Electrolicious

Today is my 33rd birthday and I have the day off. It’s going to be 90 degrees out and I have Special Plans with myself for the day, which include a long breezy walk with my dog in the afternoon, and then dinner with a few friends. It is a very happy day.

33 birthday prezzies for which I am deeply appreciative:
1. My health
2. My husband Andreas
3. My parents, individually and collectively
4. Chateau Fetzllings, our home
5. Seattle, the city that I keep leaving and always return to
6. Extended family of aunts, cousins, outlaw mothers, sisters of various sorts, etc.
7. My job (unexpectedly awesome)
8. A community of friends that’s in constant shift, but always solid
9. Dance & stretching
10. Platforms & soapboxes
11. Sassafras & warm sleepy puppy smell
12. Seasonal shifts
13. Afternoon delight/naps
14. Temperate rainforests
15. Deep bass
16. Generosity that comes back around in unexpected ways
17. Enthusiasm
18. Hustle
19. Skin
20. Sweet black tea in bed in the mornings
21. Olympic coastline
22. Smoke
23. Social psychology
24. Emotional articulation
25. The Internet and other connective technologies
26. Waking up without an alarm
27. Gossip/storytelling
28. Particularities
29. Hitachi Magic Wand
30. Crisis competence
31. Learning internal lessons from external triggers
32. Snuggling
33. A voice that projects

Last Monday I was freaking out. Our mortgage broker had screwed up our loan, and at the last minute we were switched from one loan arrangement to a different one. Same monthly cost, but not what we’d planned on or wanted. In this exceptionally anxious state, I decided to walk home from work. I won’t be able to walk home to our new house, and so I figured I’d enjoy the luxury while I could.

One of the best parts of walking home on Capitol Hill is Pepé’s Garden. It’s on 13th Avenue, between Republican and Mercer. It’s not a P-Patch, but rather a private garden that’s open to the public. It’s absolutely my favorite garden ever, filled with weird toys and windy cobbled walk ways and little laminated affirmations around every corner. One garden bed is framed by bowling balls. There’s some goldfish in a deep tub. There are miscellaneous prayer flags and broken lamps hanging from trees. It’s simply magical.

I took 20 minutes or so to slowly wind my way through Pepé’s space, taking the time to read the longer affirmations (all lovely) and smell each blossom. I was freaking out about money and totally premenstrual and on the verge of tears the whole time, but the process of reading and sniffing and enjoying the plants was a total inspiration. I’m going to miss Pepé’s garden.

On my way out, I passed by the piggy bank area where Pepé accepts donations. The assortment of mismatched piggy banks were gone and in their place was a note from Pepé. It explained that for the third time “some poor, misguided souls” had stolen Pepé’s donations. There’s never much money in the piggy banks, but I always leave whatever change I have in my pockets, and I assume many others do the same. The note went on to explain with this constant vandalism and thievery, Pepé was considering fencing the garden off from the public. Mais non! At the bottom was an address to mail donations.

Hmm.

I went home and thought for a moment. Here I was freaking out about money. If I’ve learned anything from my mother it’s those moments when you’re the most anxious about something are the best opportunities to release whatever you’re clutching at. She’s famous for giving away money when she’s struggling to pay her own bills. She’s got a logic to it, and it’s always worked for her. Hmm. Ok, then. Pepé’s garden is one of my favorite neighborhood treats. I’ve enjoyed it for years. I’m going to write Pepé a check.

So I sat right down and wrote out a nice Thank You card to Pepé, explaining that I was moving out of the neighborhood and that I would miss his garden and thanking him deeply for all the time he has spent on it. And here is $40 from the bottom of my heart, Pepé. Thank you.

Then I put a stamp on the envelope and sent it.

Yesterday I got an email from a freelance client I’d written of several months ago. He sort of owed me some money from a project, but the project had died in the water, and so I’d never invoiced for the final portion of my fee. The client wanted to know, did he still owe me? I said well, not really. He offered to pay half of what he owed me. I said ok. Then I heard from another freelance client who I’ve been too busy to follow up with. He let me know that my check was in the mail. Within the course of half an hour, out of the blue I suddenly had $200 being sent to my house.

Wow. It worked.

Want to take a stroll through Pepé’s Garden?
Here are a bunch of photos I took almost exactly a year ago.