that seattle rain.

while the east and south and basically everywhere but the northwest get pelted with snow and ice and basically every type of weather, us Seattleites are experiencing what we are known for: rain. 

and lots of it. pouring down. hard.

I had the absolute pleasure of spending our surprisingly not rainy president's day with two exchange students are Norway, who were beautiful people. we adventured through Fremont and talked about our worlds. they had rain coats (so good) with hoods (even better) and so we were pretty prepared in case the rainy clouds moved in.

and so if you ever visit seattle, there are three things you will want:

rain boots. I've got a pair of le chameau rain boots that I've worn almost every day since I bought them (minus two months of summer). get a sturdy pair that can last you a while and that matches with everything.

a jacket that is waterproof and windproof and soft on the inside (but not too much fur): when you're walking or running for a bus, a warm jacket will make you overheat. Seattle's not too cold, but it is so wet. so get a flannel-lined rain coat and you'll bet set.  

a relaxed, "I can handle this weather" attitude. take your earbuds out and listen to the rain hitting the puddles. plop. put on those rain boots and embrace muddy sidewalks. take a photo of a rain drop sliding off a tree's leaf.

good luck & stay dry.

(more) snow in seattle

(my glove got in the corner of this one, but we can pretend it's a grey snowflake)

then eventually this rain starts back up, and washes our day of snow away, and school doesn't get cancelled and the brightness of the world turns back to grey.

but we had it for a little bit. the inch of thick snow crushed under my boots and made that sound, that sound that crunches in a way unique to snow. for a little bit we had snow routes for buses and snowmen sitting on campus benches. and for a little bit I didn't care that it was cold because, my goodness, it snowed. and my walk home from the library consisted of The Middle East's music on repeat, a goodnessknows cranberry chocolate snack tucked into my gloves, and me, jumping through the snow.

it was quiet, and it was good, and it was what I needed.

the snow. the snow does that.

on running.

My mamá, she is a runner. When it's a cool summer morning, before ten am when the sun is heating up the sidewalks, she runs. Five miles. Across both bridges. When she gets home from work and it's been one of those days, she runs. When it's Sunday, in the middle of the day, and time is standing still, she runs. It's her thing. 

But it is not my thing. I am not a runner. I enjoy a long game of soccer in the rain and the mud. I love tennis in hot weather, barefoot, until the green cement has chewed up the bottoms of my feet. I will go to the gym when I feel like I need to accomplish something, and I'll turn up my headphones and work out on the machines. 

I tried running for a while, I really did. This summer, I would wake up and run with my mom - the both of us, across the bridges, through the parks. But I always ran home first. I was the first one to tuck my tail between my legs and trod on home. Running by itself is simply not my thing. 

And that's okay. I can accept that. 

But I cannot accept not doing anything. There are some days when I don't want to move. And it feels so good to lay my body under my brown blanket and rub my feet together until I fall asleep. And it feels so good to stay there, listening to the people outside the window. Some days I want this.

And I'll want to take the elevator when I'm able to walk. 

And I'll want to wait six minutes for a bus to take me ten blocks that I'm able to walk. 

And I'll want to avoid checking the mail because it is so far away from the warmth of my bed. 

But I can't do this. I need stairs. I need walks. I need experience. I need to see the city I live in, even if its grey exterior is not what I want. 

I remind myself of this whenever I see someone jogging, and instantly feel bad because I am walking. But I shouldn't feel bad, because I'm doing what is best for me. What works for me.

I'll do what works for me. 

(photo taken when the bus was twenty minutes away, which encouraged me to walk back to my apartment)

she wants to go to the lakeside.

In the sun today, Cierra and I walked to the Union Bay Natural Area. I started my afternoon with a headache and a nap, and Cierra pulled me out of bed and said "I don't want to waste the day." So I google mapped a green area nearby and we trekked to the water.

Cierra calls this photo "the glare."

Columbia City, Georgetown, & Lots of Pizza

This week, mamá and I explored the neighborhood in which she raised Margaux, and then we took a detour to Georgetown (really a detour, because we accidentally got on I5). Columbia City has Tutta Bella, and we sat there in the sun, sipping on lemonade and crunching on caesar salad croutons. Yesterday was the definition of an adventure (because we got lost at least 3 times… darn our aversion to Google maps).

(If you have not been to Tutta Bella in Columbia City, you should be aware of their excellent background music and top-notch flat bread)

then the sun started shining.

Does all seem right today? Being woken up by this weather is sometimes necessary. All this week, sunshine. But cold. I'm welcoming this late fall weather with Bon Iver and The Middle East. Welcome, beautiful day. 

Happy Birthday, Mamá!

 In celebration of my mother's birthday, Margaux & mom and I spent the day together downtown. The evening was spent hammering crab legs and shrimp tails at waterfront restaurant, Crab Pot! They give you a mallet, cutting boards, silver cups of butter, and pour a giant pail of seafood onto your table. Then you dive in! Afterward, we visited my aunt's home for desserts from Bakery Nouveau, which is currently selling a mini pumpkin pie cheese cake… which is perfect. Thank you, mamá, for being so wonderful, always! 

& Then I Moved Into an Apartment

The end of Summer has brought change. Change in location. Change in occupation. Change in clothes and hair and the list goes on. But I am here now. Here in my new apartment, which is really the size of a house, with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and living room. And a storage closet in which I have flung all my cardboard boxes. 

I've brought my yellow and white chair from home. Books with bindings that are art. An updated and in-the-process wardrobe. A gold mirror covered in makeup boxes and perfume bottles. A simple bed side table with reading material. Cozy, calming blankets. Basic, linen hand towels. More books that I've carried throughout my adolescence. Bathroom accessories. A photo of my father reading Harry Potter to me on the beach, while I eat the rest of the tortilla chips. And napkins from my mother's kitchen drawers. 

I am here. And I will be here. The change will continue. And I will welcome it. 

Late Night Cupcake Run.

Very much loving the "Deathcake" at Cupcake Royale.

My parents took a trip to the city tonight and invited me for dessert afterwards, and I suggested the lovely Capitol Hill. Anytime you need dessert (or basically anything) to cheer you up, Capitol Hill is the place to go. 

And add a little Eric Hutchinson and you've got yourself a party.