There's a monster in my closet....really.

I slept terribly last night with David in Kentucky. I swear there is either a monster in my closet, or ghosts have suddenly decided to haunt my house. It doesn't help that I live in the middle of the boonies, and at night, the dark feels like a stifling blanket. It also doesn't help that this is the longest David and I have been apart....EVER.

I was jarred awake at 1am by a rustling and scraping in my closet. It sounded like something was hitting the cat door in and out, in and out, at timed intervals. I convinced myself it was my cat, and got the nerve to jump out of bed and turn the closet light on. I was shocked when I saw nothing. No cat. I ran back to my bed and found her hiding underneath. Completely unnerved, I took the phone into the downstairs living room, turned on several lights, and shut the french doors. I called poor David, who had just fallen asleep and had to wake up in two hours. He convinced me nothing was there, but I still wouldn't go back upstairs, and fell asleep on the couch.

Nooo, the nightmares didn't stop there. I had a series of shockingly realistic dreams, where my senses were impacted. I felt like someone was pulling my feet to the end of the couch. I felt parts of my body go alternately hot and cold. I heard an excruciating buzzing sound and thought it was coming from the house, until I opened my eyes. At one time, I thought someone cut the power, and that I was in complete darkness. I got so freaked out that I woke up at 4am and read blogs and wrote emails. Finally, I went back upstairs to sleep, but felt so rattled I kept LISTENING for noises. The heater was a monster, my cat creeping across the floor a burglar.

Have you ever had trouble sleeping like this? Have you ever had sensory dreams that feel like they're REAL?

Tonight I'm sleeping at my friend Abby's house, although I should probably learn to sleep alone in my own house. Ghosts and monsters begone!

Right on Kitchen-Dick, Left on Woodcock

When I first saw that sign in rural Clallam County today, I thought it was a joke. Here is this gigantic billboard on the side of the road with a picture of a chicken and the name of a restaurant, and right under it were those directions. I laughed out loud and thought, "clever trick." Then, what do you know, I passed right by Kitchen Dick, then on the way home, passed by Woodcock. Who the HECK names roads in rural counties?

Anyway, this post doesn't have one consistent topic. I just wanted to explain why I've been such a bad blogger lately. I'm utterly exhausted after my social calendar. My good friend Lacey came to visit from Portland, which was a blast! We shopped in Winslow, saw a Mariners game, played tennis, played the Wii, and went dancing. Sunday David and I had a barbecue with family at the house, played games, drank beer, pretty much entertained all day long. It was great fun but I'm very tired after the weekend!

Today was also draining becuase I had to cover an officer memorial in Port Angeles, which was very depressing. I think grief can just overwhelm you, even if its not your own. Also, David just left today for a 7 day business trip in the Midwest, so I'm bummed about that as well.

My schedule is back to normal tomorrow, and I should be blogging again on the ferry!! Stay tuned!

Beautiful, yet Tragic.

The entire time I was watching Phantom of the Opera last night, I was trying to decide why its one of the longest running shows on Broadway. The music is spectacular, the costumes lavish, the sets stunning. But I don't think that's what the show is all about. The story, the beautiful, human, heart-felt, wrenching story is what keeps people coming back.

I felt tears prick my eyes at the end scene, at the despair and longing of the Phantom. The woman next to me was snuffling up a storm; the rest of the audience was dead silent, enthralled. Here is this man, with so many faults, ugly on the outside, with this beautiful talent, this inner fire that nobody can see but Christine. I think part of her loved the Phantom, who showed her to stardom and guided her, but she went with the logical choice, the handsome man who can provide a future and love her in the way she needed. I think we can relate to all the characters on some level. To the Phantom, who's rejected, to Christine, who led someone on, then let him down, to Raul, who loves a woman but knows he doesn't have her entire heart.

The main Phantom star only performed the first half of the show because he got sick for some reason. I was dissapointed at first, but thought his replacement was even better. The voice was more luxurious, and he wasn't as attractive. The first guy was a bit too handsome to fit the part of an ugly, deformed man. The second Phantom was perfect, but I'm guessing he doesn't normally get the part due to his looks, which doesn't make a lot of sense to me.

David and I have both found ourselves humming this music nonstop since yesterday, I played it on our stereo this morning, and its on my Ipod right now. Yes, I'm still obsessed with the soundtrack. I don't know if that's a good thing because last night I kept comparing the performers to Sarah Brightman and Michael Crawford, and heard all the inconsistencies and pitch problems.

All in all, I thought it was a beautiful, hauting show that still sticks with me today. I'd see it a thousand times.

What exactly am I eating?

I am reading a fascinating book right now, "The Omnivore's Dilemma, A Short History of Four Meals." It's about where our food comes from, and how the industrial food chain has led to a major obesity epidemic in our country. Basically, we all live on cheap corn products....from the meat we eat (which is unnaturally corn fed), to the soda we drink. One-fifth of all the oil used in this country goes to food production, food which used to be grown using SOLAR power and other sustainable energy. Now, we use fossil fuels to grow our cattle and process those fancy chips we eat with cheese, which sometimes isn't even real.

I've been on a personal journey to eat healthier this summer. Most nights of the week, David and I eat whole food, not processed or refined food. We use a gas grill, and mostly eat mildly seasoned halibut or salmon, and also throw whole vegetables on as well. The veggies are eaten with no spices or butter; sometimes provolone on a portabella. Dessert is warm, grilled peaches with (yes, processed) cool whip. My body has taken a great liking to eating these whole foods, so much that when I go out to a restaurant, my body reacts poorly. I'm bloated and my stomach hurts, I feel full and heavy. Probably because those foods are laden with fats and energy dense chemically processed corn products.

Reading this book is so enlightening, our food chain is really, really messed up. I don't particularly have a moral dilemma when it comes to eating meat, but I do have a problem with how this meat is raised. I don't eat meat very often, but when I do, I'd prefer to eat grass-fed cattle, who live their longer (4 to 5 years) lives in the sun and relaxed in pasture (corn-fed cattle live for a little over a year). Humans have been eating meat for hundreds of years, but this meat was HEALTHY, low on satured fat, high in Omega-3's, because it was raised naturally, on grass, and roamed the plains freely. Now, meat is bad for us, being raised on corn and antibiotics, and fattened too quickly for its own good, and for our good.

I hope something is done to change the food chain in our country, but our leadership keeps signing farm bills that encourage farmers produce CHEAP CORN. When are we going to wake up, and move to a diet more focused on fish, vegetables, legumes and whole grains? David and I talk about eating more vegetarian meals, but am so bombarded with meat I don't know where to start. I don't know what to cook or how to cook it. Recipes, anyone?

Kids These Days

David and I were playing tennis at the Bainbridge Waterfront Park yesterday, and the high school crew team was busy putting boats away right next to us. They were loud and gangly, typical teenagers, until I overheard this phone conversation:

"Hey, do you want to come over and watch the debate between McCain and Obama on Friday? I really want to watch it, and then we can discuss it together".

"Sounds great!! I'm so excited. So, when do you want to study for math?"

When I was in high school, I didn't give a flying one about politics. I didn't feel like any of the issues affected me, plus, I wasn't old enough to vote. Now, it's all I can read about. I'm glad the tides are turning, and that young people are taking an interest in the Presidency, and the issues. It sounds like they are genuinely interested, not assigned to a homework project. I hope these well-informed young people sign up to vote in mass over the coming years, so young people can have a voice in government.

What is she afraid of?

Palin bans reporters from meetings with leaders
Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin, who has not held a press conference in nearly four weeks of campaigning, on Tuesday banned reporters from her first meetings with world leaders, allowing access only to photographers and a television crew.
By SARA KUGLER
Associated Press Writer

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This is starting to piss me off. I think it is the DUTY of politicians to answer to their actions and beliefs. They should welcome interrogations by reporters. Both Senators Obama and McCain have been subjected to grillings. The more Palin rebuffs reporters, the more I think she has something to hide, and isn't ready to be Vice President, let alone PRESIDENT if the aging McCain dies of a 4th bout of melanoma. The President and Vice President both need to have the ability to hold press conferences and speak to reporters, this is all part of public office. I think the McCain campaign may fear what she might say, and that is saying loud and clear that even they don't trust her. This is a BIG RED FLAG, people.

Cold and Clear

I've decided to start taking my camera on the ferry to take pictures of the beautiful sunrise that greets me every day. I know I always like to describe it, because it changes clothes, and there is constantly something new to enjoy. Today I'm sitting backwards on the boat, and suddenly everyone's faces were bathed in red light. I looked toward Seattle, the horizon, and saw a fat sun rising like a chunk of molten lava. The clouds touch, tentatively, like a misty vale. Just beautiful.

My favorite type of day is when its clear and cold. The air bites my face, and the covers on my bed hold me like a caccoon. It was hard to get out of bed this morning and rush around getting ready in the dark. The only thing I don't like when its cold is getting on the ferry. I walk briskly down the ramp in the cool air, and when I get on board, it feels like a sauna. Hot and steamy. It makes me feel clammy and gross. I wish temperatures could all stay constant, without the fluctuations. How am I supposed to dress when its tropical on the boat, and chilly outside?

I love taking the ferry. It gives me something beautiful to marvel at every day.

I can't help it......

After 2 years of visiting the United States, Michelangelo's David is set to return to Italy

I dream in Wii

I've never really worried about the economy or government spending. Right now, I'm worried about both. I can't believe that the feds are about to pass a 700 billion dollar bailout package, when during the Clinton Administration there was actually a surplus. Thoughts of the economy and all the struggling people living in this richest of rich country kept me awake last night. And to make things worse, I was dreaming in Wii. Yesterday, I played lots of Mario Kart, and you can choose to play with real people around the world. Well, I was dreaming that this world was real, and that someone was trying to upset our government, and create a new economy. The people in my dream were Wii characters, and everything looked cartoonish. I guess this is a symptom of playing a new 3-D game, where the controls make you feel like you are INSIDE the televison. I can't imagine what virtual reality games will do to us one day.

Anyway, that is my rant about the economy, and I can't worry about it too much while I'm on this beautiful ferry. I'm completely distracted by the clouds, which are dark and brooding on the horizon, yet lift in pink puffs to reveal a light blue sky. The water is choppy gunmetal, and we are surging through, leaving the island, on our way to Monday morning. I'll never, ever get sick of this view.

One other thought before I go. My right arm and shoulder are actually sore today. I'd like to think its from when David and I emerged from our cave to go play some REAL tennis, but I know otherwise. I think when I play that damn game I'm swinging the remote as hard as a tennis racket, with no force on the other side, and its taxing muscles that I didn't even know I had!

Wii-diculous

So, David and I took the plunge and bought a Nintendo Wii yesterday. As soon as I plugged the thing in, it was love at first sight. I have to be very careful not to let myself get addicted! It's such a fun indoor, rainy day activity. David and I played tennis and golf, and we went around and around the Mario Cart tracks. I love that you can create your own character, now we have two "Mii's" that look exactly like us! I've always loved Nintendo, and almost fainted when I got a Super Nintendo for Christmas when I was 9 years old. Now I feel that same giddy feeling, there is so much on this game console to explore, and I just love how tactile it feels to move the remote around the screen. I'm Wii-dicted!!

So, all you Wii-ers out there, what do you recommend? What are the best games? Has anyone tried the Wii Fit?

A night in cuba

Last night David and I went island hopping, from Bainbridge to Cuba. The Bainbridge Island Performing Arts Center was transformed into a hopping nightclub. Tables with white cloths and colorful centerpieces crowded the stage, and a 9-piece salsa band belted out Cuban rhythms as white legs flashed on the dance floor. David and I haven't been salsa dancing in weeks, but remembered our patterns on the dance floor. I even got to dance with the instructor, who spun me around and complimented me the entire time. I'm so glad I haven't forgotten everything!

When I go to events like this, I fall even more in love with Bainbridge Island. We shared a table with two very nice couples. It's so different from a nightclub, where everyone is trying to hit on each other, and nobody cares about making friends. Here, we chatted up these two couples. One we think we could be friends with, and David handed over his business card. They are young and hip and exceptionally down to Earth. Man, I LOVE people from the Northwest, especially islanders.

The faces of people here are so different than a typical nightclub. They are nicely lined with wrinkles from smiling, the expressions are pleasant, and you can tell no one is trying to show each other up. It was the perfect date night, with good people, good beer, and a fantastic band called Trombanga.

I know he's 68.....but....I have a date!

Yes, with Patrick Stewart, aka, Jean Luc Picard Captain of the USS Enterprise, aka Shakespearan God. I'm going to finish writing my news stories, hop on the ferry, grab my Friday beer, and be transported where NO-ONE has gone before!!

As I wrote before, I am obsessed with this show. When I was 12 years old, I never thought Captain Picard was attractive. That has all changed, now that I'm 27. I was even watching the show with David the other night who said, "Now, THAT is beautiful man." Not necessarily because he's the best looking person on the planet. It's the way he carries himself, the strength and beauty of his voice, his grace and dignity. I hear he's still performing in England in Shakespeare plays,...right now, as Hamlet. Sigh. Beam me up! (Lisa, wanna go?)

I'll have what she's having

There's something in the air at Saint Thomas Virgin Islands, namely a stork with two very small, precious bundles. There must be something that makes couples swoon and love abound, where kisses flutter in the tropical breeze. Kokepelli must dance with his flute among the dunes, Cupid with his arrows hidden behind palms.

I'm very excited and proud to annouce that two of my very best friends are BOTH PREGNANT. Yes, the ones that got married this summer, the ones who BOTH vacationed at Saint Thomas within a month of each other. One is 9 weeks pregnant, the other is 4 weeks. So next spring, I'll be an auntie. I'll get to buy baby clothes and hold precious infants, and share in this delight and miracle with these women who are like sisters.

I am just SO overjoyed I can't keep it in!! What beautiful babies are in store for the world!

And on my honeymoon, guess where I'm going?

Quirks

I've always thought a good relationship means you can live with each other's quirks. Some people's quirks are so annoying (chewing gum loudly, farting nonstop, breath that smells like roadkill, holding a fork like its an axe, etc), that I could never live with them. Other quirks are cute, and are much easier to live with. David tells me what's cute now, will be flat out annoying in 10 years, and I bet he is right. It might be annoying after 2.

At first, he thought it was kinda "funny" that I'm rough on electronics. He, on the other hand, worships electronics. He stares at the latest Blue Tooth and Cameras like they're gifts from the heavens on the ceremonial altar of Circuit City. I, on the other hand, hate electronics. It's like we have dueling particle charges that mess up our internal systems. I throw remote controls, set our camera on the table upside down, drop my cell phone on pavement and break the screen (I hope no bosses are reading this). Now, not so funny.

At first, I thought it was "cute" that David has fast fingers. He has a tendency to tap on anything and everything around him. I used to join in, sometimes we'd tap out beats together. Now, when we're driving to the ferry in a HUGE rush and I'm stressed out and hyperventilating, he'll pound and tap on the steering wheel, the stick shift, the door, playing imaginary beats no one else can hear. It makes me want to throw myself out of the car at 50 miles per hour. Instead, I just grab his fingers and hold his hand so it can't tap anymore. Breathe, Kristin.

I've learned that these small quirks come with the people we love, its part of the package deal. Our families have quirks, our friends have quirks, our significant others have quirks. I am trying my very hardest to be more mindful of the sacred electronic devices around me, and I'm also trying hard not to be annoyed with tapping fingers. It could be worse, much worse. (a chorus of loudly smacking gum in my ears. Kill me, NOW.)

When I think about our relationship and all the wonderful things we share together, a little tapping and electronic throwing won't ruin things. If we can get through that, we can get through anything.

The only thing good about it was a Pekingese and fatigues

Reporters are often dispatched to stories that turn out to be "nothing". This happens more often than not, but we have to race to the scene, just in case it turns out to be "something big". Today, I headed to a standoff in a bad part of town, hoping I wouldn't take a bullet in my quest to report "breaking news."

Right when I got there, I knew things were wrapping up. People leisurely mowed lawns and walked their dogs in the shadow of a gigantic black SWAT truck. Police cars were everywhere, but there was no crime scene tape. I got out of the news truck as an old man and his dog walked by.

"Do you know what's going on over there?" he asks me, a smile wrinkling his face. His dog was the cutest Pekingese, golden brown with dark ears and nose. The little dog danced on his two hind legs as he vyed for position near my face. Seeing and petting that happy dog was ONE highlight of the standoff.

The second: men in fatigues. On my way to join the pack of reporters, this tall, muscular cop in fatigues smiled and said hello as he pulled a rifle out of his unmarked patrol car. I don't know what it is about men in uniforms and holding guns that I find attractive. Maybe its some sort of innate instinct to gravitate toward these protectors. Somewhere my brain is translating the fatigues into loin-cloths, guns into large sticks and axes, patrol cars the primordial caves. Anyway, I definately got my fill of it today. They were everywhere, and I had to remind myself to keep my eyes on my computer screen as I prepared to do the "they've got him!" liveshot.

All in all, the standoff today was a waste of time, but a feast for the eyes. Of course, I'm talking about the dog.

Engage

I used to be embarrassed to admit I liked watching Star Trek the Next Generation. I should say LOVED watching it. Every Wednesday night, I'd go to my Dad and stepmom's house, and it was a ritual for us to watch Star Trek, and I was especially thrilled when we ordered pepperoni pizza to go with it. My first crush as a teenager was a character on Star Trek: Ensign Wesley Crusher. I used to blush when my stepmom teased me about him.

When I moved to Bainbridge Island and joined the library system, I searched for TNG, and then put myself on the waiting list. I've lived on the island for almost a year, and FINALLY got my hands on Season 3. I've been watching it like a fiend, 2 episodes on the train ride to Portland, 4 episodes yesterday. I'm about to start watching part of one on the ferry - I have 15 minutes left, I can make an episode last a week! haha.

I love Star Trek because I've always been fascinated by the stars, and space exploration. I love to watch the adventures and the lessons the crew learns. And most of all, I'm no longer embarrased to admit that I like it.

My rear hurts, and I forgot my camera!

One of my favorite places in Portland is the Pittock Mansion, and I usually drive there, since its on top of the West Hills....meaning quite the hike! But yesterday, I saw my Dad and his girlfriend, who suggested we start in Northwest Portland, and hike through Forest Park to the mansion. It was a gorgeous day, and the flat, paved trail meandered by Balch Creek. The forest was cool to the touch, pugnent with the smell of moss and tree trunks. I love the way the sun dapples the path with gold, and it was an easy stroll. "Just you wait," said my Dad. Then the trail turned to dirt, and went up, up, up. He led us up that hill like a bat out of hell, a powerhouse hiker. To say the least, I was impressed! I was breathing hard and sweating out those Spanish Coffees I drank the night before. Forest Park is truly impressive, it's the biggest forested city park in the United States. It's 5,000 acres, with patches of old growth, and 70 miles of hiking trails.

When we made it to the top, to Pittock Mansion, the few was absolutely stunning. We could see Mount Saint Helens and Mount Hood, plus the entire cityscape. The lawn is manicured perfectly, dotted with rose bushes and designer trees. I didn't take the picture below, but wanted you to see the view from someone's camera.

Portland was a wonderful, tiny trip. I went down on Saturday by train, and came back Sunday afternoon. Saturday I also had a blast, my Mom and I frequented our favorite bar, where we had TWO Spanish coffees. I forgot how strong those are! It's like drinking vodka with an I-V for three hours. Anyway, we've been going there for about 10 years or longer, and the owner stopped by and chatted with us for awhile. Hubers has been in his family for decades. Even the bartender asked me how Seattle was treating me. I love going somewhere like that, where I'm recognized. It felt so good to be home, and to see both my wonderful parents!

I don't know whether to be offended......

Today I was covering a rally in Bellevue, and after conducting a very professional interview, someone there looked at me and said,

"You're so young and cute to have this job." She's grinning brightly, like what she just said is my best compliment. "I bet you just loooove it." More gooey smiles.

"It's fun!" I say, just as brightly, and walk away.

Why do people think just because I look a certain way, its surprising I have this job? Ok, on one hand its nice (i guess) I look young, but I want to look competent and professional, like a journalist who knows how to get the job done.

But no, that's not all. Today when I was signing my lease, one lady started ranting and raving about how she heard me on the radio all the time.

"And I can say, I know her." She chuckled like a schoolgirl, "But I have to say, you sound soooo much different in person."

"Yeah, I think it would be weird if I walked around talking with a news inflection all day long," I replied. Maybe the general population think news reporters talk like news people constantly, I have no idea. Or maybe I try too hard at work to sound "newsy." I have noticed this with several of my reporter friends. To sound like you know what you're talking about, you gotta give the voice some "ooompfh", sound confident, speak loudly and clearly, all the while, remaining conversational and authoritative.

Anyway, I'm now sitting on the ferry, just having joined the hordes of people who crowded like sardines into the galley.

"Welcome to the beer queue," I heard one woman say.

Thank goodness. And, they didn't card me.

It's been good, ferry.

The Bainbridge Island ferry and I are about to celebrate our one year anniversary. There have been up and downs, like any relationship. The ferry has shown me the beauty of Puget Sound as it rolls through charcoal waves. It has taken me past the large bodies of barges pushing throught mist to distant locations. It's gotten me within 500 yards of Orca whales, and dozens of feet from harbor seals. It's stood me up and left me frustrated, dejected and angry. It's spiced my hair with sea salt and blown wind in my eyes. It's taken me through disgusting sausage sandwiches and delicious microbrews. It's shown me what community means, as people talk and laugh and recognize each other on the way home. It's taught me to write again, to enjoy my moments of solitute through self-expression, not loneliness.

I've thought of breaking up with the ferry, of driving my perky red Yaris instead. It would be so much more convenient, " I tell myself. No more missing the boat and waiting an hour for the next one, no more frantic rushing in the morning so I make the the last call. I could stay out late on the weekends in Seattle and not worry about an hour commute home.

But I can't leave the ferry, this big beast of a friend. My travel companion, the vinyl seats so familiar, the sound of the engine so soothing. It's been good, ferry, it's been good. "Here's to another six months". (we're signing the lease tomorrow)

I liked it, I liked it!

I went to see Shrek the Musical last night with VERY low expectations. One of my coworkers said it "sucked", and "it didn't feel l was on Broadway, more like a small town theatre production" and "you better drink a lot of wine to enjoy it." He described mishaps that were laughable, and another coworker agreed. Others said "it got bad reviews" and "I couldn't get anyone to go with me" and "the sets were made of thin plywood". So, that said, I guzzled a couple glasses of wine and was ready to see a HORRIBLE show.

I LOVED Shrek. I was enthralled the whole way through, and what does that say about my taste in musicals? haha. I loved the sets, the costumes, the songs. I liked how the show moved from scene to scene, and Lord Farquat was just hilarious with his tiny fake legs, and big head and body. The gigantic dragon was beautiful as she swayed side to side and blinked with collosal eyes. Yes, I even laughed at the disgusting body humor. I wouldn't call it the most elegant musical, and it didn't have the best dancing I'd ever seen, but I thought it was cute and had a great message: don't judge a book by its cover. I loved hearing the squeals of laughter and whispers from the little girls behind me, who pointed and said with awe, "That's Shrek!!"

If you want a few laughs and good songs, go see Shrek. It's great for kids and adults alike, since it has some risque humor that goes right over the kids' heads. I'm glad I went into it with low expectations, because it made the show that much more wonderful for me.

I used to like the doctor's office

But not anymore. I'm STILL trying to find a good primary care physician after being here over two years. I've been to a couple different docs, but neither of them "jive" with me very well. I need someone who is warm, compassionate, and caring with a gentle demeanor and kind eyes. I had that in Portland, and now I can't replace her. I had been going to the same family care group for YEARS, decades even. It's comforting to know there's a place with all your records on hand, a doctor who KNOWS you, a staff who's quick to answer the phone and schedule appointments. I asked a couple coworkers for recommendations, and here is what I got when I called:

"Oh, that doctor doesn't have any appointments until November."

"That doctor isn't taking new patients."

"Hmm, try again in 2020".

FINALLY, I used my insurance card to find doctors on the plan, and called probably a dozen doctor's offices until I found an appointment, and here is what the damn receptionist told me:

"You'll have to fast. Nothing but water from midnight on."

FAST!! WHAT?? Are you kidding me? The thought of being without my coffee, cream, sugar (I know, bad) for 5 hours in the morning makes me feel sick and caffiene starved already. I'm also addicted to breakfast and am shaky and grumpy without food.

"But I don't want to fast, I got blood work done recently enough."

"Well, to establish care the doctor will want your blood work, and for that, you have to fast."

I felt like I wanted to cry. What if I don't WANT my blood drawn right away? It's a traumatic experience for me. I want to be the one deciding what my doctor does to my body, and my doctor in Portland never forced me to do blood work :( . Anyway, I'm sure I'll get over it and go get it done because I need a doctor. But I'm wondering, is this normal? Did your doctor make you fast?

There's something about morning

When I'm fully rested, sitting at my desk of dark wood, sipping coffee with splash of cream, the morning is still outside my window. Not a leaf quivers on sapling trees, as they await the golden brush of light. I love how the sun slowly fills the sky; it spreads bright yellow along the horizon as sleepy blue awakens above, and both combine in a watercolor painting.

It's in the morning (when I'm fully rested), that my brain is also still, and creativity flows. I always dream of sitting here at my desk and writing books, as thoughts enter my head as light the sky. But do all writers have this fear? That what they write isn't good enough, what if people won't want to read it? What if the plotline doesn't flow and characters won't develop? What if I can't even think about anything to write?

It's hard to plot a fiction book when I'm busy plotting my next news story. It's interesting how the two mediums collide, my brain has to be taut like a trampoline at work, bouncing words and ideas quickly and efficiently to make a deadline. When I write creatively, my brain is light and fluid, swirling ideas around like fine wine, taking its time. When I get off work sometimes it's difficult to switch modes and write creatively, but I know one is preparing me for the other.

The morning is so crisp and pure, a time to start over, another day full of new experiences awaits. There's something about morning that's so peaceful; the world is standing still, even if only for an instant, and I can stand still with it.

It's been a blast

One of my favorite things about living in a house is having visitors. David and I both love entertaining. Friday night, my sister Emily and her friend Lindsey got to Seattle, and we met up with David's sister and brother-in-law at Jazz Alley to see Chuck Mangione. It was a teriffic show! Guess which one is my sister, haha.

Saturday we hung out on Bainbridge Island and barbecued on the front porch, then met up with more family and friends to see the Mariners versus the Yankees. Below is my siblings and I.

After the game went home and chilled on Bainbridge, and had SEVEN people total sleeping in our house. Luckily, we found a futon at a garage sale so had enough beds.

Today we're going to media appreciation day at the Woodland Park Zoo. It looks like a beautiful day for it!!

Fox Attacks

I don't know what to make of of the news media in this country. The ownership circle is so small, and is in charge of so many outlets, that I think the message is skewed to suit their opinions. A lot of people speak of the "liberal" press, which might tend to favor Obama over McCain. But Fox News crosses a line, vilifying, sending out negative messages that will make people fear Barack Obama. What do you think of liberal vs convervative press, and when does it go too far?

Having similar cleaning habits is important to a relationship

I used to drive my ex-boyfriend nuts, absolutely bonkers.

"Kristin, why are your shoes in the living room? They've been there for three days now and I find it offensive." (ummm how can SHOES be offensive?)

"Kristin, just use a paper towel to dry the counter when you wash your face."

"Kristin, WHY ARE YOU SO MESSY??"

I've never been a spick and span neat and clean type person. In college, my dorm room looked like a tornado had blown through it. The entire floor was covered with books, loose papers, clothes and food. One time, I woke up in the morning to find I'd slept on a pack of pens and a pair of scizzors. At the end of the school year, I found a petrified, black banana under my bed.

My car in high school was equally as bad. The entire back seat and floor would be in a constant state of dissaray....full of empty and half-full Taco Bell bags. Sometimes my friends would refuse to get in my garbage dump car, or would say something along the lines of, " Do you LIVE in here?"

I've gotten better over the years; and I think living in a nice house helps. I think the house normally looks pretty orderly and clean. But I was abruptly notified that I'm still messy when David's sister spent the weekend with us, and immediately went into a cleaning frenzy in the kitchen, my kitchen. I wish she was here more often.

David is just as messy as I am. We share a car, which is now full of both of our clothes, both of our papers, books, tennis balls and rackets. There water bottles and envelopes covering the floors.

I spent a couple hours cleaning for my visitors this weekend, and I love the fresh smell, the way the counters and wood tables sparkle. I'm also so happy to have a boyfriend who doesn't care if I leave shoes in the middle of the floor, since his are there too, like two peas in a pod.

Here I come Jazz Alley!!

This month will be "date month" for David and I. We haven't been to Jazz Alley for almost a year, so I'm thrilled to be going tomorrow night with my sister and her friend, who are on summer break from the University of Oregon.

If you haven't been, Jazz Alley is a world class club hidden in a midtown office building. A tiny sign points the way, and well-dressed people linger outside a door leading down, down, down. It feels like I'm headed to a secret place during prohibition, to eat good food, drink good wine, and watch amazing jazz.

I first went to Jazz Alley with David almost two years ago, and had a surreal time. We saw a crooner who sings like Frank Sinatra, and spent more time staring at each other than at the music. We went another time and saw conga-drum extrodianare Poncho Sanchez, and people danced to salsa jazz in the aisles of the intimate dining area.

I can't wait to dress up, put on high heels, and head to the club tomorrow night. I also hope to inject a little culture into two young, bright college students, who probably have never been to a classy nightclub.

T Minus 3 weeks: Phantom

I've been obsessed with Phantom of the Opera as long as I remember, even though I've never seen the musical or the film. Imagine my glee when my company announced a pre-sale for the show, and I purchsed two tickets immediately. This was back in May; now I'll meet the Phantom at the end of the month.....well, actually next week when he comes to the studio for an interview.

When I was in my early teens, my Mom would blast the soundtrack of Phantom of the Opera in our living room. I listened to the music on my discman, learned the words to my favorite songs. When Rod Strickland was traded from the Trail Blazers YEARS ago, I'd sit in my room and sing, "Think of Me" to him. I'd record my singing on the tape recorder and play it back, upset I didn't sound exactly like Sarah Brightman.

Phantom of the Opera appeared in Portland while I was growing up, but it was always sold out. I went to New York City with a couple friends a couple years ago, and alas, Phantom was SOLD OUT.

Now, I get my chance to be enveloped by the Music of the Night, to revel in the voices and song, to feel the music vibrate inside my ribcage.

Over the weekend, for old times sake, I blasted Phantom of the Opera in my living room. David sat upstairs, humming along, probably wondering why there was so much stomping going on below. I danced to the beat of the opening song, and mouthed the words to "Think of Me", because I was too choked up to sing along.

Phantom, I'll FINALLY be meeting you soon.

Back to school

Whenever I hear the words, "back to school", I am transported back in time. I loved the scent of newly sharpened pencils, the crisp white notebooks lined up in my backpack, the brand-new yellow highlighter pen. I felt anxious that first day of school, wondering if my "first day" outfit was hip enough, who would be in my classes, if that boy I had a crush on would talk to me. I wondered where my locker would be, and whether I'd like my teachers.

Those words also remind me of how big a dork I was in middle school, and how I wondered why none of my elementary school friends liked me anymore. I wore black spandex pants with pink socks and keds, and my mouth was a jungle of metal. And that metal was PINK. I'd try to follow my friends to the lunch room and they'd leave me in the dust. I'd wear the same ratty blue sweatshirt for weeks on end, and get so scared when my crush talked to me that I'd become a mute. Oh yes, "back to school" brings some painful memories as well.

Now that I'm out of school I realize how much I miss it. When I was going through school, I counted down the years until I'd be a real "grown up." I hated the tests, the required reading, the required writing. If I was going to write, I wanted to do it myself, on my own topics and on my own time. When people would say, "I love school," I didn't get it.

Now when I hear those words, "back to school", I wish I was headed to a class to learn something new and open my brain, to have new experiences and meet new friends. I miss the football games at Autzen stadium where I'd watch touchdowns through foggy breath.

The only thing that's the same these days is the air, cold against my skin, a hint of fall that seeps through my clothes, and reminds me that soon the year will draw to a close. I'm no longer left in the dust by my friends, and I've grown and matured.

I hope that instead of going to school, I'll learn something new, try to better myself, be my own teacher and learn from others.

You can tell its a slow news day when....

1) All the top stories are national

2) You get naseous from scrolling up and down news websites

3) The reporters are doing stories that are 3 days old

4) Four reporters leave the newsroom to get pizza

5) You get carpal tunnel from clicking the mouse

6) You watch the same hurricane maps over and over

7) You call your significant other 5 times

8) You spend way too much time reading blogs

9) You spend way too much time thinking of blogs to write

9) You are raptly interested in the Republican National Convention

10) You get up and walk to the bathroom 5 times per hour

11) Then make a separate trip to fill your water bottle

12) Your make sure all the sentences are lined up in blog lists

13) You pray for breaking news or a travesty

14) Then immediately feel guilty for wishing wrong on people

15) Your don't miss any calls even though your cell phone has "all sounds off"

16) You can't believe you're writing a list about this and quickly sign off blogger in embarrassment

It's Labor Day......guess where I am

I've been in radio for 5 years now, and I still haven't gotten used to working all the holidays. Everyone else is waking up leisurely, going out to breakfast, shopping great sales at Value Village, having a wonderful, American holiday to celebrate their hard work throughout the year. And here we are at the radio station, reporting the news, traffic and weather to our faithful listeners, and the 5 cars out on the road.

I do love the news, but I love my free time more. I remember when I had all these holidays, and took them for granted. Now, any extra day off is a godsend.

My hat is off to all my radio friends out there, who are struggling to find stories on a slow news day. We are there for all the people on the roads, even when there are no traffic jams. The news must go on!!

And speaking of news, I'm praying for all those people in the Gulf Coast who are getting slammed by another storm.