Ready for takeoff.

A few days ago, a pair of friends and I landed ourselves at Vessel for a Recession Proof Mixology event featuring Aviation Gin. All three of us could recall a time when any of us were hesitant to drink anything other than a beverage containing vodka and juice from concentrate; thank Heavens for the many good bartenders who have played a role in steering us away from such amateur beverages, transforming us into "Cocktail Geeks," for better or for worse. (I like to think for the better.) On our gin-induced flight to Shangri-La, we were in good company, also present in our cabin were several of the Emerald City's first-class bartenders, away from their Capitol Hill cockpits, as well as other industry folks and media notability.

We sampled several bright and uplifting cocktails; I, of course, went for all the froufrou looking drinks in the sunset spectrum of pink and apricot. My palate was much pleased as was my field of vision. The order of truffle chips was a tasty touch, but whetted our appetite so much we only sat through a few round of drinks before departing for more substantial forage (I'm sure, due to our early departure, we missed some really good in-flight entertainment.)

The three of us descended our way down to the Harbor Steps to check out a restaurant that had recently opened. The place looked nice, the menu looked decent, and we had a friend's recommendation, but somehow the venue didn't seem to set off our radar, so we changed course and headed up into the Market.

Oddly, the early evening weather was warm and dense, the air being heavy and humid as if we were deep within an equatorial jungle. The sky began to take on a copper-colored hue, glazing the once familiar Emerald City skyline 'neath a rosy haze and heightening our anticipation of something marvelous awaiting us around the corner.

Then, a golden idea came to me and I led us through an alley, beyond the infamous "gum wall," up a hidden staircase, past Rachel (the pig) and out on a tiny terrace until we reached my desired destination with a smooth landing, Place Pigalle.

Place Pigalle is a special place. Small, comfortable, and peppered with just the right amount of class. (Perhaps it's the French influences that permeate the place?) It's perched location offers spectacular, unobstructed views of Puget Sound, who's dark blue waters began to glimmer with a bronze glint by the time we were seated at our white-linen-covered table.

Following our entrance, a pair of fishmongers navigated their way to the slender bar. Also present in the intimate, softly lit dining room were several seasoned couples, as well as a table of executives still formally buttoned-up in their well-tailored suits.

Shortly after the three of us each ordered a glass of wine--rosé for me, of course, Malbec for the Mademoiselle and Tributary for the Monsieur, a trio of Europeans entered the establishment, and instantly were recognized by the neighboring table of executives, who all rose to exchange handshakes before the Continental threesome were seated at their own, separate table.

Following a few bites of fresh-baked sourdough and the creamiest of butters, our starter courses came our way consisting of a hearty lentil and house-made sausage soup; and a light, though flavorful, halibut seviche, all of which was rather delectable.

When it came to our entrées, we could not contain our crooning as we each kept taking nibbles from one another's plate: fresh marlin medallions, lightly seared, served alongside tenderly roasted potatoes and autumn vegetables; al dente fettuccine submerged in a savory lamb Bolognese; and chipotle veal shortribs that effortlessly slid right of their bones and truly melted in one's mouth. Between the wine, the food, and the company, that night it felt as if we truly were coasting above the clouds on a decadent, culinary pleasure cruise.

Quality Time

A dear friend of mine, who I have had the serenity to have known over half my life, has spent considerable time living abroad and exploring the world. Whenever she returns to the Emerald City in-between adventures, we see each other periodically, usually at whatever party or event I'm hosting, and once in awhile we do spend time one-on-one, but those times usual end up being not as frequent as we intend. In our hearts, we know we will always be there for one another and no matter how much time or distance passes, we will see each other's bright smile sooner or later. My friend is set to embark upon another adventure in the upcoming weeks and we've agreed not to let time slip away from us and to make the most of the days remaining until then.

Last week, we brunched (at Tilikum Place,) then headed over to the Frye Art Museum, took in a bit of frankincense and Italian-inspired architecture at the much gilded St. James Cathedral, stopped for espresso, browsed books at the newly re-located Elliot Bay Book Company and meandered through the streets, both meek and grand, of Captiol Hill toward Volunteer Park.

Unfortunately, we arrived as the conservatory was closing, but the Asian Art Museum was still open for an hour so we opted for a quick visit. While at the art museum we discovered a brochure describing various lectures on Asian art with an upcoming one on the art and architecture of India. (A while back, my friend had left to visit India for a few weeks and ended up being away from the Emerald City for a few years!)

Last Saturday, we attended that lecture and it was amazing. A highlight of the presentation is that the speaker opened my eyes to spiritual and philosophical concepts that have manifested themselves in both architecture and urban design. Saturday University is the name of the lecture series and there were only a handful of others attending that appeared to be around our age, the rest of the auditorium was a significantly older crowd as one might expect to see at such an event on a sunny, early Saturday morning.

After the talk, our intellect was on fire and we kept discussing what we had just learned as we wove our way, once again, through the streets of Capitol Hill headed to a yet-to-be-determined spot for lunch. We ended up at a Vietnamese cafe and ate outside, taking full advantage of the glorious autumn sunshine. While we waited for our food R & B and Pop hits of days gone by (Beyonce, Britney, T-Pain etc.) played on an outdoor speaker and we both couldn't help but sing along (Apple-bottom jeans/Boots with the fur...) and bob our heads as we reminisced on times gone by.

After lunch, we were still hungry, for more knowledge. We made our way up to Elliot Bay Books in hopes of stumbling upon another lecture, no such luck. We reversed course and headed downtown with the Klondike Gold Rush Museum as a destination in mind. (It's the only National Park that's indoors!) Along our way to Pioneer Square we popped in to the Central Library, again in hopes of finding another lecture. One was about to start in half an hour in celebration of To Kill a Mockingbird, which also included a screening of the film, but we didn't want to be indoors for so long on such a sunny day.

We ended up at the Chinese Room of the L. C. Smith Tower (Thank you S.W.) and took in a Google-Earth-like view of the Emerald City. I pointed out various buildings and told my friend a few anecdotal stories of their histories. She shared with me childhood memories of various venues within view. The air was warm, the breeze on the 35th floor balcony was gentle and we couldn't help but linger long wondering aloud what is to become of the land beneath the viaduct, as well as what deconstruction and renewal our own futures might hold in the year to come.

Eventually, we took our leave and swiftly descended in the manually operated, 1912 Otis elevator back to earth and wandered through Pioneer Square, stumbling upon the Saturday Market in Occidental Park, before ending up at the Klondike Museum, where we read in-between the lines of the what was being presented to us and created our own narratives of the featured Sourdoughs. We did catch a short film on the history of the Yukon Gold Rush. In a particular scene they showed a line of men climbing a mountain, each with an average of 50 pounds of gear on their back. My friend and I couldn't help but remark, since they all were already in a line up the side of a mountain, wouldn't it have been more efficient if they formed a human conveyor belt and passed goods and supplies from person to person (Chinese-Fire-Drill-style,) instead of each person carrying so much heavy gear by themselves then dropping it off and having to go back down the mountain and do it all over again?

After exploring the Klondike, we made our way back downtown and I tended to a weekly floral installation, after which, we enjoyed a pair of scrumptous cocktails at Vessel (Thank you K.L.) and were treated to an array of fresh market fruit, gourmet cheeses, and charcuterie from Salumi (Thank you C.B.) With Vessel being my home away from home, it comes to little surprise whenever I run into a friend there, which I did.

After sating our thirst and appetite, we had nothing on our agenda until 9:30 that evening at SIFF Cinema, and again began to wander the streets once again, ending up at the terminus for the South Lake Union Streetcar or as most Emerald City denizens like to affectionately refer to it "The S.L.U.T.," with the "T" representing trolley. While on the streetcar we were surrounded by a rather jovial group, it appeared as if they had been imbibing. Three gentlemen and two ladies, both of whom were expecting.

"Whoa! Is that a raccoon?!" One of the guys asked, referring to the raccoon tail I recently embellished my key chain with. "What's that in your pocket?" He continued.

"Wouldn't you like to know." I slyly replied. His friends all started giggling.

"You asked for it," one of them teased him.

My curious inquisitor was tall, good looking and wearing decent designer denim. "I guess nobody wants to let a pregnant lady sit down!..." he shouted to the streetcar riders and two gentlemen sitting behind us, got up and left their seats. The inquisitor's friends did point out there were several vacant seats in other parts of the car. Then one of his friends pointed out that the inquisitor's zipper was down.

"Hey, why did you have to spoil the show?" I quipped, "I know you're pregnant and all, but there's a reason why I wasn't giving up my front row seat."

Everyone started laughing, except for the inquisitor who bowed his head sheepishly to conceal his blushing. "Awww, look, he's embarrassed," teased one of his friends.

"So, where ya going?" The inquisitor tried to recover.

"We don't know, wherever the SLUT takes us, Hooters?"

We all ended up disembarking at South Lake Union Park, but headed in different directions. I didn't realize that yesterday was the grand opening of the park. It's a cute park, with quite a bit of promise. (Might be a bit better if it had a beer garden, just sayin'...) Once we had our fill of the unforgettable fragrance of fresh fertilizer we decided to head uptown along Mercer, but somehow went under the wrong underpass and ended up at Seattle Center.

As we crossed the Center's campus we noticed tents above the Fisher Pavilion and heard live music. We went closer to investigate and it was Festa Italiana. We watched as a few couples mambo-ed on the dance floor and just marveled at how much goes on in this city in one day before making our way to The Sitting Room for another round of drinks and another little bite to eat (Thanks D.,) after which we headed over to SIFF Cinema (Thanks A.G.) where they are showcasing a series of new Spanish cinema.

The movie we saw, After, was a bit dark and intense, but quite evocative in making one reevaluate if the life they is true or not. In some ways it tied everything back to the lecture we saw in the morning on how, sometimes it matters little if what we do is deemed as good or otherwise, ultimately, the important thing is putting one's heart into the action at hand. I'm so thankful to have had spent a glorious day with the company of a dear friend and all of my heart.

A highlight* *from SFO

One evening in March, at a schmoozy networking event for men who enjoy the company of men (homosexuals,) on the terrace of a somewhat pretentious (for the Emerald City) hotel, I met a bright, charming young (my age) man, who was up visiting his brother (a fellow socialite.) Having gone to a few of these events in the past one tends to recognize (at least I do) faces (and outfits, and accessories.) I find it amusing whenever a new face appears (fresh meat) and witnessing the crowd's reaction to someone new. (Curious? I'll take you out for a little social experimentation sometime. Contact me.)

As the event wound down, me, my socialite friend and his brother went to eat and drink. My friend's husband (yes, apparently in this day and age men can marry men-yipee!) is the general manager of a restaurant in one of the Emerald City's livelier and more colorful hotels. The three of us decided to hop over (more like climb or hike--the Emerald City and all it's hills) and pay him a visit. 'Twas such awhile ago I can not recall what it is we tasted and enjoyed. I do remember, my friend's brother, is a smoker and I would accompany him on his breaks for fresh air. Outside I eagerly shared with him what I knew of Emerald City's skyline and it's history.

No tour of the Emerald City is complete without a stop at Vessel, my home away from home, (a home I regard with much pride and joy.) The delight upon my new found friend's face was quite evident. I did not realize until then he had the palate and passion for cocktails (and good food) as I do. Needless to say, we imbibed.

The next morning the comment he left on my Facebook page read: "those last words haven't finished talking. so glad we made it to vessel though."

It is now August and I am visiting in his city of residence, San Francisco. He is a DJ and was at a party last night in SOMA. He is no longer single, and I, being the florist that I am, drew out the story of how that came to be.

Shortly after his trip to the Emerald City, he was out doing his DJ thing and saw someone he was compelled to meet. He asked for his name and introductions were made, and they spent the rest of the night chatting, dancing and smiling. At the end of the night contact info was exchanged and a few days later contact was made and a date was set.

Forgive me for not being able to recall the venue or the details of their date as I was two cocktails and two whiskey-gingers deep, but I do remember the subject of singledom was brought up and both boys found them to also share that in common, as well as other hobbies and passions. That seemed to cement their connection even more.

Recently, the two went for a long bike ride and during an abeyant rest for them to catch their breath, my friend's breath was taken away as his beau dropped down on one knee and stated his intention to have him in his life ever more and today they are going ring shopping.

I had the pleasure of meeting the fiancé last night, along with a host of other friends, fellow DJ's and acquaintances of the blissful two. When my friend's beloved arrived, instantly a Japanese quote I am fond of came to mind: "When two hearts are as one, eyes are more eloquent than lips." So intense, yet gentle and full ardor was his gaze for my friend, who returned the look with the brightest smile and a gaze just as earnest and ardent.

I am certain these two will never be at a lost for words, ever, their glances will always speak volumes.

The Day and The Night

This past Friday was the actual anniversary of the day of my birth. I felt like looking cute and wanted to keep things a bit on the casual side. I again, wore my ultra skinny jeans and a very fitted navy blue polo and comfy black, velcro-clasping sneakers (Cole Haan.) To contrast my rather youthful-inspired attire, I deliberately didn't shave, not that there is much to shave to begin with (another blessing from my genes.)

When I arrived at work, I was surprised with an airline ticket to San Francisco from my boss and her husband (thank you DCP & MP.) It's been nearly ten years since I've visited SFO and am very much looking forward to a little vacation, especially since I have a handful of friends down there; a nurse, a film maker, a foodie, a dj, and yes, another foodie.

My day of surprises continued as a friend dropped off a box of appetizing pastries for me and my boss to share (thank you RH.)

At half past noon or so, a pair of attorneys I've recently befriended dropped by the shop whereupon I was granted leave to join them for lunch. We moseyed our way to the market, where one of them was able to work her magic and get us an outdoor table at the quaint Café Campange (Good job GB!)

The sun was strong, as it was high, as we watched tourists navigate their way through bustling Post Alley we kept our cool by indulging ourselves with chilled rosé, and Hendrick's and tonics. The food was tasty, as we knew it would be. I had a wonderful green bean salad with mushrooms, onions and pork rillet (mmmm...) and for birthday dessert a house-made apricot sorbet (mmmm... again.)

Over the course of two and a half hours, our conversation revolved around, naturally, food, booze, and relationships. Where are favorite haunts are; who we know and adore: our families, our friends, our bartenders; our habits and patterns at work and at home; where we've been and where we want to go; the virtues of imbibing; our relationship track records; and how far away happy hour was. I was among kindred spirits and we were steadily getting lit.

Back at the tower, it was a wee bit hard to concentrate as all I could think about was my next cocktail, come happy hour. Promptly after closing time at the shop, I found myself seated at the bar at Vessel with one of my newly acquainted like-hearted spirits enjoying a quick round of spirits before meeting up with some friends for a special birthday dinner. (Funny how just one round, turns into two... (Thanks DR!))

Six o'clock came too soon and my friend escorted me home where, shortly after, I met two of my closest friends and we set out for West Seattle, the neighborhood I called home for much of my growing up years. It's wonderful how so much in this world is cyclical and I often find it such a delight when a circle is completed and starts anew.

Friday, being the eve of the Sabbath, is when Shabbat dinner occurs. A Jewish tradition that I've been recently exposed to and embraced in to by a dear friend of mine and her family. As we arrived to my friend's mother's home, we opted to take advantage of the warm, early evening sun and chose to seat ourselves outside on the patio where we enjoyed a bit of coffee, some white wine, apples, smoked salmon and Fleur d'âne cheese (mmmm!!!) (So Continental, I know.)

A few hours later, as the sun sank lower in the horizon, we returned indoors and decided to start dinner. I was given a kippa to wear, my first time ever, I was really excited. There was a fairly noticeable Jewish population at my high school (in fact my friend's older brother went to my high school, he was the quarterback) and I always wondered about yamikas when I saw them and here I was, wearing one on my birthday!

We lit candles and offered prayers to my friend's ancestors and family and then seated ourselves at the dinner table where we chanted more prayers; blessings were doled out, one even over the telephone to my friend's little sister in San Francisco (the nurse--see, everything is cyclical;) Manischewitz; breaking of bread; and finally dinner itself. We had a feast from the Holy Land: falafel, tabouli, chop chop salad with feta, humus, pita (very thin and made with whole wheat,) babaganouj; and for birthday dessert: sesame cookies and cardamom cake (mmm!)

Another part of Shabbat dinner is revisiting a piece of the Scriptures and reflecting upon it. We were told, per my request, of the story of David and Jonathan. The very same David who slew Goliath. David, youngest son of Jesse, of Bethlehem, was quite the warrior. He befriended Jonathon, eldest son of Saul, the King of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin. David's military prowess positioned him as a possible rival of Jonathan's for Saul's Crown. Saul, in order to protect his dynasty, essential had David exiled hoping to eliminate him as a threat to the throne. Ironically, David eventually became King.

Before David's exile, David and Jonathan's deep regard and admiration for one another led them to form a covenant that is again was renewed while David was in the wilderness. Much speculation surround the manner of relationship they may or may not have had: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_and_jonathan . Read into it what you will, but, the Jewish interpretation of entering into a relationship, be it friendship or otherwise, for the sake of the relationship itself and not the quantitative benefits that could potentially be accessed through said relationship, as a key to an enduring and fulfilling bond is a lesson I cherish from this story. Basically, be friends with people for who they are and not what they can get for you.

And at the end of the evening, it is among the company of such genuine friends I found myself, and no material value can be placed upon that. For these friends, I am so utterly grateful to have them in my life. What a wonderful and rich birthday and night.