Tired and feathered

Today was weird. Seattle is smoky from all of the wild fires. It's opaque outside. Opaque! It has the illusion of a cloudy autumn day, only without the crispness. Without the oxygen. But it's 86 degrees. We're suffocating! Make it stop! Stop this madness!

See? Opaque!

Something else that has been unnerving me lately is the fact that my parents' backyard is being littered with crow feathers. My dad tells me he picks "at least 20 to 30 feathers a day" off the lawn. Is this normal?

While I'm on the subject, let's settle a bet. Are feathers filthy, plague-ridden animal parts not to be touched? Or are they fun, tickly adornments for the tops of sand castles? I grew up believing the latter and I think I'm going to keep that opinion no matter how much I'm presented evidence of the contrary.

I gotta go. I'm tired. The haze has me in a weird mood and there's only one cure: cleaning the living room while I listen to a podcast!!!!

Until next time,
Margaret

P.S. Martha can now say "podcast." She is an intellectual.
P.P.S. She can also say "pancake." Sounds the same as "podcast."

You mean this ol' thing?

BAAAAAAACK! And I said "tap-tap" so get out of my seat.

Becky with the good hair.

'Here's what I've been up to since those two video blogs exhausted me into hibernation six months ago.

• Taking lunchtime baths

• Accusing Andy of being a bad driver

• Getting accused by Andy of being a bad driver

• Jumping in the Puget Sound

• Doing high-kicks during evening walks around the neighborhood

• Googling "Brazilian Butt Lift Celebrities." I even started a blog post about it that I never finished...see below.

I Can't Stop Googling Brazilian Butt Lifts

Yep. Of all the controversial topics to bring me out of retirement, this is it. Trust me, I'm as not surprised as you are.

The other day, whilst browsing the 'Bravo Real Housewives' subreddit, I came across a post discussing whether any of 'the wives' might have had a Brazilian Butt Lift procedure.

Now, I've heard of Brazilian Butt Lifts before, and in the back of my mind I've always known that the Kardashian-inspired, bubble booty trend of the 2010s must involve plastic surgery, but I've never truly confronted the reality of the Brazilian Butt Lift until now.

After scrolling through various Google image searches and many horrendous post-op photographs, I'm equal parts disgusted and amazed. I find these augmented butts both hideous and beautiful. The idea of people carving bits of fat out of their arms in order to sculpt and adhere an oversized cartoon bottom onto their actual bottom is FASCINATING. In a way, it's art.

Butt Lifts are also proof that being stick thin is not cool anymore. Scrawny butts are so two thousand and eight. These days, it's all about the waist trainers and butts made of repurposed skin. Perhaps these celebs are onto something. Perhaps it's time we all "upcycle" our muffin tops. 

• Eating fake sausage mixed with roasted vegetables mixed with rice pilaf

• Using napkins as toilet paper (with plans to buy toilet paper soon)

• Keeping my ingrown toenail at bay

• Wearing shorts

• Wearing Kylie-inspired lipstick

• Working 

In other news, RHONY is back. Jo Jo is coming to Bumbershoot. The Mariners' CEO quit. The viaduct is closed for two weeks. The sun is out. I ordered more essential oils for the diffuser. Nobody can shut up about Donald Trump. My sister had a baby named Harry. I cleaned my water bottle. Andy discovered JCrew and puts the emphasis on the J ("How come you never told me about JAY-crew before?"). Rob Kardashian lost 50 pounds. Summer is just around the corner.

Back in a bit, 

Margaret

Bus wanker

I ride the bus a lot. Having no car will do that to you.

For the most part, riding the bus is great. You get to zone out and swipe through Instagram as you cruise in the bus lane past bumper-to-bumper traffic. I also love pulling on the 'stop request' cord. In Edinburgh it's just a plastic button, so you can imagine how delighted I am to get to pull the cord again. So much more satisfying. Choo choo!

Image by Takeshita kenji via Wikimedia Commons

There are some things I don't love, however.

• The migraine-inducing air conditioning on full blast. 
• The waiting at bus stops.
• The man swearing aggressively at the driver who gave him flack for being a quarter short. 
• The lack of seat belts. Why aren't there seat belts?

 In high school my friends Dana, Connie and I would regularly take the bus to a thai food restaurant in Bellevue named Jasmine's. It was before anyone east of Lake City even knew about thai food—I swear. We would all order Pad Thai, then jasmine tea and fried ice cream for dessert. It was so grown up.

During one bus journey, a diet coke exploded in my shoulder bag. It had been jostling around in there when my compass—you know, those things you used to draw circles in geometry—pierced it. Stabbed it right through the aluminum! DC sprayed everywhere. I had to get up and ask the driver if he had any napkins. It was HIGHLY embarrassing. 

Another time, Char, Francie and I—ages 14 and 10—tried to take the bus to Bellevue but we got on the wrong one and wound up in Burien. Both start with "B", but other than that, we couldn't have gotten it more wrong. 

That's about it for bus stories! Other than the time a dear friend of mine got banned from all Northshore School District buses for threatening to kill our bus driver. That's the same driver that got told to "F--K OFF" by an otherwise gentle soul when she told him he couldn't bring his didgeridoo on board. 

Oh, and there was that one time in junior high that someone threw someone else's jeans out the bus window. Ninth graders be cray. 

Byeeeeee, 

Madgey


P.S. Here's Dana and I at Jasmine's (or just 'Jasmine' it looks like). Thanks for the photo, Dana!

My shoulder bag (aka 'satchel') also made it in the snap.

Beach bum

A turkey will eat grain until it explodes if you let it. They don't get full. That's me with raspberries. I bought a flat of them an hour ago and they're gone now.

Well, I'm officially a beach bum. Today, after a sweaty walk back to the apartment carrying six month's worth of toilet paper, I jumped in the Puget Sound all by my lonesome. Just threw my swimsuit on, crossed the street and leapt right in. Didn't even bother to put on flip-fops.

My hair is salty. My swimsuit smells like seaweed. There's sand in the bathtub. Next thing you know I'll be hanging a 'sandy toes welcome' sign above the front door and nailing a decorative miniature surfboard to the wall.


Things I may do now that I live by the beach:

• Buy a pink flamingo lawn ornament to sit by the window.

• Walk the beach in my housecoat (aka duster) in the middle of the night just to scare people.

• Get a bike radio and cruise the strip.

• Film a new DJ Polite / Mogsquisha video (we have an idea)

• Take steel drum lessons.

• Start a Kickstarter campaign so I can buy ONE OF THESE.

What's that? You want to see my housecoat? Oh I suppose. Because you asked.

Thanks to my sis Anna who gave this to me as a housewarming gift. She's the best!

Love, 

Margaret

Ch ch ch changes

I left for Edinburgh in 2009. Now it's 2015 and I'm back. For the most part, Seattle is how I left it. However, there are a few new things that have cropped up in the past six years. I'm not sure I like them. I'm not sure I like them one bit.

• Christian coffee shops — What's the deal? I'm seeing a lot of these. Some come right out with it ('His Word Found Here' in Ballard) and others are sneakier.

• Cards Against Humanity — I'm so old that in my day they used to call this game 'Apples to Apples'.

• 'Bender & Molly' in the mornings  — Say whaaaa? What happened to Jackie and Bender? Molly, that girl from the Bachelor, is Bender's new co-host? Crazy. I've also heard that Jackie and Bender were actually married and then divorced but still did their show together for a while. If that's true, it makes sense that it wasn't sustainable. Anyone have the T on this? 

What's the shelf-life of a game like this? Is it past its sell-by date? It's no Cranium, that's what I say.

Image by tom_bullock via Wikimedia Commons

Meanwhile, as these radical changes to Seattle culture continue to throw me for a loop, I hear this song by 5 Seconds of Summer on the radio today:



WHAT is going on. Just when I thought the world was passing me by, I hear those familiar nasal tones over the airwaves. The early-2000s pop-punk male vocal sound! Is it making a comeback? They don't totally recreate it, but they're certainly playing homage to it. Takes me right back to high school, driving around Kenmore, loitering at the Safeway, watching Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County in standard definition.

I recently read a fascinating article on what inspired the Blink182-style vocals of that era. A linguist weighs in. It's actually very interesting. I recommend you read it.

That's all for now. I've been out celebrating Amazon's 20th birthday. Macklemore was there. NBD.

Cheerio,
Margaret

OK, let's talk about that F-ing earthquake

There we all were, sitting in our backyards, sipping iced coffees and enjoying the breezy sunshine of a Pacific Northwest summer when BAM—that damn New Yorker article popped up in our Facebook feeds.

The big one. It's due. Nay, it's over-due. The consequences? Catastrophic. We will all die? Probably. Those of us that don't will be so brutally maimed that we'll look like Sid's creepy toy collection.

Image via Wikimedia Commons

Up to this point, we've managed to keep the looming deathquake shoved deep in the recesses of our brains. A tsunami in Oregon? Nah. That stuff only happens in faraway lands with palm trees! A skyscraper-crumbling earthquake? Is there even such a thing? Certainly not in Seattle, home of intelligent, good-looking liberals.

But the gig is up. That article has outed us. All the gorgeous hikes, Amazon jobs, Chaco tans and craft breweries in the world can't save us from the mega-quake's devastating wrath.

We almost deserve it, too. Pacific Northwest people. We're obsessed with this place. We gush about the amazing views and the sunsets and the warm-but-not-humid summers. We're braggers. What we forget is that it comes at a price. The cost? Certain death.

So, now that everything's out in the open, what should we do?

I'm asking! What should we do? 

Maybe I'll buy an earthquake kit. Maybe I'll study the evacuation route at Seaside. I'll definitely vote for any initiative promoting more earthquake preparedness funding.

Also, I'll forget about all this in a week. So will you. Back into the recesses this silly earthquake will go.

Now that's reassuring.

Yours,
Margaret

Activity Awards

There's a shop in Edinburgh called 'Activity Awards'. It sells and engraves plaques and trophies for sports teams, etc. Andy and I always thought the name was funny because it's just so uncreative and generic sounding. 

Anyway, today we were up at 4:30 this morning and didn't stop doing activities until just a couple minutes ago. We took the train from Canada to Edmonds, complete with an official immigration visa initiation. We lunched in Edmonds, dinnered at Denny Beach and, finally, we pizzaed at Alki. 

It's safe to say we've won the Activity Award. That's it! We've done it! That shop can close now. The Activity Award belongs to us. 

The bowl at Alki this evening.

Photo credit: Ram Williamson

Now I'm tired. Sweet dreams!

Goodnight, 

Margaret

Long day

Literally! The second longest of the year! (or is that the 22nd)

Despite all these hours of daylight, I can't bring myself to write a proper blog post. What can I say? No, really. What can I say? I have ZERO ideas. 

This is the best I can do:

Thought #1: 

I can't stand when people call Baskin-Robbins "31 flavors". Yes, it has 31 flavors, but that's NOT its name.

Thought #2: 

People in Seattle are obsessed with tasting, perusing, comparing, recommending and generally waffling on about LOCAL CRAFT BEERS. I knew it was a thing, but gee whiz, I underestimated the extent to which it's a thing. If I want to fit in, I'm going to have to get wise and reacquaint myself with the disgusting delicious taste of beer. 

Thought #3: 

People in Seattle are obsessed with cornhole, the game where you throw a bean bag into a hole in a piece of tilted wood. 

Thought #4: 

Have raspberries always been this good? They are UNBELIEVABLE. 

Image by Muffet via Wikimedia Commons

Goodnight,
Margaret

Overwhelmed by the flora and fauna

Since I've been home I've had to stop myself from petting every tree I come across. I've always known that the Pacific Northwest is a beautiful place, but never before have I appreciated the sheer variety of trees scattered across this fertile land.

It's overwhelming!

Cedars, maples, oaks, alders, poplars, dogwoods, pines, spruces, willows, cherry blossoms—just look at them all! The big, the small, the broad-leaved, the coniferous, living in harmony, sheltering our wildlife and pumping out the oxygen that fills our lungs, courses through our veins and infuses life into each and every cell of our body.

And it's not just the flora that's stopped me in my tracks. The fauna too!

They have squirrels in Edinburgh, but the ones here are HAPPY. They bounce from branch to branch like it's cirque du soleil. Their fur is thick and brown and they grin at you when you walk by.

As for the birdlife, don't even get me started. Every morning I wake up to a symphony of chirps from the most delighted bird choir on earth. I bet you anything they're singing, "I love it here!"

Don't roll your eyes at me. Other than this blog post and the moccasins I bought in Summer 2009, I'm not that earthy. I've tried Toms of Maine deodorant and I just can't get on board with it. Still, sometimes you can't help but give credit where credit's due. Mother Nature, you are one gorgeous broad.

Goodnight,
Margaret

I wanna soak up the suuuuunnnnnn

So weird that Sheryl Crow was engaged to Lance Armstrong for a bit. He would be the worst husband. The WORST. Also—fun fact—she also dated Owen Wilson back in the day.

But the title of this post refers to more than a Sheryl Crow ditty. It refers to my LIFE! Living in Scotland, I've been sun-starved for the past five years. Now I'm home and, sing it with me, I wanna soak up the suuuuunnnnnn. 

As luck would have it, the sun was out today. And I mean really out. According to my Mom's volvo, it was 72°F. I wore black jeans, a terrible choice. My legs were hot to the touch.

Yikes. It's 11:38pm and I need to finish a bit of work. I left this blog post way too late, but I refuse to apologize for it. My Dad told me back in November that I need to stop apologizing for sub-par blog posts. He's right. Saying sorry too much is a stinky cologne.

Have you noticed that I've returned to American English? Check out that "z" (pronounced zee, not zed) in "apologize."

Love,
Margaret

Bad fan

If you're keeping up with my 'Annabelle' series, Part 2 will be out next week. If you're not keeping up with it, bloody keep up with it already!!!

In the meantime, let's talk about the Hawks.

Hawk Talk.

Yesterday the Seattle Seahawks, an American football team based over in Washington State (upper left corner, just under Canada—like the West Coast version of Maine) played a game against the Green Bay Packers, a team from a place where cheese is made.

The game started at 8:05pm Edinburgh-time, so we ordered Indian takeaway, got situated under a warm duvet and started streaming the big event.

For almost the entire game, the Seahawks were BAD. Not 'bad' in the 80s slang sense of the word—BAD in the 'not good' sense of the word. With about three minutes left in the game, we were down 7 to 19.

It was hard to watch, and it was a school night. So we went to bed. Better luck next season!

Then, this morning Andy wakes me up.

"You won't believe what happened!!"

"Huh? What?"

"You won't believe it!"

"WHAT!?"

"The Seahawks won!"

"You're lying."

"I swear I'm not lying."

"Shut up."

"It's true!"

"You're lying."

"I'm not!"

"You're lying."

"Nope."

"Andy, if you're lying, I'm going to be so mad."

"I'm not lying."

"You're lying."

It went on like this for a good few minutes before I flipped opened my laptop and saw the headlines with my own eyes. He wasn't lying! The Seahawks pulled off a miracle comeback and won the game in overtime.

The things you can do on Powerpoint...

I know giving up and going to bed makes me a bad fan. There's really no excuse. However, allow me to try:

• I'm thousands of miles away from Seattle. If they had lost, I wouldn't have had the a city's worth of shoulders to cry on. I needed to close the computer and pretend it wasn't happening. 

• I'm actually such a big fan that I couldn't bear the thought of them losing...even if there was a slim chance of them getting back in the game. It was my super-fanness that caused me to call it quits early!

• The Indian food was doing a number on my stomach. 

• I was tired?

OK, ok. None of those are good enough. I've learned my lesson. It won't happen again. You might be mad at me, but remember, I have to live with this. 

Love,
Margaret

Rolfe is the worst! #SoundofMusic

Right now I'm watching Fraulein Maria and Captain Von Trapp sing 'Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something gooooooood!' in the gazebo outside his Austrian mansion. It's one of the least familiar scenes to me, since my siblings and I would always fast forward through it. Same goes for 'Climb Every Mountain' (sorry, Reverend Mother!).

But the worst part of the movie really has to be Rolfe. I DESPISE him. I've probably seen the movie 200 times, but I could see it 200 more times and would still feel the sting of betrayal when Rolfe blows his whistle after discovering the Von Trapps in the Abbey. What a JERK. Poor Leisl.

Well, I suppose I buried the lead a bit, but yes - I am indeed sitting at home on New Year's Eve watching The Sound of Music on TV. Let's set the scene a bit more. New bathrobe on, hot water bottle on lap, one full ChicagoTown cheese pizza in stomach, toes flexing away and cracking with each movement... Heaven on earth!

It's nice to be back in Edinburgh, but after having such a fantastic Christmas at home, I already miss Seatown. Ferry rides, walks along the waterfront, a big fat Christmas tree and bowl after bowl of my Mom's b-nut squash soup really hit the spot. Thanks to a lot of help from rkaytboy, Andy and I managed to release our Christmas single and music video at the very last minute. We also made it down to the 'Couve for a day and were greeted with the utmost hospitality that I've come to expect from those 'Couve Rats (a term of endearment). Another highlight - seeing Louis CK live at the Paramount with Andy, Max and Natalie. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that I met my nephew Ollie for the first time! We became fast friends. Only 5 months old and he already has a signature dance move - the Ollie shimmy.

Why can't every day be a holiday? How long would I have to be on holiday before I got bored? I think I could last at least 14 months before getting restless. You?

Cheerio,
Margaret