It was our friend Pam’s 30th birthday, and a lovely evening for an outdoor party. The Troika stopped first at Safeway to get some booze and some gifty-type stuff for the birthday girl. Faye found the weirdest birthday card ever. I will attempt to describe it. On the front is a cartoon dog in the middle of the woods, wildly sniffing the trunk of a tree. Inside the card it says “Whoa! Major dude here!” and then “Happy Birthday”. It was so weird that Faye HAD to get it. The meaning of the card became a topic of conversation throughout the evening. Eventually, we agreed that it must have something to do with the urine. The dog smelled the urine of a “major dude” who had peed on the tree. This was, we suppose, meant to imply that the recipient of the card was a major dude as well. But the whole phrasing was so bizarre. And what the hell does it have to do with birthdays? Who knows. Anywhosel, we wandered up to 27th Ave, which I’m not sure can be considered Capital Hill anymore. It’s definitely one of those strange “suburban” feeling parts of the city where everything is quiet and there’s plenty of parking. The party took place in their fenced in backyard. There was a BBQ going and some hilarious decorations which were very tailored to the birthday girl. There were also a stack of pictures of Pam’s head, on which you were meant to draw the body. That was fun. Later, the piece de résistance…wrestling in whipped topping! Pam had been saying for weeks that all she wanted for her birthday was to have her male friends wrestle in a kiddie pool filled with some sort of dessert item whilst wearing Mexican wrestler masks. And so she had it! Little did we know, Pam had planned to wrestle too. And she became the ultimate whipped topping champion! T’was a site to behold, let me tell you. Faye took some pictures which I will post links to when they are uploaded. But I have a feeling the photos won’t capture of magic of being there, mere inches away from being splattered with cool whip. The funniest part had to be when Pam won her third match. She stood up and said “I can’t see! Somebody please lick my eyes!” And TWO people obliged.

The Troika bailed around 10:00 because the party was headed to the I.D. for some karaoke and we weren’t in the mood. Dom went home, and Faye and I stopped in to the gay bar behind Chop Suey for a quick one. We definitely have to go back there soon. For one thing, they had THE best music. All the 80’s hits you know and love without any of the embarrassing stuff! The bartender was dressed in short-shorts, a reflective vest and a construction hat, and every once in a while, he’d bust a move on his way to serve a drink. Everywhere, people were dancing and just having a great time. No one was trying to impress anyone else. They were just there to party. Why can’t “straight” bars be like that? Why does everyone at Linda’s have to act so cool? And why can’t there be more Loverboy on the juke box?
While Faye and I drank our PBRs, we were approached by a very tall, very drunk man with long-ish curly gray hair and himler glasses. I had my hair up in the two small buns and he said that he had to come over because my hair kept coming toward him. He then launched into a monologue about how he never got hit on when he had short hair, but with his long hair, he does. Every once in a while, he would stop and look at my buns again and say “They’re coming toward me!”
Faye and I were supposed to meet the Nimble folks (I think…the drunky had set it at that point), so we took off ended up going to Bill’s, where they were going to meet us. We thought. But they didn’t. Faye and I drank alone, which was perfectly fine, and enjoyed the always wonderful music and food as served by Lily Taylor. Borgia joined us just in time to eat our leftovers and head home.


Dom and I were supposed to meet a fellow local filmmaker whom I’d been emailing back and forth with for several months at the Canterbury for breakfast. We waited for half an hour and then ordered. 45 minutes after the scheduled meeting time, he called and said that he couldn’t get over there because of Seafair (goddamn you Seafair!) and we rescheduled for the next day. Dom and I got in the focus (with new windshield) and caught the ferry to Vashon to hang with the family. We picked his dad (Phil) up at the waterfront where he had been partaking in a ham radio contest (he’s WAY into ham), and we drove back to the house. Phil had to go to the ferry dock to pick up Dom’s half brother and family. While they were gone, Dom cleaned his car and I finished “Eleanor Rigby” by Douglas Coupland. (Damn you, Coupland! I can’t get through one of your books without blubbering at some point!). The sun this year must not be that strong (or close or something) because I’ve somehow managed to not only NOT get burned, but to actually procure a little color! Not that anyone besides me would notice. I still look like death warmed over. But I have an honest to god TAN LINE! Take that, Irish genes!
An hour and a half later, Phil and the family arrived with steaks, corn-on-the-cob and pumpkin pie. I make some bakes potatoes for my main course. My potato didn’t turn out so well, but the corn and pie were AMAZING. After dinner, Dom’s brother Eric, his daughter Sarah, me, Phil and the doggies went for a walk in the woods. The doggies were Phil’s beagle, Kirby and Eric’s poodle, Tommy. Tommy was apparently not used to so much exercise, so there were a few moments when he looked a little wiped, but it’s impossible to wear Kirby out. It was a wonderful walk. It’s not often that a city girl like me finds herself surrounded by trees as far as the eye can see. Very peaceful. When we got back to the house, we had a leisurely chat and showed “Snow Day” to the family. They said they liked it and bought a copy. (Of course, what kind of a family would say they DIDN’T like it?)
Dom and I caught the 10:20 ferry back to Seattle and I was so bushed (from doing what?!) that I actually fell asleep on the way home.


Dom and I made a second attempt to meet our filmmaker friend at the Canterbury. This time it worked! We had a nice breakfast and chat about…filmmaking, and then parted ways. Later, I went to yoga and had THE hardest class I have ever had. I have never been so close to vomiting, and actually had to go to the bathroom in the middle of class to splash some cold water on my face. They say that it’s not uncommon to feel nauseous during Bikram yoga, but since I’d never been effected that way before (and have been doing it for over a year now), I thought I was immune. Not so. And how awful! I attribute it to a few things: not going as regularly as I had been the heat outside and PMS. It seemed like a lot of people were having hard classes, so I think the heat outside had a lot to do with it. I realized how lucky I was that the first time I went to yoga, I was having a good day. I was full of energy and feeling very strong. If this had not been the case, I doubt I would have kept going. Imagine if yesterday had been my first day! Ugh. Though that’s a lesson to be learned, isn’t it? I wonder how many things in life I’ve deemed “impossible” or “not for me” simply because the first time I tried them, the conditions were wrong or my heart wasn’t in it. How can I remember this lesson in the future?
Yoga wiped me out, and I had a nice, quiet evening at home in front of the television (including the new Dr. Who with Christopher Eccleston! It’s being broadcast by CBC! SO GOOD! Must remember to watch every week! Love Canada!)


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