Orcas retreat

We spent a lovely weekend with friends at their home on Orcas Island. It's a tradition of sorts, where our families share a weekend together (usually) over the fourth of July. Our pals, Randy and Joseph Dixon and Deborah Haensli, have invited us up since our kids were about two years old.

We chartered a boat, which enabled us to see a different perspective of the islands and Puget Sound. The kids loved whipping across the water, observing aquatic life and exploring a smaller nearby island where we took a break. For the first 15 minutes or so Phoebe stood on my lap, wind in her hair shouting, "I'm on a boat! I'm on a boat!!" So hysterically-T-pain-funny.

We stopped at Sucia Island, which is a state park. It was great to stretch our sea legs to relax on terra firma. We were delighted to find some fossilized rocks during our shoreside explorations. Someone had built a labyrinth our of rocks and there was a heron stepping softly through the water, fishing for lunch. What an amazing change of pace, a lovely way to spend time with friends.

Thanks to the Dixon/Haensli family for such a fun mini-break! We look forward to spending more time with you on this side of the Sound.

Post Banya

Our fresh, glowing faces after some quality time at Banya 5.

Hit It

So the girls went to Banya 5, a Russian bathhouse in town. A bit hesitant at the beginning, we soon gave in to water-water everywhere and even worked the platka. 

I've been curious about this spa for a while, mainly because they advertise use of the "platka," or a branch of Russian White Oak with leaves still attached that can be struck against the skin. This is supposed to increase circulation and disperse tension. 

I am intrigued by this notion. First of all, there's the spiritual aspect of using an aromatic leaf to bring scent and energy into the air around you. Keeping your skin taut and your blood pumping seems like a wonderfully healthful thing to do. But mainly I just fantasize about whacking the heck out of Doug with a big branch. A side of catharsis with your aromatic blood flow? Yes, please!

In the bathing area there are a few other pools: a hot water whirlpool, a warm salt-water pool, then the cold water plunge. There's a Turkish steam room and a large shower area. Then there's the parilka. 

The parilka is, according to the website, a "Russian sauna oven generating 200+ degrees of penetrating radiant heat." It's where you go to get "platka'd."

We didn't really know the lay of the land going in, but we were game for the parilka, which was extremely hot. There was a very svelte, toned gentleman sitting in there. He answered a few of our questions, helping us learn that we should stay in the parilka then plunge into the cold water pool. We should do this a few times to open up the blood vessels and increase circulation. A part of me felt this would the wrong approach-that part of me that's afraid of shocking my heart into giving out. But another part of me was looking at this very toned, serene man, thinking, well, if he does it, it's gotta be good, right?

The cold water plunge is a shock. I wiggled in a bit, but soon realized it's better just to go for it. The experience is intense to say the least. I felt radiant in and under my skin. Maybe that's what it would feel like if your body was submerged in a vat of Icy Hot.

Toned Man, or after he introduced himself, Thomas, said he'd be leaving soon and did I want a demonstration? Sure-I was dying to try the platka, and what better way than to have someone who actually knew what they were doing?

After I laid down on a towel on my stomach, he took the wet platka and banged the ventilation cage above me. I immediately felt a warm shower of mist, pungent and woody around me. In a very methodic way he hit the platka against my arms and shoulders, moving in circles down my body. The branch is sort of flattened out like a fan, so what you feel is more the slap of leaves rather than branch or bark. It reminded me of watching someone fly-fishing. There's a rhythm, a cadence, and a circular motion to the line and I felt as if my back were the surface of a very still lake, with the platka moving air right above me just as the hook and line moves. It was very hot, but not uncomfortable. I tried to match my breathing to the strikes, to the movement of his arm above me. I felt very relaxed. After he moved down my legs, he placed the platka on the back of one of my thighs, then bent my leg, pressing the platka into it. The stretch didn't really hurt; it was more uncomfortable to have such heat on the back of my legs with added pressure. Breathe. He repeated it on the other side. Breathe again.

The ladies and I took turns working the platka on one another after that. We each got something from it, but found that various areas spoke us in different ways: Cynthia enjoyed the quiet tea room, Kelly liked the steam bath and Jenny and I loved bobbing in the salt water pool. 

Afterward, we felt revived and a little woozy. We would have liked to try the Venik Lounge next door for an infused vodka, but opted instead for a late dinner at Kushibar in Belltown. I really enjoyed spending some quality girl time with my friends in a new environment. We were already making plans to come back again-maybe with the guys in tow.

Okies R OK

My husband, Doug, spent many of his formative years living in Oklahoma. It pains me to hear the stories he has about being one of the few Asians at his high school or how out of place he felt in Tulsa. But I'm relieved to know that he had (and has) a great network of friends who, purely by coincidence, now live nearby in Seattle.

One couple who still lives in Tulsa - Mark and Kelly - were coming to visit, so we spent some time with the Okie gang recently. They came to our house for dinner one evening, where we caught up over an amazing paella Doug made while the kids (four boys plus my two girls) tore up the basement play area. On another evening the ladies went to Banya 5, a Russian bathhouse in town while the guys hit Zig Zag. It was great to reconnect with these friends. I ordinarily associate them with Doug's network, but I'm realizing that these are my friends, too, people I care for and enjoy having in my life. I can feel why they meant so much to Doug back in the day; and continue to mean so much to the both of us now.

Still chasin'

I had my penultimate letterpress class this week. I felt confident that I could print on the press and looked forward to having something in hand as I left that night.

However, given that even the most simple designs can become complicated, I spent the entire class wedging small pieces of paper and metal between the arrow heads of my type in order to "lock it up" in the chase for printing.

The -->-->-->-->--> pattern on my design was made with m-dashes and the letter 'v' on its side. Because the m-dash is a hair bigger than a 'v' on its side, I had to fill in that space so none of the type would rattle around or (horrific thought) fall out while in the press. It seemed manageable until it came time to lift up the chase and poke around at the letters. That's when my arrow heads would slide around.

My instructor suggested using tracing paper to fill in the gaps. So I cut tiny pieces of paper and fit them in with a tweezers, a task that took a ton of time and even more patience. Locked up the quoins (metal pieces with springs in them to apply even pressure to the type on two sides), and tested again. More wobbling. I did it all again. Wobble. The instructor tried. Wobble. We tried it with copy paper, cutting, tweezing out the other paper and tweezing in the new. Then tweezing in the metal pieces that fell out. Locked. Wobbled. Instructor tried. Locked. Wobbled.

Ugh.

It was so frustrating to spend the three hours in the studio just trying to squeeze metal letters together. When I left my neck was all tight and my head hurt. I can't go to open studio this Friday to try again because we're going out of town, so I have to wait until our last class to get this thing locked and loaded for printing. And I WILL. THOSE ARROW HEADS WILL BE MINE.-->-->-->-->

Pop!

The candy counter at Blackbird is a fun new find for us. While at the Ballard Farmers' Market last weekend Em got her first taste of Pop Rocks. I love this expression on her face as she feels them tickling her mouth.
Really, the kid is eight years old. What kind of parent have I been that it's only now that she's eaten Pop Rocks?!

Dinner date

After the film, we walked over to Spinasse to see if we could get in for dinner.

They squeezed us in at the bar, where I personally love to be in order to watch all the comings and goings of the kitchen. But what we saw in the kitchen seemed unusual to me: A calm atmosphere, with the chefs working next to one another, chatting or laughing together without any frantic scramble or even the clatter of a dish. It was mesmerizing to watch, really, like a stylized dance where spoons twirled blithely through the air and the pans tilted with the sole purpose of catching the overhead light under a flame. I honestly don't remember seeing such calm servers and chefs.
(Our server was also very calm and collected when a man at the other side of the bar asked if they had any strawberry shortcake for dinner. It's a beautiful Italian restaurant. The menu is mostly in Italian. We weren't at Seattle Center, here, people.)

They started us off with a crostini topped with pickled beet greens. Then, because we'd ordered the squab, which took some time, they brought us an amazing fettucine with beef and pork ragu to hold us over. My maltagliati pasta with vegetables was perfect. Refreshing, hearty, warming-I couldn't stop eating it. I also couldn't stop eating the ciogga beets and lentils from Doug's squab, either. Nor could I stop, despite my very full belly, from eating dessert: Mine: gianduja semifreddo (a lovely hazelnut gelato-like dessert accompanied by a chocolate/nut brittle) and Doug's: roasted peach with panzanella dolce (I'm pretty sure this had croutons. Croutons!).

We could not believe how wonderful our lives were throughout this dinner. Blessed and fed, happy and deeply in love with Spinasse, Seattle, life and each other, we left the restaurant bursting.

P.S. At the restaurant I had posted a tweet saying "So delicious," with a picture of our dessert. The restaurant also has someone tweeting because they ReTweeted my post! Thanks, @Spinasse!