Lake Quinault Lodge and 16th anniversary

Jake and I hit 16 years over the weekend and did something that we hardly ever do but really should do more...got out of town.

Amazingly, last spring I won a weekend to Lake Quinault Lodge from my accountant (!) for getting my paperwork in on time. How's that for positive reinforcement? Somehow beginning to work on tax stuff in January seems so much less daunting. Thank you Peter Lake, CPA!

Getting out of town shouldn't be so damn hard yet it is. Somehow we managed to time it over our anniversary which is really September 11th but we have moved it to either the 10th or the 12th because the 11th doesn't have a warm, romantic, fuzzy feel that it used to. We got married over a weekend anyway so I feel completely justified in moving the actually celebration day to whatever works best.

The lodge is really something special and feels like a flash back to the 30's. Maybe all the old cars crusing around had something to do with it. But, it feels like and still looks the way it did when it was built in 1926.

Shocked with the spectacular weather, I felt like we were able to really pull some strings and have the best weather imaginable. We hiked a little, lazed a little, read a lot, ate, drank and were merry.

It was fun. And, pretty nice to be reminded that we not only still love each but actually sort of kind of like each other too.

The kids got to be spoiled and adored by my mom for the weekend. And, we all got back to the house exhausted yesterday.

Ok, so now we go back to the regularly scheduled life but maybe with a little bit more of a spring in our step. Enough to last us for 16 more years?

65th Anniversary of D-Day: June 6, 2009

Canadian Normandy campaign veteran Okill Stuart (top, 3rd L) and an unidentified U.S. veteran (top R) gesture to U.S. President Barack Obama after he finished his speech during a D-Day commemoration at the U.S. military cemetery in Collville-sur-Mer June 6

The greatest generation.

St. Patrick' day or our Valentine's day

Yes, indeed. Jake and I met on St. Patrick's day....at Murphy's Irish Pub in the Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle.

Oh, it was romantic; green beer, raving lunitics, very loud celtic tunes. I remember it well.

I had just gotten back from a 2 week trip to Spain (!) and Jake had just rolled into town from the E. Coast. He was staying with a friend and was fixed up on a blind date for St. Patrick's day. And, drum roll please, she didn't show up!

Murphy's, of course, was my local pub. It was my "Cheers" or my extended living room. I ate dinner and drank excellent micro-brews there 2 to 3 times a week. They knew my name. There was some history. Located just up the street from my little apartment in the the upstairs of a house with a killer view of Seattle and Lake Union. And, cheap!! $350 a month, boy, those were the days.

I was chock full of the kind of confidence that international travel gives you upon returning home and planned to make a night of it with my old pal Marybeth. We boldly snuck through the back way because, hey, I was a regular.

Jake and his friends had to wait in a ridiculous line that ran down the street.

Somehow at about 8:30 we collided. I swung my head around and spotted him standing near by.

"Hi. Who are you?" came out before I could think better of it.

"Jake. Who are you?" He returned with an arched eyebrow.

The rest is, as they say, history.

17 years ago this St. Patrick's Day.

I always found our meeting incredibly ironic. Partly due to Jake's excessive Irish heritage; 3rd generation Irish immigrants and partially because he was only in town for a month or so when we met. I liked to say that us local girls had to grab the guys from out of town quickly because all the local guys were SNAGs (sensitive new age guys) or (sensitive NW guys) depending on how you pronounce it.

But, Jake wasn't particularly sensitive but he was wicked handsome, very intelligent, razor sharp wit and strong enough to do battle with me.

So, 17 years and still going. Like Jake's dad always says after each anniversary, their last being 60 years, "I'll give it one more year and see if it works out."

Here's to one my year, babe. Have a green beer. Cheers.

Missing Molly Ivans

Today is the 2nd anniversary of Molly Ivan's death. I always found such humor and bitter truth in what she had to say about life and politics. Here are some things she had to say while she was with us. She left us way to early. RIP, Molly, you were one classy gal!

• What you need is sustained outrage...there's far too much unthinking respect given to authority.

• There are two kinds of humor. One kind that makes us chuckle about our foibles and our shared humanity -- like what Garrison Keillor does. The other kind holds people up to public contempt and ridicule -- that's what I do. Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful. I only aim at the powerful. When satire is aimed at the powerless, it is not only cruel -- it's vulgar.

• I believe that ignorance is the root of all evil. And that no one knows the truth.

• You can't ignore politics, no matter how much you'd like to.

• What stuns me most about contemporary politics is not even that the system has been so badly corrupted by money. It is that so few people get the connection between their lives and what the bozos do in Washington and our state capitols.

• It's hard to argue against cynics -- they always sound smarter than optimists because they have so much evidence on their side.

• Being slightly paranoid is like being slightly pregnant - it tends to get worse.

• One function of the income gap is that the people at the top of the heap have a hard time even seeing those at the bottom. They practically need a telescope. The pharaohs of ancient Egypt probably didn't waste a lot of time thinking about the people who built their pyramids, either. OK, so it's not that bad yet -- but it's getting that bad.

• I am not anti-gun. I'm pro-knife. Consider the merits of the knife. In the first place, you have to catch up with someone in order to stab him. A general substitution of knives for guns would promote physical fitness. We'd turn into a whole nation of great runners. Plus, knives don't ricochet. And people are seldom killed while cleaning their knives.

• from her last column, January 11, 2007: We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. Think of something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous. Make our troops know we're for them and trying to get them out of there