Trying hard to feel cool

I don't know if a single part of my life makes me feel lame, or if it's a composite of multiple elements. Living in a suburb, which was our choice, makes me feel displaced from the pulse of culture. To any suburban-raised city-dweller, I'm sure this comes as no surprise.

Here's an example disconnection: when living in NYC circa 2006, I dreamed of moving to a new corner of the country. In my research of the Pacific Northwest I learned of KEXP, Seattle's most robust, alternative not-for-profit radio station. I streamed their station to my PC at work, and fell in love with this faraway city. I envisioned a sleepy, gloomy metropolis with good music pumping from every city bus. KEXP features live in-studios, album reviews, DJ mixes on podcast, and free audio candy on their website daily. They avoid canned radio-friendly hits in favor of a broad range of artists and genres. I mean, I like Adele as much as the next American, but the local radio slaughters her by playing Rolling in the Deep ad nauseum.

When I uprooted to Seattle, the familiarity of KEXP and its DJs served as a bridge as I settled into my new city. KEXP didn't fail to disappoint (except for Wo-Pop, their weekly foray into world music). Since the station is "listener-powered", they don't air car dealership or 5-Hour Energy commercials. Instead, they do quarterly membership drives, and their connection with the community (and Seattle's deep pockets) is broad. I was a happy supporter of this invaluable cultural resource. When we decided to move to CT, the prospect of saying goodbye to my favorite station bummed me out.

As feared, here in Hartford the local radio fails to excite or educate (ok, NPR does educate). My brother-in-law introduced me to "Somebody that I Used to Know" by Gotye this past weekend and it was the most amazing song I've heard in a while (besides The Black Keys new album, El Camino). It brought me back to my two-glasses-of-wine-and-download-iTunes days as a single Seattle gal. This song came out in December, and this was the first time I heard it? I felt late to the party.

Granted, I can stream KEXP at work on my phone, and I suppose I could download their podcasts for my morning commute....maybe that'll make me feel better about driving to work in my Subaru, off to corporate America. My other proposed antidotes to uncoolness are:
a) visit my sis and family in Brooklyn regularly
b) keep reading New York and Bust mags so I know what's up in the greatest city and the world of hip ladies, respectively
c) return to Crossfit and kick the sh*t out of suburban blues

Days Gone By

My Aunt Monique just passed away at age 43.

My dad came by yesterday to dismantle our box spring, which didn't fit up the stairs. We chatted a bit, while I was getting ready to meet my uncle for a run in the res. My dad called me out to the garage, and he was obviously upset. He said, "My sister died." I immediately guessed Monique, and good thing, because my dad has six sisters, and that wouldn't be a fun game.

(she's second to left)

Monique was the youngest of the nine Michaud children. I remember her as a Conard High School cheerleader and camp counselor at Beachland Park. She had her own powder blue Honda Civic, a water bed, made lanyards, and had friends with '80s names like Susie and Lynn. Needless to say, I thought she was the coolest when I was in elementary school. I even had a short pleated wool skirt, which I considered my homage to Aunt Monique. (Also, my middle name is Monique, after her).

(she's the blonde on the left)

Upon graduating, Monique couldn't get out of the Connecticut fast enough, and enrolled at University of Central Florida. My parents took me and Ashley to Orlando when I was in third grade, and we crashed with Monique in her sunny Florida apartment. We all went to Disneyland and Sea World, and I wore my Thriller shirt for approximately four days straight. Monique had Alphabets cereal, which she kept on top of her fridge, and that was pretty enlightening when all I knew was Kix. Did I mention she had a sweet tooth? She had an unabashed big appetite for junk food.

During my senior year at Conard, my mom took me and Ashley to Florida again. By that time, Monique had graduated and was making big bucks, thanks to the late-90s real estate boom. She had a big home in a subdivision with a built-in pool. She was married to a nice guy and had a baby daughter, and a sharpei named Kong. She drove a Mustang convertible, had a hearty laugh, a big butt, and big blonde bangs. She was living the life, in that central Florida kind of way.

(still on the left, cheering on the Cheiftan hockey team)

I last saw Monique with her two kids at Ashley's wedding, two years ago. Monique was still fun loving, but she had packed on a lot of weight. Her glory days as a hot real estate agent were gone, and she had begun selling burial plots for a living. She was divorced, and remarried, and didn't have much to her name. Still, she met Dave and saw me pregnant, and it was nice to see her.

See died suddenly on Monday of a heart attack, after being hospitalized briefly a few months ago for an unknown heart condition, and a diabetes diagnosis. I feel bad for her kids the most. And it is strange that one of the nine Michaud kids is gone.

I prefer to think of her in her glory days, as the cute blonde cheerleader that she was. And she was the apple of Pepere's eye.

West Coast Family

Dave and I just wrapped up a decent dinner that had hints of white trash. Turkey meatball subs on white hot dog buns, with a Caesar salad-in-a-bag, and canned peas. It reminds me of when I was a young girl and I went to my best friend's house the night her mom served Steak-Umms for

dinner. I hadn't been privy to this glorious processed meat, and I ran home and tried to persuade my mom to buy summ. She looked at me like, "Really, Shawna, Steak-Umms? I made cream-puff swans for my last dinner party." I must accredit the salad-in-a-bag to Dave. He likes it, and went to the store for me, so I averted my eyes to the epic ingredients list, and tossed the listless leaves with the mini-bag of croutons. The canned peas are part of my Let's Clean Out the Cupboards initiative. Dave asserted it wasn't white trashy enough, as he was enjoying a glass of white wine.

We haven't been eating too well these past few weeks. There's just a lot going on, and at the end of the day I'm not really inspired to prepare an elaborate dish. If there's something green and some protein on the plate, I'm satisfied. Tuesday night we grilled sausages, made a broccoli salad, and ate dinner off our laps on the back steps.

Dave and I have been playing the game What I Won't Miss over dinner. We randomly list things

we won't miss about Seattle. For example, I won't miss our upstairs neighbors who host drunken board game parties directly above our bed! On Monday nights! C-ya! Dave won't miss the lackluster summer. 60 degrees and overcast in mid-June? C-ya! But sometimes our conversation veers to what we will miss: life-affirming Americanos, Edie's caregivers at daycare, our buddies, taco trucks, Crossfit, and most of all, the Kitzmans.

Moving cross-country is stressful for both of us, but we are going towards my people. The Kitzmans have been nothing but accepting and giving since the moment I met them. Dave has a pretty small family, composed of his mom, sister, dad, two nephews, and some cousins throughout the Puget Sound. His mom (hi Cookie!) has bought me and his sister (hi Becky!) to season tickets at the 5th Avenue Theater for the past couple of years. After Cookie treats us to a nice dinner out (no Steak-Umms in sight), we check out musicals including In the Heights and The Drowsy Chaperone, two of my faves. She also watches Edie every week, one day if not more, when I'm at work. She takes Edie for walks, to her favorite yarn and sock stores, and even sends me photo-documentation during the day.

Whenever Dave's dad accompanies her (hi Art!), he drives me to the office. He must consider King County Metro a rough-and-tumble operation. Art and I chat about random things on our weekly commute, such as his experience in the Navy, or his relationship with his sister Delores growing up, but I have yet to learn why he doesn't swim. I've grown to look forward to our one-on-one, 12-minute conversations.

Becky is my West Coast sister. She loves being Aunt Becky (which she pronounces "Ant"), and brings little outfits for Edie when she babysits. Aunt Becky spent a whole weekend with Edie a couple weeks ago, and the girls wore matching outfits to a family brunch. Pretty cute.

So the bad news is we will really miss the Kitzmans. But the good news is we'll have strong family ties to Seattle, forever. And, Skype. And the internet and airplanes.

I can say that now

Dave and I were planning on leaving Seattle after Fourth of July weekend. Dave wanted a bit of time after his school year ended to pack/get rid of our stuff, say our goodbyes, and so on. We were operating under the assumption that we could leave our apartment whenever, but our landlord and Dave had a little chat over the weekend, and it turns out they'd prefer a clean break at the end of a month, any month. So we picked the end of June. Which mean- amazingly- we have six weeks to go.

Although I'm excited about being closer to my New England family and friends, we'd both be more stoked if either of us had jobs. Just one job would help justify our bold leap from good jobs to no jobs (in 2011 mind you), from our own place to crashing at my parents' house (Thanks Mom and Dad! We like Crest toothpaste. Heh heh).

We're optimistic that one of us will cinch a job, but if memory serves, being unemployed sucks. I think it mostly gets under your skin because you don't know how long you'll have to scrape away at your meager budget. Given a defined time frame, unemployment would be a lot more tolerable. The same phsychological effect happens on people waiting for a bus- when they know how long they'll be waiting, it doesn't seem so bad.

My last day of work will be exactly my 5 year anniversary of my arrival in Seattle. Since then, I met Dave, got married, had a baby, and became an urban planner. Oh, and I also lived in five different apartments, got my identity stolen, kept a couple plants alive, ran a half marathon, and met some awesome friends. Despite my family's tepid support for my 2006 move, and some warnings that it was hard to make friends in the Northwest, I really hit my stride here. I might even say Seattle was the best strategic decision I ever made.

I thought I'd be happier at the prospect of moving home. I am happy, there are just so many unknowns that it's hard to visualize a Connecticut life, and while my parents, their siblings, and a handful of my friends are local, most of my generation has spread to Boston, NYC, Providence, and beyond. Of course, our Connecticut life will shape up over time, just like anything. What does get me excited is the idea of water skiing a lot this summer. And the hot, hot heat of New England in July. We've got a short, lovely summer here but honestly I will not miss the grey skies, 40 degree-Aprils, and months of drizzle. I can say that now, because we're on our way out!

My Memere, Julie Michaud

My Memere passed away on Sunday. (Memere is the French word for Grandma, pronounced meh-MAY). I was very close to her growing up. She had a wonderful, long life dedicated to her big family (9 children and 18 grandchildren!) and her home sewing business. She was the quintessential nurturing grandma. Sadly, I wasn't able to attend her service back in Connecticut this week but here's something I wrote in the Hartford Courant's online obituary:

I grew up with two Grandmas- both very strong women in their own ways. One wore a hard hat to work, the other, Memere, baked and sewed. I enjoyed that they were on two ends of the spectrum.

My sister Ashley and I spent a lot of time at Memere and Pepere's house growing up. For years, our parents dropped us off on Saturday nights so they could go dancing in Hartford with friends. Memere let us drink chocolate milk and eat slices of American cheese. We thought we'd gone to heaven. Memere sat in her rocker sewing, Pepere in his recliner snoring, and the t.v. was a constant companion. In the winter, a fire crackled all night. In the warmer months, we'd come and go to Molly and Marshall's house across the back yard.

Memere let us be curious, energetic kids. She let us rummage through her tin bucket of buttons and play store with her fabric scraps. She was so tolerant and forgiving, although once in a while she'd raise her voice. Her love was drawn from an endless well. As a parent, I hope to have a fraction of the patience she had with all of us. We love you Memere.

My Friend Craig

I love Craigslist. I love that I can look around my house, pick out random items that no longer make sense, or things that will likely be too annoying to move cross country (I'm looking at you, glass-topped patio table). I snap a picture, name a price, and it's on the market. If I'm selling something that people want, like outdoor furniture, then it's off my hands that day. And if I'm selling a half-used can of VOC-free paint, well, in Seattle, that's also out the door same day. (The only thing I really couldn't
sell was my scanner-printer. I admit, it was a little clunky and often underfoot, but it was a pretty decent machine for $30! Oh well, some lucky Goodwill-goer got a deal.)

I love Craigslist's bare bones, never-changed web site. It's so functional and plain in a sea of banner ads, invasive movie trailers, and general online clutter. I hope they never give the page a facelift.

I love that when all goes well, an interested buyer shows up at my door, takes my unwanted goods, and hands me a cool $40. Usually, the exchange is with an interesting person. Sometimes the lowest common denomenator between us is the item for sale. One time while living in Queens, I sold my record player because I wanted the cash more than I wanted to listen to my six records. A young man who'd answered my ad arrived with a white dog who possessed the size and mannerisms of a horse. The dog looked around the apartment like it was thinking "This all you got?". When they left, I wondered how the guy was going to fit the dog and the record player in an NYC apartment.

I love that my stuff gets new life. Tonight a young pregnant lady arrived to buy one of Edie's three strollers (yes three, that's why it's for sale). We've treaded around town and flown cross country with it, but it's time to get a running stroller, so I had to get rid of something. Now a new mom and baby will get to enjoy it.

I love that as a buyer, you can say no. I recently looked at a BOB Revolution, which seems to be The Stroller to Have, especially if you're a runner or hiker. It's the SUV of strollers. I went to a family's home, where the husband whisked me inside with a Very Firm Handshake. He and his wife were both tall, had perfect teeth, and lovely thick hair. She was training for the Boston Marathon, and he is probably an Ironman champ. I felt so small next to them, and the BOB seemed so big close up. So big, in fact, that I could fit inside, let alone push a baby in it. The BOB fit them, not me, so I said thank you, and left.

Granted, not all Craigslist interactions are so swell. I always make sure Dave is home if I have strangers coming over. They're still strangers. And I make sure I have my phone on me if I go to a seller's house. I tell Dave, "If I'm not back in a half an hour, start getting scared."

Anyway, I need to continue looking for a jogging stroller. I'm going to hit up my friend Craig.

Wish you were here

One day when I've got Seattle in our rearview mirror, I will not think of my time here as lonely. But the truth is, some days are. Seattle's not to blame; there's been moments or stretches of loneliness in every city, at every age. There's something about cold winter days, being stuck inside, living on a budget, that makes days seem a little long. All I want to do is drink coffee and watch movies, but Edie does not think that's a good way to spend our day.

Loneliness can lead to productivity, or it can lead to wasting time on the internet, or to cleaning house, or cooking, or writing that email I've been meaning to write. Some days I wish I lived near my mom or sister or Michelle. Most of my friends I make plans with ahead of time. I don't just swing by their house and watch t.v. We plan events. With my family ladies, I could drop by unannounced with my baby, sit at the kitchen table talking and drinking coffee, chopping carrots to make chicken pot pie for dinner. That is what I want to do today.

This afternoon Edie and I sat at our front window, watching people walk by and crows pick around our yard. Edie talked to the birds and made confetti out of Kleenex. Dave will be home soon, and I might convince him to treat me to a lamb burger and glass of red wine at Eva. And I rented Stand by Me. Sounds like a suitable, wintery Saturday night date.

Kitzman Family Snow Day!

Seattle gets hit with a snowstorm once a year, and even if they're not big storms, they bring the city to its knees because there are like, two snow plows. And no one knows how to navigate Seattle's steep hills in the snow. And many people do not even own shovels. So when the snow gets packed down and the temperatures drop, it's a snowpocalypse.

Well yesterday was such a day, and I might've scoffed at Dave when he pre-emptively checked for school closures in the morning, but the joke was on me when I tried to get a bus home at 4pm. Ever the weather optimist, I thought the snow wouldn't stick and I was playing it safe by leaving the office early. I heard a fellow public transporter mention that he'd been waiting for the #5 for an hour (not my bus but generally a good bet), so I hopped on a local bus a few minutes later. This one takes a roundabout route on an average day, and I figured it'd take a while, but all buses would. After inching through a few intersections, we waited in gridlock a mile from downtown for two hours. Two painful hours. I tried to pretend I was on an airplane, to just sit back and enjoy my book. But after an hour and a half I said 'Cuss this' and got off and walked.

It was frig.id. And my phone was on the verge of dying, so I walked into the nearest establishment (Jillian's) and asked Dave to pack up the baby and pick me up. Now I know why I never go to Jillian's. For one, they have a dish called Chicken Fettucheesy. For two, they have waiters who neglect your freezing ass unless you are wearing a Seahawks jersey. My hero Dave arrived with the girl, in my warm chariot and we were home in 7 minutes (3 hours after I left work). Curse you, Seattle Metro!!

Dave's school was cancelled today, and I decided to work from home. In between naps, we bundled Edie in her new snowsuit and braved the cold but beautiful day. Dave took a snooze, I actually got some work done, and we made grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. I think Edie was wondering, "Hey, why are we all together? I'm supposed to be at day care". But she was happy and so were we.

For dinner, Dave made "Indian Spiced Kale & Chickpeas" with pork chops, a recipe from our CSA, and it was awesome. We finished it off with some hot cider and rum. Snow days are good as long as you don't have to be anywhere.

License to Chill

Well, well, well. What do we have here? The end of summer? But you're here so soon....

Maybe it isn't the official end of summer, but it sure feels like it because Dave's going back to work, which means I'll no longer have a daytime companion of the adult variety. Someone I can talk baseball with and hand the baby to when I want to eat lunch. Looks like it's just me and the little sack a' taters from now on...which is fun, she's just not one for conversation.

Edie's favorite hobbies include sleeping on me (which is the most awesome), sleeping while moving, and eating. She has no interest in being held without undivided attention. She's like "You think you're gonna check your email but I see you're not looking at me-WAAAAH!". It is pretty interesting to see how newborns communicate with very limited means. Crying= I don't like it, try something else. Not crying= I guess this is okay. It'll be cool when she can smile so we get some positive feedback.

I am thoroughly enjoying time home with Edie. It's a completely new pace of life for me. The last time I had three months off was after graduating college. I was looking for a job in NYC, had a lot of time on my hands and a dwindling savings account. That combo sucks. Furthermore, I was raised under the impression it was a sin to be inside on sunny days. But now I have the license to stay in all damn day if that's what Edie and I want. Guilt free!
(picture above: me using the sound of my hair dryer to get Edie to sleep)
It's nice to have a job to return to in a few months, but in the meantime I'm under strict orders to take it easy, enjoy my new baby, and lavish her with attention. As much as I like to get out and do stuff, we don't venture far because she eats so often; errands are highly efficient. We've been watching a lot of MLB with Dave, we go on daily walks and get coffee around the corner and we've introduced Edie to the wonder that is Sunday brunch. Feeding and singing and dancing and reading and changing and bathing her...the days just seem to pass, no problem.

So that's our life in a nutshell. We gotta say goodbye to Dave each morning now, which is a bummer. But someone's gotta bring home the bacon!

Make Lemonade

My parents' cross country journey in a borrowed Minnie Winnie did not quite pan out as planned. After many months of planning and preparing and stocking the Winnebago, they climbed aboard and pointed it westward on July 3rd with Aunt Kitty and Uncle Steve, only to break down in Buffalo, NY. The engine was shot; the mechanic estimated it was going to be quite expensive to fix. Despite the change of plans, they kept a positive attitude. They packed only the necessary items into a rented extended cab and continued on. They visited the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Lake Erie, and then Chicago to meet up with family friends.

While Kitty and Steve returned eastward (as planned), my folks weren't sure how to best get from Chicago to Seattle- plane? train? automobile? (great movie, by the way). A one-way flight was ungodly expensive, so they booked a couple of the last remaining seats on an Amtrak train. The rest of the journey would take about 2 days.

Originally, my parents were going to help out once the baby arrives and sleep in the parked Minnie Winnie in our driveway. With no RV, that meant no place to put them. Dave and I had an idea- the upstairs apartment is vacant, and our landlords have been slowly preparing it to rent. Why not rent it to my parents? Or better yet, have them do the repairs and painting in exchange for room and board? Genius, I know. The landlords were game.

We moved our futon upstairs, along with some essentials (coffee maker, chairs, a laptop, and towels). Okay, so it's a little too minimalist, but how convenient (not to mention incredibly lucky) to have an available apartment upstairs and parents who are ready and willing to do home and yard maintenance?

A few days ago, Kitty called my mom to tell her they'd returned to the Minnie Winnie and salvaged most of the stuff they'd left behind. How awesome!? My mom is notoriously lucky. Actually, we all are.

Now that I'm done with work for a while, I'm just gonna sit back, wait for Little Kitzman, and drink lemonade.

A week in the life: Day 7

Our radio dial is basically set to KEXP, the best radio station ever. But last week was their summer pledge drive, and it's pretty grueling to listen to them solicit money all day. Now that they're back to regular programming I can tune in.

It's a glorious day because my negative, hyperactive colleague is out of the office. Makes for a much more pleasant work environment.

I walk down to Turkish Delight in Pike Place Market for lunch. I always get the same thing and it's not on the menu: lentil soup with chicken and a plain pita. This is one of the only places in the market where you can sit and watch people.

I walk down an alley on my way back to work. Lots of bars are advertising the World Cup and it makes me wish I was on vacation and able to chill out mid-workday.

Notes from the day.

The grass is so lush. It stopped me in my tracks as I walk home from the bus.

Kristin and Ashley send us baby presents and cards today. Kristin sent this little fox for the baby's room. There is a package on our doorstep every other day. It's exciting to get things ready for Little Kitzman.

A week in the life: Day 6

I'm getting burnt out taking photos all day. Here are a few from Day 6, Sunday.
They've recently added two Sunday morning classes to the Crossfit roster which opens up some good possibilities for me. The class is unique today- we walk up to the park with kettlebells and do our workout in the sun. Sweaty!

Apparently everyone and their mom decided to go to Fred Meyer today; it's a clustercuss. I can spend way too much time in here buying food and other home items.

I'm starving when I get home and have Greek yogurt, honey, nuts and berries for lunch.

Dave and I drive down to Bonney Lake for his cousin's son high school graduation. It reminds me of the party that our family threw for me, Michelle and Ali back in '98. I remember getting so much cash! I thought I could live forever on that money...Anyway, the highlight of the party was meeting three out of four Kitzman family members that I've never met.

Writing thank you notes for my baby showers. I've had three so far, and Dave's colleagues are throwing him one this week. Who do we think we are?!

A week in the life: Day 5

Breakfast of champions.

I take a walk to get an iced Americano in Tangletown. On my way home a crow swoops down over my head, cawing loudly, twice. It shook me up. I know they like shiny things but I'm not wearing sequins or anything.

Becky, Cookie and Leslie pick me up for my 'family' baby shower in Olympia.

Cupcakes! That crow would like these plates.

The host lives on a breathtaking piece of property in south Puget Sound. It's cool to look east and see water, just like home. Except there aren't 14,000 ft mountains, like Mount Rainier, in New England.

Kim's daughter Lila helps me open gifts. She calls me 'Awna' and captures my heart.

We got some awesome homemade baby stuff and a blessing read by the family.

Becky drives me to University Place where I meet up with Dave. His best friend, Mikey is in town for the weekend and the Madden family makes salmon for dinner. Hanging out on another beautiful waterfront home is a great way to end the day.