle rescued me those two years with her immense stores of energy and curiosity, as did another woman who worked with us named Lori. It felt like we did everything together. And Lori also spent quality time with another coworker named Don, whom she eventually married, and they now have three children. Lori is probably one of the most creative wordsmiths I've ever met, unbeliveably creative and talented, and she's a bombshell. And Lori and Don were also going to Portland for Halle and Todd's wedding. I couldn't wait to see all of them. It had been years.
Flying to Oregon was something. I never sleep on planes, and I was out the whole time ... until the pilot made an announcement to look out the windows, and to our immediate left (literally just outside the plane) was Mt. Hood and to our right were Mt. Rainier and Mount St. Helens, all in a neat little row. Having been in elementary school when Mount St. Helens erupted, it always seemed to me hallowed ground, rather mythic, and I was amazed to be flying right past it. An unexpected goal achieved.
We landed in Portland and, the minute we exited the jetway, the scent of Oregon hit us head-on (apply directly to the forehead). Trees. Standing in the airport, all we could smell was the divine scent of trees. We rented a car, turned on the radio, and the first song we heard was, appropriately, a Nirvana one.
The wedding was in a vineyard in Dayton, about an hour or so from Portland. We were staying in a town called McMinnville in the Willamette Valley — vineyard country. We got lost on the way, ended up at the top of a mountain, and faced one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen. For the first time since becoming the proud owner of a digital camera, I was so intimidated by what I was looking at that I didn't take a picture. Bah.
When we got to McMinnville, though, I did take a picture of this:
I knew I would love staying in a place that observed the correct usage of apostrophes.
But then ... zuchinni. (You can click on any of these pictures for larger versions.)
Alas. I still loved McMinnville's charm and friendly locals.
We stayed at the Hotel Oregon, which is owned by the McMenamin brothers, who buy old buildings and turn them into hotels, preserving their historical integrity. The Hotel Oregon had been, among other things, a tavern, and it is now a terrific tourist destination for, among other travelers, UFO enthusiasts. All the funky art around the hotel depicts the interests of its visitors, and each guest room is named for and decorated in the theme of a major player in the building's evolution. Or room was named Leona, which was a steamship. It was quirky and beautiful and homey all at the same time. I would stay there again in a heartbeat. The whole place had such a chill vibe to it.
This is Halle and Todd's wedding. Look at this. Ridiculous.
There were all these little nooks throughout the vineyard. Here are Lori and Don, looking fabulous:
Instead of numbers, Halle and Todd named all their tables after destinations they'd visited. Placecards were attached to corks, and each table had its own card describing the story of Halle and Todd's experience at that locale. So pretty.
Jesus. Look how he's looking at her. Crazy love.
The whole weekend was such a celebration of the two of them, which is what weddings should be, but not always are. This was. Halle is the kind of person who has such an ease about herself, she has an impeccable eye for fashion and style, she has such a dry wit and is so, so smart and beautiful. And she and Todd just fit. It feels so good when you see your friends with a significant other who really fits their lives well. I'm so happy for her. She's also made a terrific life in Portland, where ...
... we headed after the wedding. Such a cool place.
I thought this was a great name for a pizza joint, although it sort of devalues the pizza itself, don't you think?
"Eh, pizza schmizza, I'd rather have the gnocchi."
This is the Hawthorne neighborhood. Excellent shopping. Lots of fair-trade global stores. I love how environmentally and politically aware Portland and Seattle are, though it also reminds you that the rest of the country are dumbasses.
I was so happy to see my friends.
You can't go to Portland and not go to Powell's. We planned our whole day around it. I even booked us at a hotel only a block and a half away from it, knowing we'd be schlepping books back and would have heavy packages (dirty!). But we did have limited space in our luggage, so we were forced to follow this one strict rule: You can only buy a book that you a) cannot find in New York, or b) can find in New York, but is such a great price at Powell's that you can't possibly pass it up. I can't tell you how hard it was to stick to this rule. I wanted everything. Nonetheless, I weeded out about half of what I'd picked out and lugged the rest home. Basically, it would have been worse, but they kicked us out at closing.
Oh, Powell's, even with your lights out and doors locked, you fill my heart.
The next morning, we headed to Seattle. We stayed at the Ace Hotel, where we had deer on the wall and each room has a copy of the Kama Sutra on the bedside table with two condoms. Je love forward-thinking details.
"Did you take a picture of the deer humping?" Josh asked. "You know, for your blog."
"I think my readers will find it," I said. "They're very smart. And also, dirty."
Along the waterfront in Seattle, there is a new sculpture garden and a beautiful green space. One thing that surprised me about Seattle is that it is so green, ethically, but parks in the central areas of the city are few and far between.
These sculptures, using ledges, tables, giant letters and the V of the tree, spell out LOSS AND LOVE.
Also, the red ampersand spins. Very cool.
The next day, we headed to Pike Place Market. It's unlike any other market I've ever been to, maybe because everything was at its most ripe, fragrant, full. You can spend a whole day there and it still isn't enough time. We're still eating halibut that we bought there and had shipped home.
When I was a kid, it was always a huge treat when my mom would bring home Washington cherries, which were only in season during a very specific time of year. They're sweeter and lighter, not as tart, as regular cherries. At Pike Place Market, I had Washington cherries. In Washington. Very meta.
Do I love donut peaches on their own merits, or because they look like butts?
Seattle folks do love their Mariners, and, in particular, Ichiro, of course.
A note on the Seattle Mariners:
Nothing ever has my name on it. Ever since I was a kid and would fall into a tourist trap, I'd scrounge rows and racks of plastic license plates, porcelain bells, rainbow mugs and metal keychains, looking for one that said MARLA. It just didn't exist. There were seven different spellings of Karen (like how today there are nine different spellings of Kayla on those things), but no Marla. So my parents would buy me tchotchkes that said MARIA and they'd draw a little stick on the i. Or, in the case of one very special evening during my youth, my father stopped at Linens 'n' Things on the way home from work. He came home with personalized soaps for everybody: My mom got LINDA, Jen got JENNIFER and Steph got STEPHANIE. (This was before Lauren was born, when, as we like to tell her, we were happy.) My soap? GUEST. I still have that Guest soap as a reminder of the fact that my name is insignificant to life.
So where all of this is going is: In Seattle, I found one! I am now the proud owner of a magnet that says
#1 [Seattle Mariners logo] FAN
MARLA
And you know what? I am. Now I am the Seattle Mariners' very greatest fan. Because of my magnet. That's as good as any reason to like a baseball team, right?
Here's my problem with this little message:
I'm all for reminding people to keep it real, but isn't the point effectively lost when you use a smiley face to encourage others to mature in nature? Just me? M'kay.
We took a tour of Underground Seattle. The Seattle you see today was actually built on top of the original Seattle, which burnt to the ground in the early 1900s. (Something about a careless kid with a soldering iron and a can of kerosene, or some such thing.) Pioneer Square is the oldest neighborhood in the city and home to some of the most beautiful architecture, like this tall building:
Even so, Seattle is just like any other city in that its classic architecture is often crowded out by unsightly modern structures. To wit: Notice the parking structure in front of the building. They call it the Titanic, because it looks like a sinking ship. Understandably, the locals hate it.
It would really be disturbing
if people had tails. Just an observation. What would we do with our pants?
And that picture is pretty much the trip. The coffee. The newspaper. The Josh. The chillin'. The best.
More pictures of August/September regression to come ...
The first week of August, Josh and I went to Portland, Oregon, for my friend Halle's wedding to her very lovely husband, Todd. Josh and I were extremely excited: We'd always wanted to go to Portland, and we weren't going to miss out on going to Seattle while we were up there, so it also gave us the opportunity to cross two more states off our We Want To Visit Every State In The U.S. (Even Kansas) List.
On a personal level, I couldn't wait to see Halle and meet Todd. I met Halle in college. We had some journalism classes together and we both worked on the State News, which was the greatest thing I ever did at Michigan State. And then I graduated and moved home, and I sulked, jobless and aimless. And about a month after I moved home, I got a surprise call from Halle, who was working at an ad agency as a copy editor and was looking for a freelancer. That kicked off the next two years of ski trips and canoe trips and nights out dancing and pasta parties and working at a job that could have been utter drudgery if the people weren't so fabulous. Halle rescued me those two years with her immense stores of energy and curiosity, as did another woman who worked with us named Lori. It felt like we did everything together. And Lori also spent quality time with another coworker named Don, whom she eventually married, and they now have three children. Lori is probably one of the most creative wordsmiths I've ever met, unbeliveably creative and talented, and she's a bombshell. And Lori and Don were also going to Portland for Halle and Todd's wedding. I couldn't wait to see all of them. It had been years.
Flying to Oregon was something. I never sleep on planes, and I was out the whole time ... until the pilot made an announcement to look out the windows, and to our immediate left (literally just outside the plane) was Mt. Hood and to our right were Mt. Rainier and Mount St. Helens, all in a neat little row. Having been in elementary school when Mount St. Helens erupted, it always seemed to me hallowed ground, rather mythic, and I was amazed to be flying right past it. An unexpected goal achieved.
We landed in Portland and, the minute we exited the jetway, the scent of Oregon hit us head-on (apply directly to the forehead). Trees. Standing in the airport, all we could smell was the divine scent of trees. We rented a car, turned on the radio, and the first song we heard was, appropriately, a Nirvana one.
The wedding was in a vineyard in Dayton, about an hour or so from Portland. We were staying in a town called McMinnville in the Willamette Valley — vineyard country. We got lost on the way, ended up at the top of a mountain, and faced one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen. For the first time since becoming the proud owner of a digital camera, I was so intimidated by what I was looking at that I didn't take a picture. Bah.
When we got to McMinnville, though, I did take a picture of this:
I knew I would love staying in a place that observed the correct usage of apostrophes.
But then ... zuchinni. (You can click on any of these pictures for larger versions.)
Alas. I still loved McMinnville's charm and friendly locals.
We stayed at the Hotel Oregon, which is owned by the McMenamin brothers, who buy old buildings and turn them into hotels, preserving their historical integrity. The Hotel Oregon had been, among other things, a tavern, and it is now a terrific tourist destination for, among other travelers, UFO enthusiasts. All the funky art around the hotel depicts the interests of its visitors, and each guest room is named for and decorated in the theme of a major player in the building's evolution. Or room was named Leona, which was a steamship. It was quirky and beautiful and homey all at the same time. I would stay there again in a heartbeat. The whole place had such a chill vibe to it.
This is Halle and Todd's wedding. Look at this. Ridiculous.
There were all these little nooks throughout the vineyard. Here are Lori and Don, looking fabulous:
Instead of numbers, Halle and Todd named all their tables after destinations they'd visited. Placecards were attached to corks, and each table had its own card describing the story of Halle and Todd's experience at that locale. So pretty.
Jesus. Look how he's looking at her. Crazy love.
The whole weekend was such a celebration of the two of them, which is what weddings should be, but not always are. This was. Halle is the kind of person who has such an ease about herself, she has an impeccable eye for fashion and style, she has such a dry wit and is so, so smart and beautiful. And she and Todd just fit. It feels so good when you see your friends with a significant other who really fits their lives well. I'm so happy for her. She's also made a terrific life in Portland, where ...
... we headed after the wedding. Such a cool place.
I thought this was a great name for a pizza joint, although it sort of devalues the pizza itself, don't you think?
"Eh, pizza schmizza, I'd rather have the gnocchi."
This is the Hawthorne neighborhood. Excellent shopping. Lots of fair-trade global stores. I love how environmentally and politically aware Portland and Seattle are, though it also reminds you that the rest of the country are dumbasses.
I was so happy to see my friends.
You can't go to Portland and not go to Powell's. We planned our whole day around it. I even booked us at a hotel only a block and a half away from it, knowing we'd be schlepping books back and would have heavy packages (dirty!). But we did have limited space in our luggage, so we were forced to follow this one strict rule: You can only buy a book that you a) cannot find in New York, or b) can find in New York, but is such a great price at Powell's that you can't possibly pass it up. I can't tell you how hard it was to stick to this rule. I wanted everything. Nonetheless, I weeded out about half of what I'd picked out and lugged the rest home. Basically, it would have been worse, but they kicked us out at closing.
Oh, Powell's, even with your lights out and doors locked, you fill my heart.
The next morning, we headed to Seattle. We stayed at the Ace Hotel, where we had deer on the wall and each room has a copy of the Kama Sutra on the bedside table with two condoms. Je love forward-thinking details.
"Did you take a picture of the deer humping?" Josh asked. "You know, for your blog."
"I think my readers will find it," I said. "They're very smart. And also, dirty."
Along the waterfront in Seattle, there is a new sculpture garden and a beautiful green space. One thing that surprised me about Seattle is that it is so green, ethically, but parks in the central areas of the city are few and far between.
These sculptures, using ledges, tables, giant letters and the V of the tree, spell out LOSS AND LOVE.
Also, the red ampersand spins. Very cool.
The next day, we headed to Pike Place Market. It's unlike any other market I've ever been to, maybe because everything was at its most ripe, fragrant, full. You can spend a whole day there and it still isn't enough time. We're still eating halibut that we bought there and had shipped home.
When I was a kid, it was always a huge treat when my mom would bring home Washington cherries, which were only in season during a very specific time of year. They're sweeter and lighter, not as tart, as regular cherries. At Pike Place Market, I had Washington cherries. In Washington. Very meta.
Do I love donut peaches on their own merits, or because they look like butts?
Seattle folks do love their Mariners, and, in particular, Ichiro, of course.
A note on the Seattle Mariners:
Nothing ever has my name on it. Ever since I was a kid and would fall into a tourist trap, I'd scrounge rows and racks of plastic license plates, porcelain bells, rainbow mugs and metal keychains, looking for one that said MARLA. It just didn't exist. There were seven different spellings of Karen (like how today there are nine different spellings of Kayla on those things), but no Marla. So my parents would buy me tchotchkes that said MARIA and they'd draw a little stick on the i. Or, in the case of one very special evening during my youth, my father stopped at Linens 'n' Things on the way home from work. He came home with personalized soaps for everybody: My mom got LINDA, Jen got JENNIFER and Steph got STEPHANIE. (This was before Lauren was born, when, as we like to tell her, we were happy.) My soap? GUEST. I still have that Guest soap as a reminder of the fact that my name is insignificant to life.
So where all of this is going is: In Seattle, I found one! I am now the proud owner of a magnet that says
#1 [Seattle Mariners logo] FAN
MARLA
And you know what? I am. Now I am the Seattle Mariners' very greatest fan. Because of my magnet. That's as good as any reason to like a baseball team, right?
Here's my problem with this little message:
I'm all for reminding people to keep it real, but isn't the point effectively lost when you use a smiley face to encourage others to mature in nature? Just me? M'kay.
We took a tour of Underground Seattle. The Seattle you see today was actually built on top of the original Seattle, which burnt to the ground in the early 1900s. (Something about a careless kid with a soldering iron and a can of kerosene, or some such thing.) Pioneer Square is the oldest neighborhood in the city and home to some of the most beautiful architecture, like this tall building:
Even so, Seattle is just like any other city in that its classic architecture is often crowded out by unsightly modern structures. To wit: Notice the parking structure in front of the building. They call it the Titanic, because it looks like a sinking ship. Understandably, the locals hate it.
It would really be disturbing
if people had tails. Just an observation. What would we do with our pants?
And that picture is pretty much the trip. The coffee. The newspaper. The Josh. The chillin'. The best.
More pictures of August/September regression to come ...
Labels: childhood, dirty, food, friends, grammar, photos, pop culture, sports, the hubs, travel, work
posted by Marla at 10:37 PM
7 Comments:
I hear ya, sister, on the nothing-has-my-name front. I had to freakin' get baptized Greek and get a Greek name--so now I have a dorky mini-license-plate that says Zoe...in Greek letters. That makes me a big fan of...Europe?
Gorge market photos!
Out of all of those pictures you didn't include the one of the #1 Seattle Mariners Fan: Marla? I don't believe it exists, I really don't. Concepcion exists, Kristen/Christine/Kirsten/Christina/Chris/Kristina/Kris exist, but Marla... I don't believe. I want photographic evidence.
Oh, and those peaches look really good. And probably because they look like butts. Little, juicy butts.
I loved reading this entry. I learned so much about the Pacific Northwest. I also learned that there is an apostrophy after Farmers in Farmers' Market. I never knew that! You seem really happy. You also look to.die.for.happy.
Lovin' ya. AG
Oh my gosh, Zora, do they even make those knicknacks with the letter Z at all? At least I could fudge a Maria, but the Tchotchke People gave you NOTHING to work with. If it's any consolation, you do have the coolest name ever. Even so, I'll make you something with your name on it with office supplies next time you come to work. We take what we can get.
Steph, hold onto yer hat. I shall provide.
Aww, Amy, you're too kind. I got to eat donut peaches, which look like juicy butts, so I'm totally happy. You would LOVE the Pacific Northwest. The air is so clean and the people are just kind and creative and relaxed, and everybody is very aware of what's going on around them in a world-view kind of way. It's weird: We saw a lot of homeless people and teenage parents, and there is a tremendous amount of poverty and, especially in Seattle, drugs, but there was also so much willingness. The cities are still growing into their identities but they're excellent places. You absoutely have to get out there and explore. The coffee is outrageous.
I found the homeless in Seattle very aggressive (in the short time I was there) -- I'm used to the street people of NYC, who adhere to the unwritten contract that says you may ignore them. (Except for the really crazy ones, of course.)
Never found a "Mollie" tchotchke, either. Although once a Current stationery catalogue featured announcement cards that had been customized to read, "Mollie had puppies!" My family had some fun with that.
Hey, Marla. Just wanted to let you know that I'm very much enjoying your blog--and your photos. Ever do any professional photography?
I found the homeless in Seattle very aggressive, too, Mollie. One woman approached our table twice to ask for money while we were eating dinner in the outdoor space of a restaurant, and I've never seen that happen in New York. Not that it doesn't happen, but you know what I mean; panhandling here is much more drive-by.
I would put money on your family making a lot of "Mollie had puppies!" comments should you and the fiancé decide to have kids. Thanks, Current stationery catalogue! (Also, I admire your usage of the -gue in catalog. So much a better spelling than -og.)
Jackie, thanks for the compliments! I love taking pictures, but I don't think anybody would actually pay me to stand there with my point-and-shoot digital camera, hoping for the best. I am having a love affair with the macro function on the camera, however (hence, all the close-ups). I can't tell you how flattered I am by your comment, though! I think it's more about luck for me than skill ... You wouldn't believe how much I delete. I have to say, though, that you're not the first person who's asked me that question, so maybe one day ...
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