20th Anniversary Trip

Having just returned from a fabulous anniversary trip, I thought I would share a few highlights of Jim and Lori's excellent adventure to Victoria. Jim surprised me for our 20th anniversary by making all the travel arrangements to an undisclosed location.

Jim did a wonderful job, in spite of his reputation for travel planning, and as you can see, I am one happy camper when I learn where we are staying. Included below are some journal entries that highlight our amazing trip. Since I originally started this blog as a travel blog, I will focus on pertinent info. for all you hopeful travelers out there. I have listed our amazing food travels, including costs and addresses of some of our favorite haunts. Enjoy the trip, we sure did!

On our first day in Victoria, we spend a good deal of time familiarizing ourselves with our surroundings, and of course, making plans for our next meal. We make our way along the harbor and side streets until we arrive at "The Gates of Harmonious Interest" signaling our arrival into China Town.

Turning onto Fan Tan Alley, we squeeze through a narrow passageway littered with brightly colored shops and low hanging signs.


We stumble across a funky coffee house called "Bean around the World" and duck inside.
The eclectic mix of Moroccan bazaar, combined with the sweet smell of home baked goods peaks my curiosity. As I step inside I know instantly that I love this place!

Maybe it's the full size street light with all three colors aglow in the corner of the dining room that wins my affection, or the organic sacks of grain piled in the corner, or maybe it's the simple plank flooring, reminding me that the connection between ages past and present sometimes meet in the most unexpected places.
I order a delicious carmelo and Jim sips an americano while we both devour the most amazing piece of carrot cake I have ever laid eyes on. The music, a strange mix (think jazz meets zither) softly plays in the background. This is definitely a locals' place - no Starbucks atmosphere here.
This is the spot for the best coffee I've had, hands down. If you visit Victoria and are not easily frightened by the pierced and tatooed crowd, you are in for a treat at "Bean Around the World coffee".

We also found our way to Munro's books. A lovely bookstore in the heart of Victoria's downtown, Munro's is a treasure trove of literature in a beautiful historic building.
Irish Times Pub, our choice for dinner, located on Government and View at Bastion Square, boasts hearty pub fare and a jovial crowd. We are seated near the band which begins playing shortly after our arrival. The performer reminds us of an Irish Paul Simon. He is fantastic. He actually sings a song he wrote as a tribute to Elvis impersonators everywhere. How can you not love someone like that?

Jim orders the fish and chips, which we hear are pretty amazing. I decide to branch out of my comfort zone and order the Vancouver Island Fish Cake and I am not disappointed. In case the picture does not produce the desired effect, let me just spell it out for you. My selection, a symphony of dungeness crab, halibut, and brioche, with a poached egg served on a bed of greens, is unbelievable - and I don't even know what brioche is!
We settle in and enjoy our delicious feast with a couple of drinks and I even buy a c.d. from Paul, our performer (his name really is Paul).
Our second day we purchase a ticket for the hop on, hop off Grayline bus. This allows us to explore areas a bit too far to walk to. I snap a few photos of some beautiful churches.




While we stretch our legs, we stumble upon an interesting restaurant that I'm pretty sure will not disappoint. Floyds, on the corner of Quadra and Yates, is just the ticket if you like exceptional food with considerable atmosphere.
Don't let the flamingo pink color discourage you - this is the place to be for breakfast!

Jim enjoys a little wait in the unusually decorated restaurant - I think the employees may have just brought whatever they had in their apartments to work one day; either that or Goodwill had a sale.Wearing my one hippie sweater, I congratulate myself on "fitting in" with the mostly bohemian wait staff. However, as we await our table, my eye quickly catches a poster advertising an exotic dancers for cancer fundraising event and I realize, sadly, I am only a visitor here.

Floyds attracts a diverse crowd, all brought together for the shared experience of all day breakfast, casual dress, and what the nice man next to me refers to as "energy."

Jim, not as comfortable in his newly acquired surroundings, nevertheless a good sport, approaches our discovery with caution. I however, briefly consider getting a tatoo.

I hearken back fondly to my time with Greenpeace. It will probably come as a shock to most of you, but many years ago I organized and led a coalition to stop whaling. I relentlessly petitioned the Ambassador of Japan, writing several harshly phrased letters on behalf of whales everywhere. I even had a following of cohorts who, at my urging, agreed to take up the cause.
Okay, it may have only been about five of my friends, and I may have been in the fifth grade, but with pen in hand I considered myself a formidable ally with my Greenpeace associates.

I do remember worrying that I might be viewed as a threat to U.S. security should my letters to the ambassador be intercepted.

During this time we lived in the Pacific Northwest. Imagine my surprise when Mt. St. Helen's erupted in 1980 and the blast shook our house. Since I was generally an obedient and law abiding child, I lived with the occasional fear commonly acquainted with a life lived on the edge of civil disobedience. It should come as no surprise then that with the eruption of Mt. St. Helens I would naturally be concerned that perhaps my letters had angered the Japanese government. In my eleven year old mind I weighed the probability that the Japanese government finally decided to launch a full scale attack in retaliation against my people. Imagine my relief when I realized it was just the volcano erupting!

I decide against the tatoo after I recall a story about a friend of mine who, in her college years, suffered the natural consequences of poorly selected tatoo placement. Succumbing to peer pressure, she had Winnie-the-Pooh permanently engraved on her abdomen. Many years and three C-sections later, Winnie, no longer a "cuddly little cubby", sadly now morphed into a garish, misshapen caricature of a once beloved childhood icon. In Solomonic irony, her tatoo serves as a reminder of her unfortunate choice.

Whatever your political affiliation, left leaning, conservative, anarchist, green party, Floyds offers delicious, large portioned meals with a sense of humor - which I love! Some of their selections include: The Donald Trump Benny - chicken with apple chutney, and a curry hollandaise sauce; Eggs Ben-Hur - sundried tomatoes with spinach, mushrooms and feta. The Seinfeld - an eggs white omelet - because it's about nothing. I settle on the American Idol Benny -tomato, bacon, avocado, brie cheese topped with an herb pesto hollandaise sauce. If heaven has a taste, I believe it will be the American Idol Benny. Jim orders the Lumberjack - which boasts, "after eating this, you'll either want to take a nap or build something." Breakfast runs around $10.00 a plate.

If heaven has a taste, I believe it will be the American Idol Benny!

We must walk off all this food so we decide to visit the Royal B.C. Museum. A traveling exhibit is in Victoria and it proves well worth the $29.00 ticket. Make sure to throw your walking shoes in though!

Taking a break from the museum, we rest a spell on the veranda of the Empress, where we enjoy a little iced tea, watching the ships troll the harbor while we linger a while longer over our drinks.
Here is a picture of the inside of the Empress

Here is our room Our view from our room- overlooking the harbor
We also tour a castle
We make a new friend One of my highlights was tea at the Empress
The next morning we follow a lead from a local at Floyd's who told us about a great place to eat. Pagliocci's at 1011 Broad St. Another homerun!



Pagliocci's only serves breakfast on Sundays and we happen to hit it just right. Surrounded by bikers, we cram into the restaurant where we dive into the hot bagels brought to our table while we peruse our menu. After some deliberation, Jim selects the eggs benedict while I have the "Cool Hand Luke" special of the day -I'm reminded of Shakespeare - A rose by any other name... I am a sucker for a breakfast with a catchy title and I love Paul Newman. Similarly, I choose not to order the "Hot Transvestite" on principle.

The food is superb! We decide to push our luck and try one more place that our Floyd's friend mentioned for dinner.
Il Terrazzo on Waddington and Johnson, way off the beaten path in the back of an alley was our destination for dinner. After tonight's gastronomic delights I must say that if I happen to run into our friend from Floyd's I might have to kiss that man full on the mouth. It was that good!

I challenge my sweet hubby of 20 years to order something unusual, anything but lasagne! We're in luck because Il Terrazzo does not serve lasagne- hooray! Jim accepts my challenge and selects the buffalo ribs with mashed potatoes and fennel. I'm so proud of him!
I can't wait to dig into my chicken with scallops and prawns over a fuscili pasta with a three cheese sauce. Dinner here runs between $16 - $30. The service is fantastic and the food devine!
We happily settle into our little corner table with a private fireplace. I have the greatest husband ever!

A wonderful trip and great anniversary! We can't wait for our next adventure!

Fashionista

From time to time I get a call to help with some design or decorating dilemma. I make a little money and really enjoy the challenge of creating a visually appealing space that is a reflection of the people who live there. The calls range from, "I'll pay you to help me pick out colors" to "I need new furniture for my house - here's my credit card." (Okay, that last one only happened once, but man was it fun!)

My heart sings when I walk into a well apportioned room, or when I manage to find that classic pencil skirt that fits perfectly. I think this interest began in high school, although visual diversity has developed through at least one uncomfortable situation (see following story). It is just a reminder that youthful exuberance should never be confused with actual skill.

One day I had to run into the local Fred Meyer to pick something up. I had just come from my high school. I was wearing a blue and white striped shirt with a blue vest, blue skirt, white tights, blue earrings, and blue flats. Oh - I also had my blue purse with me. I was styling!
I remember spending a lot of time picking out each piece of my wardrobe and feeling really good about the "matchiness" of it all.

I parked my car and walked up to the door when a man stopped me and asked how late the deli was open. I thought to myself, why would he think I would know that?

At the speed of thought - I realized, to my absolute horror, that he thought I worked at Fred Meyer. Oh my gosh! I was dressed like a deli girl! The poor man's face turned multiple shades of red as he realized I was not coerced into my attire but actually chose my ensemble of my own free will. His face must have matched mine as our mutual mortification sunk in. I still remember the look on his face as he said, "Oh, I thought you..." he stopped in mid sentence. Awkward silence followed. I didn't even go into the store. I went home and threw away my purse.

Confessions

When I was in Kindergarten I had a desk next to a girl named Jamie. One of the kids in our class had a birthday and instead of passing out cupcakes for his birthday, he passed out twinkies. We all got one twinkie. I ate mine and then noticed that Jamie had not eaten hers. I asked her why she didn't eat her twinkie. She said she was saving it to give to her mom.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with remorse for heartlessly eating my own twinkie and not saving it for my mom.

Sitting there, in my Hollie Hobbie dress and white laced anklet socks, with cream filling on my face, I made a terrible decision.

I waited for my opportunity.

School was almost out. Jamie was momentarily distracted. I reached my hand into my best friend Jamie's desk, and swiped her twinkie.

My mom picked me up from school and my aunt was visiting. In the car I pulled out the stolen twinkie and said in my sweetest voice,
"Here Aunt Judy. Here is the twinkie that I saved for you. Most of the kids ate theirs, but I wanted you to have mine."

A teensy twinge of guilt washed over me.

Later that night, my mom came into my room and said,
"Lori, I just want you to know how proud I am that you saved your twinkie and gave it to Aunt Judy. That was such a big girl thing to do and I'm so proud of you."

Mom had no idea that her big girl was anklet deep in a life of crime and deceit.

Ugh! Now I felt the guilt of my sin. I still could not bear to tell my mom the truth of the twinkie heist, and so I prayed for forgiveness and hoped that Jamie thought she mistakingly ate her twinkie.

I often think back to poor Jamie and wonder what happened to her. I hope this wasn't the beginning of the end of her selfless acts of kindness and compassion. I hope she didn't develop an eating disorder out of fear of never having enough. I hope the teacher believed her at the end of the day when she said she lost her twinkie and was saving it for her mom and could she please have another? I hope Jamie was able to connect with future desk mates and that she did not develop a deep seeded distrust of humanity that would end sadly and tragically on a water tower later.

I'm so sorry Jamie! If you're ever in the area please stop by. I have a whole box of twinkies that I can't seem to eat.

Blessing my Home

In the interest of loving my family and keeping my sanity, I have been spending time organizing my home by creating "zone" cleaning areas - based on cleaning in 15 min. increments. Now, I am a fairly neat and tidy person -most days - However, I seem to have some areas that never quite get tackled.

I am retraining myself to not just clean my house, but rather to "bless my house." I have discovered that when I change the way I look at housework from "chores" to "blessings" it really changes my attitude of what I am called to do. I love my family and I want them to thrive in a place of peace and order. I am more at peace when my home is well ordered so I know my family must be as well. I am also reminded that "housework done imperfectly still blesses my family."

I love to have an efficient system for things and I think this zone cleaning thing may be the ticket. We'll have to wait and see.

We are also working on finding 27 items to either throw or give away every day (actually within 10 min.), purging our house of accumulated junk. The kids were in charge of finding 27 things in their rooms today in the span of 10 minutes. Brooke found 72! I said hey great - that's 27 backward! Way to go! In case you're wondering why "27?" - in Hebrew, the numbers represent letters which, when put together, make up a word. The two that make up 27 translate into English as "pure, spotless, clean." These ideas can be found by going to flylady - she is the founder of this system. She actually calls the collecting of 27 items the "27 fling boogies" - now, as an elementary school teacher, "boogies" mean something entirely different to me. It took me 2 chapters to figure out she meant dancing. It is still a little hard for me to get a rather icky image out of my mind here. I must rename this assignment. Here are a few ideas that have worked rather well for me in the area of housecleaning:

~ start the day by always making your bed - first thing!

~ get dressed first thing in the morning - you will be more productive if you're dressed for "work". It is easy for stay at home moms (this is me this year) to stay in sweat pants or pj's but you will increase your productivity and desire for a clean home if you do this one little thing .

~ have one day a week you plan your menu for the entire week, make up a grocery list at the same time.

~ clean in 15 min. increments

~ keep your sink clean! Don't let dishes pile up in there.

~ decide the night before what you will wear in the morning- this is a very helpful tool to teach your kids - they will learn that a little forethought gives them peace in the morning.

~ Divide your home into 5 zones. Clean one zone a week.

~ Give yourself one day a week for weekly "house blessing" - this will be one hour of house cleaning that must be done. Stay focused here! Set your timer for 10 min. increments and "bless" away.

~ Keep bathroom cleaning supplies in every bathroom. I teach my kids to swish the toilet with the toilet brush every day - I let the toilet brush sit in a disinfectant solution so this is really easy for them to do. You won't want to do this if you have really little kids! Every time you go into the bathroom clean one little thing.

~ Don't wait to see dirt before you clean. Clean one zone faithfully for 15 min. every day even if it doesn't look dirty to you - this is proactive cleaning so you won't have a big job later on.

What's That You Say?

I will be 41 in a few weeks. I think I'm losing my hearing, or maybe it's my concentration. I tend to forget things also. I find that I'll be right in the middle of a sentence- usually it's a very impassioned plea I am making about something - like why the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice is the only acceptable version to watch and how I find that I must catch myself from rolling my eyes in contempt when someone tries to convince me that the most recent Hollywood version with Keira Knightly as Lizzie is not an exercise completely "wont of all propriety" (I like to throw in a little Austin-esque style for effect), full of ludicrous scenes that could never take place given the customs of the day and way too skinny girls - I am certain Miss Austin would be turning over in her grave - Oh, where was I... I have no answer for this phenomenon.

A few months ago we were attending a mock trial competition with our kids and other parents from our school. We were all standing in the hall awaiting our time to go into the courtroom. I was the chief photographer and was hanging around doing nothing in particular. Somewhere in the background I heard my friend Eva say, "Clara Path" in her cheerful voice. I thought - Oh, how funny, small world - you can go just about anywhere and find someone you know. I was lost in this thought process when I heard her yell, louder this time, "CLARA PATH!" I thought to myself, "Oh, I hope Clara sees her because wouldn't it be disappointing to see someone you know who maybe you haven't connected with in years and be so close and yet not make contact with them." Soon other voices joined my friend Eva's, all yelling "Clara Path!!" Oh - why can't Clara hear us all? Inside I was thinking why doesn't Eva take off running to catch Clara before she exits the building? Now, the really weird thing was - while all these thoughts were running through my head, Eva was just staring at me. Well, I know she knows I'm not Clara - but I could not account for that bewildered look in her eyes. Then I saw it in my husband's eyes as well - you know the look - when someone looks at you like you're from another planet - usually I'm the one looking at people like that - so it was disconcerting to be on the receiving end of the look. Jim, my husband, reached over and moved me up against the wall - just in time to let a woman with a large cart of some type pass by. It was then that I realized that Eva wasn't yelling out to her long lost friend, Clara Path. She was yelling at everyone to "clear a path".

The Architecture of Worship

I am married to a builder. A very good one at that. He has given me an appreciation for my man-made surroundings. Over the years I have become increasingly concerned with the lack of architectural beauty and ingenuity that pervades our landscape.

As I look through pictures of buildings I can't help but wonder what has happened to our cities? Has the adage "don't judge a book by its cover" been applied to the places we inhabit as well, or did that cliche' first stem from our compromise with architectural beauty?

It seems to me that we can learn a lot about a person or people by the buildings they inhabit. For instance, when did we decide that it was okay for our places of worship to look like boxes?

My husband and I like to play a little game we call, "name that denomination." When we are traveling through a new town we try to guess what type of church we are looking at before we ever see a denomination name.

For instance, Episcopal churches are some of the prettiest little churches around. They are generally easy to spot. The steps always lead up to the small front door, which may or may not be hand-carved, and is often, but not always, painted red. Stained glass is always present, and if the building is a few hundred years old, you might get lucky enough to find a church cemetery on the grounds. Episcopal churches are also generally quite small.

Contrast this to a Nazarene church. I'm sorry, nothing against Nazarenes, but did someone decide to design the ugliest building they could think of? Most Nazarene churches look the same. A long rectangular building, definitely Stoic inspired, with that ever popular - flat roof with minimal slant, usually painted a salmony-pink or other pastel color. Sometimes it is difficult to tell where the front door is on a Nazarene church - but rest assured, when you find it, it will be a big door. Hmm... gotta wonder if this says something about theology as well! For me, I prefer worshiping in a small front door, big back door type of church. But, that's another conversation.

Lutheran churches are also relatively easy to spot. They are larger than Episcopal churches and have stained glass, however, I think they're concerned with their dwindling numbers because they seem to be caught in a conundrum, unwilling to give up their Episcopal roots entirely, but secretly hoping to confuse unsuspecting worshippers from the Nazarene church.

I won't even mention the mega-non-denominational church. Besides, you wouldn't be able to find it, it just blends right in with all the other buildings around it. Like I said, our buildings reveal way more about us than we would ever be willing to admit.

"...One more question," Kung Chen urged. "Was it the compromisers or the resisters who came to our city?"
But Yang Anwei could not answer. Yet after a little while he said with his wrinkled smile, "I daresay it was the compromisers, for see how they have settled into our people! You have only to look at their ruined temple. Who goes there now to worship on their sacred day except a handful of them?"
"...There is something strange in them," he declared. " It is not in all of them but it is in some of them."
"What is the difference?" Kung Chen asked.
The old man hesitated and then he said shrewdly, "If they worship their god they are strange; if they do not worship him they are like other men. In my long life in this city I have seen that the worship of a special god makes a special people."
"Then what we should do," Kung Chen declared, "is to steal them away from their god, so that they will become like us."
Yang Anwei laughed noiseless old laughter. "Or else destroy their god," he retorted.
"How can we do that?" Kung Chen asked. "This god cannot be seen, he is not of stone or clay, as the gods of our common people are. He is a subtle god who lives only in their minds."
"Then destroy the god in their minds," Yang Anwei said.
"It is not hard to destroy that god."

~ Excerpt from Peony, by Pearl Buck

Traveling with Friends

Some people have that innate ability to connect with others immediately. I am married to one such person. There are no strangers when it comes to my husband, Jim. If he is in a line at the grocery store for any length of time he will emerge from the store with all sorts of new friends. I must admit, it bugs me. I love my husband dearly and appreciate this quirky side of him; but I don't get it. I am single minded when I enter a store - get in, get out, don't forget anything on your list. That's pretty much it. My husband however, is much more about the journey.

I have learned to not be surprised anymore when he finds someone in line in some obscure place that is either related to him or went to school with someone he knows. While traveling on our honeymoon we stayed at a beautiful bed and breakfast in Boston. Jim began a lengthy conversation with the couple that owned the establishment and discovered they knew a judge from his small hometown of Fallon, Nevada. Several years ago we were waiting in line in Disneyland and Jim began chatting with the gentleman standing next to us. Wouldn't you know it - this guy actually lived in my husband's small hometown a number of years earlier.

The weirdest time we met someone with whom we shared a mutual connection was when Jim went into a local art supply store. He had been taking some art classes and struck up a conversation with the lady who was helping him in the checkout line. He discovered she used to live in the old Wenatchee house that we were currently occupying.

We bought the home when we first moved to Wenatchee and fell in love with the 1910 architecture and the central location. Jim and I both have a passion for older homes and always want to know the "story" behind each one. When we moved into our older home we made a bizarre discovery.

Up in a corner, on a ledge, we discovered the cremated remains of a woman named "Eleanor". She was in her original packaging with her name and date. We checked with the former owners but they never noticed the container. Eleanor soon became a part of our house; or maybe we became a part of hers.

We left Eleanor in the room where we found her - the basement laundry room. I began greeting her whenever I came in to do laundry - I was secretly hoping she might do the laundry when I left. I do believe in creating "good house vibes" and wanted Eleanor to know I respected her position in the home.

Jim, on the other hand, did not share my sincerity. He thought it would be okay to dump Eleanor out. I would have none of this. I'm not sure if he really thought that would be okay or if he was just messing with me. I was determined to keep Eleanor happy until we could find her safely home.

At one point, early on, I became uncomfortable with my role as shared mistress of the house. I suggested to Jim that we might take her to the police department - maybe they could put her in their missing persons department or something. Jim didn't seem to think this would work.

Over time, Eleanor and I developed an understanding - I was her protector and would converse with her in a respectful manner - and she would not haunt me. In the end, it was my husband with his friendly ways who saved Eleanor.

It turned out that the lady in the checkout line used to live in our old Wenatchee house in the 1970's. Jim told her about our laundry room discovery and she almost passed out.
"That's my husband's aunt. We misplaced her!"

The very next day, bright and early, the lady's husband showed up on our doorstep to claim their missing person. While I was relieved to finally have Eleanor returned to her family, I began to miss her. Something was wrong with the house - it was like losing someone, sort of. My husband just shook his head and didn't understand. But I think Eleanor understood. Eleanor and I had an understanding - protection in exchange for peace. The sad thing is, after Eleanor left I stopped sneaking a peek to see if maybe -this time- the laundry was mysteriously done.