Flight

So, one of my favorite things about my apartment is the view; and though it isn't the spectacular Sound View that the other side of the building has, it is of a unique downtown skyscape that includes the Smith Tower, the Seattle Public Library,The Columbia Tower, the County Courthouse and Prefontaine Place, among others. It also allows for amazing seagull watching. I have, of late, become somewhat mesmerized by watching them fly, and more often, glide on the updrafts and wind currents that these buildings so close to the ocean provide.
It is Jonathan Livingston Seagull come to life - these birds genuinely appear to be enjoying flight, circling far above the ground, chasing each other, soaring low, then swooping up on an updraft without flapping a wing, merely tilting the edges up or down. Up on the 12th floor, it's high enough that i can watch them sweep over the park for tasty food dropped by harried court employees at lunch in City Hall Park (or the assortment on homeless locals), and I can watch them zip up to the upper rooftops of the bigger buildings, but what I find most entertaining is the leisurely soaring in long, lazy circles in the fading afternoon sunlight. Seagull TV, my new favorite show.
It also brings to mind the stories you'd read (not as often anymore it seems) of inner-city (NYC, mostly) residents who keep pigeons, homing pigeons, and the delight they felt from watching the birds fly through the city, experiencing a freedom within the concrete canyons that we can, as bipeds, only dream about. And, of course, more than ever, appreciate the beauty within the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull - to observe these birds in flight (not being the mangy french-fry beggars they can be at the waterfront) is to see animals doing what they are meant to do - and seemingly, like sea otters who seem to swim carefree and passionately, enjoying what they do. It is comforting to see nature reveal itself in that way, in such an urban setting, in my not-so-humble opinion.

New faces, old standards.

It was a bit of an ordeal (the punkrocksoccermom car's battery was dead upon arriving at the garage to pick it up - thankfully one on the nicer garage dudes helped me jump it), but I arrived almost on time to Newbusguy's house for the second edition of wine tastings that he is arranging throughout the year. He had mentioned not being much of a drinker, but as he is interested in becoming a better server, he felt like knowing more about wines would help. I suggested he do what I was lucky enough to do when I was first getting my toes wet in the culinary world - sit down with some friends and a couple bottles of the same style of wine (or in my case it was cheeses) and taste them, comparing what each person tastes, notices, and experiences. He jumped on the idea, and so the second installment was last night.
The first edition was a bit more of a rollicking affair as there were as many bottles of malbec as people (6); but it was still educational, and brought a variety of people to the table - NBG keeps it to just 6 people at a time, which is manageable but still good variety. This week only myself and one other guest (she works at our sister restaurant, and is about to move to the wilds of Corvalis to finish her degree) were repeat attendees, and i was drawn because we were set to taste cab francs, one of my favorite style of wines. Also at the table were two people who worked in social media (interestingly, both were journalism majors like myself, but didn't refer to journalism as a vocation until pressed) and an ecologist/botanist who would be leaving for Patagonia in a couple weeks to study the density of hardwood trees there. She had written a grant proposal and gotten it funded - fascinating stuff. I mention this at all, because lately, i get caught up in trivial nonsense and often forget that We all have a huge universe of interesting people moving through our lives. Not all will be our pals, but its good to meet people, and so good, as I learned while living with K2; that eating and drinking together is healthy, important, and most of all, far more enjoyable than sport drinking. Everyone also brought some sort of food - which mean there were dolmas, gazpacho, fresh fruit, great cheese, crackers, a cassarole, olives, and yes, chocolate. A lovely night, and looking forward to seeing who comes to the table next time around.

Yep.

It still hurts. And i still miss him. And i know it's my own fault. Sometimes, I forget for a minute; but then in a flash, this white-hot scorching realization of how low I sank, how hurtful and vengeful I can be, sears my heart. Walking to the bus stop, retracing so many steps...losing a friend in a way I've never ever experienced before. There is no debate on the point. I made a bad choice. I took the low road, and I an so full of regret. So amazingly sorry, and fully aware there is no way to ever regain that friendship.