Weddings

So three of my dearest friends are getting married this summer. Two of them I know personally, another is Carrie from Sex and the City. Call me a sap, but just looking at the above pictures makes me emotional. Carrie, who I've been with through SIX YEARS of heartache and laughter, one cosmopolitan after another. I've never felt this type of connection with TELEVISION characters, and when I think about it, I feel pretty silly. But these are women I relate to, who so many women relate to. They inspire confidence, confide their deepest secrets, provide an outlet for emotions. I just can't wait to see this movie, and I hope all these women have a happy ending!

I'm equally excited for the weddings of my real life friends. My friend Annabelle, who I have known for 9 years, is getting married in Portland in July. My friend Abby, who I've known for 13 years, is getting married at the Salish in August. I am so happy these women have met the man of their dreams, and I'm proud to be a bridesmaid in both weddings.

Now, if only I could stand alongside Carrie when she marries Mr. Big.

The Age of Aquarius

I have realized that I totally fit my sign. I am an aquarius in every way possible. It's even evident when I try to figure out what to write on my blog. Once I think of a topic, I am tumbled into a serious of thoughts and pictures, and then I emerge from this journey 5 minutes later and haven't written a word. Aquarians often have their head in the clouds, and flit from topic to topic like birds lighting upon trees. I swim in my imagination and relish my independence. When I do things alone other people say, "Don't you get bored? You should have called me if you were alone all day!" I love being alone, to sit in my own thoughts and explore them with the tendrils of my mind that weave tapestries of nothing. Really.

Here are some traditional Aquarian traits I found on the Internet.

Good Traits:

Friendly and humanitarian

Honest and loyal

Original and inventive

Independent and intellectual

Bad Traits:

Intractable and contrary

Perverse and unpredictable

Unemotional and detached

So, I do like the good traits better, but I've noticed some of the other traits in my life, especially being contrary and unemotional. When I was young my parents would tell me to clean my room, and I'd response by messing it up even more. Once my stepdad told me to study for the SAT's and I tore up every single study guide until there was a mound of white paper on the floor. Some people think I have such a level personality that I don't display any emotion. But I've learned to tune in to my emotion, to recognize every emotion as "ok".

Aquarians are also humanitarian, and I love looking for ways to help the greater good, or animals.

Do you fit your sign? If so, how? Do you even believe in astrology?

Shorty's

I have an irrational fear of clowns. Maybe its that leering grin, or caked-on makeup, or the fact that I can't see the clown's true expression. The clown could be feeling anything behind that red and white makeup, and my only clue is the clown's eyes. I find that to be disorienting, I like seeing the full spectrum of facial expression. Clowns creep me out, so I find it interesting that I end up in a bar full of clowns at least once per week.

Clowns are everywhere. Pictures of clowns on the walls, clown dolls sitting on ledges, clowns hanging from a bunch of balloons suspended from the ceiling. Right now polka-like music is playing that makes me want to kick out my legs like a Russian as I drink my raspberry cider.

I used to think this place was strange, and couldn't really get into it. I don't like smoking, I don't like drinking all that much, but David likes it here because he can work on his computer without being bothered, and gets into interesting conversations with the interesting characters. It's a circus here. To me, a lot of the people who hang out at this place are like clowns. They have mohawks, beehives hairdos, and wear shirts with skulls and crossbones. They hide their true identities behind their outlandish looks, and I can't tell what they think about me, this blond girl in slacks and a North Face coat.

Last week I enjoyed this place, really enjoyed it for the first time. I sat outside and plugged my nose against the smoke, and got into a thought-provoking conversation with a young lady outside. I thought she was smart and creative, a free thinker. I found out that people don't judge me just because I look different, they embrace me.

What was I afraid of? Maybe that they would think I was the clown, hiding behind slacks and a North Face coat.

Daydreams

So, it's Memorial Day, there is absolutely nothing going on in terms of news, there are five reporters on staff, and I can't get my brain to write a single line of copy that actually makes sense. Instead, I will give my brain a short break, and hopefully yours as well. I'm daydreaming about San Miguel de Allende, its cobblestone streets and vivid colors, where purple bougainvilleas creep along stucco walls, where life slows down about 20 paces from the crazy life of a Seattle journalist.
Those are the streets I want to walk along every day, this is the place I want to live and study Spanish again and work on writing a book:

Oh what wonderful daydreams these are, but I can actually smell the fresh tortillas baking, the burgers frying with jalepenos on street stands. I can see the smiling faces and feel the soft pillow beneath my face during the afternoon siesta. What a luxurious three hours. You see, I did live in Mexico for three months during my junior year of college to study Spanish, and I came back to the United States completely culture-shocked. Why are people so frantic? Why is everyone speaking English? Why is everyone so WHITE? It took me a few months to adjust to the flow of life back in the United States, and this was in the relatively "slow" city of Eugene. Just look at me now, a news reporter in a big city, rushing to get stories on the air every half an hour, where thirty seconds is an eternity.

Sometimes its good to just let the mind relax, to remember the scents and sights of a place where time has no meaning.

Three Miles

Today I got the wise idea to ride my bike to volunteer at Furrytale Farm on Bainbridge Island. What the heck, it's only three miles, I thought as I pushed my bike up the gravel driveway. I was sweating by the time I reached the road, my heart pounding wildly before I reached the first hill. I ended up pushing my bike a lot of the way, panting like a worn out dog. I prayed to every pickup truck that passed, "PLEASE give me a RIDE". I pushed past driveways, and hairy alpacas. Inhale. Exhale. I pushed like a mule, my back parallel with the hills. Breathe, Kristin. I almost considered turning back until I reached the top, and saw THIS through a grove of cedar trees:

If those powerful peaks could push through the Earth, I could push on to the animal farm. And I am so glad I did.

My first "assignment" was getting to know two litters of brand new puppies (two weeks old, next time I promise to take pictures) . I sat with them in a shed as they nursed, squealing and grunting as they suckled. I held each tiny, new life in my hands, looked into their squinty eyes. Some of the pups latched on to my fingers, sucking so frantically I could hardly pull away. I scratched tiny bellies and little legs kicked. I touched miniature feet as mother dog looked on with big, brown eyes. Thirteen years old and still giving birth. That's like a 70 year old woman with 6 newborns. Each life is so precious, no matter how small.

Then it was on to the pot-bellied pigs, there are thirteen total. They looked at me warily through beady eyes as I scooped poop and talked to them quietly. Huge tusks pushed out from under a wiggly snouts as the animals grunted and groaned. It sounded like dogs growling, so I kept my distance, until we fed them baby carrots.

"If you peek into that shed over there, you'll notice it always smells only like straw," says farm founder Suzannah, "They are some of the cleanest, smartest animals I've ever known."

I touched the scaly skin and wiry hair gingerly, until the pigs ran away to find a spot in the shade.

The bike ride home wasn't quite as difficult, and I feel so joyful and refreshed after being around the animals, and a woman so passionate to provide them with a good home. I relished every downhill on the way back, and even enjoyed the one very difficult uphill. I took several breaks to drink water and stare at those Olympic mountains. Beauty surrounds us all the time, everywhere, and I believe the ability to appreciate it can get us through any rough spot.

Right now I am lounging on my chaise with the windows open, listening to birdsong. Tree leaves are glowing in the sun and dancing in the breeze, which washes over me, drying sweat from the bike ride. I am in complete peace, remembering to breathe, enjoying every moment of life. Inhale. Exhale.

Why I hate gum

I have nothing against this crazed-looking girl, only that giant pink mass popping out of her mouth. I have a "thing" against gum, just a little pet peeve. I think people look like cows when they chew gum with their mouths open. No, I don't want to look inside the yawning abyss of your mouth, or listen to the never-ending chomping sound. I think gum should be illegal, since it NEVER goes away, never gets old. I find this especially distracting on the bus (thank god for my ipod) or in meetings, where I have no escape. Sometimes it makes me want to scream.

So, I have one favor to ask. If you just have to chew gum, PLEASE keep your mouth closed.

Congratulations Mom!

My mother was recently published in the national magazine, Guideposts. Now her article is listed under "favorites" on www.guideposts.com I hope she can do good in the world and inspire people to use cloth diapers! Mom you are such a role model! You can check out the article here:

http://www.guidepostsmag.com/personal-change/personal-change-archive/?i=956

Open Waters

I spend one hour every day riding a boat. Not just any boat, a massive white ferry that can fit over 100 cars and 25-hundred people. I usually spend my time searching for story ideas online, or scanning the white caps for a dorsal fin, or plume of mist from a blowhole. I am dying to see a whale. I also spend time thinking, drinking beer, and now blogging. What better time to practice my writing, when I'm not under a deadline, when I'm writing whatever thoughts come to mind.

The same people ride the ferry every day, and I am beginning to recognize them. Not by their faces, but their body parts. There is one woman who is bowlegged, and she always wears flats, her feet jutting outward at strange angles with every step. One time I heard her talk and felt sorry for the man who sat there, nodding, for a half hour, not getting a word in edgewise. Then there's the man who sits in the same spot in the galley every day, wearing pants that sit too high on his waist, with greased-down, kinky black hair. I see round bellies cut by tight belts, feet stuffed into $300 dollar shoes, or a pudgy, ringless left finger. I wonder what these people do after these long ferry rides, if they have someone they love at home, or are just going to plop in front of the television with another saran-wrapped dinner.

Right now the water looks like an oil painting. Soft waves caress the light from the sky, folding it, bending it into rolling sheets of blues and whites. The dark ragged tops of trees mark the skyline of the Kitsap Peninsula, namely Bainbridge island. They are cutout shapes against a bright sky with swirling clouds. The pattern in these clouds looks like the hard sand that's shaped into ripples from waves.

We are turning into the inlet of Bainbridge Island, where a wonderful person will pick me up, and we'll retreat into our world of trees and castles. The house we live in actually looks like a castle, complete with turrets and a hidden room. When I'm there I feel at peace, its my sanctuary. Every day I'm thankful for my home, for David, that I'm not alone eating a TV dinner.