RECIPE — Perfect Morning with Memory Leftovers from the DEVOTED KISS CAFE'



 Devoted Kiss Café on Gig Harbor

Ingredients for recipe:

1 nice husband (select type with just the right amount of impulsiveness)

1 unbelievably gorgeous Sunday morning in October

2 extra hours of sleep after a busy week

3 times your normal energy

1 good intention of getting right to work on projects (optional)

2 minutes spent considering making breakfast at home

1 delightful surprise with intriguing name

1.)         Mix first three ingredients together gently, knowing they are rare and precious. Fold in energy. Discard good intention, since you know you are kidding yourself anyway.

2.)         After two minutes of consideration have passed, discard thought of cooking at home when nice husband comes in the door after walking dog and says, “So… do you want to go out for breakfast?”

 

3.)         Get in car. Observe husband driving toward Tacoma Narrows Bridge while you wonder why. When husband drives onto bridge, ask him “Where are we going for breakfast?” Since he doesn't answer, ask “Is it a surprise?” When he says, “You’ll see,” just smile. Predict in your mind that it’s some place in Gig Harbor and set timer for ten minutes.

 



4.)         Discover delightful surprise when husband drives to 8809 North Harborview Drive #203, Gig Harbor, WA 98332. See sign that says “Devoted Kiss Café.”  Add big smile and a pinch of curiosity. This place is the manifestation of a catering company owner's dream.

 



5.)         Sit down inside for a moment and order from interesting menu. Then realize you must be crazy to be indoors. Pick up silverware and napkins and hurry out onto deck. Sit down at table for two in corner. Gaze at view of water, boats, the village of Gig Harbor, and autumn leaves. Say, “Wow” in a long drawn-out manner. Pour sunshine over all ingredients and heat to unseasonably balmy temperature.

 

 

 

6.)         Fill fork with bite of Breakfast Burrito, the best you've ever had. (Menu says, “Your choice of sausage or ham with pepper jack cheese, chipotle mayo, peppers, bacon, avocado & egg folded into a warm sundried tomato tortilla and grilled. Served with fresh cut morning potatoes.”) Share some with husband who is having perfectly cooked thick bacon, eggs done exactly to order, and the coolest little pieces of toast you've ever seen. Husband offers you a bite. Take it. Yum.

 

 

7.)         Mix all the above together with good conversation plus several steaming cups of Cutters Point Coffee, poured by the friendly café owner herself.

 



8.)         Test wonderful experience for doneness, but decide you can’t leave this place yet. Order the Lemon Brioche muffin to share with husband. Look at each other and sigh as you cut it in half, only to discover hidden treasure of tart, lemony goodness inside. Taste. Close eyes. With trembling hands, take picture that will turn out slightly blurry.

 

 

9.)         Thank cheerful waitress for excellent service. Thank cook for excellent food. Leave, hesitantly, knowing you WILL return as soon as possible.

 

 

10.)       Wander down to the water’s edge. Drive around harbor to marina and wander some more. Be grateful for nice husband, the Devoted Kiss Café, sunny mornings in October, and the joy of spontaneity. Kiss husband. Wrap memory leftovers of perfect morning in heart and keep for remainder of life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you don't know where Gig Harbor, WA, is, look at this map.

 

If you like Good Life Northwest, please like it on Facebook.

See you there!

 

 

 

 

Dance Theatre Northwest Offers FREE Performance

Before the big Thanksgiving dinner, Black Friday, the parties, the gift wrapping, mailing, shopping, and all the other fun and frantic activities of the holiday season, take an evening to do something nice for yourself.  This Saturday, Nov. 19, enjoy a FREE ballet performance at Narrows Glen, located at 8201 Sixth Ave., in Tacoma, just south of the Narrows Bridge. Even the parking is free.

Once again, Dance Theatre Northwest and Narrows Glen retirement community invite the public to a FREE Holiday Show at 7 p.m. The performance will be preceded by a reception for family members and guests at 6:30 p.m., so come early to relax, visit, and look around. Narrows Glen is an elegant Tacoma senior community, offering independent living, assisted living and memory care. But anyone is welcome to come to this performance, and that means you.

This year, the program includes excerpts from "The Nutcracker" and features the talents of the company's acclaimed dancers, Katie Neumann, Chhay Mam, and Vadne Domeika, with Artistic Director Melanie Kirk-Stauffer narrating. Last winter, I had the good fortune to see the DTN production of this classic, which will return to the Mount Tahoma High School auditorium this Dec. 17-18. (Order tickets here.) I loved it, and hope to go again. If you've never seen "The Nutcracker" or want a sneak peek at DTN's version, here is your chance.

Melanie Kirk-Stauffer is the kind of person I like to write about on Good Life Northwest, because everything she does contributes to the good life in our community. In addition to this complimentary annual event, she brings additional free performance to schools and other venues. Please support Dance Theatre Northwest so this meaningful outreach can continue to enrich lives through the art of dance.
Questions? Call Dance Theatre Northwest at (253) 778-6534 or Narrows Glen at (253) 564-4770.

Here is a map to Narrows Glen:



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A Week of Sunsets, Change, and Singing the Blues

Sunsets are like Blues music. They move us with the same poignant beauty, born of loss. Whether the loss is a love, a dream, a life, or just a day in a life, both share the message that time passes and change comes. The last rays tinge the clouds with color, and our hearts with a brief and secret sadness, made of memory, nostalgia, opportunities missed and goals still unmet.

I am, by my nature, too joyful to dwell on the moment of sadness. I simply acknowledge, accept, and honor it as part of life. We seek balance, anchoring ourselves in these truths. Pain and pleasure, warmth and cold, light and dark, elation and despair, youth and age, each enhance our keen awareness of the other. No matter what I'm doing, or where I am, I try to watch the sun go down. Through this small private ritual I remember to appreciate my life and make each day count.

Last night I came across this photo I took of a sunset a few weeks ago, looking west from Tacoma near the Narrows Bridge. It could be anywhere. The same fire in the sky could have been reflected in your eyes. The same black silhouettes of trees could be your trees, to which the birds you heard in your own yard this morning withdrew and withheld their mysterious songs. We've all seen the brilliance and then the fading light.

Some weeks I hurry, busy with things I believe are important. On other weeks unexpected speed bumps cause me to slow down and take notice. This past week was one of those and held plenty of signs of coming change, some welcome, some not. Spring bulbs are blooming. We took some "cool" antiques to a swap meet, but realized a new generation had little interest. We talked to our grandson in Colorado by live video, on Skype, and wondered what a toddler thinks about that. We went to a gathering and noticed how people had aged. Our garden shrubs began to bud. A friend flew home because her mother is dying. The stock market went up. The historic fishing schooner WAWONA, built in 1897, was completely demolished, her elegant form and testimony to craftsmanship ending up in dumpsters. And the Seattle Post Intelligencer printed its last real paper after 146 years of dispersing the news on everything from war to who won the high school football game. Its reporters witnessed and recorded our lives and all things considered important through many generations. We will miss the old familiar smell of ink and newsprint, the rustling sound, the feel of it in our hands on Sunday morning, where it went so well with the buttered toast and steaming coffee and quiet start to the day. And WAWONA is gone forever.

We can no more stop change than we can stop the sun from rising up and going down. A few weeks ago friend expressed the hope of seeing many more sunrises and sunsets, each with its own poignancy and promise. I hope that too. I hope to be humbled and inspired by the beauty and meaning in every single one even though I know, glorious as they are, they will sometimes feel like I'm singing the Blues.

Walking the beach to "home"

I make my way home, to the beach. It knows me as kin, island born, salt air in my lungs. It waits for me. With my first step down from the end of the wooded path, the clink and crunch of rocks beneath my feet, the scent of seaweed and brine, seagull cries, and the dominant sound of moving water, I am welcomed back. The secret heart seeks it’s own place of repose. This is mine.

Above the clay banks, trunks of old Madronna trees lean at precarious angles, roots exposed, making a bit of shade. Their color of rust against blue sky pleases me. I find shelter in this curve of shore, sitting for awhile on a splintered driftwood log, like I’ve done all my life. One of many gathered here, it once lived, stood tall, in the shadowed forest where brown salamanders darted on damp moss, and ferns grew, and the only sounds came from birds and wind in its upper boughs. Now they all lie in the sun like dinosaur bones exposed, bleached white. I could hide here behind them, on trapped sand, among the bits of shells and dried seaweed, if I wanted to. Instead, I get up and walk. Like the trees, I now lean out to meet life in my own daring way.



We call this place Titlow Beach, named for Aaron Titlow who bought land here in 1903. By 1911 he had opened the grand Hotel Herperides in the Swiss Chalet type building, now shortened in height, owned by Metro Parks Tacoma, and called the Titlow Beach Lodge. Out in the water stand old pilings left from demolished piers. They can only hint at the businesses and commerce, the ferry service, and the steamboats that brought tourists from Seattle and beyond, to this spot of unbelievable beauty. These days the commotion is gone. Though dwellings spread from the railroad track at the beach and right on up the hill, there's only a tavern, a lunch spot, the park, and Steamers Seafood cafe'. Trains come through, too loud and fast, but the moment they pass the peace returns. In the quiet, I think of the Indians who once camped here, and wonder what they called this place.



Shore birds rest on the pilings, cormorants and gulls. In the distance to the north I see the two Tacoma Narrows bridges. To the south are islands, different than my own, that I’ve never been on. The cormorants rise to their feet now and then, to flap their dark wings, or hold them out to the sun. Seagulls take off. Announced by their cries they come gliding down to the picnic tables to walk about on stiff legs, looking for handouts. I walk about too, down by the sea’s edge. At my feet saltwater flings itself over the rocks with a slosh and gurgle, then pulls back again. Surge and recede, surge and recede, it repeats in rhythm, forever. I can see through it like glass, to where patterns on the surface, in the sun, make shadows on the rocks below. Their details seem clear, almost magnified. In this place I can also see clearly what lies beneath the surface of my own life.



A late September day can be so gorgeous on Puget Sound. The poignancy of time passing makes it more so. Fall comes next week. I look at Steamers, squeezed between train tracks and water. People sit outside at their little tables in the shade, but just weeks from now the rain will set in. Then you will find me inside, with my husband and a bowl of chowder. Some cheerful server will bring it to the table where I mumble a thanks while staring out at the beach. Maybe rain will streak down the window glass, or the stillness of fog will blanket the scene. Maybe it will be clear and cold, or dark, with the lights on the bridge glowing in the distance. No matter, I will love to be there, cozy, quiet, and deep in thought, even during conversation.





We all need special places. Why are they so? Is it because of something essential to their nature, a certain vibe, that makes us feel they way we do when there? Or is it our own nature,the combination of memory, experience, and connection, that we bring to it? I can’t answer that question. I just know that to have your own special place, where you can be your true self, is to come back home again. Isn't it time for a visit?