Favorite Meal at Ivar’s
Ivar’s is a Seattle icon, with several different restaurants at different locations. The original Ivar’s Acres of Clams is still in downtown Seattle, on the waterfront. Another great favorite is in Mukilteo, right next to the Mukilteo Ferry, where they have both a beautiful restaurant and an outdoor quick-stop, so while waiting for the next ferry over to Whidbey Island, you can snack on fish and chips – or clams and chips, scallops and chips, salmon and chips, halibut and chips . . . you catch the drift. All hot and freshly made, there is no more wonderful fast food – to me – in the world.
During a break in my busy day, I had a crab-on-crab meal, Dungeness crab, it has it’s own sweet, intense flavor:
What you are looking at is a Dungeness Crab Cocktail on the left, and a Dungeness Crab Ceasar Salad on the right. Oh, yummmmm!
Family Culture Early Rising
There are some great things about being with family. You know how things are done. You know what people mean when they say things. You exchange ‘looks.’
When I am with my family, there are some funny things that make me feel at home. Both my sisters have smashing views, one looking southeast at Lake Washington and Mt. Rainier and the other at Puget Sound and the Olympics. Growing up on the side of a mountain with a view of water, game and mountains, it just feels ‘right.’ Not a lot of mountains in Florida to build a house on the side of. Or to view . . . sigh.
Staying at my sister’s house, I was the last one up. My body time was two hours earlier then all of theirs, but I was the last one up. They are early-to-rise people. I totally love it – for so many years, I’ve been an early riser living in countries where the day starts around noon and runs well past midnight . . . especially during Ramadan. In Kuwait, I took photos of the sunrises for this blog; my friends told me it was the only sunrise they ever saw, LOL.
Being around other early risers – aw, what a joy. As I left the house for the airport, Little Diamond was already up eating breakfast and I was able to hug her one last time before departing.
The photo above is the view of the I-90 bridge crossing Lake Washington in a cool, breezy pre-dawn.
Name that Country: A Most Difficult Challenge
This morning, as I was praying for Panama – there is always a diocese listed in the daily lectionary to be prayed for somewhere in the world – I was thinking how I know where Panama is. When we are praying for Nigeria, there are names I haven’t heard of. I now Lagos, and Port Harcourt, but where is Abuja? Owerri? I go to GoogleEarth and look them up.
I struggle with how little the average American knows about geographical location. It’s just embarrassing. Through all the years I lived abroad, most of the time, unless it was Germany, people couldn’t quite place where I was living. Many had heard of Tunisia; we had troops there in World War II, and Saudi Arabia, because they had seen it often enough on the news, but the rest of the Arab Gulf, Jordan, Syria, North Africa – beyond them.
Then, on the first night of one of my grad classes, the professor handed us this map and gave us ten minutes to put in the appropriate country names. He did not, thanks be to God, ask us to put in capitals. Not a single one of us got them all, and this was a class full of nation-oriented people.
It was also on the final exam, three months later, and most of us got them all right – thanks to some fervent cramming and study groups.
Here are a couple more maps, in case you are feeling cocky. See if you can accurately fill in the name of each country:
Bonne chance!
Beach Road 98 on a Torrential Fourth of July Weekend
A two and a half hour drive took us six hours. We also stopped for lunch, and we stopped to pick up the Qatari Cat. The rest of the time, we were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic most of the 100 something miles of the drive home; stuck in one lane even on four lane highways as the drains failed when there was so much rain and runoff that there was no where for it to go.
Leaving Panama City, the surf was high, and full of undertow.
We were able to get through the Watercolors/Seaside area quickly, and then the deluge:
When we had to go single file, most of the time everyone cooperated, letting people in from gas stations and side roads, taking turns, etc. Then, there are always those @$$&*!>$ who think everyone is being too cautious and polite, who break the line, go thundering up through the lake, discover no, no they really can’t make it and barge back into the line. Karma catches up with the arrogant.
The worst part, the very worst, was going past the SanDestin outlet malls; when the skies break forth and there is no possible point to being on the beach, the tourists head for the malls and the restaurants. The malls were booming! Traffic crawled by. Even the poorest restaurant was also full; thank God we were still full from breakfast.
This is the bridge leaving Destin; on the right side of the road in front of that stalled truck is about a huge puddle a foot deep:
Outside Navarre, both rain and traffic began to lighten up. We stopped at a little roadside place I’d always wanted to try for something that might have been our late lunch or our early dinner – TC’s Front Porch, it’s across from the Navarre Butterfly House.
There was a small crowd inside, guys hanging out at the bar, looked like fishermen waiting for it to clear up enough to go back out and catch some fish, some tables with college kids down on the beaches for summer break, maybe lifeguards – swimming not allowed with the heavy surf and heavy rip tides running.
Everyone pretty much just waiting out the storm, tossing back a few brews, just hanging out. I had some pretty good crab cakes and AdventureMan had the chili. It was all OK. Beach food.
The Qatari Cat was delighted to see us, and slept as close as he could to me all night (not such a great thing; I appreciate that he thinks I am special, but he is hot, and I can’t turn over without disturbing him . . . aarrgh) This morning, however, he ran and hid under the bed when he saw us getting ready to go out; we think he was afraid we were taking him back to Wee Tuck’Em Inn, LOL.
Here’s the thing. For us, we were just inconvenienced, and it was just minor inconvenience. We had the time, we knew beach traffic would be heavy, it was a little adventure.
For people who earn a living from tourism, for some of these people, this weekend was probably a disaster. The hotels are packed for the Fourth of July weekend, and lots of fireworks displays are planned, big entertainment – it’s a big money making time of the year. With the four day storm, some people probably cancelled hotel reservations, and when the rain didn’t stop, others left. Many of the July Fourth fireworks displays were cancelled. Local fests were rained out. I am guessing most of the malls and restaurants did OK; not much else to do, but it rained SO much that there is a lot of flooding and a lot of damage. This, for many people, was not a good weekend.
Retrograde 4th of July
Alternate title: Every man needs a Kubota
As we were listening to the news and weather Tuesday night before going to bed, the weather woman was talking about a ‘retrograde’ storm system. She showed us on the map; normally our weather blows from west to east, but this storm was going to blow east to west, and then reverse and go west to east again. Going counter to the normal flow is ‘retrograde.’
Our entire holiday was retrograde. Which, for people like AdventureMan and I, is not too bad. It’s a good thing we married one another; we are not to good with same-same all the time, if things get too tame, we shake things up a little bit. It’s not good or bad, it’s just the way we are wired.
One of the first differences was that we weren’t leaving early in the morning to drive down Highway 98 along the beach road; we were picking up our adorable grandson, going to his house, and as soon as our daughter-in-law got off work we would hit the interstate.
It all went well; cloudy skies but light traffic, all was well until we left the highway headed south . . . and started hitting the “Roads Under Water” signs. We didn’t see any roads under water until the car in front of us hit what looked like a shiny spot on the road and went almost a foot deep. AdventureMan cooly slowed and drifted steadily through the lake in the road – and we thanked God to be in a vehicle a little higher off the ground than a sedan.
After the lake in the road, it started raining, a little sprinkling, and then a steady rain.
The temperatures dropped.
Here is what we had planned – dinner with family and friends, a day of fun and heading out for sun downers on the boat to watch the fireworks on the 4th. Heavy applications of insect repellant and sunscreen.
Here is what happened – the deluge.
Here is what was cool about the deluge – the temperatures were the coolest, 24 hours around the clock – that we’ve seen in a month. We could sit out on the screened porch looking at the bayou, listening to the rain fall – it was heavenly! No insect repellent needed. No sun screen needed.
Our hostess is a wonderful and creative cook; unafraid to try new recipes. Dinner after our rainy drive in: Red snapper, baked in a crust of crumbs with butter and parsley, so delicious. Green beans and mushrooms; so good I had them for breakfast another day 🙂 Holy smokes, desserts. The best pound cake ever, topped with peaches in their own juice and whipped cream, or chocolate red velvet brownies.
It was a fabulous lazy day. In the afternoon, our friend got an emergency call; friends whose husband was out of town were facing a flooding situation. Loading up his Kubota, he and AdventureMan went over and (manly manly) DUG A DITCH! getting all dirty and wet in the process, coming home with those grins that only activities like a good hunting trip, a successful fishing trip or digging a good ditch can create.
We had great plans that night to visit The Blue Fig (“They have mohammara!” my hostess said, knowing my weakness) but when we got there, it was closed . . . and, oddly every restaurant along that strip seemed to be closed. And side roads were flooded, more big lakes of water in the roads. It had rained so much and for so long that the runoff had no where to go.
Our little grandson fell asleep while we were searching for a restaurant that was open, and slept in my arms through dinner. I know this might be the last time; he is getting to be such a big boy, so I just treasured the time and listened to him breathe.
I know it may not seem like such a great holiday to you, but it was fun. We focused on conversations and laughed a lot. AdventureMan thinks every man might need a Kubota. We listened to the rain fall on the leaves, the roof, the bayou. We listened to the frogs celebrate the 4th of July. We really had a great time.
Americanah and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Rushing from one meeting to another yesterday, I had just an hour – but during that hour, Terry Gross was interviewing one of my favorite authors, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie does GREAT interviews. She is funny, and educated and insightful; she can talk about painful topics and make you laugh and cry with her. That interview was a blessing on my day.
I started reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie when I was in Kuwait. A good friend approached me and asked me to form a book club. LOL. This is a friend I can’t say no to. Every introverted bone in my body was screaming “NO! NO!” and I smiled at her and said “Yes.”
God is good. He laughed when I said “yes” and through the book club, introduced me to authors I might never otherwise read. The club was made up of many nationalities, and we read books from everywhere, unforgettable books. We read Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie “Half of a Yellow Sun.” Once you read Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, there is no going back. I wonder if I will be able to hold out on Americanah until it comes out in paperback?
This is from the National Public Radio website, so you can actually listen to the interview yourself, should you want to get to know this delightful author a little better.
‘Americanah’ Author Explains ‘Learning’ To Be Black In The U.S.
When the novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie was growing up in Nigeria she was not used to being identified by the color of her skin. That changed when she arrived in the United States for college. As a black African in America, Adichie was suddenly confronted with what it meant to be a person of color in the United States. Race as an idea became something that she had to navigate and learn.
The learning process took some time and was episodic. Adichie recalls, for example, an undergraduate class in which the subject of watermelon came up. A student had said something about watermelon to an African-American classmate, who was offended by the comment.
“I remember sitting there thinking, ‘But what’s so bad about watermelons? Because I quite like watermelons,’ ” Adichie tells Fresh Air‘s Terry Gross.
She felt that her African-American classmate was annoyed with her because Adichie didn’t share her anger — but she didn’t have the context to understand why. The history of the trans-Atlantic slave trade was not taught to students in Nigeria. Adichie had yet to learn fully about the history of slavery — and its continuing reverberations — in the U.S.
“Race is such a strange construct,” says Adichie, “because you have to learn what it means to be black in America. So you have to learn that watermelon is supposed to be offensive.”
Adichie is a MacArthur Fellowship winner and author of the novels Purple Hibiscusand Half of A Yellow Sun. Her new novel, Americanah, explores this question of what it means to be black in the U.S., and tells the story of a young Nigerian couple, one of whom leaves for England and the other of whom leaves for America.
The title, she says, is a Nigerian word for those who have been to the U.S. and return with American affectations.
“It’s often used,” she says, “in the context of a kind of gentle mockery.”
Countdown
“We’ve started the count-down calendar,” said my beautiful and very pregnant daughter-in-law, “We have so many things we want to get done before the baby comes.”
We were gathered at one of our favorite casual lunch places, a place where we could eat well and our 3 year old could be both free to roam a little, and safe to roam, while the grown-ups talked.
“We’ve started, too,” I smiled at her, “I need to finish up her baby quilt, and two quilts for the homeless project I have due in September. And of course, we will be out of the loop the last two weeks before she is born, so I need to keep motivated now.” I know she will call on me once the new baby is here; I am the back-up, the “can you fix dinner / wash the dishes / hold the baby while I shower / clean up the baby spit / run to the grocery store/ feed the cats” person. I love it. It’s why we moved here, to be here when they need us, when they need the help. Being close to family, being there to help when they need the help – this is one of the great lessons we learned from our friends in Amman, in Kuwait, in Doha, in Tunis.
We also have an Alaska adventure in store, planned before any of us knew the new baby was en route. It’s not Africa, but we aren’t up for another of those 17 hour rides from Atlanta to Johannesburg this year. Alaska will be fun, a sentimental journey back to my origins for me, and a whole new environment for AdventureMan.
“We’ll also have the school break to cover,” beautiful D-I-L added, “but I know there is going to be a cousin’s camp; I just don’t know when it is going to be.”
Cousins camp – oh what fun. All the little like-aged cousins get together for a week of hell-bent-for-leather activities, from water parks to fire departments to scavenger hunts, they keep those little rascals so busy that they just fall into bed at night. It’s all good.
“I know it’s all going to fall into place,” she sighed, smiling at our son, “but we need that calendar to keep us on track.”
Yeh. Us too!
Forty Years Wedding Anniversary
“You’re going to celebrate your anniversary for three days?” my friend asked incredulously.
“No, no, actually, it’s in two parts, we are celebrating the entire weekend, three days, but it’s because it is too hot to walk around New Orleans; so this is just part one, and in December we will celebrate part two with a trip to New Orleans when we can walk around and enjoy all the Christmas decorations and stay somewhere nice.”
It’s what we do.
There have been some years, particularly years with moves, or new positions, or new contracts in them, when anniversaries have sort of fallen by the wayside. We are enjoying making up for all the missed anniversaries, now that we have the great luxury of time.
We have all kinds of fun plans, a hotel stay, a dinner in a fine restaurant, star gazing out at Ft. Pickens, maybe a dolphin cruise, and a trip up in the very large beach ferris wheel, while it is still at Pensacola Beach. We plan a day in several pools with our son and his wife and our little grandson. All. or part, or some of this may really happen, depending on what the weekend weather looks like. Ft. Pickens has already evacuated all the campers with concerns over this Tropical Storm Andrea coming in, and a dolphin cruise or a trip up on the great wheel may not be such a hot idea at 40 – 50 mph winds, LOL.
AdventureMan and I knew when we married that we were in it for the long haul. We also knew it wouldn’t be easy. We come from different cultures, different life styles. We both had independent lives and responsibilities. We moved a lot. It wasn’t always easy, but then whose life is, when you know that life from the inside? We’ve had some great adventures, and some fabulous, astounding experiences. We’ve met extraordinary people and made very special life-long friends.
When I told AdventureMan our weekend might not be as exciting as planned, he laughed and said “we can bring our books.” He always knows how to make me laugh, and taking books is exactly what we did when we first got married, and would take weekend trips to a lakeside resort called Chiemsee; it would be snowing and cold and we would go into this large old lodge with it’s double doors and double shuttered windows, with it’s eiderdown comforters and huge fireplace, and we would pack books. We would sleep and read, and sometimes go eat. If that’s how this anniversary turns out, it’s a very comfortable and familiar way to celebrate.:-)
AdventureMan loves this blog. He always looks for his name. 🙂 Happy Anniversary, dear husband.
Economy Class: The Worst of the Worst
LOL, I have flown a lot of miles, but I have never flown any of these airlines in the ‘Worst of the Worst.” We used to fly RyanAir when we lived in Germany, and if you know to expect nothing, you get what you expect :-). It’s a lot like Jazeera, only without reserved seats and without leather seats. Oh, and people shoving to get on; I guess it was pretty bad, but oh, it was so CHEAP! Awful, but the flights were short, so you just gut it out and get there.
This is from the Frequent Flier Crier:
Economy class is pretty bad, even at its best. And at it’s worst, it’s truly horrendous, a toxic mix of too-tight seats, rancid peanuts, and don’t-bother-me service.
So which airline’s coach class is the worst of the worst? Business Insider Australia set out to answer that question, using data compiled by airline reviewer Skytrax on such measures as seat comfort, inflight entertainment, meals, and inflight service.
Such perennial service underproviders as Spirit and RyanAir made the list, at 18th and 11th worst respectively, but the other contenders for the title of world’s worst airline will be mostly unfamiliar to U.S.-focused travelers.
The envelope, please …
1. Turkmenistan Airlines (rated 30.8 on a 100-points scale)
2. Sudan Airways (rated 33.3)
3. Ukraine International Airlines (rated 36.3)
4. Uzbekistan Airways (rated 37.5s)
5. Air Koryo (rated 39.2)
6. Bulgaria Air (rated 41.8)
7. Rossiya Airlines (rated 42.7)
8. Iceland Express (rated 42.8)
9. Tajik Air (rated 43.3)
10. Syrian Air (rated 44.8)
Regarding Turkmenistan, the report noted that “terrible rankings on Skytrax for in-flight entertainment, seat comfort, service efficiency, staff response to passenger requests, and staff language skills make it the worst airline you can find.”
So next time you’re tempted to dub Spirit or US Airways or Frontier the worst airline ever, find some solace in the fact that the flight could have been worse. Much worse. It could have been Turkmenistan bad.


























