Before I moved to Seattle, I had never given the library system much thought. Which, I think, is the sign of a sufficiently functioning system. If there was a book or movie I wanted, I could go to my local branch and find it, or simply look it up in the catalog, have it sent to my local branch, and enjoy. Heck, I could even renew materials if I needed to, and have them for weeks, even months on end. Free of charge!

At my first visit to the Seattle Public Library’s online catalog, however, I was confronted with a simple fact and its repercussions: Seattleites read. A brief search through the library’s catalog reveals that there is a waiting list a mile long for practically any item. Upon discovering this, I was as indignant as a tourist slapped in the face with a fish at Pike Place. So Seattleites read. Can’t they accommodate by getting more books? But apparently the budget is in crisis or something. Bah!

So startled was I by the unavailability of library materials that I actually did a live chat with a librarian. (How nice of them to provide a convenient chat box in the catalog so I can complain!)

Me: Surely these hold numbers are not correct. Can there really be 1,593 holds on a movie that hasn’t been released to DVD yet?

Librarian: Yes.

Me: Ok. Well.

I decided to place a hold on something and just see how long it took to get the item. I still haven’t gotten it. But I’m getting closer! Only 1,023 patrons before me!

I will not be deterred. I have actually gotten my hands on some library items in reasonable time, and I continue to place holds on items that I want. In fact, I immediately place a hold on something that I even think I might want, as I can always cancel the hold later. And just think how happy the person behind me in the queue will be when they see they have moved up! I bet it will make their day. Won’t that be great?

Actually, I do keep an eye on the status of my holds, checking the numbers like an anxious gambler clutching a crumpled lotto ticket. I think the library, as long as they are resigned to the current lending situation, could at least make the queue experience more fun by treating it like a game. Now, library holdings are not something to be taken lightly. It’s serious business, I know. But wouldn’t it be more fun if it seemed a little more competitive?

Patrons jockeying for better hold queue positions could sign up for notifications when they reach certain milestones.

Congratulations, you just moved up 12 queue positions!

Or perhaps…

Good news! You will receive this item 23.4 times faster than patron number 592!

And when your item finally becomes available, they could send you an e-card with confetti and music that says

Your wait is over!

Hooray for you!

Maybe if they did that, it would justify the sense of accomplishment I get when I see that I am number 21 in the queue and some poor soul is at the end of the line, number 573.

Booyah!

Now off to the library to pick up a book that just became available.  (Mrs. Wonderful FTW!)

]]> http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2010/03/book-lottery/feed/ 1 http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2010/02/church-search/ http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2010/02/church-search/#comments Thu, 25 Feb 2010 03:51:21 +0000 MrsWonderful http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/?p=379 Continue reading →]]> Last weekend Matt and I tried out a new church in Seattle. If you’re like me and you’ve done any sort of church search, it always comes with just a little bit of dread.

As much as the church is supposed to be grace-filled and welcoming, churches are families. (That’s why congregations are often called “church family.”) You have a rough idea of how service is supposed to go, but just like every family, there are unspoken rules. And you don’t know what they are until you break them. And if you break them you will go to hell.

Well, not quite. But it can feel like it.

We decided to try a Methodist church, partly because it was familiar, and partly because it was a change from where we had been going. I went to a Methodist church when I was a kid, and I have never felt quite as at home at church as I have at that one. Maybe it’s because I was born into it. Or maybe it’s because I was a kid when I went there, and what church doesn’t dote upon children? Regardless, I had a really hard time feeling like I fit in at the next church we went to, and at all subsequent churches I never felt like I had become an essential part of the church family—like I would be missed if I left.

This was particularly true at the last church we went to, which was a big, slick, and evangelical. Matt and I both tried to connect there, but it just didn’t work. At one point, I did feel like I was gaining ground, becoming truly part of the church, but then they changed formats and I lost any ground I had gained.

Having thriving youth and young adult groups is fantastic, but perhaps infusing church leadership with nothing but youthful dreams and schemes isn’t the best way to form a rich faith community. It was tumultuous. In thinking about what we want out of a church, Matt and I realized that we want something a little more stable and a little less commercial (for lack of a better word). We didn’t want to be ignored, forgotten, or left behind at church again.

We went to a Methodist church, which had a service that was much more traditional than I had experienced in a while. There were no projection screens with video of singers raising their hands and furrowing their brows. No coffee shop in the lobby. No church store. Just people who greeted us, introduced themselves by name, and handed us a program. Hymnals in every pew. Yes, pews (!) instead of stadium seating. Scripture reading several paragraphs long, printed right in the program, instead of served up in easily swallowed bits on screen.

Old school? Yes, and refreshing.

But what came as the most surprise to us was the message, titled “Embrace Your Sexuality.” It’s part of a healthy relationships sermon series. And, for once, I heard a church sermon about sexuality that wasn’t the restrictive or prescriptive message I was used to: “Woe to you if you have sex before marriage! But if you’re married, you’d better jump in the sack! (And that means you, wives.)”

I’m not going to re-hash everything he said here, because it wouldn’t do the message justice. But in general, the pastor talked about how the church often embraces two kinds of love and refuses to acknowledge the sacredness of the third. The two it readily embraces are the Greek philia and agape love. That is, the familial, brotherly love and the self-sacrificial love. But the other kind of love, the eros love, is what encompasses romance and sexuality. He talked about how the church often creates this notion that sexuality and spirituality are separate, that sexuality is to be repressed for spirituality to be heightened. Instead, he said, we should recognize our sexuality as an incorporated part of our spiritual self.

On top of this refreshing message, I noticed half way through the service that the couple in front of us was gay. I don’t know why it took me so long to register this, because I was sitting directly behind a man with his arm around another man. But as soon as I realized it, I smiled. I was excited and joyful to be in a house of worship where this kind of acceptance is possible.

It struck me how backwards it is that just a few miles away there is a mega church that is progressive in every sense except its beliefs, and these men would not be welcome there, even if they were greeted with smiles. Yet there, in this traditional service, with hymns and scripture reading, they fit right in.

I think we’re gonna like it there.

Weekend plans were minimal. I was hosting a girls’ night at the apartment Saturday night, and Sunday morning we would try out a new (to us) church. The rest we would improvise.

When I mentioned on Facebook a while back that Matt and I had learned how to make baked chimichangas, my friend Courtney proposed that we have a girls’ night and have chimichangas and margaritas. Sounded like a great time to me, so everyone pitched in for our Mexican-food fiesta.

Matt helped make the chimichangas and then left to get pizza and catch a movie with one of his friends.  We popped in a movie and ate from the generous spread. The margaritas only had a teensy bit of tequila in them to ensure safe travel home. Unfortunately, the girls’ couldn’t stay very long because of the hour-long drive back from Seattle.

After all of my friends had gone, I guessed that Matt would still be gone for a couple hours. Bored and somewhat lonely, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. The stillness of the apartment was somewhat eerie. A book couldn’t keep my focus. I wasn’t tired enough to sleep.

I made another margarita. Then I turned on the XBOX and pulled out Fable II.

Matt finished Fable II probably a month ago. While he was playing it, he could hardly be pulled away. When he proudly proclaimed that he had finally bought the castle, I just patted him on the head and said, “That’s nice, dear.”

By the time Matt rolled in the door sometime shortly after midnight, he found me there on the couch, squinting at the screen. If you had asked him before he came home what he thought his wife would  be doing, he probably would have guessed that I was doing aerobics naked before he would have ventured that I was drunk and playing Fable II.

That was only the first time I surprised my husband last weekend.

The next day, after attending church downtown, we decided to take advantage of the weather and walk around Seattle. We strolled along the waterfront and got some fish and chips at Ivar’s. We ate in the undercover area and watched as harebrained tourists nearly lost fingers to the seagulls they were feeding.

Matt and I were just finishing our meal when a man burst in to the eating area.

“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted a little too loudly. “Someone just took my sister’s and my duffle bag. It had everything in it, our ferry passes, our wallets–everything. The ferry tickets are fourteen dollars each.” After a silence he added, ” I have money at home, I swear I’ll pay it forward.”

Maybe it was the way he stuttered when he said “sister,” or maybe it was the way he announced it to everyone a little more loudly than necessary, but I didn’t feel like giving any money to this man. I don’t think anyone else there was really eager to give him their cash either, because no one moved as they wrestled inwardly with their consciences.

“I only have a $20,” I muttered to Matt, insinuating that I wasn’t going to cough up any cash for this man. To my dismay, Matt pulled out his wallet to look at what bills he had.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Muttered the man, even though Matt had said nothing to him and had not even pulled out a bill yet. The man remained a few feet away, and didn’t turn to face Matt, just glanced at his wallet out of the corner of his eye, while keeping an eye on the man across the room who had also pulled out his wallet. I knew Matt was going to give the man something, but I hoped it would be minimal. One five dollar bill would do. But Matt, more generous than I, handed the man two fives. I inwardly cringed.

The man took everyone’s money, which I’m guessing ended up being much more than the $28 he said he needed, and breezed back through the doors and down the sidewalk.

Matt and I ditched our trash and began walking down the street.  I noticed the man ahead of us, heading toward the ferry terminal, but it didn’t look like there was a woman with him. Matt and I watched suspiciously.

When he reached the ferry terminal and turned left, away from the water, we really started to doubt his story.  “Let’s follow him!” I proposed.

In his red jacket and black cargo pants, he wasn’t difficult to miss. We followed him across the street and a couple blocks up, and Matt saw him slip into a dive bar.

Dirty. Rotten. Liar.

We walked to the entrance of the bar and tried to inconspicuously peek in the windows.

“We should go in there and ask him to buy us a drink,” I scoffed.

If we hadn’t just eaten and it hadn’t been 12:30 in the afternoon, I would have. But I was wary of entering the establishment without more of a plan.

We stood outside and debated what to do. Matt was ready to leave, thinking that there was nothing else we could do. Neither of us really wanted to go in. But by now I was seething with indignation. I would not give up that easily!

As Matt started walking away, I followed. But I looked back. And then I looked back again. On the third time I looked back, I caught Matt’s attention. “There he is!”

He came strolling out of the bar and headed in the opposite direction to us. We immediately turned and followed.

He continued walking up the hill and turned the corner, his pace more leisurely now that he had gotten his fix. He stopped occasionally and picked pennies and cigarette butts from the ground. Matt and I hung half a block behind. When he stopped, we chatted and admired our surroundings. When he moved, we moved.

He stopped at the window of a corner bookstore. I looked directly at him as we turned and looked at the books in the opposite window. We could see him on the other side, just staring at the books and smoking a dirty cigarette butt. When we could fake conversation no longer, we walked down the hill a ways and out of sight. I checked periodically to see if I could spot the top of his head. When he had moved on, we came around the corner and followed.

He was completely aimless. We had to slow down or stop several times to keep a distance. He stopped again to smoke and stare in another store window. We again crossed the street and stood around the corner until he moved. When he made his way up the hill, we crossed the street ran up the hill, ducking behind the parked cars.

“So what are we going to do? Push him into traffic?” Matt asked.

“No, I just want to make him nervous.” I said.

It became clear that he had noticed us. He started looking over his shoulder as he walked. And he examined us at intersections as we waited to cross. He started waiting to cross the street until right before the light changed from white man to red hand.

By now we were near the main library branch, and I asked Matt if he wanted to keep following this guy or go to the library. Well, as it turns out, we could do both. At first I thought he was going past the library, but then, turning once again to see us still following, he crossed the street and backtracked, disappearing into the libary. I saw him through the glass wall after he entered, and it looked like he was heading for the escalator up to the third floor.

When Matt and I made it inside, we ran up the escalator and were faced with another entrance.

“I bet he went out this way,” said Matt.

We pushed through the spinning door and ran to the end of the block and looked up and down the street. No sign of him. We didn’t go to the other end of the block and look that way. We returned to the library. Now that we had lost him, he could be anywhere.

At this point, I had enjoyed the little adventure, but we were surrounded by books. BOOKS! I could no longer focus on the manhunt. Matt and I walked up and down all of the stories of the library, but saw no sign of the con-man. And then I looked at books.

At the end of the day, I was still upset that we had been conned. But, on the other hand, Mr. Wonderful and I shared a priceless adventure together. And, even though he knows me better than almost anybody, I was still able to surprise him.

This weekend Matt got to see a side of me that doesn’t come out very often. The side that isn’t afraid to act out of character.

Every morning I wake up to the sound of the radio and look across the pillow to see  my husband’s peaceful profile. I throw an arm and a leg over him and we look at each other and break out into giggles.

The alarm is set to go off a full 45 minutes before we actually have to get up. We spend that time waking up slowly, basking in each other’s presence before we have to face the day. We chuckle at the morning show on the radio, share our bizarre dreams, or just lazily lie in each other’s arms. These moments are sacred to me. Every morning, I rediscover the joy of being with my husband. It as though past and future do not exist, and all that matters is this present waking moment when I can look into the eyes of the man I love.

I found my lifelong best friend that July day when we met. My heart is at home with him. I don’t know if I believe in soul mates, but Matt is the closest to being my soul mate I could ever imagine.

I feel supremely blessed to be with my husband. He makes my heart happy.

We’re much bigger fans of Alison and animals than football, so it was the perfect opportunity. While everyone else huddled around televisions in sports bars or in their homes, we would be enjoying the zoo sans crowds.

As a kid, my mom and I would go to the Point Defiance Zoo very often. So often that, at one point, we were even members. I knew that zoo like my own backyard. Today, I still visit at least once a year.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to the Woodland Park Zoo. I think the last time I went was on a class field trip. I don’t remember much about it except the gorillas. (Perhaps that’s because they creep me out.)

I was so excited to see the animals at Woodland Park that they don’t have at Point Defiance. When we got to the zoo I grabbed Matt’s hand and started running like a child.

The zoo is an exciting place! It’s got animals! And you can learn about them! And (hopefully) see them up-close!

(See what Matt had to put up with?)

Sunday afternoon was perfect zoo weather: overcast and temperate. There is something about this kind of weather that makes the animals want to move around. (Or at least that’s my theory.) They were extremely active while we were there. As we traversed through the zoo, we got up-close and personal with some of the most fearsome animals.

Have you ever heard a lion roar? Not the stupid MGM lion before the movie starts. An in-person, real live lion. I’m convinced there’s no way to truly capture that sound. Recordings just don’t do justice to the echoing boom a lion can issue from within his deep chest. It’s terrifying.

Perhaps as terrifying as watching a lion stroll right up to you on his massive, heavy paws. Glass or no glass, I identified with the little girl who ran away when the lion started heading toward us. I wondered what thoughts were passing through the lion’s head as he stared at us with his bold yellow eyes. (And they are freakishly yellow.)

Well, he soon made his feelings known.

The lion rubbed his broad cheeks against the glass. You could feel the collective sense of awe shared by the small crowd huddled in the viewing enclosure. But that wasn’t enough for this powerful creature. He needed to make a bigger impression than that. So, with his captive audience staring, he turned and splattered the glass with his spray at eye-level. Then, of course, he sauntered away. Point proven.

Our other animal encounters weren’t quite so…um…humbling. But they did make an impression. I don’t think there was a single animal we wanted to see that we didn’t get a good view of.

And I think I discovered my favorite new animal: the sloth bear. Their cuteness is multiplied by the fact that they carry their young on their backs. Adorable.

All in all, it was a great day running around with Alison and my Mr. Wonderful, acting like little kids and getting excited about animals.

If anyone wants to go again, I’ve got my sack lunch packed.

Mr. Wonderful and I fully intended to have a real Christmas tree this year, though we both agreed it would have to be a diminutive “Charlie Brown” tree, to scale with the size of our apartment. (Fake was out, as we have no room to store it. ) Yet, when our last opportunity to get a tree before Christmas rolled around, my car was already so loaded down with things to take to the apartment that there was no way to squeeze a tree in there too without poking the dogs with needled branches.

We weren’t too disappointed, because we knew we would be spending the days surrounding Christmas with my folks, who have a full-scale tree. And a finely decorated tree it was!

For our wedding reception, we used glass cylinders full of red and white ball ornaments  as decoration for the buffet and fireplace mantle. After the wedding, we had all of these ornaments to use for Christmas.  We left one of the cylinders with my parents, who added the balls to their tree. Matt and I have two of the cylinders on our coffee table, which at least gives the place a bit of a festive air, in lieu of a tree.

Despite the benefits of not having a tree, or enjoying someone else’s, I must say that I am at least a little disappointed we didn’t have a tree of our own for our first Christmas. We received three “Our First Christmas Together” ornaments, which I would have loved to hang up, and there were a few ornaments we got together at Disney World last year that I would have hung up as well.

We may have missed our opportunity to get a tree this year, but next year a tree will be high on our priority list.

What are your feelings toward Christmas trees? Do you insist on real? Do you prefer fake? Tabletop or to the ceiling? White lights or multicolored? Coordinated ornaments or a hodgepodge of family ornaments? Leave a comment and tell me about your tree.

]]> http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2009/12/treeless-in-seattle/feed/ 2 http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2009/12/4-days/ http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2009/12/4-days/#comments Tue, 01 Dec 2009 21:55:58 +0000 MrsWonderful http://www.amberlinedesign.com/mrandmrswonderful/?p=168 Continue reading →]]> You know, it actually worked out really well that our wedding is the weekend after Thanksgiving weekend.  The four-day weekend allowed us to get some rest, as well as get some of the last-minute preparations done for the wedding and our life together.

Part of the weekend was spent putting together some of the final details for the wedding, including helping decorate the church. We’re using a lot of their Christmas decorations in addition to our own decorations. They were kind and cooperative enough to allow us to have some input and didn’t make us feel like we were imposing at all.

After decorating the church, Matt and I made a dash to IKEA and Target to get some necessary furniture for when I move in. After a long, stressful process of trying to put together furniture that was packaged with some wrong parts, I now have a desk for my computer (with extra space for Matt to draw, of course), and an etagere in the bathroom to store all my girly stuff.

I also spent some time organizing the place so that there is room for my belongings. Never underestimate how much space you can save with good organization!

I can’t wait to move in after the wedding and settle into our new home. I’m excited about living in Seattle with my husband, and I’m looking forward to the days to come.

Even though I’ve been planning this thing for months, it doesn’t really seem real until I look at all the stuff myself and my family have put together to make it become a reality. When it all comes together, it will be beautiful, and I am so excited to see it.

I was never really a girl that fantasized about her wedding day. I didn’t develop a picture of what I would look like in my wedding gown, I didn’t know what the ceremony would be like, I didn’t know how many attendants I would have, etc. But as I got older, I did start developing a vague idea of what I wanted.

I’ve always kind of thought I would have a fall or winter wedding. I think they’re my favorite seasons. I love the crispness in the air in the fall, and of course the sight of blazing orange foliage across the landscape. When the leaves fall, they are replaced by the glow of twinkling lights and crackling fires. We appreciate once again the lush evergreens and shimmering silver, gold, and red decorations. There a song that is famous here in the Northwest that claims “Christmas in the Northwest is a gift,” and as cheesy as that song is, I’ve always thought it was true. The Northwest truly is a beautiful place to live all year round.

So, with a fall and winter wedding in mind, I’ve always imagined my wedding colors being a deep red and accents that we’re using now: ivory, silver, and gold. At this point, I can see all of our decorations and details coming together, and I think it will be the romantic and elegant event I’ve wanted all along, even though I didn’t fantasize about it.

I have to thank  my parents big time for their loving effort to make this day special. I honestly couldn’t ask for more loving, supportive parents, and I’m so glad they were involved in helping me plan this big day. It’s such a huge comfort to know that their blessing is upon me and Matt as we make this big step forward in our lives, beginning the sacred lifetime endeavor of marriage.

I am also so thankful for the friends and family who are traveling long distances to be there with bells on. Their love and support puts a glow in my heart, and I feel truly honored.

Only 7 days…

My grandpa fell on the sidewalk walking home (across the street) from our house on Saturday night. My grandma and grandpa had come over to celebrate my dad’s birthday with us and watch the wedding video that we’ll play after the ceremony. They stayed until about 9:15, and we all gathered around the door to say goodbye. My mom watched them go through the front window until she thought they were across the street. As we all turned away to go about our evening, we heard the doorbell quickly ring three times. My mom opened the door as my dad looked out the window, and I heard my grandmother’s worried voice: “Jim has fallen.”

We all rushed to get our shoes on and go across the street, where my grandpa was lying on his side on the sidewalk. My dad was there first, asking grandpa questions. Could he feel everything? Could he move? Could he roll onto his back? With some maneuvering, Dad helped Grandpa roll onto his back and then sit up, so that he and Matt could get underneath his arms and lift him.

When they had him standing, I could see that his face was bleeding on the side that had been against the pavement. It looked like his mouth was bleeding the most, although there was a trickle of blood running from his temple.  It occurred to me at that moment that I don’t think I have ever seen my grandpa bleed.

Dad and Matt tenderly walked Grandpa into the house, where my mom and grandma were ready with towels to clean him up. My mom had called 9-1-1, so the paramedics would arrive soon. I went out on the front porch to watch for them.

I flagged down the fire engine and went inside to watch as the paramedics went about examining Grandpa and gathering information about him. It appeared that he had hit his head on the pavement, and he was having trouble answering basic questions. (Who is the president? What month is it? What holiday is coming up?) Although he seemed to improve as time went on, we were all still concerned because of the nature of the injury, and decided it would be best for him to take an ambulance to the hospital.

Matt and I stayed home, waiting to hear news from my mom and dad about Grandpa. He had seemed to be improving as he recovered from the initial shock of the fall, so I almost expected that we would get a call saying that they had checked him out and he was fine, just banged up a bit. Instead, my dad called to tell me that he had taken a turn for the worse. He had fluid in his lungs an his oxygen levels were dangerously low when he arrived at the hospital. They had to sedate him and put a breathing tube in, and they were going to give him a CAT scan. I tried to calm myself enough to keep from shaking as I phoned  my sister to fill her in.

How could he have fluid in his lungs? I didn’t see that one coming at all. Now I was really scared. I desperately wanted something to do. Something was going wrong, and what could I do about it? Nothing. I couldn’t help my grandpa at all in this moment, except to pray.

I need a little distraction, so I painted my nails and watched The Office on the couch with Matt, who kept looking over to check on me and wipe tears from my face, and made me some hot chocolate. (Thanks, love.) I alternately laughed and cried, trying not to think too much about what could happen and whether Grandpa would be able to make it to our wedding.

Hours later, my dad came home and let me know that Grandpa was in the ICU and still had the breathing tube in, but they were able to get most of the fluid off of his lungs. He was stable and they would try to remove the breathing tube soon. When they removed his breathing tube on Monday, his oxygen levels remained normal, and he has since started to act more like himself, including cracking jokes.

I don’t need Thanksgiving to remind me of how much I have to be thankful for. I am so thankful that my grandpa is recovering. I pray that the doctors’ continued testing will discover more about his health and what may have caused him to fall.

• small sewing kit
• safety pins
• Shout wipes/Tide To-Go
• Kleenex
• make-up
• lip gloss
• oil absorbing sheets
• comb and brush
• breath mints
• compact mirror
• drinking straws (so you don’t spill your beverage on your clothes!)
• pen & note pad
• eye rewetting drops (for contacts)
• contact solution & case
• extra pair of contacts
• extra strength Tylenol
• hair spray
• snack food
• dental floss
• bottled water
• crazy glue
• toothpicks

Is there anything else you would include in the kit? Let me know!

EDIT ADD: Just thought of two more things. WetOnes because we’ll probably doing a lot of hand-shaking and may not be able to get to the bathroom often to wash our hands. And an umbrella, because it’s December.