soopastryheart

Not a week after we watched the happy couple exchange vows, Boyfriend and I spent three whole days helping the newlyweds pack and move all their belongings into a transportable storage unit (the groom will be attending Brandeis for his PhD, which meant a cross-country move to Boston), and then subsequently moved in our belongings (long story, don’t ask). The boys took care of all the heavy lifting as the girls spent an inordinate amount of time with tissue paper, and after more than a half dozen trips to West Seattle (in god awful viaduct traffic, no less), the rainiest morning we’ve had thus summer, a bruise the size of a doorknob on my leg, and some magic power cleaning by my family, we’re happily settled in our new home.

My parents were also visiting last week, which made an already busy week/weekend even busier, but I’d gladly accept sleep depravation and overall exhaustion for some family time any day. On Saturday, my brother and I took our entire family, including our Imo and Harmonee to Haiku, where we watched my Oppa eat about three dozen oysters and an entire platter of mussels (no exaggeration, he ate over 75). We somehow mustered up some energy after dinner for a walk through the Sculpture Park.

On Sunday, my sister Honie and I woke up at the buttcrack of dawn to drive up to North Bend where we volunteered at Warrior Dash with fellow Philanthro members, while the bro took the parents for a tour at Boeing, where he works. They then proceeded to spend the afternoon making some banchans, which we protested but secretly jumped for joy inside. Currently, two shelves of the fridge contain some delicious ass Korean food, including two jars of fresh kimchi.

My parents hadn’t been to the Public Market in over 15 years, so on Monday we walked around, squeezing between a suffocating amount of tourists. Living in Seattle, especially so close to the market, you sort of take for granted how lively and special that place is, so it was nice seeing my parents’ reactions and be reminded once again. Before driving them to the airport, Boyfriend and I took the family out for one last dinner at Din Tai Fung, where we managed to get extremely lucky and arrive just minutes before a huge crowd formed a line.

Boyfriend and I have spent this entire week cleaning (honestly, how does so many bags of garbage form when you’re moving?), choosing a new dining table (finally), picking up a new rolling rack for him (because he’s a gentleman and once again gave me the closet), painting walls (okay, I watched him paint), and playing Tetris with our storage unit. It’s been nonstop go for nearly two weeks, but it’s showing signs of slowing down. Tonight, we’re going to grill steaks and watch the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Tomorrow, we’ll be going to a wedding and taking part of Philanthro’s National Volunteer Day, Engage… it’s not too late to register, join us!

Boyfriend and I are currently dog-sitting a 60 lb. pit mix named Manny, which I thought would be an excellent trial run to prove to Boyfriend that I am perfectly capable of taking care of a dog, despite his feverish insistence otherwise. Manny is a super lovable rescue, and 90% of the time, the ideal dog to sit for: he doesn’t drool, doesn’t chew shit up, has no problem doing his own thing, and most importantly, has excellent control of his bowels and bladder. The only thing that prevents Manny from scoring a perfect 100% is the fact that he’s a huge dog, and when he knows he’s going to the park, tends to walk you rather than you walking him. I’m sure it’s been really comical to those who witnessed a tiny Asian girl hanging on for dear life, with both hands on the leash as this monster of a dog drags her along the street (this was almost me).

But again, that’s only when Manny knows we’re headed to the Sculpture Park. Otherwise, he’s totally great about his other walks around the block. It’s been funny to watch the reactions of other (smaller) dog owners – at first glance, Manny is very intimidating, with his hilariously large head and super muscular body (Boyfriend says he’s the Hulk of dogs) – so when other dog owners see him, they tend to scoop up their own pets and scurry along the opposite direction. He’s admirably gentle around smaller dogs, even when they yap at him. He ignores them for the most part, as if to say bitch, please, I could finish you. He’s by no means a passive dog, as I’ve witnessed firsthand what happens when he sees a larger dog (or shady Belltown characters at night) that he doesn’t like (I had to prop myself up against a parking meter post to hold Manny back). He’s swallowed a tennis ball whole and once, to declare his alpha status,straight up peed on a German Shepard.

Needless to say, I’m surprised how quickly I’ve fallen in love with this dog. And though I won’t miss chasing after his rolling turds down a hill (and I don’t want to be crass, but they are huuuuuuuuuuge turds), I will miss everything else about him when he and his owners move to Boston later this month. I’m not sure if I’ve persuaded the Boyfriend from his original assumption, but turns out, watching Manny has influenced my views on dogs instead. My heart breaks just a little bit each time I run errands and have to leave Manny alone, watching his ears drop as I close the door behind me. He’s previously had surgery on a torn ACL, which causes me to worry my brains out when he temporarily limps after a particularly rigorous session of catch. Two weeks of watching Manny has turned me into an emotional goober (and I seriously cannot stop with the baby talk), so I worry what might happen if I were to become responsible for a dog indefinitely.

Anyway.

This past weekend, Boyfriend and I checked out Ted at a theater neither of us knew existed, despite the fact that it’s located just two blocks away and has existed for over a decade. It’s underneath El Gaucho and seats like maybe 30-40 tops, so it’s small and intimate (which I actually liked, even though Boyfriend didn’t). It also has a full bar and delivers drinks to you at your seat, so I was pretty amused by the couple sitting in front of us as they sipped Moët during a scene in which a stuffed bear simulated fellatio on a candy bar.

My sister will be flying in this weekend, which means I’ll be trying really hard to keep myself preoccupied with anything and everything until her arrival. I’m looking forward to having frozen yogurt twice a day, getting mocked over my age, and learning about all the new pop songs on the radio – I had no idea that YOLO was derived from a song, did you? Eh, doesn’t make it any less stupid.

PS. If you’re in town, check out Philanthro Seattle’s First Tuesday Happy Hour tomorrow evening from 6-9 at Spitfire in Belltown. We’re doing a series of events with Ronald McDonald House Charities for the month of July.

When you’re living in places with an abundance of sunshine and heat, it’s easy to take it for granted. In fact, some places with prolonged warmer weather often induces a sense of lethargy among its inhabitants (coughFloridacough), and many opt to stay indoors where air conditioning does its magic.

But here in Seattle, we know how precious these warmer months are and we take full advantage of, say, an unusually toastier spring, which has blessed the past 5 weekends of some pretty amazing sunshine. We’re a pretty fit city, with plenty of cyclists, joggers, and walkers, but there’s always a spring in our step when the sunshine is out, as if it’s fueling us to pedal or run harder/faster/longer. 65 degrees in Seattle sunshine is pretty much the same as 85 anywhere else, so if you’re a visiting tourist, don’t be too shocked when you see people in shorts and tanks when it’s hardly 70 outside.

This past weekend proved to be another gorgeous one, and we spent it celebrating birthdays at one of the best pizza places in the city.

And hiking at Mount Si. I’m ashamed to announce that in the near decade I’ve lived in Seattle, this was my first hike. Afterwards, we celebrated the fact that I didn’t have to be carried down, with a super delicious cheeseburger and marshmallow shake at a small burger joint.

We also explored our own neighborhood: Olympic Sculpture Park is pretty much our backyard, being only a couple blocks from our place. It’s so odd to see a sight like this in an otherwise bustling city. But I’m nevertheless grateful it exists.

Most of Seattle found itself buried in snow (well, as buried in snow as it gets in Seattle) last week, which meant that I spent double the amount of time in front of the television. Snow, however, is so rare here that it’s hard to resist going outside. We managed to peel ourselves away from the fireplace for a short while to walk around the block.

We also attempted macarons for the first time, and needless to say, didn’t come out disastrous.

My birthday was yesterday and instead of condemning myself to a corner all day long (though the thought crossed my mind), I spent it stuffing my face, from bakeries to Italian restaurants. If you can’t beat it, uh, feed it?

This time of year, I find myself gushing over the most inane things, like ornaments of fat penguins wearing mittens or candy cane cookie recipes. I go into stores just to look at their holiday decorations. I spend an embarrassing amount of time looking at Christmas cards. A gingerbread scented candle? You bet your ass I’m going to stop and smell that shit.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am one of those people. I am a Christmas sucker.

And I’m finding myself clinging on to festive clichés even more this year, as I won’t be home for Christmas (where’s your holiday generosity, airlines??). So to combat the fact that I’m just a tiny bit devastated, I’m drowning my sorrows with an abnormal amount of hot chocolate and holiday baking.

So here’s to cranking up that Michael Buble holiday station on Pandora, avoiding road rage in parking lots, and spreading some holiday cheer in the final week. Also…

…Loving gold and bronze color schemes. If I had it my way, I’d have a tree in every corner of my apartment, all decorated in different motifs.

…U-Village in the evening offers so many more perks than the daytime, such as these lights, as well as avoiding the shitshow that is the parking lot dance.

…Hosting a gingerbread house building sugar fest (where I built my very first gingerbread home). By the way, the “fun” quickly runs out when your hands are sticky with frosting and your head is throbbing from the sugar high.