26 October 2010

Making Plans For Nigel (a short story)

The following is a short story I wrote a number of years ago - just after I graduated from the Art Institute, maybe 2003. It was published in Spindrift, Shoreline Community College's Art & Literary Journal. They have it online too, but I've never been happy with how they have it laid out. So here it is. Just because...

Making Plans for Nigel

Once Nigel gets here he wouldn't have to drink by himself anymore, thought Berk. He went into Viento's, the dark Mexican bar on second avenue. He stood near the doorway for a minute until his eyes grew accustomed to the dim. There were bare bulbs hanging down over a third of the tables, the rest just had empty sockets on the end of twisted wire. There were only a handful of people in the bar at that time of night. They looked up at him for a moment, then bent back to their drinks.

Berk went to the bar and ordered two beers. He paid for them with the bald man's money and took them to a table in the back. That was what he did in bars, since Nigel had gone. He always ordered two beers at the bar so that the bartender would think there was someone else joining him. He would walk up to the bar and wait until the bartender came up to him. Then he would glance back at the door and then at the bar clock. He would hesitate and then look up at the bartender with a calm but impatient look and order one beer. Just when the bartender would start to turn away he would look back at the door and change the order to two beers. This way the bartender would know someone would be meeting him shortly, that he wasn't all alone.

He would then take the two beers to a back table and sit down. He would drink three swallows from one beer and place it across the table from him. He would then take a drink of the other beer and roll himself a cigarette. When the cocktail waitress walked by he would flag her down and ask her for some matches. Just as she would start to turn away he would make a noise to get her attention, look towards the bathrooms, and ask her if they could see a menu. That way she would know someone else was with him, that he wasn't all alone. Later on when she would come back to check on him, he would explain that his friend had been called away for an appointment. By this time the beer opposite him would be empty and his would be half gone. The menus would be across the table near the empty beer. He would explain that he wasn't the one who had been hungry and that he would just like another beer. This way she would know that he had been with someone earlier, that he wasn't all alone.

He liked to say that Nigel had been called away for an appointment. He liked the sound of the word appointment. He would never have thought to use that word on his own, but once in a bar somewhere he had heard a man with a tie stand up and say it to a group of people he had been sitting with. The man with the tie stood up and said he had to leave, that he had an appointment to attend to. Sometimes Berk added the "to attend to" at the end, but not always. He was happy the man had said that because he had used it many times. No one could possibly think he was alone. He was happy that now no one would think he was alone and he was happy that he had come up with the idea of the two beers and the appointment. But it was also a lot of work. He did this in bars all across the city. He had to make sure he didn't go back to one too soon so that the bartender and cocktail waitress would not remember him and his friend that had to leave. It was a lot of work for his brain and it made him tired. It wore down his nerves. He would be glad when Nigel came back and he wouldn't have to do that anymore.

The bald man had not wanted to give Berk his money. It was OK, sometimes it was like that. You just had to make them see that they had to give the money. He did this by slamming the heel of his hand into their nose. If the shock didn't convince them, the pain and blood usually did. Berk's nerves were on edge that night. The bald man had been the third person he had tried to get money from after they left the mini-bank machine. The first two had not had any money with them. They must have been putting money into the machine instead of taking it out. It was OK, sometimes it was like that, but he usually didn't have to wait for three people before he got the money. And with Nigel getting out tomorrow his nerves were really shot. The bald man had started crying after he took his money, so he had had to put him in the bushes and make sure he didn't cry anymore. It was his nerves. Normally it didn't end up that way, but sometimes it was like that.

The cocktail waitress came back and asked him if he wanted anything to eat yet. Berk didn't like to eat. He kept away from eating if he could help it. He asked for another beer. He would sure be glad when Nigel got back and he didn't have to drink by himself. It had been three years since Nigel had been sent away, since he had been caught with one of the people from the mini-bank machines. Berk didn't know sometimes how he had made it this long without Nigel. He knew that he was right on the verge sometimes, and that maybe he wouldn't make it. But now Nigel was getting back tomorrow. Berk knew that he wasn't very smart like they tried to teach him in books when he was younger. Nigel was a lot smarter, but Berk knew some things pretty good. He knew which parks you could sleep in without getting beaten by other men or woken up by the cops. He knew which restaurants put their old food out in the alleys without mixing it with the coffee grounds and eggshells and other trash. He didn't like to eat, but sometimes it was necessary. He knew where you could take the whores without getting arrested. And he knew how to get money for beer and whiskey. He didn't know much from books or things like that, but the real stuff, the important stuff he knew pretty good.

Berk saw his life in three parts. The first part was growing up and he didn't like to think about it. He sometimes had dreams with his father in them. His father hitting him with a broken car antenna or slapping his ears and telling him to get a goddamn beer out of the ice box. Sometimes the dreams were of his mother and all her cousins. Her cousins usually came over after his father had gone to work the graveyard shift at the paper mill. He didn't think it strange until later that all his mother's cousins were men and that they always went into her room with her and laughed and laughed. Later, after his father went away, his mother would sometimes get dressed up real pretty. He would get excited thinking they were going to go somewhere. Then she would kiss him on the cheek and leave and lock him in the apartment. Once she had been gone for three weeks. He had finally broken out the window in the back and climbed out on the fire escape to go play. When she got back she beat him for breaking the window. He didn't like to think about the first part of his life and tried to make himself not dream about it, but sometimes it was like that.

The second part of his life started when he met Nigel. He didn't even remember where they met, but his life had been exciting and good for the first time. Sometimes it felt like he had been with Nigel for years and years. Then other times he knew that it could have only been a few months. But what a few months they were. They seemed like a lifetime to Berk. Nigel and he would drink and drink and then go visit the whores. Nigel even knew some of their names and he would talk to them. And the whores would talk back, and sometimes even to Berk. He liked talking to the whores. He hadn't talked once to them, except to say what he wanted, since Nigel had gone. He couldn't wait until Nigel came back and they could laugh and talk to the whores again.

Nigel was the one who showed him how to get the beer money from the mini-bank machines. He had messed up the first time he tried it and the man had got away. Nigel had been mad, but he hadn't said anything. He just looked at Berk and shook his head. He had made sure he did it right the next time. Nigel called it beer and chow money, but Berk didn't like to eat much. They would go to all-night restaurants and Nigel would have two breakfasts and a milkshake. Berk would just have some toast and coffee. Sometimes a ground steak if he felt kind of weak. Nigel would just look at him and shake his head. He felt bad when Nigel shook his head at him. Then Nigel would tell some crazy story and they would laugh. Once Nigel picked up one of the little plastic creamers and held it upside down over the dish. He squeezed it until it burst open and cream shot out across the room onto a little girl at another table. They had laughed and laughed. The man with the girl stood up and began yelling at them. Nigel jumped up and slapped the man across the face. The man fell down and then crawled back to his table. That had been a good night.

Then they went back to their flat and shared a bottle of wine. The flat reminded Berk a little of the apartment where he grew up. The walls were cracked and some of them had mold on them. The bathroom sink didn't work and neither did the stove. Roaches and flies ran in and out. There were always winos getting sick out front and the hallway smelled like piss and the bitch landlady would always nag about the rent. Still, he liked it. He had his own little room with just a mattress on the floor, but that's all he needed. Nigel had a desk and dresser and a big bed in his room and some nights Berk could hear the springs squeaking when the whores would come around. He had lost the flat soon after Nigel had gone. He knew that once Nigel came back they would get another flat, an even better one, and they would have wine again and the whores would come over and he wouldn't even mind the sick winos and the piss-smell hallway and the bitch landlady.

The third part of his life was everything since Nigel had gone. Most days just passed by without him realizing they were going. Sometimes people would talk to him, and he would listen for a while, and then it's like his mind just started thinking about other things or nothing at all and wander off on its own little path and then Berk would walk away. During the summer he would sleep in the safe parks and in the winter he would go to a shelter or break into a car to sleep. Once Nigel came back he wouldn't have to sleep outside ever again.

The next day he was waiting by the Irish bar on fifth when he finally saw Nigel. He was walking up the street a few blocks over. Berk started grinning like a little kid and jumping around, and he began running toward Nigel when he saw him. He ran over to Nigel and began asking him when they were going to get a flat and if he wanted to go get two breakfasts and a milkshake and when could they talk to the whores. Then Nigel just stared at him for a little while. He asked him what he was still doing hanging around here after three years.

Berk said he had been waiting for him, making plans, trying not to think too much. Nigel just shook his head and said he couldn't be held back by a dummy anymore and that he was catching a bus to Phoenix the next morning and getting out of this crappy city and its cold winters. Berk said he'd never been to Phoenix before but if the winters weren't cold then it was alright with him. Nigel shook his head again. He said that Berk didn't understand because he was slow. Nigel said that he didn't want to be around a dummy like Berk anymore, that he was going to Phoenix by himself. He told Berk to get lost. Then he turned around.

Berk just stood there and watched Nigel walk off down the street. His mind went off on its little wandering path and he didn't remember hitting Nigel on the back of the head with the beer bottle. He had then had to put Nigel in the bushes because he didn't want to hear him crying anymore. Or maybe it was Berk who had been crying. He couldn't remember. He walked around for a few hours and then he stopped. His mind came back from its little wandering path. It had begun to get dark and the street lights were flickering on. He saw the streets stretching off in the distance between the tall buildings and the dirty, snow-covered parks. He saw the winos huddled in the alleyways piled with trash. He saw the whores he couldn't talk to, and he saw the rest of his life stretched out in front of him. It wasn't supposed to end up this way.

But sometimes it was like that.

- Kevin Timmermans ©2003 (with apologies to XTC)

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20 April 2010


We received our first shipment from Eden's Organics on Saturday. We signed up to have a bin of organic fruits and vegetables delivered to our house weekly. Eden's Organics is a local Seattle company that delivers fresh, organic produce weekly or bi-weekly to the area. Eden's tries to use as much local produce as possible, but they also partner with organic farms as far away as California and Mexico. Most of the organic farms are family owned and less than 100 acres.

This week our bin had broccoli, carrots, romaine, tomatoes, garlic, pears, apples, blood oranges, cabbage raab, bananas, kiwis, and strawberries.

I had heard of cabbage raab (or cabbage rabe), but had never cooked it or eaten it. Apparently all parts of it are edible and tasty (stem, roots, flowers, leaves, and seeds). It's the sprouted tops of the cabbage plant after it has gone to seed and sprouted over the winter. Nutrient-rich is how I've seen it described. Many people (myself included, until now) don't realize that once it's flowered it's not only still edible, but also highly nutritious and tasty. I decided to make it for dinner with grilled shrimp and creamy portobello mushroom risotto.

After I marinated the shrimp and set it aside, I cleaned the raab thoroughly, dried it, and chopped it into bite sized pieces. I began making the risotto, as it takes the most time. When it was about half way done, I began sauteing some chopped onions and diced garlic in olive oil. I then dumped the raab into the skillet and turned it until it was wilted, then put the lid on to let it steam/saute for a bit. (I wanted to get the full taste of the raab, so I didn't use bacon or lard, but I probably will next time - just to kick it up one more notch.)

I put the shrimp skewers on the grill and continued with the risotto.

When the raab was tender, the shrimp cooked and the risotto finished off with melted Havarti cheese we were ready for dinner. Delish!

The raab was really good. Very similar to wild greens (mustard or collard) but not as bitter. Stacie thought the stems were a bit too fibrous for her taste, but I loved them. I might par-boil just the stems for a bit before sauteing next time to soften them.

Can't wait to see what's in this week's shipment.

KJT - Seattle (2010)

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12 April 2010

Anatomy of a Mess

So the kid likes to feed himself. Although the coordination is coming along, it's not quite there yet. And he's just discovering the joy of dangling food over the edge of the highchair tray, having the dogs get all squirrely, and then dropping it for them to fight over.

Good times!

KJT - Seattle (2010)

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05 April 2010

Braised Pork Belly

Took Sennet to his first Farmer's Market this past weekend. There are only a couple that are open year round. We went to the one in the University District, just to see what they had this early in the season.

Ended up picking up some fresh bread, fresh organic greens, farm fresh organic eggs, some herbed goat cheese, and the true find: a nice, thick pork belly.

Pork belly is the cut of meat that bacon comes from. The belly is sold in a block, before being cut, cured, or dried & aged for bacon. Fatty & beautiful.

The pork belly we bought came from
Wooly Pigs, a company that pasture-raises Mangalitsa pigs very near Seattle. Mangalitsa are an eastern European breed of pig known particularly for it's good lard. They are directly descended from wild boars. The owner of the company imported a heard of the Mangalitsa, and uses the Austrian techniques for raising and finishing the pigs. They are the only breeder of Mangalitsa in North or South America, and they are a member of the Mangalitsa Pig Breeder's Association of Austria. Wooly Pigs' Mangalitsa have been served in such restaurants as The French Laundry, The Herbfarm, and Michael Mina and The Four Seasons of San Francisco.

I learned all of this over the weekend. But what I really learned was that the Mangalitsa tastes great!

I rubbed some fresh garlic and spices & herbs onto the belly and let it sit in the fridge for a few hours. I then braised it in the oven with some onions & red potatoes for several hours. When it was almost finished I braised the wild greens on the stovetop. Dinner was excellent - the pork belly savory with a lot of beautiful, clean, white fat. Almost had a foie gras flavor & texture. With a couple glasses of wine, it was wonderful.

Praise the Lard!

P.S. Sennet was already asleep when we ate, so didn't get to partake. But he does seem to be an adventurous eater, at least for now (we hear this will change). Over the last few days he's had tilapia, chicken, mac & cheese, scrambled egg, okra, sweet potato, broccoli, kidney beans, avocado, beets, peas, green beans, carrots, cauliflower, apples, peaches, bananas, strawberries, oatmeal w/ blueberries & Greek yogurt, cottage cheese w/ raspberries, and Cheerios. Right now we are trying to make almost all of his food - no little jars. Mostly steaming (if necessary) and then blending and saving in the freezer. Other things we just cut into bite size pieces and he chows them down.

KJT - Seattle (2010)

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10 March 2010

More Gratuitous Baby Vids

KJT - Seattle (2010)

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08 March 2010

Out of Hibernation

"Nothing is so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task."

William James, American philosopher.

Hello? Hello?

Is this thing on?

Got so busy with the kid and work and life that I've had to let the blog go into hibernation. I've posted more stuff on Facebook, so find me there if you want to see more. I'm hoping to get back on top of the blog soon. Especially more essays, travel writings, dreams, etc.

We'll see...

The kid is doing great, as are Stacie and myself. Sennet is almost 9 months old and he's developed a great personality.

He loves to laugh, seems like a happy kid. No teeth as of yet, and no crawling. But I have been taking him to swimming lessons, and we've been walking with him and the dogs, going to the park to swing, etc. Normal kid stuff. He's sleeping through the night for the most part now, so we are all doing much better. Out of the haze of sleep deprivation.

Here are a few pix & vids:

KJT - Seattle (2010)
(Top three photos by Sara Tro, Sennet & Kramer by Stacie, vid by Stacie.)

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22 October 2009


UGH! I having really been slacking on this thing. Two whole months gone by without a single post.

Things have been going great, but very tired most of the time, and therefore a bit uninspired. Going to try to get back into a rhythm soon.

The kid and the family are doing great. Sennet is four months old today. We just had his checkup this morning and he is now 27.14 inches long/tall, and weighs 17.125lbs. Both above the 95% percentile - he's a big kid.

And seems like a really happy kid - loves to laugh and giggle. He just recently learned to turn himself over from his back to front, so that was pretty cool.

We had one night where he slept for a seven-hour unbroken stretch, and that was awesome. Lately though he's been back to waking every 3 or 4 hours and wants to feed. So we're still pretty tired most of the time. Happy and loving it, but a bit delirious too.

More to come... (hopefully)!

KJT - Seattle (2009)

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28 August 2009

2-month Recap
(Huevos Verdes Con Jamón)

"I couldn't love you more
If time was running out
Couldn't love you more
Oh right now baby"

Sade, "I Couldn't Love You More" (1992)

The kid is now two months old (as of August 22). He's doing great. Sleeping in his own room now, and generally for a lot longer. One night he actually slept from 9pm until 3:30am. Heaven! Lately, however, he's been back on his every-two-hour feeding schedule during the night. Must be a growth spurt. Stacie and I are mighty weary. Especially Stace, as she's got to get up with him every time to feed and/or pump. I generally hold him and rock him to sleep every night. We sit in his room and listen to Sade and discuss current events (he loves Sade - good taste!) I try to take over when he wakes up early (between 5 and 6am) and feed him and try to give Stacie a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before I go to work.

We've also hired a Spanish nanny for a few hours a couple days a week. Gives Stacie a chance to get some work done outside of the house, and keeps Sennet in familiar surroundings. Erika is great, she sings Spanish songs to him and we've bought a few Spanish books for her to read to him. Dr. Seuss in Spanish is a total trip!

Sennet got a great review at his two month checkup. He's now 25-inches long (2-feet, 1-inch tall) and weighs 14 lbs 10 oz (both in the 95th percentile). He's smiling and laughing like crazy nowadays. Very happy bambino. Check out this short video of him cracking up with Stacie, just after a nap in the morning:

All is well.
KJT - Seattle (2009)

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27 August 2009

11 years on...

Last year I posted the following blog, about the 10 year anniversary of my father's death. This year makes it eleven, and now that I have a son, it makes me miss him even more. Such a big part of my life he missed: going back to school (at the Art Institute), getting a job with Raleigh bicycles, meeting and marrying Stacie, our two dogs, buying our house, and now the birth of our son. I was still drifting quite a bit when he passed - hadn't figured out what direction I was headed. I wish he was here to see where I've ended up today. Sláinte Dad, I miss you.

(Originally posted 8/27/08)

"The measure of a man's character is what he would do
if he knew he would never be found out."
- Thomas B. Macaulay, British writer/poet/historian/politician (1800-1859)

I wrote the following ten years ago, in November 1998:

The last nine months or so have been a juxtaposition of emotional highs and lows and a fierce test of my intestinal fortitude. I've experienced some of the most intense satori followed by the deepest depression and confusion in my life. In between these monumental peaks and valleys have been periods of happiness and wonder, terror and loneliness. My mental stability and emotional constitution have been stressed farther than I ever dreamt they would be, and I'm not out of the tunnel yet. At least now it appears that I can see a light at the end. Maybe...

On August 27, 1998 my father died of pancreatic cancer. He was not quite 61. It came suddenly and was wholly unexpected. During the first part of April he was running five miles a day and playing handball weekly. He caught what he thought was a flu bug that he couldn't shake. A couple weeks later it was diagnosed and four and a half months after that he was dead. My stress was immense and brutal and I can barely fathom what my mother and sister must be going through.

My father, not surprisingly, was quite Zen about the whole process. He did not want to die, and fought hard, but it was too far gone. I'm thankful that there seemed to be less pain than some cancers that I've read about. The cancer had spread so thoroughly that no surgery or chemotherapy could be attempted. Alternative and holistic methods that he tried seemed to help, or at least slow the advance (even to the degree of surprising his western doctors). Unfortunately it had become too pervasive. One estimate said he possibly could have had it for over a year, and it would not have been detected by a 'normal' course of bloodwork or tests.

He stoically planned the funeral, down to the last detail - even interviewing the morticians to determine which one he liked best. This took much of the burden off my mother and the rest of the family. One of the great things about my mother and father is that they are extreme realists. They understand that you do as much for yourself as you can in life, but some is left to chance and destiny. They accept that and deal with it. That attitude and their incredible strength through the whole bizarre and terrible event helped both my sister and I deal with it as best we could.

I'm still trying to come to terms with it, and I still in many ways don't realize what has happened. Days seems to drift by without me really being connected. It oftentimes feels like everything else is moving just a shade faster than I am and I have to squint and concentrate to catch up. Sleep has become somewhat of a joke and drifting in and out of consciousness throughout the night would be a more accurate description. Depression and insomnia have become unwelcome staples in my diet.

And so now, here I am ten years on. The depression and insomnia have finally been left behind like worn out shoes that were no longer needed. The anxiety attacks and agoraphobia have all but ceased. It's been quite some time since I woke up not remembering he was gone, and then having the crashing realization all over again. The ache is still there, but it's now an old wound that I've become familiar with - I worry it and pick at it, but it doesn't hurt the way it once did. I still miss talking to him, especially after I've read a really good book, seen an interesting movie, or just caught a particularly beautiful sunset. I don't discuss it with anyone hardly at all. Not my wife, not my mother or sister, not my friends. I think that's my defense mechanism. Shove it down inside, tamp it down, hide it, cover it up, but keep it there like a precious stone to selfishly polish in the dark of the night. I am sorry I couldn't or didn't talk about it more with my family, I'm sure that didn't help them, but I had to figure out the journey the best way I could. It wasn't, and isn't, easy.

R.I.P. Gene Timmermans, a man of good character, I miss you dad.
(4 September 1937 - 27 August 1998)

KJT - Seattle (2009) (Not sure when the picture was taken, maybe in the early 90's)

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26 July 2009

Tour de France

I've been getting up early every day since July 4th to sit and watch the Tour de France with Sennet. I love the Tour, and have since I was lucky enough to be in Paris in 2000, on the Champs-Élysées, to see Lance Armstrong win the second of his seven straight Tours de France.

It's been a fun time, holding my boy, feeding him, rocking him to sleep, and watching the intrigue and madness of the Tour. Today was the last stage, Alberto Contador of Spain won - as he should have (being the strongest rider), Andy Schleck of Luxembourg was second, and Armstrong - after being out of the sport for almost 4 years and breaking his collarbone this past March - came in third.

This was probably a great disappointment to Armstrong, who really wanted to win again, but was a huge accomplishment for someone of his age (37) who had been away from competition for that long. He is the second oldest rider to finish on the podium.

What was most pleasing for me was his statements about this year's race. They are words and thoughts I hope to instill in Sennet as he grows:

"I'm realistic, I did everything I could," Armstrong said before the final stage. "For me, and even more for my kids, it's probably a healthy thing for them to see, because they saw their dad that never lost, and the kids in their class (say) 'your dad never loses,' so it's good for them to see dad get third and still be cool with that and still be happy."

That's a great gift to give to your children. Vive la Tour!

KJT - Seattle (2009)
Armstrong quotes from the Seattle Times, photo by Sirotti.

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22 July 2009

One Month

Sennet is now one month old.

He weighs 12lbs 2oz and is 23.5 inches long.

Last night he actually slept from about 10:15pm to 1:30am and then from around 2am to almost 6am! We were very happy about that, as he's been getting up every two hours for the past few weeks... quite exhausting.

KJT - Seattle (2009)

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18 July 2009

Chelsea FC & Link Light Rail

After getting permission from El Jefe (she had to watch the kid), I joined about 66,000 other people downtown today for the Seattle Sounders FC game against English Premier League powerhouse Chelsea FC. Gorgeous day, in the low 80's and sunny. Chelsea started Frank Lampard, Michael Ballack, Nicolas Anelka and John Terry - pretty fun to watch those stars live in action. I just bought the ticket yesterday, and was lucky to get a seat. I was in the upper deck, but still had a great view of the pitch.

Seattle ended up losing 2-0, which isn't too surprising considering we faced one of the best teams in the world (scores were Sturridge 12', Lampard 35'). Even though Chelsea was hardly in mid-season form (there were a
few of their passes which weren't on the money) - they were still a great team. And fast. Chelsea closes FAST. A lot of the Sounders' passes were probably pretty good for the MLS, but against "the Blues" most of them were picked off.

It was a fun game though, and Seattle had a few good looks and a few chances to score, but just couldn't convert.

After the game I walked to Pioneer Square and took Seattle's brand-new, never-before-used Link Light Rail to the Mount Baker station fairly close to our neighborhood. Then caught a bus up to Union and the quick walk home. Today was the grand opening day of the light rail, and I'm very excited about Seattle's newest mass transit option. Having ridden the underground in London, Paris, New York, Hong Kong, Berlin, Vienna, hell even Istanbul and Prague; I have been waiting for this to come to Seattle since I moved here. At 14 miles, it's not a terribly long line right now, but it's a start. It is underground through the length of downtown and then becomes at-grade near the stadiums. It bores through Beacon Hill underground and emerges in the Rainier Valley were it becomes at-grade again until almost Tukwila, the remaining few miles are elevated. And by the end of the year the line will go all the way to the airport. By 2016 it will stretch to the University District, and by 2021 it is supposed to go north to Northgate, south to Federal Way, and east across Lake Washington to Bellevue and Redmond (Microsoft) for a total of 55 miles. I, for one, am very pleased. I'll even be able to use it to go to work occasionally. I can ride my bike down to the Mount Baker station, take the rail to Tukwila and then bike to the office in Kent.

KJT - Seattle (2009)

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04 July 2009

First Fourth

"Think what a better world it would be if we all,
the whole world, had cookies and milk
about three o'clock every afternoon
and then lay down on our blankets for a nap."
- Barbara Jordan, American politician (1936-1996)

Well we haven't been getting quite as much sleep as we'd like, but overall I think we're doing pretty good. Sennet seems to be waking up anywhere between 1 and 3 hours for feeding. I'll help change him sometimes, and give him the bottle if he's still hungry after Stacie feeds him. Also trying to give her a few hours each morning where I'll sit and rock him and snooze with him while she tries to sleep. It's all working out pretty well.

I took him for our first walks with the dogs the past two days. First in the stroller and then in a harness. He seemed to enjoy them both.

This morning was the fourth of July, and he was pretty fussy early so I sat up with him for a few hours until he slowly fell back asleep. We listened to John Coltrane's Blue Train. Then I napped with him. After I gave the dogs a quick walk while Stacie fed him, he and I settled in on the couch to watch the first stage of the Tour de France. Kudos to Fabian Cancellara, the big Swiss world champion smoked the field in the individual time trial. Then I put up the American flag and puttered around the house.

We took a bit of a nap later in the afternoon, and soon we'll be grilling burgers and keilbasa on the deck, where we can also see the fireworks show over Lake Union. Nice, lazy holiday with the family.

KJT - Seattle (2009) (Photo of Cancellara by Sirotti)

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02 July 2009

Bath Time

“Everything is a miracle. 
It is a miracle that one does not dissolve
in one's bath like a lump of sugar.”
- Pablo Picasso, Spanish artist (1881-1973)

I'm seeing what a great mother Stacie is, and is going to be, every day. She is so patient and kind with the little man. He just lights up whenever she holds him.

Lately we think he's been on a growth spurt, he wants to feed all night long - she can hardly keep up with his breast milk needs. In between feedings she is pumping, and I am able to feed him this breast milk from the bottle and help her, as well as hold him more often. We were a little worried that if we introduced a bottle so soon that he wouldn't want to breast feed, but that sure hasn't been a problem - where ever and when ever there is breast milk available, he's up for the task. Hungry little bugger.

We also gave him his first bath at home a couple days ago. He wasn't overly happy about the whole affair, but calmed right down once the trauma was over. Clean and sweet.

To quote a (bad) Loverboy song, we are "Lovin' every minute of it."

KJT - Seattle (2009)

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