the three b's: bainbridge>boat>bourbon

jetBlue sent me packing early, I hopped on the 6:30 boat to Seattle. As I rose my head to pay the cashier for my glass of wine: John Paul. "Sit together?" "Yea, grab one." As per usual, the ferries promise random reconnects, which shake up plans, shape the hours nicely. We caught up a bit. The boat docked. A voice behind me interrupted, "Keisha?"

Dan. Let's get a drink
John Paul says, ok sure.
Yea I have time.
Erin and Randi are picking me to take me to SeaTac. I'll call them to meet us under the viaduct. Owl & Thistle? Yea, let's watch the fight.

John Paul suggested: bourbon shots, beer backs. Dan rose, returned. We slung our heads back, then snagged our Pacific Northwest Microbrews. I miss beer like this. Dry hopped, unfiltered. Earthy.

"That was bottom shelf," John Paul raised a brow and threw a chuckle, "I respect you for doing that, Kee- not many girls or people- Let me get the next round. "

"She's always been so pure to me," Dan interjected.


Randi showed up, we hugged it out. A few more sips, the running jokes, tales. Food. Sushi? Do we have time?



The drop off. At which point I venture to the counter where the jetBlue staff basically tells me not to lose my bag by checking it- and my Tivoli model One tidal waves security.

"Experiencing Holiday Cheer" in the Pacific Northwest.

We come together in the same way each year: a late call, a few bottles of wine, a few beers and beef stew from scratch. The assortment of people varies, this evening: Dan at Lisa & Becky's place. We circled thoughts, nibbled on my Mum's Chex Mix and watched the bottles drain.


I learned that gift wrap should not be placed near candles. Lisa, in all her nannying experience, remained calm, poised: and in the most simple tone, "We are equipped to handle this." I barked, "Oh! No-" Lisa cut me off, "We are equipped to handle this." She plucked the flaming bag from the dining room table and plopped it into the sink. I think the gingerbread house in the background really pulls the photo together, no?


Braxton (Lisa's dog, and the canine equivalent of Lionel Richie) rose to investigate the commotion. We assure him all is under control, and proceed to make a few calls to old friends. Promises of future engagements are made. We slip into beds, the house is over a hundred years old, there is no heat upstairs. Extra blankets were distributed.

--

We woke to coffee from the french press, discussed the moments ahead: Boxing Day shopping, cocktails at the hotels Becky designed Christmas decorations for. I met up with Julia briefly, sipped vodka and devoured plump, divine scallops with an Irish man at Contour. The happy hour menu has continued to evolve into more amazing directions ($2.50 drinks, full meals $1.95-3.95. Try: the Istanbul Mahi Mahi Sandwich).



Although we planned to hit up five of the hotels that Becky (self moniker, "Head Elf") crafted into holiday festive treats, we only made it to: The Sorrento, The Four Seasons and Juno.

Lisa does the red velvet couch quite well.

Becky speaks of the bobbles, the trees and informs me, "Keisha, your drink has a piece of bacon in it."

"Yes. I know. That's why I ordered it. I'm hungry. It has blue cheese too. Here try. Have you had that Vosges bar with chocolate?"


The evening was puncuated with cream cheese dogs and gyros in Pioneer Square. I could not ask for more.

The Second Annual Ugly Sweater Party

In the spirit of the rapidly approaching holiday season, I joined hometown friend James and his roomies, for their Annual Ugly Holiday Sweater Party. Among the festivities: Beruit, Coors Light, vodka with cran from an econovat, sweater speak and Pug.


Photographed above: James in his usual ensemble. 3-D sweater-vest with various Christmas-themed symbols, the go-to Santa slippers and new edition this year: baseball/Santa hybrid hat.


Although efforts to dress up were made from the majority of party guests, I have to admit that last year trumps this year. Note: the Moomoo/ shirt combo on the far right, above photo. Although not exactly holiday fair, it did stir up a Simpson's nostalgia in me, "Did you see that Simpson's where Homer gets fat and goes to the fat person clothing store and says, 'I don't want anything weird, just give me a Moomoo'? "

*Laughter* "Yea, or when he can't use the phone," he supported me.

"Right, and the operator comes on, 'Your hand is too fat. To order a special dialing wand, mash your hand onto the keypad.' "

There is a comfort in the Simpsons spanning over childhoods of different rearings.


Pilgrim proved to be the ingenue of the party. Although the little guy got too warm for his candy cane striped sweater, he donned a Christmas bow, and made several rounds to greet all of the party guests. He also got involved with beruit by chasing rogue ping pong balls.

The holiday party was sealed with 'that guy.' You know the one who shows up in the Santa suit. He reported, "Well actually this was given to me. Check this out."

*Pulls out his cell phone*

"I was at this event. There were like five-hundred Santas"

"So you rode the subway in your suit?" I prodded.

"Hey, what are you drinking there in that Nalgene bottle? Water?"

"Wine. Some people consider them the same. Water and wine. I mean we're going for the whole Christmas theme here," I offered.

"Didn't they recall those Nalgene bottles?"

"Oh right. They did. The wine does taste like a Nalgene bottle. Maybe I should toss the bottle? But it has all these stickers."

Another guest interjected, "Eh, just put dry goods in it."


Throughout the evening, Santa lost piece by piece of his ensemble. I just thought I'd throw that out there.

Good things. Happy Holidays from BK.

street style by blogger PIKEPINE<3

Street Style Blogger PIKEPINE has captured Seattle, by neighborhood, to a tee. Brilliant. I particularly enjoy the clarity and composure of the photographs. Featured above- a handful of young friends on Capitol Hill.

Southcenter, Tukwila- bit more savvy than I would have expected- kudos.

Ballard. He's so wonderfully Ballard.

Pier 30

Downtown Seattle

translating principles.

New Yorkers compete for everything from dinner reservations to seats on the subway. It's a savage beast that tugs and pokes at you-- to the point where you love it- and you're not sure why. Masochistic tendencies? Competitive nature?

As with all things in life, it's a trade-off for the victory and reward. And I'm back to thinking of a conversation that I had with my good friend from back home, Drew. He had ended up in Kenya for sometime, and when I asked of his experiences, he perked up:

"Well Keisha, you haven't really lived- until you've been hunted by something that wants to eat you."

To hold that belief- every inch of this stacked city is under the constant threat of being consumed, desired and used. I sometimes feel like a hunter. When I step on the train at Atlantic- I scan the people. I pigeon hole them. (I'll admit it). But let's be serious....the trip uptown can feel epic when you're teetering in four inch heels. I'm getting down to basic survival skills. I'm bee-line for the little Asian children. I know they're going to get off at the next stop- to go to school. In fact, most of them are so nervous about getting off in-time- that they will raise a good 10 seconds before the train jerks to a stop. That is prime-time to target and pounce on that orange, slippery bench.

points of interest

As per usual, the Pilgrim alarm went off at a pre-comfort rise time, on Saturday morning. I suited him up in his Brooklyn Industries hoody and headed up the Slope to the Green Market. Turnips and sweet potatoes were new to the mix of gorgeous produce- we stocked up with plans of sweet potato mashers and mild japanese turnip and Jersey cucumber salad for Sunday dinner.
Green beans, wax beans, a few squash, a gorgeous loaf of braided sesame bread later- we hopped our way back down the slope to Sweet Melissa for zucchini-goat cheese muffins and chocolate cupcakes with the most divine whipped-light peanut butter frosting (I have no idea how they make this incredible and let's be honest: religious frosting).
And then there was this. Just a bit much to not take notice. The chalk drawing was drafted outside the Jewish Temple on Eighth Avenue in Park Slope. Child psychologists please step in. Although we have our educated assessments from Psych 101, we'd love your professional take on what is going on here. Additionally, I'd like for you to take a look at the upper left-hand corner. That is one of three Soviet stars that the child drew (trust me, I've been to a formerly Soviet country).

Moving on:

We headed back to the apartment to consider our morning's next move. I settled on breakfast.
--
After crafting a beautiful omelette, and a cup of coffee, I headed to Atlantic Avenue to select XBox games for my brother's birthday offering. During this crowded, confusing project- I negotiated an outing with Julia, in Chelsea.

Poised on the Manhattan-bound N, I glanced up from the Burial on my IPod and Time Out New York magazine to see perhaps the most amusing individual of the day: 1980's blue eye-shadow, foundation four shades too dark for her complexion, over-permed hair, teddy bear print fleece, Grumpy tee shirt...LeSportSac bag with animals kissing and hearts- ferociously drafting what was a six page letter (and still going at Union Square where I stepped off) detailing her disgust for an individual who had wronged her. I didn't catch much, a few lines about acting like a two year old- God will punish you, etc etc...but needless to say, it was a display.
I found Julia at the Good Will store at 25th and 5th. Perhaps one of the few Good Will stores in the country where one can purchase second hand Jimmy Choo shoes for $100. "Wow this place is doing well, " I offered to Julia as she held up a Tahari blouse and Versace suit for me to consider. We popped across the street to Chelsea's "The Garage" flea market. (Photographed finds below and above text). Lizard bags from the 1960's ($185-250), costume jewelry, old photos, art and clothes dominated the market's content. Julia selected a beautiful Cobra skin wallet for $10.
I resisted (somehow) the temptations of many gorgeous bags- but did select a handful of vintage photographs that I plan to arrange in one large frame. When I asked the vendor the price, he smiled. "Cheap, so you can buy them. Five dollars?"

"I can do that." I slipped a five into his palm and waited for him to wrap the picks.

Five p.m. had rolled around. After a light snack we considered a few errands and decided to take our respective paths home- me towards lower Manhattan, Julia to Jersey City. Up next: Brooklyn Flea in Fort Greene.

coast swappers

NYC native Sal and I connected in my hometown years before I moved back East- and now he's considering returning to his roots! While in town feeling things out- we hooked up after I finished up at work in Midtown East. We wove around the miserably hot train station- to eventually catch the Six to Union Square.

First on our agenda: the opening event of Brooklyn Industries' new store. Snacks, sparkling lemonade and sample sale digs! Sal selected a few thin sweaters (dressy for the Left Coast, quick beer-in-the-neighborhood-wear, for NYC)- Offering up solid taste, he insisted that I purchase a wool dress in camel with dark brown piping, and a super soft plaid jacket with a belt at the natural waist.

The evening wandered into lower Manhattan. We perused boots in the East Village and found ourselves opting to take the D to Grand for a few drinks. We stepped off the train and pushed through a slight crowd. Sal erupted, "What is that smell?"

"Chinatown"

"Ugh"

"Fish balls, right?"

To be honest, It doesn't matter how many times I pop around here, I'm always seemingly disoriented and going the wrong direction, until I realize it a few blocks later, when I'm about to hit Little Italy. In good company, Sal was good humored about it. I approached the discreet door at Grand and Essex,

"Where are we? Do you even know where you're going?"

"Sure" I pushed the door to the East Side Bar company open.

"You really need to know about this place, don't you?"

We sunk into the prohibition style venue to sip slowly and divulge in our Coast swap. Although I am deeply content with my transplant to NYC, there is something primal and satisfying about being with friends from back home. I'm addicted to the separation of the environments, and more so, being with my people, in a place that is not home. Things happen. Information is exchanged. Plans are formed. (In other words, all you kids reading this from the Pacific Northwest: come visit).

After our third round of outrageous laughter, the Bar Company began to fill, we requested our tab- a scratch piece of paper with $41 handwritten on it- and stepped into the night.

"Cab?" I offered.

"We're subway people, come on"

"I'm toasty"

"We're taking the train."

I gave up. I knew I was simply trying to avoid walking what seems lto be a longer distance when you're heavy with buzz- A few mistakes cajoled us onto the F line.
---

Park Slope neared, a man stepped on. A subway performer. One I hadn't seen yet- he turned on a boom box and began to break dance. An Asian women exhibited an impressively disgusted facial expression for the remainder of the ride. We pushed through the laughter to meet Vadim at Rachel's for happy-hour and quesadillas. It got to that point in the night- the one when you realize you have to be in the office at 8:00am the next day, but hey- no mind. Let's go to Union Hall. Bacce ball, beer, wine! Easy lighting, bookshelves. Let's do this.

color, the photobooth & facebook