Hooked on 'The Killing'

The second season of AMC's "The Killing" is well underway. Denny and I've spent the last few weeks catching up (courtesy of Netflix) on Season 1.  The first few episodes were excessively gloomy and heavy with sadness making us question why we decided to watch in the first place. The story takes place in Seattle which is the major draw. Although there are lots of familiar cityscapes and shots of Discovery Park (the site of  unsolved murder), much of the show was filmed in Vancouver, B.C. which visually ia a remarkably similar city.

Linden and Holder

The Killing casts a deep hook in your hide by about the fifth episode of Season 1 as the interestingly paired detectives Linden and Holder investigate the murder of a teenaged girl. The girl's past, her family's hidden secrets, city politics, and the duo of emotionally scarred detectives make for great escape as the search for the perpetrator escalates, moving from one suspect to the next over an entire season.  Season 2 is more investigative work on the same crime but the stakes get higher, the violence escalates, and everything is not what it appears to be. Good stuff, huh?

My only beef is the incessant rain, overly heavy for Seattle which tends to mist rather than downpour as anyone who has lived here awhile can tell you. There must have been some negative critique along the way; I've noticed that Season 2 is far less soggy than Season 1. Sure, we get rain in Seattle, especially in the fall but, please.... October can as easily showcase sunny days with brilliant fall color. You'd never know that from Season 1 where Seattle transforms into a rainforest where moss grows abundantly on every dripping surface. Otherwise, this show rocks.

Mireille Enos plays the lead role as detective Sarah Linden. She's tough, complex, and insightful but personally troubled, flawed and floundering below the intensely serious surface. The other characters are equally unique blends of good:bad, innocent:guilty, and trustworthy:conniving. We're left wondering after every episode: Who (actually) Killed Rosie Larsen?

Enos, playing the role of  Detective Linden, never smiles. Never. Serious to the core, troubled, vexed by every twist and turn in the story line, she eats breath mints and smokes a few cigarettes and drinks scotch straight up. But smile? Never. Her persona doesn't leave room for any lighter moments.

Enos is quite striking as this photograph  shows. What's cool is that she grew up in Houston and attended HSPVA (High School for Performing and Visual Arts), the school just across the street from a house we lived in from 1983-1988. I doubt she was old enough to have attended while we were in the neighborhood but it's interesting nonetheless. HSPVA turned out some major talent.

Anyway, maybe you'll enjoy this show as much as Denny and I have; worth a look if you're up for a heavier, darker tale set in dreary Seattle town. 

He Gives Good Advice (sometimes)...

This man of mine gives good advice. I suppose I ignore much of it but there are two bits of advice he's given me in the last few weeks that were spot on, one most recently as today. Thanks, hon.

1. "Are you crazy?": This in response to my good heart-ed idea that the six of us share a lovely 2 bedroom suite with a pull out bed in the living room area whilst staying in Houston for Carrie and Rob's wedding weekend. Turns out he was SO RIGHT, AND I WAS SO WRONG.  I told him as much which tickled him to no end. He loves it when I acknowledge his "rightness".  I just thought that sharing space might make for family bonding and sweet memories. I'm so glad we all had our own hotel rooms to retreat to after the frenzies of the days in Houston. Bottom line: we all need private time and space. No. Matter. What.

2. "You'll feel guilty if you don't". This  in response to my desire to vegetate this Sunday, all of this Palm Sunday prior to a 7 day stint on-call. He's referring to the fact that I didn't offer to take Dad to church today. So....I called him last night and asked if he would like to go. "Yes, I'd like that!", was his response. And so, because next weekend (Easter) I'm on call and can't take him, we went today.  It was good. Always good, and he was appreciative.

Communion: the breaking of bread

 

He's not a great fan of Communion Sunday, the first Sunday of each month but still, it was good and the right thing to do. He didn't feel too well this morning, was rather weak and unsteady on his feet, but he definitely wanted to go to church. The sun broke through the clouds intermittently, the temperatures were mild, and the skies were dry, for a change. All good.

I stopped at the QFC on our way back to the adult family home and bought him a bouquet of yellow daffodils. I hope the bright color cheers his spirits. I'll be busy all week and won't see him until Saturday.

Sitting next to him in church always reminds me how lucky I am to have him in my life.

Again, thank you dear husband for setting me on the "straight and narrow".

"He Went to Chicago...."

During medical school and residency, slang phrases for death were inevitable, especially amongst the surgical trainees  Thinking back, I'm wondering if a certain wild and crazy resident from Argentina named Mario K might not have invented his own terminology for the act of passing on into the great unknown. I first heard the phrase come out of his mouth and then from others who worked with him. After leaving Texas and my training roots, I never heard this expression again. A Google search for synonyms for  the verb "to die" spews forth all manner of  crude expressions as well as the more generally accepted phrases that one might hear from a funeral director....like "departed", "passed away", or "left us".

Mario referred to the act of dying as "going to Chicago". I remember coming in for rounds one morning as an eager, yet terrified third year medical student and hearing him (as senior surgical resident) say of someone who had died during the night, "He went to Chicago".  I recalled thinking this an odd blend of disrespectful, weird, and funny, a not uncommon situation in Medicine when stress-busting humor commonly borders on the edge of decency, if not beyond. Medical types typically limit our not-so-professional-speak to times when we're in the company of others of like mind or those who wouldn't take offense. Discretion is key.

Yet, "going to Chicago" isn't really an offensive term for dying. The only question I had then, and still do is what happens if someone dies in Chicago?

**also posted at Back in the Day

Left Houston: Arrived Seattle

How much can be packed into 72 hours?

Our trip to Houston for Carrie and Rob's Wedding weekend whirl-winded us into a good understanding of how much can be accomplished in three days. From the time we stepped off the plane on Thursday afternoon in Houston to the time we took our seats for the return flight home we were on the go (except for those hours spent supine in dreamland). These hours of so called slumber passed with rocket speed and we awakened each morning to the call of the day ahead. Move, eat, see, chat, reflect, celebrate, hug, cry, and.....then, more eating. And then, more eating. Repeat all activities with abandon.

We had a wonderful time and left with many memories.

We also had our moments of angst, frustration, and divided objectives. This is an honest accounting of time spent in the close company of five other loved ones. Despite the expected ups and downs, the bottom line was a kick-ass fun time. Two in our party had never been to Houston and introducing them to the delights the rest of us have enjoyed in this southeast Texas "Mecca" was great.

We enjoyed three amazing family events: the rehearsal dinner party at The Cadillac Bar to honor Carrie and Rob, Tejano style.

The wedding ceremony the following evening was a creative, wonderful blend of joy, love,and humor,  punctuated by moments of surprise including bold music (the bride walked down the aisle on her father's arm to electric guitar music from AC/DC) and two lay officiants. The service reflected perfectly Carrie and Rob's personalities and left me with such good feelings about their lives together. They were made for each other.

Then it was on to Brennans, the French Cajun inspired restaurant with old world charm, for the reception, dinner and dancing. Why do wedding celebrations pass in an instant?  The clock moved quickly towards the new day and all the festivities; food, drink, dancing, and merriment came to an end by midnight.

Carrie Made the Cake

 

On Sunday, J.T. and Trish hosted a goodbye party for Carrie and Rob who leave for their honeymoon tomorrow. The party was low keyed and all about family and close friends of the bride and groom. A two person steel band played Caribbean tunes as we feasted on more great food and more of Carrie's great cake.

Congratulations to Carrie and Rob!  We had a blast at your wedding weekend!

Kirby Drive

If you roll down the car windows along Kirby Drive between Bissonnet and the Southwest Freeway, the sweet smell of smoked meat coupled with the pungent bliss of grilled fajitas permeates the air. This morning we didn't have to open windows at all, so dense was the savory wonder of those aromas. This is Houston to me; the olfactory pinnacle.

Today we had Mexican breakfast at Goode Company Tacqueria and in a short while, we'll return to Kirby Drive and stop in at Goode Company BBQ. I'm not even hungry. But, I can eat. (Kind of lkike the lyrics on a totally different topic of Ms. Whitney..."It's not right, but it's OK". Sigh. You do what you must in situations like this.

Left Seattle: Arrived Houston

The six of us joined up with 3 Klebans and 4 McGradys at Seatac Airport this morning making an excited group of 13 bound for a wedding weekend in Houston. This is Carrie and Rob's weekend of celebration and we're thrilled to be a part of the festivities. Plus, this is Houston; say it again: Hous....ton Town.

As we trooped onto the plane I felt my Mom's presence; she wouldn't have liked bidding goodbye to 13 (wow, what a number on top of everything else) very special people all at once. Although I miss her, I was glad her spirit flies in a different dimension because if she is aware of our comings and goings, she's likely NOT worrying.

The flight buzzed by faster than usual. Just off the plane, we marveled at the sunshine and warm breeze having left the chill and grey of the Northwest far behind. It wasn't long before the pull of the first feast of the 3 day weekend  assumed priority #1. Not surprisingly, we picked The 59 Dinner. We all ordered the same meal: chicken tenders with fries and honey mustard dipping sauce with a milkshake or malt on the side. Oh my; the memories of yesteryear, the taste, the ambiance, the joy of introducing a slice of our past to Heather and Scott who see Houston with new eyes.

We've laughed more than we've stressed. The family dynamic is always slightly below the surface. Denny and I are surfing the invisible but palpable waves of energy emanating from our beloved, adult children. Once a parent, always a parent.

Someone brought this insanely big suitcase

The four young ones. I remember those days.....

A place for "eating heavy".

"El-bloat-o"

And tomorrow? We have our day mapped out. Three meals, multiple stops along the way to see our 3 former homes in Houston, various not-to-be-missed spots, the Texas Medical Center, and maybe a stop at Fiesta to stock up on  Dickies Peanut Patties or to share a pint of Blue Bell ice cream with 6 spoons.

Weddings bring families together like little else (except funerals...). Weddings are way more fun.

Three Houses in Houston

Whenever I visit that big city in southeast Texas, I always make a pilgrimage to the three houses Denny and I called home during our 15 years in Houston. The effects of time and new owners may change the look but memories of time spent always bubbles forth as I go about my so-called "drive by". My recent trip was no exception.

When Denny and I were first married we lived on Graustark Street in a small, newly refurbished bungalow that smelled of fresh paint, inside and out. We were fortunate as young couple to own this house and we lived there during our last year of medical school and through most of our residency training. Our schedules were so crazy with on-call duties. The Graustark house was a place to crash, catch a good meal, watch a movie on TV, and recover from the grueling pace of work. I don't know how we managed to care for a cat and two dogs (no kids). But, we did. Somehow.
I fear this house is next on the list for the wrecking ball. Unoccupied, I also made note of the large expanse of grass to the left which used to be our neighbor's house. Someone has plans for this land; probably a bank of townhouses. The next time I drive on Graustark Street, there will be nothing left of what was. Ever moving forward.

Anticipating thoughts of children, we moved to a bigger house less than a mile from our first home; a beauty built in 1913. The Branard house, across the street from the Houston School for Performing and Visual Arts (HSPVA), whispered secrets about its past; this was a "happy house". I always felt like good things happened inside its walls and inside the gardens which were surrounded by an eight foot privacy fence. We loved restoring this home; we painted interior walls in bold colors, rebuilt a bathroom, contracted for a new garage and decking and tended the garden lovingly. We endured Hurricane Alicia in 1983 and the great winter freeze that knocked off a royal palm that had endured for decades until an unprecedented cold snap rolled through. When Chris was born, we planted a 5 foot magnolia tree in the front yard to commemorate his birth. Look at how big that tree is now.

With a second child on the way, another move to a bigger house felt like the right thing to do. This time we left the Montrose area behind and moved to West University Place, a separate city within the big city, near Rice University. This time we opted for new construction, a big home with a teeny tiny yard, lots of wide open interior spaces and more room than we ever anticipated. The house on Plumb Street was the perfect venue for entertaining; how many Christmas Day dinners did we host for our extended family?


We kept to tradition and planted a pair of magnolia trees on the parking strip in front of the house; one in honor of Chris and one in honor of Laura, the newest addition to the family. I'm glad to see that the trees are thriving.

We lived here less than four years. Seattle was on our horizon. Uprooting from family and friends and a city that could have been our permanent home was a major decision. We had our reasons and I know we made the best choice.

Don't the houses we once called home continue to call out to us? No matter what becomes of them, whether intact or converted into something entirely new, that space, that location still belongs to in our hearts forever.

Dickies Peanut Patties

My four days in Houston passed all too quickly. I found myself back in Seattle (and back to work) before I was really ready. A week in the big city would have been nicer, but....the brief trip was great nonetheless. Although the focus of the trip was Second Seating, there was still time to eat great food (more later) and snack on treats that I hadn't enjoyed in decades.

To wit: this most fabulous pink peanut patty made in Tyler, Texas. I bought the only three on the shelf in a local Fiesta Supermarket and have already eaten my way through one and am into the second. They are huge and I am a glutton. These sugar and nut delights take me to a new heights; the sugar rocketing me quickly and the nuts sustaining the energy. Awesome.

More on other culinary delights from Houston soon.

Houston: "Second Home"

Writing today from Houston, my last full day in this most amazing city before I fly back to Seattle, I'm struck (again) by how much I love this place I once called home for fifteen years. I never come back to my "second home" without a whirlwind of emotions and a big question: What would our lives have been like if we had never left for a new city back in September of 1991? I'll never know but I always wonder.

Aruba was my first home, Houston my second, and Seattle, the third. Although there were years lived in Austin and upstate New York, these big three carry the weight of my life's experiences. The fact that I've lived in Seattle eighteen years, longer than in either of my two other homes, is a testament to the seeming escalation of time's passage. Time speeds up, doesn't it?

But, I digress.

Houston; much the same, much different. Memories swirl in my head. The roads are so open; traffic moves with intention. Everyone is going somewhere. Now. I've always loved the energy. Vibrant with life. Colors. Movement. Go.

The food is to die for. The weather; not so nice right now. Muggy beyond belief, like a jungle at times. I do feel well hydrated however!

My sister's show is the piece de resistance. Each time I walk into the space, there is something new. A gala of color, inspiration, and deep thought. Get thee Houstonians to the Second Seating exhibit. You won't be disappointed.

Tomorrow I fly back to my third home. Time whizzes by but I've lived each moment. Houston is.

Fortune Cookie

I've been in Houston all of six hours and if my fortune cookie from dinner tonight is accurate, good things are coming my way. My sister and I ate dinner at Mai's (Vietnamese) which was glorious; garlic tofu, rice and egg rolls rolled in lettuce wraps with cilantro, mint and fish sauce. My fortune read: "Traveling to the south will bring you unexpected happiness." I'll take it. There's nothing quite like Houston. I'm thrilled to be back in the town that I once called home for fifteen very good years.