First: We love our apartment and we hope you are very envious. Yes, I can be very not funny sometimes. But really, we did luck out in the end, even though we were rejected at two locations before we signed this lease. Long process, long story, not very interesting, but we figure that the last four years living as faculty in a dorm on a school campus confused more than one potential landlord and they didn't bother to talk to us about our lives and figure out that we are in fact capable of paying rent in the real world. The landlord we do have is very easy going yet very professional, but he doesn't care about the paperwork and the professional part -- those are the best, if you ask me.
Our apartment is a triplex so we don't have to worry about tons of neighbors (although we do have a sore spot to mend with the basement neighbor who hasn't been handling moving noise and toddler noise very well, sigh), and it's a block from a great park, in walking distance of at least three coffee shops, etc. It's a good find. We are still trying to figure out the recycling pick up, and the compost seems to come at an odd time, though I do have to give major props (did I just write that?) to Seattle for recycling and composting virtually everything. Some people have very tiny garbage canisters and gynormous yard/food waste containers at the curb -- I spent several weeks upon arrival in Seattle trying to figure out what the mysterious black boxes were, until I discovered they were garbage cans. Anyway. We are almost moved in, and it seems like a miracle to see the living room floor under all the boxes. I have been spending Hudson's naptimes unpacking, hanging pictures, and recently, only recently, actually taking time for myself to stretch and condition. I've read a few pages of books here and there. I did have a small freak out the other day out of pure stress, after giving in and putting Hudson in the car to put him to sleep, but I believe I have healed myself a bit and have the strength to be mamma, wife, sister, teacher, and my own self after all. I will freak out again soon, but I will in fact pull through. I'm telling you, it feels better just to limit the amount of cardboard in my life.
Second: Flamenco. Two Fridays ago we went out to a Spanish restaurant where two of Seattle's flamenco crew were performing their regular weekly gig. Ben and I went with another musician friend to watch, and eat olives and gambas. And drink wine of course. It was deeply satisfying to see some live flamenco after such a long hiatus, and it's always nice when it's people you know (or at least, Ben already knew them -- by the end of the night I felt like I had known them!).
I had flashbacks to my first flamenco experience in a bar in New York -- I had been taking flamenco for a semester or two -- and my sister's roommate, who happened to be a professional flamenco dancer, was performing at a little Spanish bar. I was still underage but was served wine, and I nearly cried watching the dancer. I was absolutely floored. I ended up getting to know her and her accompanists over the months and attended countless shows -- perhaps I should even consider it a privilege that the older, and very Spanish, guitarist hit on my multiple times. Frankly, the guitarist I ended up with is much handsomer anyway!
While I wasn't necessarily floored the other night in Seattle, I had a great time and our table ended up giving more palmas and jaleo than maybe was necessary, but at least we know what we're doing and we weren't just a bunch of drunks in the corner. If you go to a flamenco show and you don't know anything about flamenco, or if you're just learning, please don't be obnoxious and clap your hands all over the place and make the performers get off rhythm. We hate that. You can shout all you want, just keep your hands on the wine glass.
Tomorrow morning Ben and I will be meeting up with the dancer, Esther, to rehearse, since her guitarist is soon going to spend a year out of the country and she wants a new guitarist to help keep the gig going. At tomorrow's rehearsal I'll be giving palmas mostly, but might dance a letra of tangos or bulerias to help add material to the show -- Esther sings and dances both, so it's a lot of work on her part, and if someone else can dance some while she's singing it can fill out the whole show much better. Eventually I'd love to do more in the show, but it's not my gig.
In a couple weeks I'll be taking a dance workshop with an old friend visiting from Spain, and seeing her show in Tacoma on the 21st. See Melinda's website for more info!
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