the tree house.

July 21, 2008

My parents live near Pike Place Market in a condo nestled among the tree tops. B was almost three the first time we visited there (I grew up across Lake Washington, in Bellevue, but my parents moved out of the ‘burbs and into the city when my sister and I left) and he thought it was a “tree house” so that’s what we’ve called it ever since (by the way, where he stays in South Carolina is called “the clubhouse” and next door, where his grandmother lives, is “the palace” – I guess we have a lot of monikers in this family).

Because we were at the tree house, after all, B thought it would be a good idea to snap a photo of one donning a bright white flower (I admit to being a little stressed about him dropping my camera down into the concrete courtyard below):

We spent most of the day leisurely hanging out with the family – including a lovely market “brunch” of mini-donuts (yum!), hum bao (double-yum), fruit and fried chicken – and reserving energy for the long trip the next day.

Of course the thought of a very early morning wasn’t enough to keep me and Omar from catching a Mariner’s game with my sister and her partner, Sarah (and I don’t think Omar realized just how early my family leaves for these vacations). Lucky for me, Steph and I have similar attention-deficit issues and as our significant others bonded over baseball, we searched for the perfect game-time snacks and beverages, admired the grass designs, and even met my dad out front to deliver a set of house keys since he and my mom had forgotten theirs as they ran an errand.

(It should be said, too, that Steph and I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, I’d never turn down a chance to hang out in a baseball stadium, and we did thoroughly enjoy the nail-biter of a game and watching the Mariner’s top the Tigers. It just means that we’re not quite as into baseball as Sarah and Omar, which likely says a lot more about them than us.)


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