Marrakesh of the West
I messaged Ivan before I got off work yesterday, to ask if he had been to the Olympic Sculpture Park. He said yes. I sort of figured, damn it, I guess we can't go for my idea of meeting there first before walking over to the Marrakesh, where I had made reservations for 5:30 instead of 5:00 as usual. I was just trying to think of something we could do where I could take pictures. My first idea had been to ride the Seattle Great Wheel, thinking maybe he had never been on that -- and in fact, Ivan told me a couple of weeks ago that he hadn't, and was open to going to ride it when he visited this time. But then he remembered he had ridden it once with Bo, the guy who is his ex-husband, and he did not to re-live the memory.
So many people I have known have done this, and I truly don't get it, this idea of refusing to do a thing or visit a place just because something bad happened to you once there, or even just because you once did it or visited it with someone you now hate. It's so dumb! A bad person does not make a great thing suddenly bad. Fucking get over yourselves! This attitude does nothing but deprive people of perfectly achievable, great experiences with things or places.
But, there's still no getting around it when people tell me that, so it was like, okay, the Seattle Great Wheel is out. Honestly even though it's been a while since my last ride (2016, when Laney made the ill-informed decision to ride), I have now been on the Seattle Great Wheel so many times (eight, since it opened in 2012!) that I prefer now to get new experiences on it in unusual circumstances -- during a big snowfall, for instance, or even during a heavy rain. Not that I wouldn't jump right on it again under any weather circumstance if someone new wanted me to go with them.
But anyway, in the end Ivan and I just met up at the Marrakesh at 5:30. The guy greeting us recognized us from our February dinner there, probably made easier by the fact that Ivan and I also ate there together once last fall. He was like, "Hey, welcome back!" And even though I made the reservation for 5:30 instead of 5:00, the reservation itself was wholly unnecessary -- we were the first people there, after they opened at 5:00. One other party, a party of four, came in about halfway through Ivan's and my time there, and one other party came in right before we left. Thursday must be a slow night for them.
Anyway, I had purchased a Groupon for 20% off and it resulted in us still having the exact same food we had last time, and probably the time before as well. The guy even guessed what we would order, remembering that we were vegetarian, but we looked over the menu anyway before we ordered exactly what he had guessed. The Groupon was for a five-course dinner for two, which is what we always have anyway. It was still odd, because he gave us a sheet that said Groupon Feast Menu, which made us think we'd not be able to get what we always do. But, we did.
And then Ivan still suggested we walk to the Olympic Sculpture Park afterward, which he said he hadn't been to in a few years, so that's what we did.
He suggested that after I suggested walking the waterfront for a bit, so basically we did both. We first walked to the Olympic Sculpture Park, even though I had just hung out there just before going to dinner, and I got all of about two new photos there, this time of Ivan standing by the huge pieces of the sculpture piece called Wake. Then we crossed the overpass over the railroad tracks, and walked down the waterfront.
We did not get as far as I initially assumed, because I decided to go check out the now-Viaduct-less view from atop the building at Bell Street Pier, where there is a rooftop park/viewing area (which is where Danielle and her then-boyfriend Seth and I watched the waterfront fireworks from on the Fourth of July in 1997, incidentally, which would have made that my first time up there). We never did go any further south on the waterfront than that spot, because, after getting several photos there, Ivan declared, "Okay, I've had enough sunshine for one day." And that was his indication that it was time to head back.
It was just as well. Firstly, we walked the entire way back home. I had kind of assumed we'd take a bus, but walking was fine; meeting him for dinner was the only reason I did not bike to work yesterday. It was quite hot yesterday, though, in the mid-eighties, and between that and the Thursday evening pedestrian crowds all the way up Capitol Hill on Pine Street, honestly the walk was kind of annoying. Too many fucking slow walkers in our way! Also, I was literally wiping sweat off my forehead with my shirtsleeve by the time we got home.
Still, I made impressively efficient use of my time once we were home. I put on the Hulu documentary Ask Dr. Ruth, which I had missed during its local theatrical run, and Ivan was unusually engaged by it. He even told me afterward that he had read a book written by her, for teenagers, when he was a teenager. That was more than I had ever done; I've never read any of her many books. Dr. Ruth turns ninety during the filming of the movie -- which makes her 91 now. And she's still so sharp and active and working it's amazing. She and Betty White should go bowling.
Anyway, I made my dad's birthday card while watching the movie, as I very nearly forgot to do that. And when the movie was over, I still found time to make a burger for Shobhit to eat when he got home from work (at his request); edit and upload the photos I had taken during the day; and scan the card so I would have my own digital copy of it, as I do with all the cards I make, which are now limited only to my parents. I used to make cards for several other people too, mostly at work, but it's just too much to have to keep remembering anymore. If it's not one of my parents, I'll occasionally make a card for someone else, but only for special or unusual occasions. I have six cards to make a year for my parents alone -- three birthday cards, two Mother's Day cards, one Father's Day card -- and anymore, honestly, that's enough. I can't abide ever stopping the cards for my parents, though. It's been a long time since I've had any sense that it makes all that much difference to any of them that I make them rather than buy them, but I don't care. I don't want to buy them. It's a tradition I won't break! Not unless my right hand gets run over by a train or something.
I just ate my lunch of leftover pasta from last weekend -- very tasty, and the last of it -- for lunch, by myself out on the soft cushion chairs on the patio. A few other people sat outside, but a whole lot of people who might have otherwise gone outside stayed in, clearly just because it was cloudy. But, it was 72°! What a bunch of morons!
I did get a question from Steven when I came back inside, which confused me for a moment: "Was it wet out there?" I realized the question was because it did rain early this morning and, although it was not at all precipitating while I rode in, the roads were still wet. So I did indeed feel the seat before I sat down on it.
And then the sun broke through and I was legit way too hot out there. I almost felt like I should have stayed inside because it was too hot. (Maybe now you're thinking, Maybe that's why everyone else stayed inside too, Mister Smarty Pants! I assure you, it is not. Heat never keeps anyone around here away, except me.) I was glad I wore shorts again. I almost didn't just because the forecast high was "merely" upper seventies and I usually only wear shorts when it's into the eighties. I guess the times are changing.
[posted 12:25 pm]