Some Pros and Cons of Living in the City

I spent my earlier childhood in a rural town of about 12,000 people. Needless to say, it was a small place. Somewhat recently, for reasons I will never fully comprehend, my parents moved back to this town. By way of context, allow me to relate that they recently drove two and a half hours to go to the nearest scrapbooking store. It was closed. I'm sure when they got there they said something like, "Oh well. No big deal. It's only 137 miles back home."

That's just how life is sometimes. When the nearest Taco Bell is over 60 miles away you adjust to a different pace of life. A place which rarely includes people saying things like "I'm going next door for a latte, would you like a double or triple?", or (speaking into their I-phone) "Sorry I can't make pillates tonight, the Escalade broke down so I have to take the monorail home and get the Saab to pick up (insert trendy child's name here, aka Vance or Affinity) from ski school." In my hometown 'next door' is more likely to be a feedlot than a Starbucks (and I mean 'feedlot' in the literal sense, i.e., a noisy, steamy crowded place where large numbers of bovine creatures consume inordinate amounts of food; as opposed to the sense in which a Starbucks could be termed a 'feedlot', i.e., a noisy steamy place where large numbers of suburban creatures consume inordinate amounts of caffeine).

One is more likely in my hometown to overhear other more colorful phrases, such as those my dad used to describe a neighboring town once (which, for reasons of appropriateness, I will refrain from repeating here). On the evening in question my father, who is by rule a frugal man, had decided to splurge a bit and take the family to the rodeo. However this was no ordinary row-day-oh. This was the Pendleton Roundup, one of the largest rodeos on earth and -along with Taco Bell and the state prison- the only discernable reason for the town of Pendleton's existence. So as soon as school was out we piled into the family car and slogged the seventy miles through an early season snow storm to find that we had missed the rodeo by a good three hours. I can tell you with certainty that on this occasion my father was not thinking "Oh well. No big deal. It's only seventy miles back home."

After we got over our disappointment, we headed to Diary Queen for some dinner.

They were closed.

So coming from this modest background I have noticed some distinct pros and cons to living in Seattle. On the whole I love this place but bear in mind that I am not used to seeing more than thirty people in one place unless it is the annual Farming and Ranching Vehicles Parade.

Mike's Love/Hate list-
Pro: Everything is close in the city, there are no less than Six Safeway's within 3 miles of my house
Con: It still take 20 minutes to get to any of them because of traffic

Pro: There is tons of cool stuff to do, especially downtown
Con: I paid 78 dollars for parking last week because I didn't realize that the asphalt lot I had parked in was actually owned by two different parking companies and if you park on one side of the lot but buy your ticket from the machine on the other side because the machine near your car is broken, you get a ticket

Pro: Seattle has some great local restaurants and companies, and tons of great coffee
Con: Seattle has some ridiculously huge corporations and franchises, especially coffee. You can't spray a hose in a 9 foot circle without hitting ten different Starbucks. There is a shopping center near UW that literally has 5 different Starbucks in about 4 blocks.

Pro: I've never lived anywhere with pro sports teams and Seattle loves their teams
Con: Love is not enough to win a game. I have still never lived anywhere with a decent pro team

Con: It rains too much.


So there you have it. My thoughts on Seattle.

Until next time, boycott IMpark!

What I Learned In Middle School

I once put a small pillow on top of an open toilet seat and thought I could stand on it to get a drink. As it turns out, I couldn't. My feet plungered the delicately embroidered couch pillow straight to the bottom of the bowl and I fell backwards pawing and grasping at the air in a vain attempt to stop my fall. Despite my best efforts, no amount of awkward arm cartwheeling could slow the descent of my head toward the counter. I flailed my arms like an inflatable lawn character in a hurricane, but it was to no avail. I hit my head on the counter, had a concussion and spent the night throwing up on myself in the hospital. I never did get that drink. What's the point here? It's amazing what we can convince ourselves of if we put our mind to it.

I spent the past week observing classes in a local middle school. I learned many very valuable lessons in this time. For example, before I even started I learned that we aren't allowed to take any pictures of the children (for obvious privacy law reasons); and on the first morning I learned that cheap cologne can not even begin to cover the smell of cigarette smoke (again, amazing what we can convince ourselves of). Overall the experience was fantastic and I learned that I have a special place in my heart for that stilted and awkward stage of life known as ''middle school." People in the past have speculated that those who go into professions working in schools do so because they never wanted to leave school themselves. Sounds about right.

I will write more about what we did and what I learned in the classroom but for now allow me to leave you with some pictures of the great students and teachers I met at Eckstein Middle School.

(Aren't they a good looking bunch?)