Let This Be It….

I was in high school when the Columbine shooting occurred and though we didn’t have Facebook or Instagram back then, somehow the news filtered through our parent’s TV channels and local papers, illustrating to us, the indestructible teenagers of America, that we do in fact die. It was so shocking to us, so alien of a concept, that I remember girls crying in the hallways and school-wide projects being sent to Columbine to show our solidarity & support.

Columbine for many, was the first wave in a tsunami of school shootings that America has seen since that day. Acts of violence that have become so commonplace, so horrific, that there is not a state in our union which has not been touched by it. In fact, since 1970, the US has had over 1,925 school shootings and in those shootings, over 637 students, teachers & staff lost their lives. Over 600 graduations never celebrated, savings accounts used not for community college classes but for funerals, so many firsts; first car, first kiss, first paycheck, first apartment, first love~stolen.

This is not a reality that my parents had to deal with; at least not really. If there was news of a school shooting, and there were a few before Columbine, it was so far removed from their daily lives, so rare, that it was almost an anomaly. Today though, if I hear sirens on a school day, that is the first thought that flits through my mind. I imagine an unhinged intruder, storming the threshold of my children’s school and the utter chaos that would unfold. I listen, almost subconsciously, for more alarms; for something that would signal a school shooting and when the sirens fade away, as they always have as of yet, I can breathe a sigh of relief. I suppose, having lived over half my life with the horrific reality of almost weekly school shootings, it’s just something that I’ve become accustomed to.

But there was another shooting today, with young children the same age as mine, and things are not so easy to ignore. So tonight, alongside baths and storytime, we told our kids how best to survive a school shooting. Not to be a hero. To not be scared but to be ready, prepared. And I cried, not only for those children lost today so senselessly, but for all the kids growing up in America today who have had to learn, alongside math equations and the ABC’s, that the world is not always a safe place.

People, especially a certain demographic of America, will argue that tired old adage; “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people” but I say fuck that. Of course guns don’t walk out the door on a killing spree on their own two powdered coated legs. Guns are inanimate objects you asshole. They cannot do anything without a living, breathing human there to pull the trigger. But what guns do do, and what they have always done, is make it so very easy to take another’s life. It’s barely a reflex, to pull that trigger; it takes more effort to unscrew the lid of a jar. And guess what? Your right to own a gun, that 2nd amendment argument, does not, I repeat, does not supercede my right or my children’s right to live life without the fear of dying by gunshot. It does not override their right to receive an education without bullet holes. This law that people so desperately cling to was written over 300 years ago with bloody quill & ink. 1791 was a long freaking time ago. Over two thirds of our country was still untamed wilderness. There were only 14 states and our democracy was brand new, not only to us but to the world. Guns were useful back then and the right to bear arms could mean the difference between life & death. However, our country has evolved, changed, and morphed into an entirely new world virtually unrecognizable from those first 14 hardscrabble states. There are over 334 million of us Americans and most assuredly, we no longer need guns for daily protection; especially when it is so blatantly apparent that we as a country, are incapable of controlling their use on fellow Americans. It is time to evolve, to move on into the future, a future filled with less violent gun deaths and more life.

Yes today’s shooting in Uvalde, Texas hit me particularly hard. Maybe it’s because I have a 3rd grader who went to school this morning and came home safe this afternoon. Maybe it’s because so many of those lost today remind me so very much of my own brown eyed boys. Or maybe because it’s just time. Time to sit up, to take notice, to change things.

The Bellevue Botanical Garden

My birthday was a few months ago and like any mother of three young children, all I wanted for a birthday gift was to be left alone. For a few bloody hours at least. I had outlandish fantasies about drinking hot coffee while it was still actually hot, watching uninterrupped Netflix and ordering Thai food while still in my pajamas. Seriously that was it; I was asking for what an average day off (before spawning three, wild but darling boys) looked like. But it was just that..a fantasy. My smother loving family would hear none of it, so it was a day out for all of us! Yay.

We headed to the Bellevue Botanical Garden, a 53 acre oasis in the middle of a busy residential neighborhood. The grounds are lovingly maintained and somehow manage to feel like some puttering grandma’s home instead of the don’t touch, don’t walk, speak only in whispers aura that surrounds so many other botanical gardens. The garden is meant to be enjoyed & explored and carefully tramped through; an element that I appreciate about it, especially with my three rambunctious children.

The Gardens began their metamorpsis into a city park in 1981, when the Shorts family deeded their 7.5 acres of land to the city of Bellevue with the stipulation that it become a public outdoor space. It offically opened its’ gates to the public in 1992 and since then has grown, both in acreage and programing. There are numerous trails to explore and even a suspension bridge to trek across, my favorite feature in the park.

We explored the pristine Japanese Yao garden, then wandered through the urban meadow marveling at how the city sounds seemed to fade away among the botanical beauty surrounding us. At least this is what my mom & I were commenting on; my boys were capitalizing on the lack of urban noise to make their own banshee like calls through the trees. At least we didn’t stumble silently upon some poor unsuspecting elderly gentleman causing him heart palpitations among the pines; there was no way our crew was going by undetected.

And though it might not have been the Netflix and chill kind of birthday I’d envisioned, I’m sure there will be a time soon enough when I’ll have to beg my boys to stick around for a celebratory slice of birthday cake, so I’ll take all the smother loving I can get. Besides, maybe with another year of hints dropped around them, they might just figure it out by my next birthday. Fingers crossed.

Bellevue Botanical Garden

12001 Main Street

Bellevue, WA 98005


~Open dawn till dusk every day of the year~

Gardens are free as is the ample & easily accesible parking

The Last Gift

81721220_10221596693528120_505395252761198592_oWhen I was a tomboy of eleven, my Aunt Willow gave me a sterling silver bracelet.  Why she gave it to me I’ve long forgotten; whether it was an intentional gift or a hand-me-down token from her own jewelry collection, I don’t know.  I do know that from the moment that she gave it to me, I clamped it upon my wrist and wore it nearly continuously for twenty-six years.  I loved it because it was real silver, simple but classic, with a patina braid running thru its middle.   It was buttery soft; I could bend it effortlessly back into shape if need be and I felt like a bonafide adult with it on my wrist.  It was vintage, before I knew what such a thing meant, and it went with me everywhere.

As the years dulled its shine and it wore a permanent tan line onto my wrist, the bracelet saw me through the end of my childhood and the cliches and social awkwardness of middle school.  It was there when I graduated high school and college; it glistened under fluorescent lights as I signed the papers to buy my first house.  It moved to LA (and back) with me and bore silent witness to my first heartbreak and also to my first taste of freedom.  The first time I ever ate sushi, on Franklin Ave in Hollywood, it was there, peeking out of my jacket sleeve.  When it was time to move home again, there it was, snug & tight on my wrist through two state lines and 100’s of u-haul miles.  It traveled back to California for Edgar and I’s San Francisco honeymoon and was there in the delivery room when all three of our boys were born.

I wore that bracelet to all the great moments in my life; to all the mundane everyday ones and all the epic, life-altering ones in equal measure.  It was a small but defining element to what made me me; at least before the loss of you.

Six months ago, today, was the last time I wore that bracelet; the last time I saw your face.  Your hands were not as cold as I thought they would be and I kept expecting you to open your eyes.  I stared at your still chest~that great barrel-shaped chest of yours and willed it to rise.  For you to take a breath, just one breath, again.  A Garth Brooks song was playing and I thought that you must be there, in that room with us, because that was totally a song you would have picked to try & comfort us; to let us know that you were safe & peaceful.

And as I stood there, dry-eyed, looking at your stilled strength and rough, capable hands; I took my bracelet off my wrist and placed it in your shirt pocket.  I patted it down gently and said goodbye, to you, to us, to everything I’d known before. The me that wore that bracelet, through life’s ups and downs, was gone.  And as time works its wicked ways and does what time does best, my bracelet will move down; slipping between your ribs, slowly, slowly inching to where I wish I could be, to where I know I am~in your heart forever.



Drew, you burned as bright as an earth born star is allowed to. The way forward is unimaginable. To say that the world is a darker place without you in it would be a gross understatement. Our lives, our hearts and our souls will never be the same without you.

So while we are all left cruelly grappling in the vast & never ending emptiness which stretches out before us in your absence, we know that this is not goodbye. You are with us still. In the wind rattling the pine trees, in the glow of the summer sun, in the sweet smell of diesel and sawdust, in the warmth of a wood burning fire and of course, in Maxwell Wilder.

So until we meet again, know that we will miss you every minute of everyday and if you happen to hear a rowdy ruckus down here, that’s our love being howled up to you~

Woodland Park Zoo


Most people would assume a zoo is a zoo is a zoo the world over, but having visited a handful of them from Seattle to Dublin, I can tell you that that is simply not the case.  Zoos can be as varied as the animals within their walls.

Founded in 1899 with elk, bears, deer and ostriches as its main attractions, the Woodland Park Zoo has evolved into a meneragie of animals with over 1 million visitors a year.   The first zoo in Seattle was a small collection of animals owned by the Lake Washington Cable Railway who gifted the beasts to the city after the Woodland Park property was bought from local lumber barron Guy Phinney.  Building onto the traditional English style park layout of the Phinney estate, the Woodland Park Zoo occupied the upper level of the property while Lower Woodland was left as undeveloped woods until Aurora Avenue was built in 1933 dividing the property indefinitely.


Over the years as the exhibits and the animals have evolved, the zoo has gravitated toward an ecological and naturalistic approach with exhibits reflecting the animals’ natural environment as much as possible.  Known as a world-class zoo, Woodland Park provides not only an informative & educational day out but also packs in lots of extra fun for the littles.  There’s a natural habitat themed playground complete with a giant spider’s web and an iron bird’s nest.  For those inevitable PNW rainy days,  there is also the indoor Zoomazium with a two-story treehouse and a toddler play area.


We sprung for an annual membership which pretty much pays for itself in 3 visits or less and it allows us the freedom to spend all day looking at snakes and bugs should we so desire without the pressure of trying to see everything in one day.  London and I literally spent an entire hour once watching a Komodo dragon grub down on his macerated lunch and aside from watching chunks of flesh being chomped between giant reptile jaws; it was quite relaxing because there was no where else we needed to be at that moment and we just sat there & enjoyed it.



So if you’ve been putting it off, make a plan this year to go to the Woodland Park Zoo.  Fostering an awe of nature and animal admiration can never start early enough in my opinion.  For us, yearly visits to the zoo help me to teach my boys that it is a big ‘ol world out there, full of all sorts of amazing creatures and that it is up to us to keep it that way and anything that helps me simultaneously teach them this vital lesson & keeps them entertained, that’s a win in my book.


Woodland Park Zoo

750 North 50th Street Seattle, WA 98103


Fall & Winter Hours: 9:30am-4pm~Spring & Summer Hours: 9:30am-6pm

Prices: Adults $22.95 and Kids 3-12 $13.95~Ages 2 and under are FREE




Today, on what would have been your 1st birthday, I celebrate you my darling blue eyed niece.  We had 11 months, 3 days and a handful of hours to call you ours.

We are taught that love is infinite and I think that we as humans believe that means that the love that we show and give others will always be infinite as well.  And in a sense, it is.  I will always carry you in my heart and each family photo from now on will be missing you.  But had I known that loving on you, holding you, breathing in that sweet baby scent of yours was not the infinite number we’d been promised but a specific and very countable number of times, my heart would have broken.  That is the very reason for the guise though, because I would have held onto you desperately, never letting you go had I known and love should never be desperate.  It should never be held down & tethered as if it would be whisked away at a moment’s whim.


I few years ago, I had a dream that your Dad, my baby brother Josh, had died in some tragic accident and the feeling of grief I awoke with was so tangible that it nearly choked me.  In the years since, he certainly has come close to actualizing that dream of mine and I don’t think I would be alone in saying that more than a few fevered prayers have been said on his behalf.  But then you came, and like most daughters, you had him wrapped around your tinest finger the moment you first drew breath.  You mellowed him, stilled his recklessness and gave him a purpose outside of himself with which to hold onto.  Comfortable in his role as a father; if he faltered we never saw it, and the hopes and dreams he held for you were plain as sunlight upon his face.  In short, you, dear Trinity, made him a better man.

Though we will never know why you left us so soon perhaps those angel wings of yours were ready to be claimed; earned from the moment you were born.   And though we will grieve the loss of you everyday; to have loved you and to have known you was worth the tears of a lifetime. So please fly high sweet one and know that though we will miss you till the end of our days, we are ever so grateful that, for a brief moment in time, you were all ours.

Pacific Northwest Ballet & George Balanchine’s Nutcracker


I’ll be the first to admit that I am not always the biggest fan of ballet.  I like words too much to fall in love with an art form that often uses none at all.  However, ballet does  convey a story thru movement and artistry & can be enchanting in its own way, so I feel that a well-rounded culturally rich upbringing should include an occasional ballet or two.  It also helps that I happen to work at McCaw Hall, home of the Pacific Northwest Ballet and the Seattle Opera, and dress rehearsal tickets are a periodic perk to my working woman grind.


Of course, no ballet is better known than the Nutcracker and the Pacific Northwest Ballet does it better than most.  From the costumes to the infamous “growing” tree, everything about the PNB Nutcracker is colorful & enchanting.  It launches the beginning of the Christmas season for many in the Seattle area and Seattleites would be hard pressed to find a more dazzling tradition elsewhere.  Though I risked the wrath of my fellow ballet goers by taking my nearly 3-year-old as my date, aside from his plethora of loudly whispered questions, he actually did surprisingly well. The scenery & sets from the Nutcracker are designed by Ian Falconer, the notable children’s author & illustrator of  Olivia the Pig series, so the entire production has a very whimsical feel to it.


The lobby of McCaw Hall is fittingly decked out during the Nutcracker season, with plenty of Instagram worthy scenes around and mouse cookies in the concession stands. With the ballet clocking in at just over two hours long with a 25 minute intermission, getting to the theater early to let the little wild ones explore and get some energy out is always a good idea.  Plus, seeing some of the props and costumes will hopefully get them excited about the show they are about to see.  I know Huck certainly couldn’t get enough of being center stage in my photo shoots as well as sneaking in to photobomb perfect strangers shots as well.  The kid likes attention I guess.



Though I may not attend the ballet every year, I do and will continue to drag my boys to see The Nutcracker in hopes that they will learn at least a little to appreciate art in all its’ forms and to marvel at the athleticism of the dancers.  Maybe someday, far away down the line, when their wives suggest a date night out at the ballet, they won’t scoff or roll their eyes but dutifully put on their best garb for a night out on the town.  For that is what going to the ballet is all about; witnessing ethereal beauty through the story of dance and conveying emotions & themes through the movement of silent bodies.  And I can rest easy knowing that their appreciation of art & beauty & passion, no matter where it takes them; it all started with those job perk dress rehearsal tickets.


Pacific Northwest Ballet & George Balanchine’s Nutcracker

Runs from the day after Thanksgiving thru the end of December

Tickets run between $25-$178

McCaw Hall

321 Mercer Street

Seattle, WA 98109




Christa’s Sandwichboard


My second job back in high school was at a gourmet deli & wine shop on the edge of downtown.  We had the most delicious bread, delivered from a local bakery and nearly everyday I would walk home with the day-old loaves tucked under my arm; the taste of grilled cheese sandwiches dancing on my tongue.  It was the summer of bread, and though evidence of my daily carb smorgasbord slowly began to take its toll on my waistline, for those short glorious months I had money to spend on whatever I chose and a seemingly endless supply of potato rosemary bread to go with it.


After I went away to college and my high school bread baby quickly gave way to a much sleeker starving college physic, the deli shuttered its doors taking those yeast infused temptations with them.  Over the years, bakeries came and went all along 1st street but the quintessential deli seemed to be ever elusive until Christa’s Sandwichboard set up shop.

Christa’s is bigger than it looks from the outside and like all good deli’s, comes stocked with a cold case full of cakes and salads. The decor is vintage cottage quaintness at it’s best with a bit of Victorian flavor thrown in to match the surrounding antique stores.  It’s the perfect place to tuck in and catch up, which is just what my sister Sammi and I did on a sunny day a few weeks back.  It was a celebration of her finally passing her investment banker test or financial test or whatever it was and which I still don’t understand a thing about, and so we took our respective babies out for sandwiches, soup & cake.


We both ordered the mushroom soup, and I don’t say this lightly, but honestly, it was one of the better soups I’ve ever had.  Creamy, yet brothy, with bits of mushroom floating blissfully throughout, it was surprisingly decadent.  My sandwich, a Basil Mozzarella & Tomato concoction, made for some messy eating, with balsamic oozing  deliciously thru my fingers.  By the time I was halfway thru eating it, I was a hot mess and Huck; despite a table with ample empty chairs which he had rejected in favor of my lap, was gladly licking off all the tangy sauce which fell onto his arms.


We ordered a celebratory piece of cake, which in true trendy fashion, was ombre purple with silver sugar balls which Huck couldn’t get enough off.  After properly destroying the cake, the evidence of which could be found all over the table and ourselves after the babies got ahold of it, we left Christa’s Sandwichboard with full bellies and happy memories; a true deli-licious afternoon indeed.


Christa’s Sandwichboard

1206 1st Street Snohomish, WA 98290


Open Tuesday-Sunday 10:30AM~5PM

The Farm at Swan’s Trail


There is something so productive about Fall.  It’s full of firewood chopping, apple harvesting, leaf raking; in short, it’s a time to get shit done.  This is probably the big reason why Fall is my favorite season.  I love the busyness of it, the subtle urgency before winter truly sets in.  And then there’s the pumpkins right? I mean, who doesn’t love pumpkin themed shit? There’s pumpkin lattes, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin air freshener, pumpkin creamer; it seems as if the flavor combos are never-ending.  My sister Sammi is the exception to this pumpkin loving rule, she doesn’t even like pumpkin scones shockingly enough, but I believe she is some sort of freakish anomaly.  I mean..she dips her broccoli in mayo, so maybe she’s not the best judge of taste…just saying.


Anyway, one of my favorite places to experience Fall in all it’s glory is at The Farm at Swan’s Trail in Snohomish.  It has everything you could ask for in a fall centric farm; wagon rides, endless fields of pumpkins, corn mazes, good food, tractors to sit on for those Instagram worthy shots, and a petting zoo.


The boys and I happened to go on the busiest day ever, which in hindsight, might not have been the best idea on my part and I apologize again to all those parents who heard the screeches of Huck and thought for a brief moment that I was waterboarding him in the car.

Prior to that epic meltdown though, we had a great time navigating ourselves through the Washington State corn maze, ate some tasty, farm-fresh corn chowder and wandered thru the seemingly endless pumpkin patch searching for the elusive perfect pumpkin.  Miraculously, we found four of them, and had it been up to London and Huck, we would have come home with closer to four thousand of them.  Who knew there were so many perfect pumpkins in just one little patch of earth?


Once we made it back to our car and after I had finally managed to wrestle Huck into his car seat, we drove away, laden down with pumpkins and smelling like dirt & corn.  The carving would take place later that evening after said toddler had got some much-needed sleep, but for the moment, Fall had been savored, searched for and enjoyed. Memories had been made, at least one of the kids had a good time and no one got lost in the corn maze.  That’s a pretty perfect day in my book.


The Farm At Swan’s Trail

7301 Rivershore Road

Snohomish, WA 98290


*Free Parking*

Open Fall Season~ Weekdays open 12-6 and Weekends 10-6