A Night At Zinzani's

Perhaps the most exciting date Chuck and I have had in a decade was our evening at Zinzani's. We were to be guests of our friends the Dziekonskis, and would you believe it? We picked Seattle's busiest weekend--a Seafair parade and opera's opening night--all happening in the same area around 200 Mercer. Chuck and I decided to take the bus in from where we were staying in the Wallingford area, and so we spent several hours walking around the Seattle Center listening to bands and watching the fountain. That was an incredibly beautiful time right there, and Chuck was able to have a few deja vu moments watching the bands prepare for the parade.

At 6:30 we went over to Zinzani's where we gave them our name, then we were escorted to the Producer's booth where there were menus and plates waiting for us. We had a view of the entire restaurant, as well as the central area where trapeze acts were to be staged. They planned to serve a five course meal over three hours while performing continuous acts and music.

The food was delicious. Great salads, Chuck enjoyed a steak and I had halibut. Every meal that was served was a big production with the waiters dancing out with their dishes. When the entree was served, after they deposited the dishes, they danced around with the covers using them as cymbals. The cast was huge and professional. There was also an opera singer, a blues singer, a magician, trapeze performers, contortionists, and best of all--a great quartet that played through the three hour dinner. Tom was the violinist. We had no idea that he was a great jazz musician as well as a classical musician. There was a pianist, a percussionist, and a horn player--flute, clarinet, accordion (not exactly a horn.)

After this beautiful evening, we still had to get back to the Wallingford District. We accomplished that by catching the monorail into downtown Seattle. Then we caught the bus to Wallingford. The downtown was full of cops--mounted police, gang units--all dealing with problems left over from the parade. Pretty exciting for a couple of seniors used to being in bed by ten.

Fodder For My "To Do" List

A few weeks ago I was making a skirt smaller in the waist when my 45 year old Sears Roebuck machine jammed up and refused to sew. As I pondered how I was going to get that heavy machine (it weighed between 30 pounds and 150 pounds--depending on how strong I felt when I moved it or dead-lifted it from my closet) to the repairman again. Luckily I took time to reflect if I would ever need that machine again. Being able to shorten Chuck's trousers, mend things, maybe do a bit of quilting--I decided it was time for a light machine. So shopping I went.

Replacing my old machine now living at Goodwill was not the cheap task I thought it would be. Several weeks later I still needed a machine. Chuck and I were in Portland visiting our children the Knopps when I discovered that my grandson Eric worked at the Montavilla Sewing and Vacuum store two blocks from their house. I accompanied Eric to work and discovered a very professional and well-equipped sewing department with twenty to thirty machines set up and ready to sew. Prior research had suggested that Janome made an excellent machine, so I was able to purchase an affordable machine with a needle-threader at an excellent discount. They were running an excellent sale--my good luck. I was so happy that I carried that machine the two blocks back to our children's home.

A few weeks later I was able to unpack it and complete a fun project. Note the table cloth in the upper right picture. I was able to make the table cloth (except for the applique which was done by my friend Barbara Kinsman) for our Britt picnic season. It is great to have a good machine, and I am thankful to the Montavilla Sewing center and Sarah for helping me find one. Although I don't want to totally blow Christmas, I will admit that I have projects for Christmas in the works.

Music Family

Of the friends that move in and out of our lives, Chuck and I treasure the friendships of musicians--those people who have dedicated their lives to the humble life style that goes along with playing in major symphonies and music groups, teaching future musicians, and sharing their art with the world.

At the top are pictures of Tom and Virginia Dziekonski, musicians who were part of our family for years. Beside being top cello and violin players, they are also some of the brightest and most hilarious musicians we have ever known. When they joined us each summer our lives were filled with mosquito dives in our pool, midnight debates over Economist articles, music jokes, and crazy parties (I am thinking about the Nixon Vinaigrette party we had the year they played the Lincoln tribute.) The three weeks they lived with us were the highlight of our summer.

Lower right is Britt musician Lew Sligh, fantastic flautist and piccolo player. Lew joined our family for a few years during the summer Britt musical festival. May Zia, lower left, is another Britt musician who has been a friend eating and picnicking with us for years. We have watched her children grow and now start college.

Like so many friends who share our love of music, we connect with these dear souls when we can, but they will forever be a part of our family.

A Symphony of Food

Summer blessings definitely include the time we spend on the Britt hill in Jacksonville picnicking with dear friends and music lovers. This has become one of my favorite rituals. After five to twenty emails we decide on our menu for an evening, then we all show up with our favorite dishes. We would wear the label of “foodies” proudly. Here are some of the summer dishes:

· Cioppino with clams, mussels, calamari, octopus, crab, shrimp, prawns & Alaska Pollock, over penne pasta

· white bean salad with sun-dried tomato vinaigrette and tri-tip

· Quinoa salad with roasted garlic dressing and chopped veggys

· mango sorbet with blueberry short-cake

· dolmas

· fruit salad

· barbecued pork

Obviously it is all we can do to avoid gaining a pound or two during symphony season. Foremost are the laughs we have as we talk about our week and share a few glasses of very good wine.

Since Chuck and I are now sitting on the handicap pad (Chuck's hearing is so bad that he can miss whole symphony movements if he isn't close) we now sit almost in the front row. Such closeness to the orchestra has involved me in the music unlike any concerts I have ever attended.

I wrote the following poem in an attempt to express how meaningful the experience was for me.

Evening Under The Stars

The chaos of tuning instruments

greets us as we take front seats.

Silence. The baton slices the air,

sforzando brass bellow, blowing

me back against my chair. Yes,

I can feel the orchestra. As the bass

drone menacingly, their strings buzz,

pulling me forward, tickling my ears.

As the bass bounce, viola and flute

sing melody and counter melody;

melodies wed, becoming gigantic

sound puzzles. Tympani

crescendos rock over me.

After the pop of drum, piccolo,

and horns, the violin bows ricochet,

their sweet pulses blending into the stars.

Sound

building, building, until

the music's purity fills my soul,

and my breath becomes a gasp.

There are no individuals here:

we are one with the song.

A pause

commanded by a measured rest.

A pause

filled by crickets singing to the stars.

The final chord

and I hold out my hands to catch the notes.

The Spice of Life

There are many people who can eat oatmeal day after day, or read book after book by the same author, or walk the same neighborhood day after day. I am not one of them. Variety and surprise are my friends. I love to try new dishes when I cook, so thank God there are endless ways to cook quinoa. My son laughs at me because I often vary a recipe before I have even cooked it once.

So the monthly haircut has been a real bore lately. My beautician, Cheri Workman, is a genius with hair, so many times in our ten or twelve year relationship I have had her surprise me with something new and different. Back when I taught eighth grade, (been awhile, okay), she once shaved a lightning bolt on the back of my head. A fond memory. It was great time. Lately though, we have caved into my hair's personality. You know--its curliness, cowlicks, thick spots, thin spots. Today we played around with my hair. Using machines, straightening irons, product, we achieved the impossible! This naturally curly haired person has straight hair. Spiky straight hair.

I wore it to a church meeting tonight and gained lots of laughs. My husband Chuck was shocked and startled. I put the picture on Facebook and received a record number of comments--all favorable except for the friend who compared me to a dog with a spiky cut. Whatever the reactions, I have enjoyed having variety and humor in my life.

Me Bad

The first Sunday of August is traditionally our family reunion day. It is a great time connecting to family and enjoying a picnic. Before I was diagnosed with diabetes, it was always a delightful meal of potato or pasta salad with delicious grilled turkey dogs. This year we tried to do without those delicacies, but at my request, Chuck's daughter Tami brought Lay's baked potato chips.

I love potato chips. The only time I eat them is at the family reunion. I haven't bought a bag in years. For the first time I read the label. One serving was nine chips. So, I laid out nine chips and thought I was strong enough to stop there. I ate eleven and a half. If the temptation is there, I will probably give in to it.

One of my good friends allows herself some chocolate sometimes. After 3 months of successful dieting and eating, I bought a bag of candy and tried having a piece now and then. That is definitely not my nature. If it is in the house, I will eat it. I have learned that if I have a dish that is left over and on my NO list, I will eat it. So I need to give it away before it enters the house.

A crisis situation provides a window into the true mettle of a person. My failure to control impulses could be a stumbling block to my desire to be healthy despite diabetes. Obviously I must trick myself--never bringing temptation into the house is my first line of defense.