Crafting, sewing, hiking, engaging the creative, fulfilling the psyche
Author Archives: powerofcraftcompelsyou
Just a novice who was gifted a sewing machine and blessed with a healthy helping of her mother’s craftitude. While I don’t see myself as creative, I know I’m crafty. Give me a problem, I’ll find a solution. Be it corporate America, or transforming scraps of fabric into useful and beautiful things. I’m up for the challenge.
Tonight I decided to Google myself. Why, you ask… well it’s clear someone out there has googled me and is now bombarding my work email with junk. So I’m curious what else is out there (I’ve taken pains to remove much of my digital footprint, but not everything goes away).
Standard things: LinkedIn profile, plenty of things regarding a particular woman with my name in New Hampshire who is apparently married to Matt (my brother’s name) who also has a shoplifting charge, and links to other members of my extended and very extended family. And then something from The Inlander in Spokane. https://www.inlander.com/news/sacred-and-profane-2173913
A review of a play dated November 2001. Uncommon Women and Others by Wendy Wasserstein, directed by the brilliant Gene Engene. It was a great show. I loved playing Muffet DiNicola. (Although I do recall hating the orange “tan” I had to apply every night.)
The review is pretty great. Apparently I commanded the stage from the first scene. A-thankyou.
But just as the critic said the show made them feel old, reading the review and reliving the moments made me feel old. Over 23 years ago. Even today my staff told me, “Spokane has changed. You lived there, like, a very long time ago.” Geez. Thanks.
This year will be a year of change. And while I can’t go back to being 21, I can find reflect on how Muffet and I shared many qualities in common. Uncommon. And embrace who I am. Who I was. And who I will be.
Thank you, Gene, for casting me in this role and giving me memories to cherish.
It’s debilitating constantly seeing your worth in terms of someone else. Muffet out. (Good lort that headband hurt!)
Yes, I know. This appears to be a Blog site about crafting and such, but nah – it’s a Blog about my meandering through life. And this week, I’ll be meandering around Greece.
After a night’s stay at the Sofitel at London Heathrow, we boarded a crowded flight to Athens. With little to no legroom, we squished into our seats and had the lovely {read with sarcasm} companionship of a Two-Hat man who made it clear that the armrest was HIS. He made sure to keep his knees spread as wide as his short little legs would let them go. And huffed, hollered, and stared every time we laughed or had the audacity to breathe. And he blessed us with a retort to his phone as we de-boarded, “it’s full of Americans”. So now Rachy is American!
(Forgot to mention he had his leather loafers off with his bare stinkers hanging out.)
Then a hot and uneventful train ride to town. A hot and uneventful walk to the flat. And a hot and uneventful walk to the shops for groceries and Greek baked goodies. Dinner under the AC in our skivvies. Delightful.
Tomorrow is tourism day. Acropolis at 8am after coffee and more Greek baked goodies. Then back to the flat for a rest under the AC. Someone left the heat on in this city so we’re hydrating and seeking cover.
When it ended: twelve years and (basically) 266 days after that birthday. Nine days before my birthday.
Pinga and I met 13 years ago. He was a slightly over confident dude who didn’t care how ruthlessly his friends chided him and teased him about his race or his mild self-importance. He loved his friends and didn’t mind that they took his shirt, soaked it water, and proceeded to put it in the freezer overnight. Nearly 40-year olds are basically aged children.
I was in full on rebound mode. Heartbroken and looking for “stability”, I thought Pinga’s ease and confidence was exactly what I needed. He was thoughtful and kind and made me laugh. He cared! Not just about me, but about every single one of his friends. He laughed at himself. And at us.
So we dated. 3 whole months. And when I told him that we could only be friends (rebound dating, I quickly learned, shouldn’t be about finding the polar opposite), just before the holidays, he stepped up and became one of my very best friends.
That Christmas, he gave me a starfish Tiffany’s bracelet. I refused. He demanded. It wasn’t about the cost, it was about the value. And he knew how much starfish meant to me. I will cherish that bracelet for the rest of my life. {thank you, Pinga Ling}
There are so many best friends memories in the intervening years. Trips. Disagreements. Drunken friends lost in The City requiring the two of us to become parents of an adult for the night, Glade at Dolce Leche, unintentional twinning, food, Bloody Mary’s, Asian squats, Hotel Phan, dating, snoring, breakups, Vegas Vegas Vegas, birthdays, holidays, bucket lists, neighbors. In no particular order.
And then, both suddenly and subtly, life happened.
Two and a half years of relative silence. Always in the background of my mind. Instagram posts. Facebook likes. Distance. New relationships. Marriage.
Then the call. I cannot yet wrap my mind around the fact that he’s gone. It doesn’t resonate. It doesn’t make sense. It isn’t ok. I’m not ok. He was my brother. My Asian brother. Banana, Twinkie. My Phan.
First things first – I’m well past 17 hikes now. And I’m still ahead of my goal. BUT! I have, I’ll admit, significantly slowed down my progress.
But ya see, I gots me a j-o-b! And that’s clearly important. goodbye funemployment…
It was a last-minute, slightly chaotic, totally blessed affair. Got one job offer that was, let’s just say, insulting. And the same day, got a call back from the job I eventually accepted. And in fewer than 24 hours of signing my offer, I was at work.
This is, however, after a frantic drive from Ashland to Seattle through a freak late-March snow storm that socked in Sexton Pass just to get to a 2:30pm interview on Friday. Followed by a ride-a-long interview on Monday, and a wage and status bartering match on Tuesday, with a start day of Wednesday.
Needless to say, I had no time to get my Ashland life in order. Or even have a plan for where I’d be living back in Seattle. I’m technically homeless, you know. (Or so says one particularly dense individual, countered by the loving people who declare I have (at least) three homes.)
Luckily, I was able to finagle three days off in what would have been Work Week 2.5 so that I could drive seven hours south on a Tuesday, pick up the Queen and King of Ashland via Adelaide on Wednesday, and drive another 8 hours north (hello traffic) on Thursday. Mortared in with frantic packing, dinner in town, and more frantic packing, (and Seester tears) … naturally.
So, yeah. I’ve been quiet on the blog front. But for good reason: I have had to grow re-accustomed to working 40+ hours a week AND being the person in charge of making all the decisions during those 40+ hours, but in an industry I know basically nothing about. (Don’t ask me yet… I’m still learning!)
So tonight I bid temporary farewell to my babes and headed to SeaTac to catch a red eye (yup, it’s 2:43am somewhere over North Dakota) to NYC to celebrate the 55th anniversary of D being born. Can I sleep on this plane? Hells no. Will I rally tomorrow? Hells no. Kidding. (?) I’ll dig deep into my old actress days and pretend to be awake during the mani-pedi we’ll all be getting in just a few short hours. (maybe my snores will sound like conversation)
Also, how the heck does Etsy’s algorithm work?! I hadn’t sold much of anything in the first few months of the year because of being in the road, but then suddenly I’m selling all the ‘fabric bowl covers’ in the world! They’re not even a featured item?! Do I make more?! I haven’t even finished my own sundress for Greece! Good gracious.
I can only hope I’ve learned something over the course of all these miles.
I’ve learned that I can accomplish things even when I feel lost, listless, or lonely.
I have excellent calves.
You can lose weight and still not fit into your old skinny jeans, because calf muscles are the bane of “skinny jeans” (and I love my excellently large calves, so who needs skinny jeans?!?).
Asthma sucks, or {rather} doesn’t let you suck air… But slowing down going uphill means I’m still alive.
I do, however, suck at journaling.
You can “read” a lot of books while you hike (thank you, Audible and Libby), but sometimes the best sounds are the sounds of silence, of birds, of the squelching mud beneath your boots, or the wind whistling through the silver hoops that are blissfully dangling from your earlobes.
You can overthink a lot of things.
You can experience revelations. Some of which will be painful, but still so so good.
You can cry and hike, sometimes just ‘cuz it’s friggin’ cold and the wind is burning your eyeballs.
If you let the wind and dust attack your eyeballs too much, you can develop a conjunctival cyst and be forced to wear sunglasses as goggles and use eyedrops.
Hip pain and knee pain and ankle pain are real. And I have sung Dem Bones too many times trying to avoid the reality of ow!ow!OW!
…I could spend hours upon hours beachcombing and collecting a ridiculous amount of sea glass and seashells, both whole and partial. When B was young, we’d pack a picnic and head to the beach, filling *jars* with our goodies. In lieu of a jar, today I filled my pockets. A bit of sea glass. A handful of (what I hope are) agates. A random assortment of sun-bleached shells. A couple rocks that somehow caught my fancy (including a ball that was once a brick). And a lucky penny from 1962.
There’s a 2.3 mile out-and-back trail (Meadowdale Beach Trail) just 12 minutes from J’s place. So, naturally, I took myself on a relaxing hike date today. It is an easy hike, so the next adventure needs to be longer and a bit more strenuous. But – don’t get me wrong – the ‘back’ portion of this hike was all uphill and my lungs were angry. But meh! I survived!
The best part of this lil hike is the pay out: a small beach flanked by Edmonds to the south and Mukilteo to the north with the railroad wrapping itself around the coastline. With all of my appointments done for the day (yay for interviews!), I set to meandering.
A long train slowly passed by with car after car filled with cars after cars. I wonder where they’re headed? Everett port? Vancouver?
A man was doing yoga with his dog (doga?). A lady huddled in among the logs and rocks with her pupper, just soaking it in. A couple couples strolled along. And another dog-friendly duo smoked their weed and barked orders at their floofy red retriever, Gerald.
As I wandered, I got a lovely call from a lovely lady. Mickey and I got a chance to catch up while I poked at sea glass and random rocks. Love her. But when the cold was too much for my glove liners and leggings, it was time to head back. So I wheezed my way back and stopped at TJ’s to get six pack of NA IPA. So far, it’s passing.
But Meadowdale isn’t the only recent hike. I also took a stroll around St Edwards Park in Kirkland on the 28th. Another fairly easy hike with a great pay out: views onto Lake Washington.
One of the few things I resolved to accomplish in 2023 was to fight my depression with one of the few physical activities that brings me pure joy (and often wheezing): hike hike hike. In fact, I committed to complete 52 hikes this year. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.
And since I’ve already completed 10 Conqueror challenges, I upped the ante and signed up for a bunch more, including some muuuch longer routes. All with selfish rewards when I complete them: English Channel and South Downs Way? Fly to London to connect with Raquelita. Marathon to Athens? Chillax in the Greek Islands with Raquelita. Great Barrier Reef? Return to Australia and annoy my sibling. Amalfi Coast? Trip to Italy to eat all the food and annoy more family.
Do I have a job to afford this? No ma’am. But I do have savings. And yolo, right?
Resolve (noun): a firm determination to do something; I will. Synonym: resolution
This month I resolved to achieve 52 hikes in 2023. J then asked a great question: What qualifies as a hike?2+ miles; outdoors; in nature
So far, you’ve heard about two: Catwalk & Toothpick Trail and Horn Creek Road & Wonder Trail. On Monday, I hiked Lower Table Rock. I set out before noon while the butte was still completely socked in by low clouds. The elevation gain isn’t much (<900′), but it is swift. And not even a third of the way up, I genuinely believed my childhood asthma was intent to vanquish me, right there on the nearly washed-out trail. The remedy, however, was to slow down and to breathe with intention (hello yoga). It wasn’t until the descent that I realised how truly steep the ascent was and that I, not my ‘activity-induced asthma’, was trying to kill myself.
Once I reached the plateau, the clouds were thick like pale grey cotton candy. The saturated earth was a mix of mud and moss and yellow grasses. Soon my beautiful pink waterproof Topo hiking boots were a lovely shade of poo brown. Walking on the bridge over the vernal pools, my soles left smudges like Yeti paw prints.
Back on the natural ground and squelching down the trail, I noticed that the only sounds I was hearing were my own. I stopped on the trail and let the quiet roll over me, penetrate my consciousness, and soothe my anxious psyche. I found a tiny path that led to a misty pond (bog?), followed it, and stood silently basking in its eerie beauty.
Moving on, I felt an easy calm. Being hugged and insulated by the clouds was effortlessly peaceful. That is, until I turned around.
A dark human figure loomed hazy in the mist, roughly 50 yards behind me – in pursuit. Needless to say, my stomach lurched and I hastily got my pepper spray handy – ready for the attack. After many quick glances behind me, I realised it was just another outdoorsperson and their travel-mate enjoying the quiet and seeming solitude. (and as my friend later said, they were probably just as freaked out by me as I was by them…)
When I finally reached the far side of the plateau, pockets of clouds were shifting, beginning to break up and lift. The ghostly mist was incredibly beautiful as it hung over the landscape below. I found myself audibly oohing and ahhing.
I zigged and zagged all across the plateau, finding new sights to make me pause and grab the camera. And similar to the previous hike, I also found myself needing a wee. I was considering finding a bush or tree to squat behind – but – I had a feeling that peeing behind a tree on a now cloudless plateau on a somewhat busy holiday probably wasn’t the best idea. Anyhow, I was basically at the end of my top-of-plateau travels. So I began my move to head back. And moments after resolving to NOT pee in a bush, I was assaulted by a loud buzzing — a buzz that can only mean a drone is both nearby and drawing closer. And then boom – the drone was immediately overhead. But NOT getting up close and personal with a peeing Amy. Instead I smiled at the obnoxiously loud drone, grateful to be holding my pee.
The very last leg of the hike up top took me through an area that reminded me of the home of my youth: El Dorado Hills. Oak trees, yellow fields, large boulders, and little creeks. And owl pellets. Loads upon loads of owl pellets. I haven’t seen so many pellets since elementary school science. Hello 1987 (or something).
And now, today. Today I hiked to the start of Snark Trail and then looped down through Lithia Park (hello public restrooms!). I stopped at Bloomsbury Books (which also happens to have begun life as we know it in 1980) and enjoyed a lovely bowl of Italian soup and a dark and delicious Americano. As I journaled, the snow began to fall. As it fell thicker and began to stick to cars (whizzing by at a whopping 20mph) and the road, I listened to The Scrum Fieldbook and was reminded that is it healthy to slow down. It is wise to reflect. It is important to learn. And a heart can heal when you give it the time and space it requires and feed it the kindness and empathy it deserves.
902 ft of elevation gain 106 minutes 27 switchbacks 12 humans 4.6 miles 3 canines 3 wild turkey 1 hiLARious text exchange with my bestie 1 very urgent need to wee 0 out of sight areas in which to wee 1 area of highly suspect animal tracks 0 cougars
Another wonderful hike today. This time without all of the drama and obstacles. I did, apparently, select a trail I’ve traversed previously. However, this time I traveled the route in the opposite direction and found it to be very refreshing and not nearly as brutal to my lungs and/or knees.
It was followed by a trip to Local31 – which seems to be a hidden pub down by the creek, of which I was not previously aware. 2 (very weak) hot toddies to revive me. Way too much deep-fried buffalo cauliflower to lull me back to sleep. Naps were required upon return to the house.
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In other news, I have a total of 17 “in process” sewing projects. These include two blouses, a gaggle of cosmetic bags, some kitchen schtuff, and an outdoor-friendly pouf. How many will I have completed before I return to Seattle next Friday??? Taking all bets.
Seester said I should start a blog about my attempts at bobbling through life. So, here you go!
I had every intention of hiking Grizzly Peak (about 30 minutes east of Ashland) today. And I nearly did. As I approached roughly 6 miles from the trailhead, a light snow began to fall and the road turned white. Not being phased, knowing the car Sarah and Gabe have so graciously let me borrow would brave the snow, I kept going.
The Audi and I squeezed through the several fallen trees which someone had previously cut and moved. At a sharp turn in the road, about three miles from my destination, however, a new obstacle appeared. A freshly fallen tree barred the road ahead. Being without a chainsaw, I sought other options. But, not wanting to get stuck on a remote forest road or miss the trail entirely, I resolved to turn back. No Grizzly Peak today…
So instead I headed to a different trail, one scheduled to meet me on Friday. So off I drove, back through the fallen trees, to Catwalk and Toothpick Trail. However, approaching the trail, the road narrowed and I couldn’t find the trailhead or a place to park. Being as stubborn as I apparently am, I decided to keep driving, seeing that the road continued around the mountain toward Lithia Park and many other trails. But lo and behold, after three miles, the road was blocked by several boulders.
Making a 15-point turn on the one lane mountain road, I despondently returned in the opposite direction. Aha! With the change of perspective, I found the trailhead for C&T! And parking!
So off I set, emboldened! And about ten seconds into the hike I absentmindedly removed my glove (in order to start the navigation on AllTrails+) and blindly threw my right hiking pole down the side of hill. So I started my hike by sliding down a wet, soft hill to retrieve the lost pole. Adversity!
But now I was even more determined to friggin master this accursed hike! Setting off, again, I found the trail very pleasant although wet. Along the way I came to a fork and recognized other trails I’ve slayed. Pushing on, or, rather, up, I found myself on a (probably not very) steep forest road with a distracted sense of paranoia, scanning the landscape for cougars (thanks, Jesper!). Anyhow, no cougars were seen. Only an energetic yellow lab who came careening down the road yards ahead of their human. Minor heart attack. No big deal.
Once the non-cougar was passed, I came across a fallen tree, doing its best to block my path. But I found a way through and onward. Then, huffing and puffing, I reached the snow line. Beauty! It wasn’t long before the trail turned and joined a mountain bike trail. Thankfully, the wet day means I didn’t see a mountain bike until I made it back to the car. But a mtb trail means steep and smooth curves. And steep and smooth curves means I ended my hike with my right knee screaming and failing with every third step, then every single step. But I made it. My foot is still attached and my knee will quiet down. Despite the obstacles, I made it.
![The face you make when your bestie asks "WTF is this [aging] shit?!"](https://powerofcraftcompelsyou.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/20230113_192235796_ios.jpg?w=764)
Power of Craft Compels You 