Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Booksigning at The Unraveled Yarn, Federal Way, WA, February 2nd

This is to benefit Haitian Aid via World Vision. And this is how this booksigning came about:

As I mentioned before, I'm moving to Germany, which means I have had to go through my humongous yarn stash and decide what to get rid of (sob!) and what I'm going to store, and what I'm going to take with me. I have a lot of very nice-quality yarn, and would prefer to give it to someone who would appreciate it. I'd already given my decent quality yarn (a huge 3' x 2' x 2' box) to a women's shelter up in Seattle (Church of Mary Magdalene) that has a knitting and crocheting circle for homeless women, but I had more, and this was the high-quality, hand-wash or dry-clean kind.

I immediately thought of The Unraveled Yarn in Federal Way, WA. I'd been to more than a few of their Knit Nights and had a blast; I also knew that they took in left-over yarn and made things for charities. So I thought, maybe they'd like my yarn, and certainly, they'd appreciate the quality. I just liked the owners, and they seemed like such happy and helpful people, even if it's smaller than some other stores. There is a real sense of fun and joy in that store.

So I brought in my yarn, and the two owner-sisters Annie and Karen were glad to take it. I told them to do whatever they wanted with it--sell it, give it away, use it themselves--because I sure didn't have the time to deal with it. I brought perhaps two more boxes and bags full of yarn and wool, which they could also use in their felting classes.

The last time I dropped off the wool and yarn, the gals told me they wanted to have a book signing for me in their store. I protested that my latest story in Chalice of Roses doesn't have any knitting in it, but they said that since I was a Knit Nighter, as far as they were concerned, I was one of them, and I needed a good send-off before I went to Germany. Besides, there were plenty of women in the group who read romance.
Well, the whole thing kind of snowballed, and now I'm going to have a book signing, and the gals notified the local newspapers, and it's actually going to benefit World Vision's aid to Haiti (World Vision's a local charity). So we're asking for donations, and I'm selling my latest plus backlist from my basement storage (thereby getting rid of more stuff before we leave for Germany--yay!) with the proceeds to go to World Vision, and people are invited to bring their knitting and crocheting, and have me sign books (I'm bringing my knitting, too--I've got to knit on Knit Night!).

The end result is a win-win for everyone involved. All because I knew The Unraveled Yarn knit things for charity. What goes around comes around, it seems. Is this fun or what? Definitely fun! And definitely a Pollyanna-ish event.

If anyone's in the area, the signing is on February 2nd, from 4 pm to 8 pm. Bring your knitting or crocheting, sit and stitch awhile! More details here:

http://www.unraveledshop.com/

I know it's going to be a blast. I always end up laughing my head off at Knit Nights, and leaving with a smile on my face. Come over and have some fun!

Friday, January 22, 2010

Shine

I love this Anna Nalick song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgiZz-aqheU&FORM=VIRE6

These are dark days; we have a difficult economy, and so many are out of jobs. But even those people can count themselves fortunate not to be in the situation that the people in Haiti are in right now. The Haitian people have even lost those who were there to help them. I know of two United Methodist Global Ministries administrators who have died in the earthquake's wreckage after a meeting about how to get more health care into Haiti, and I know for sure there are many others who were there from various relief aid organizations trying to help the people of Haiti, who are also dead and gone missing. Many of the people who would normally be "first responders" to the crisis are dead or injured themselves.

It is very easy to feel frustrated, despondent, and helpless in times like these.

I will not ask that more relief aid be given; I'm sure you all are doing that already, and many are on-going givers of funds. It's all over the news--you know where you can give aid, so it's not necessary to post it here.

What I want you to do now is to take an inventory of your gifts and your talents. Understand what they are, and how you can use them. Make a list. Don't be afraid of making a long list (the longer, the better), and if you have trouble, ask a good friend or family member. Include everything from, "I'm good at cleaning toilets" to "I care a lot about people," to "I'm a whiz at math." Do not use the words "don't, can't, won't, or not." Phrase everything in positive language.

Got your list? Good. Now, look at it and pretend you're looking at someone else's list. Or, if you're doing this list-making with a friend, trade lists.

Take out another piece of paper and make another list: Brainstorm ways in which that person (you) can use those gifts and talents to improve his or her own life and others' lives on the job, in school, in your house of worship, in your community, and beyond. Write them down. Again, phrase it in positive language.

Now, look down this second list, and think about each thing you've written. Which one gets you the most excited? Which one makes you feel happy? Are there more than one? Are there a lot? If so, pick three.

Write down those three things (or one or two things) or in a small notebook that is easily carried in a purse or a pocket. Then, go out and do those things or that one thing. When you are done, go back to the list, and do the next one. If you find more things that you can get excited about, add it to the list. It doesn't matter if you have one or more things on the list, it doesn't matter if what you do seems very small or very large, as long as you do them and add to the list when you're done. No item is insignificant, no item is too large. All that matters is that you do it, and are happy to do it.

This is how each one of us shines: by recognizing our gifts and talents, however large or small, and using them with joy, wherever we happen to be.

If we do this, how can the world not grow lighter with the joy we bring to the work we do?

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Going to Germany

It's official. The hubby and I are going to Germany--and I mean, relocating, not just visiting. It'll probably be for over a year, but beyond that, we don't know. The Alien Child will be housesitting for us, but this does not make me less nervous, as he has so far shown a singular disinterest in learning what must be done to run a household. With luck, this will change.

I'm a bit scared, certainly excited, and most definitely overwhelmed at the amount of work we have to do to get ready. We can do it in a month's time, but...whew, that's not a lot of time!  I don't even know where we'll be living--that is, I know generally where we will, but have no idea of the town or city, if we'll be living in a house or an apartment. No. Clue. At. All. Probably a house, John says, but...small? Large? Mid-sized?
I do know that we'll be staying at a hotel for about the first 45 days. Hopefully one with a kitchenette, because as much as I like eating out, that would become very dull after a while.

So we'll be traveling light, but I don't know what all we'll have shipped. Definitely my computer, definitely my knitting and spinning stuff. I was wondering how I would go about getting knitting supplies, but found this nifty web site:
http://planetpurl.com/planetpurl/static/showpage.htm?showpage=travel_guide

There are "cheat sheets" for finding your way in a foreign yarn shop, so I will most definitely download the German one. This comforts me a great deal. It seems the love of knitting is truly international. Which supports my contention that if everyone learned how to knit or crochet, we would have World Peace.  I mean really. Think about it. What if world leaders, as they began to argue and fuss and become angry, stopped and took group knitting breaks? What if they traded patterns and yarn instead of angry words and weapons? It would calm everyone down, I'm sure. :-D

All right, that is very much pie-in-the-sky. But it can't hurt to introduce myself to someone by looking at their beautiful knitting (and I am sure there are knitters who knit beautifully in Germany) and saying, "Das ist schön!"

See, I am learning already.

All in all, however, it will most definitely be an adventure.  Wish me luck--in the packing, moving, and the settling into Germany!

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Mama Passarelli's Restaurant

I have to tell you about a remarkable woman I just met tonight.  Her name is Ginger Passarelli, and she's the owner of Mama Passarelli's restaurant out in Black Diamond, Washington.

The hubby and I decided on the spur of the moment (well, I was coming home from critique group, and the whole chicken I had taken out of the freezer was not yet defrosted, so...) to go out to eat this evening, and he suggested a little restaurant he had noticed out in Black Diamond.  He's bicycled past this place many a time, and it wasn't open when he had gone by, but we found that it's open only on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.  We hadn't tried this place, and since we are definitely fans of Italian food (who isn't?) we went.

It's a small, homey place, decorated in 1950's kitsch, and as soon as you go in, you get the feeling of home and welcome.  There was a big cardboard cut-out of Elvis near the entrance, and as you go in, you see lots of Frank Sinatra pictures, some signed autographs of 1950's musicians, actors, and actresses--well, the walls are pretty well covered with anything 1950's, up to 1960.  There are some easy chairs around a coffee table and a chess set for anyone who might have to wait for a table.  Just past the easy chairs is a wall covered with very old pictures and statuettes of the Virgin Mary and various New Testament prints, brown around the edges with age.

The menu is plain, hearty, Italian American fare, and if you are a fan of garlic, you will be a fan of this food.  John and I are garlic hounds--well, John, more than me, but let's just say I make a mean aioli sauce--so this was in no way a hindrance to gustatory delight.  If you look at their menu, here, you will only see a partial list of their food--I don't think their specials are listed.  I had a very tender breast of chicken in creamy prosciutto sauce over angel hair pasta, with a side of caesar salad.  I've never had a prosciutto sauce, but it was nice, a sort of alfredo sauce, but with little bits of ham.  I confess, I don't remember what John had, except that it contained steak, with sauteed red onions on top.  I was a bit too preoccupied by my own dish.  The caesar salad was more reminiscent of aioli sauce, and though John and I prefer a stronger anchovy taste, it was nevertheless very good indeed, with a strong garlic bite.  As I mentioned, garlic is not a problem for us. 

What I loved, however, was that Ginger herself came by and asked us how we liked our dinner.  In fact, she pulled up a chair and chatted with us for a while, for all the world as if we were family.  She's a motherly woman with merry eyes and a genuine smile, the kind, I suspect, that makes you smile back no matter what your mood.   The image was only enhanced by the green checked apron she wore around her generous form.  "I like to get to know my guests," she said.

I could see it.  Black Diamond is a small town, with not much more than 4000 residents, and the atmosphere was the essence of all the feel of home and comfort you might imagine in a small town.  The town used to be a coal mining center (hence, "Black Diamond") with more than a few Italian immigrants who worked the mines in the early part of the 20th century.  In fact, at one time, Ginger said, the basement of the restaurant served as a speakeasy during the Great Depression and Prohibition times.

Ginger knows her patrons well, and her wait staff know exactly what they'll order as soon as they see them.  If you think of the old TV show "The Andy Griffith Show" that's the sort of feel you get when a guest comes in and Ginger hails them by name.  She greeted us, then turned to call out to two men who had come in:  "Hey, there are the Brownie boys!"  She grinned.  "They always get the brownie sundae dessert," she said.  "So, you're new--where do you come from?"

We told her, and she smiled wide.  "That's a long way!  I'm honored you came out all the way to eat here."  John told her he he'd come by every once in a while on his bike rides, and had wondered what the restaurant was like, and that we thought we'd try it tonight.

A sound of static made her pause before a reply, and she pulled out what looked like a small walkie-talkie.  "Excuse me, it's the deputy," she said, and bustled off with the words "first responder" and "emergency" fading in the space she just vacated.

John and I looked at each other.  The local police have a direct line to the restaurant?   But the waitress came by not long after that and served our food, and we dug in.  When the waitress asked if we wanted some dessert, we decided to share a tiramisu.  But I kept thinking of that walkie talkie.  There had to be a story there, I thought.

Ginger came by again as we were halfway through our dessert.  "Oh, I see you got the tiramisu," she said.  "I made that myself."  Her eyes twinkled naughtily.  "We don't serve that to anyone under 21."  Indeed, there was most definitely a taste of Kahlua as well as other liqueurs in it.

"The police have a direct line to you?" I asked.

She laughed.  "Oh, I was just responding to an emergency," she said. "I'm one of the Soup Ladies." She nodded at the empty bowl of Italian Tomato Bisque that John had eaten.  "I get soup like that--and other things on our menu here--out to first responders in the area."  I could hear the pride in her voice.  "We serve them the same as what we serve the people who come to our restaurant."

"First responders?" I asked.

First responders are police, emergency and search and rescue crews, firefighters, swat teams, etc., who go out to investigate and rescue in emergency situations:  anything from stranded hikers to finding murder victims to being in a stake-out.  Her eyes grew sad.  "The murder of the family up in Carnation?" she said.  "It took a long time for the swat team and then the police to go over the murder scene.  Days.  No breaks.  Then there was the four police officers who got killed down in Lakewood.  We got some food up to those guys working on those scenes--good home cooking--because they've got to eat, you know?  And..."  I could see tears well up, and she pressed her lips together for a moment.  "Home cooking--it's something normal for them, after all...all that.  It's like a bit of Mom and home going to them when they can't go to their own homes themselves."

I nodded.  I could see that, for sure.  

There weren't many people in the restaurant; the recession had made business kind of thin, so they could only open from Thursday to Sunday, and were closed the rest of the week.  I felt bad for her about that, but in this moment, I was selfishly glad that she could sit down a spell and talk to us, because I wanted to hear more.  "Wow," I said.  "I never thought about the fact that they'd be out there for days--and of course, they'd want something to eat."

"Right," she said.  "And it's just wrong that they have to run out and grab some junk food.   It's bad for them, and where's the comfort in that?  And when it's cold and wet, it's better to have a good hot meal."  She shook her head.  "Sometimes, we can't get enough food out to them, so I'm lucky in that we have a network of restaurant owners I can call on.  You know Stortinis?"

"Mama Stortini's up in Kent Station?" I said.  It's what I'd call a "casual upscale" restaurant; my mom and I went there once; it's a new place in the Kent area, and the food is...hmm..."Pacific Northwest Italian," if that makes any sense.  Emphasis on local Northwest seafood and goods.  Quite delicious.

"That's the one.  Joe Stortini owned that restaurant.  He now owns Joeseppi's in Tacoma.  I called up Joeseppi's for the Lakewood incident and they came out with more food that quick."  She snapped her fingers.  "So we get some good food out the door to our first responders, really good food."  She grinned.  "Sometimes, in the all-volunteer search and rescue groups, all we need to do is tell them Mama is providing the food, and we get a lot more volunteers, even when it's bad weather out there."

"People in a situation like that, they need a Mom," I said.  I understood this, down to my bones, being a Mom and a foodie.  To me, there is no better expression of sheer abundant love than laboring in a kitchen and bringing a feast out to your loved ones.  "It's a hell of a lot of stress and trauma on them.  At least they know someone cares, and cares enough to bring them something good and filling."

She nodded and smiled a little.  "Exactly."  She paused for a moment.  "You know, it's funny.  The last time I brought over some food, one of the guys said, 'Mama'--they all call me Mama--'no offense, Mama, but I hate it whenever I see you, because I know what's going down on the scene is going to be bad."  Her smile grew watery.  "And then he said, 'but I'm glad you're here, because I could sure use a hug.'"  She cleared her throat.  "That's something, you know?  The police don't let people hug them, because they can't usually do that--because of guns and all.  But he asked a hug from me." She said it as if the officer had offered her a pot of gold.

"I can see why," I said, and I couldn't help a little lump in my own throat.  "God bless you," John and I said at the same time, and we all looked at each other and laughed.

Ginger "Mama" Passarelli got up as another customer came in, and she called out a greeting to them by name.  "Well, I've gotta get the dessert over to the Brownie boys."  She grinned at us again.  "It's a pleasure seeing new people here.  Thanks for coming by."

"Absolutely," John said.  "It was our pleasure."

"We'll be back for sure," I said.  It was a promise.

Today, our Pastor Jon talked about the gifts and talents each of us are given, gifts of the Holy Spirit.  These gifts aren't to be left unopened--they have to be opened, recognized, and then "regifted" out to others, to the community, in the Spirit of love and abundance.  As John and I drove home, I said, "that's what Pastor Jon was talking about.  Mama Passarelli's a living, breathing example of it."

So if you're ever in the Black Diamond area and want a bit of small-town comfort, chat, and good solid food, give Mama Passarelli a visit.  If it's not too busy, look for a comfortable grey-haired woman in a pretty, practical apron.  That's Ginger Passarelli, doing what she does best--giving you her gift of the Spirit with all her generous heart.