A Love That Cannot be Contained
I left my heart in Seattle.
No, not like that; the husband and baby and I all made it back safely home together from a week- long stay in the Pacific Northwest (photos to follow soon). But don't expect me to be happy about being home. I LOVED being in that town, for so many reasons. But this post need only concern itself with one: the place is surrounded by water.
Driving in from the SeaTacky (as the Mistress of Wit, Becqitita, calls it) airport, one is treated to the most astounding view. And I'm not even referring to the urban cityscape on one's right, mirrored by it's foil, the Puget Sound and mountains beyond, on the left. Okay, all that is pretty picture-sque and a rather spectacular way to enter a city, if you ask me. (Too bad there are plans afoot to tear the entire thing down.)
What sets my heart pitter-patting is the super industrial shipyard area.
We all know what I spaz I am for anything briny, nautical and blue. So picture me, last Wednesday, driving through the Port of Seattle. My pupils dilated at the first sight of the mega-stories-tall industrial cranes poised over the water. I kept said eyes peeled the entire drive, scanning for my favorite shipping containers logos:
So authoritative! And ambiguously Northern European.
Love the cherry blossom.
But my most favorite of all:
I'm utterly clueless as to how that font makes my heart flutter with joy. But it does. It really does.
This got me thinking. We recently bought Bunni her first set of blocks. Why shouldn't my child - a Pisces, mind you, born into water even - have a set of mini shipping containers to play with? Are you telling me you wouldn't want to subtly encourage your child to grow up to be a shipping magnate? (We should have given Bunni a Greek name.) If I were handier, I'd have band sawed-up myself a set of wooden rectangles, then painted them with all the different container logos that very day.
It will be a few years before Mr. Sybarite and I can afford to play with full-size shipping containers. The Mister has long wanted to build ourselves a home in the desert out of them.
Then again, according to a recent article in the Daily Mail, maybe we will be able to afford one sooner than later. Apparently, the global economic "situation" is so dire it's spawned a fleet of ghost ships - cargo carriers with nothing to carry, no one to pay them. Its a bit of a gloomy article, in case you don't bother reading the whole thing. (Truth be told, I skimmed.) Since I've had enough gloom for one day, I'm choosing to take from the article that the days of rampant conspicuous consumption are nigh. Phew. About time.
Guess I better get to work on making those mini container blocks. Good thing whittling is a cheap hobby.
No, not like that; the husband and baby and I all made it back safely home together from a week- long stay in the Pacific Northwest (photos to follow soon). But don't expect me to be happy about being home. I LOVED being in that town, for so many reasons. But this post need only concern itself with one: the place is surrounded by water.
Driving in from the SeaTacky (as the Mistress of Wit, Becqitita, calls it) airport, one is treated to the most astounding view. And I'm not even referring to the urban cityscape on one's right, mirrored by it's foil, the Puget Sound and mountains beyond, on the left. Okay, all that is pretty picture-sque and a rather spectacular way to enter a city, if you ask me. (Too bad there are plans afoot to tear the entire thing down.)
What sets my heart pitter-patting is the super industrial shipyard area.
We all know what I spaz I am for anything briny, nautical and blue. So picture me, last Wednesday, driving through the Port of Seattle. My pupils dilated at the first sight of the mega-stories-tall industrial cranes poised over the water. I kept said eyes peeled the entire drive, scanning for my favorite shipping containers logos:
So authoritative! And ambiguously Northern European.
Love the cherry blossom.But my most favorite of all:
I'm utterly clueless as to how that font makes my heart flutter with joy. But it does. It really does.
This got me thinking. We recently bought Bunni her first set of blocks. Why shouldn't my child - a Pisces, mind you, born into water even - have a set of mini shipping containers to play with? Are you telling me you wouldn't want to subtly encourage your child to grow up to be a shipping magnate? (We should have given Bunni a Greek name.) If I were handier, I'd have band sawed-up myself a set of wooden rectangles, then painted them with all the different container logos that very day.
It will be a few years before Mr. Sybarite and I can afford to play with full-size shipping containers. The Mister has long wanted to build ourselves a home in the desert out of them.
Then again, according to a recent article in the Daily Mail, maybe we will be able to afford one sooner than later. Apparently, the global economic "situation" is so dire it's spawned a fleet of ghost ships - cargo carriers with nothing to carry, no one to pay them. Its a bit of a gloomy article, in case you don't bother reading the whole thing. (Truth be told, I skimmed.) Since I've had enough gloom for one day, I'm choosing to take from the article that the days of rampant conspicuous consumption are nigh. Phew. About time.
Guess I better get to work on making those mini container blocks. Good thing whittling is a cheap hobby.
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