Elegant Attitudes in Seattle

Seattle squid sculpture

Marijuana and fried fish intermingled with the gentle breeze. Aggressive construction in the growing city was outmatched by rhythmic waves and the soft creaking of the delightful ferris wheel.

Seattle ferris wheel

Gulls soared lazily above the pier, occasionally taking a dive to retrieve a salty snack. People decked out in their summer duds crowded around the white-aproned fish mongers launching fish across the stalls. The healing flavors of raw oysters and cold beer tasted like the best parts of earth.

We were somewhere else. Seattle.

Seattle waterfront

Mr. H and I hadn’t gone out of town since we moved to Portland at the end of March. Truthfully, we hadn’t been on vacation in almost a year, since our awesome road trip to Montreal last September.

For me this year has been an eventful one with my mom’s breast cancer recovery, a cross-country move, a touch of unemployment, and my third book release. When I say that we needed this little getaway, good grief do I mean it!

Seattle cuddling

An easy three-hour drive listening to the genius of Pearl Jam with the windows down made for a solid start to our weekend as we finally traveled together to a city we had always wanted to, our Mecca of grunge.

Mr. H and I were fortunate enough to spend our adolescent years during a renaissance of rock, a time when Seattle birthed grunge music. Though we grew up in completely different parts of the country, our love for music traveled parallel paths.

Naturally, Seattle was a no-brainer decision for a getaway.

As mentioned in the intro, we headed to Pike Place Market along with many other eager tourists. We ignored the frivolous, mile-long line at the original Starbucks in search of oysters and beer, which we happily discovered in a tucked away courtyard with a bird sanctuary.

Crowds aren’t our favorite but it was worth it to catch the waterfront vibe, a peaceful retreat from the rapid construction all around the city as it tries to keep up with the Pacific Northwest population boom.

We stayed in the artsy neighborhood of Fremont, which was way more our speed and reminiscent of our homey neighborhood in Portland. However, we waltzed into our AirBnB flat as planned to find the place still disheveled from the previous guests. We shrugged, unpacked, then sipped on exceptional local beers on the deck.

beer on the patio

Our host rounded the corner with his dog and gawked at us. He thought we were scheduled to arrive the next day and spewed a series of apologies while pacing nervously. Being the easy-going couple that we are, we told him not to sweat it and our host tidied up as we continued relaxing outside.

When he bounced back out, he calmly said: “You have an elegant attitude. That spirit will take you far.”

That was perhaps the best compliment I’d ever heard and it made me smile.

Ballard Locks

Ballard Locks explorer

The next day we ventured to Ballard Locks, another touristy spot, but an educational one that is very free and very fun. Here curious bystanders get to watch millions of dollars of boats get squeezed into a concrete alley, which then turns into a fascinating elevator.

A complex intersection between the salt water beyond and the fresh water of the canal, the lock waters are manipulated to allow the boats to travel back and forth. We watched this grouping of boats start at our level, then slowly drop down 26 feet.

See the shadowy characters on the bottom right of the pic below? That’s us and a bunch of other grinning tourists staring and taking pictures on the sidelines.

Ballard Locks boats

Being on display for the tourists while being in the hands of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers must be quite the sobering half-hour for these summertime boaters. I imagine they’re pretty damn happy when that bridge door opens and they are free to go.

Ballard Locks bridge opening

After the locks we went in search of more oysters and decided to splurge at a restaurant that Bon Appetit included in their Top 20 Most Important Restaurants in America. We accidentally scored the best seats at the Walrus and the Carpenter, right at the oyster bar with the patio doors wide open behind us.

The Walrus and the Carpenter oyster bar

Between our sensational Moscow Mules, oysters, and small plates, we talked about nothing and everything. We reminisced about our late afternoon at Ballard Locks and discussed the incredible salmon ladder.

Besides the boats, the locks provide a critical passage for the salmon heading upstream. A fish ladder with 21 steps allows the salmon to climb to the freshwater side.

We lucked out with our August visit, the best time to catch King Salmon, and had the honor of watching these beefy, stoic fellows passing through in the underground viewing room. It was very awesome to witness these prehistoric-like creatures floating by us before they continued their long journey upstream, up a watery ladder of all things.

We stood there and marveled at the beautiful perseverance of the mighty salmon. To think, they go through all of that trouble to do one thing…spawn.

The Observer

Pittock Mansion

I taught movement for a long, long time. Ten years of dance to students of every ability and every age, followed by a Yoga teacher certification which launched me into another rambunctious nine months promptly after that.

At the end of March I moved across the States to the gorgeousness of Portland, Oregon. I haven’t taught since then, since early Spring.

Sure, a lot of it had to do with that effortless trauma that accompanies any move, or should I say a more uncomfortable word? Uprooting. But I’m not a good liar and I’m certainly not going to lie to you guys. The reality had nothing to do with that.

It was time for me to stop being the teacher. It was time for me to become the student…the observer.

I learned and grew so much from teaching, absolutely. Yet somewhere along the way I lost my own practice, the sweetness that comes with delving into the mind, body, and soul. The energy for myself was pushed aside to give to my incredible students.

I loved every beautiful minute of it—please, don’t get me wrong. But what is a teacher who is not able to pause and observe? Shit, not the teacher that I want to be.

I haven’t talked much about Yoga in the past year, not because writing has been more prominent with my book release but because I have been quietly observing my physical side.

My emotional and physical beings are deeply connected. As are all of yours.

The time has come to take the same approach with writing. To step away and give to myself by observing all that I can and once again become the humble student.

I’m determined to stick my little nose in as many books as I can. I’m beyond excited to dedicate time to reading again, rather than squeezing books into my packed schedule and feeling rushed.

So much of the past few years of my life has been dedicated to my work. I have self-published three novels and kept up a weekly blog which I pour my everlasting love into.

Every novel is the very essence of me. Every blog post is painstakingly created with attention to detail and undying tenderness.

I have three solid ides for my next projects—two novels and one short, a challenge I’m curious to explore. Unlike other times in my life, I’m not setting a timeline for lift-off. I’m gonna write when it’s right.

Now is not that time. Now is about observing the bits and pieces of life, absorbing that damning beauty we are all so fortunate to experience. 

Before I used to teach any of my classes, whether it be dance or Yoga, I used to get so freaking nervous. My heart would race wildly, sweat would decorate my brow and my back, and I’d often consider ditching the class with some mediocre excuse.

Not because I didn’t cherish my students. Because I was terrified that I had nothing to offer…nothing to teach.

Through writing I learn incessantly about every moment, every breath, every heartbeat. I press the pause button on my personal chaos to record eccentricities, emotions, and events…but, what the hell do I know?

I’m only a student. And it’s time for me to observe.

 

 

Nola Fran Evie…The Bloopers

thumbs up

Over the years I’ve created several very, very low-budget  online videos.

One such tradition is creating a happy dance every time I reach a followers milestone on this blog.

A few months ago I surpassed the 500 mark (woot!). I made this fancy finger dance video with the same red satin gloves worn on the cover of my first book, Beneath the Satin Gloves. The stage was a picture frame covered with a fluffy black bath towel and a lace shawl for dramatic effect.

That’s right, kiddos. I’m the Repurpose Queen.

This is the minute-long “masterpiece” you saw…

What you didn’t see…the hours of cussing that went into making that video.

Even me, a lifelong dancer, was forgetting my freaking finger choreography. Dammit!

Since I was kneeling on the floor—in my jammies, I might add—behind the frame, the chintzy stage kept collapsing. Shit!

And right when I had the perfect take, the gardeners struck up outside of my apartment with their ear-splitting background music. Dammit, shit, and some other ladylike words I won’t share.

Another tradition I slave away at are book trailers for every release. In these videos I give behind-the-scenes tidbits in the hopes that readers will connect with the inspiration of the story and take a chance on one of my books.

But I’m not talking to real humans, I’m talking face to face with my smartphone camera. Nope, it’s not easy.

I’ve been thinking about doing a bloopers reel for some time. But I always shied away from the idea for two reasons. Firstly, video editing, though I’ve learned to enjoy it, is quite time-consuming. Secondly, would anyone even think it’s funny?

Well, hell if I know! But this time I made the blooper reel anyway for NOLA FRAN EVIE.

Because nobody’s perfect, and I’m certainly not. So why not have a few laughs?

If you missed it, here’s the seemingly flawless book trailer…

And what really happened, the bloopers…

 

 

 

Books Were There to Protect Me

Powell's Books

No matter how many times I got lost in life, books were there to protect me.

Through my childhood years when my parents abruptly parted ways. Through my overly dramatic teen years when the world seemed against me. Through my self-destructive young adult years when I was trying to find my way.

More than anything I associate books with my beautiful mom, who I will always imagine with her nose happily stuck in one—exuding warmth, comfort, and love.

When my lovely friend Letizia at Reading Interrupted asked me to share a special reading memory with her, I felt privileged to write at her beautiful blog. I follow it religiously and it never fails to inspire me.

Any bookish memory I reached for, there was my mom.

As most of you know, my mom has been on my mind a lot this year after battling her second stint with breast cancer. And when I was by her side to find out the test results, a magical memory helped me get through it all.

Read “A Castle Filled with Stories” over at Reading Interrupted…

 

Book review – Nola Fran Evie, Britt Skrabanek

Five star reviews for my darling third novel, NOLA FRAN EVIE, started popping up on Amazon and Amazon UK over the weekend…woot!

“Rich characters, snappy dialogue, and fluid writing make this book a wonderful way to spend a few hours.”

“The characters come to life on the page and at turns, you root for each of them. Funny, moving, nostalgic and fast-paced, this is the best book Britt has written yet. Thoroughly recommended.”

A big thank you to those readers for taking the time to be awesome and review!

Today I’m stoked to share this fabulous review from blogger pal Roy McCarthy at Back on the Rock. He has been kind enough to leave sterling reviews for all three of my books so far, and I am very grateful for his support.

Be sure to swing by and read the full piece.

And, obviously, see what all the fuss is about and snatch up a copy of NOLA FRAN EVIE on Amazon for yourself. You’ll be doing a good deed for a lovable indie author, yours truly, and in return you get to be entertained for a bit. : )

Happy Sunday, loves!

Roy McCarthy's avatarBack On The Rock

I guessed Britt Skrabenek’s third book was going to be good. What I wasn’t expecting was to be taken on quite such a roller coaster. It starts a little jerkily with four main characters and three time frames but it soon gathers pace and takes the reader on a great ride.

We follow three young women playing professional baseball together in the 1940s, full of hope and joie de vivre. Nothing can stop them and they form a bond which, though soon broken, is to be re-formed later. The try-out day is portrayed with dash and humour as the ‘girlies’ are discarded and only those with toughness and talent, including the three protagonists Lippy, Toots and Farm Girl, make the grade.Nola Fran Evie

But inevitably the good times end and the women go their separate ways into the real world. Life changes them. Love is won and lost. It is 1950s America…

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