The Fiery Quill

Plastic charm bracelets, Free to Be You and Me on the record player, sliced turnips with sea salt for snack, taking turns reading pages of The Berenstein Bears with Dad, pink jellies worn with everything. The Lorax, Monkey, the leopard cub, Penguin and Theodore Bear guarding my bed: the furry brotherhood. Doing laps around the basement in my roller skates, Whitney Houston on the boombox. Stealthily bumping down the stairs on my blanket sleeper-clad rear end, hoping to catch an extra Saturday-morning cartoon before Dad was on to me. Feeding the dog scraps of whatever we didn't want from our dinner plates, homemade muffins on Sunday mornings, pirouettes in the outfield at softball games. Opening Christmas presents in the living room, my favorite wooden doll ornaments, making sour cream Christmas cookies and singing along to John Denver and Alabama. "Dancing" with the turkey before we cooked it on Thanksgiving. My Christmas stocking hanging down to the floor because of the o...

I had the pleasure of seeing Brandi Carlile last night at the Moore. I am sure I will not be the only one to write about this event or venue. But it was such an extraordinary show that I still want to put in my two cents. Brandi is local girl that is well-loved by her hometown, and her fans where in full force at this show. The Moore was a wonderful place to hear her, due to the layout and acoustics of the theatre. The acoustics are so good that she was able to sing without a microphone and be heard clear up to the rafters. It was absolute silence until she finished the last note of that song, then everyone rose up in their seats to express their appreciation. Brandi delivered an emotional performance, singing old favorites and covers with her own touch. The crowd was given a real treat when Brandi did a duet with her sister. When the song ended it was silent until one voice said, "wow." That adequately sums up the whole night. It was especially cool that we were able to shar...

For as long as I can remember, I have been receiving comments about my weight: "Better be careful when you take a shower, you might go down the drain." Or "Heather's so skinny, when she turns sideways...she disappears." I have had people ask me outright how much I weigh, after giving me the once over. I remember being insulted in middle school with the old adage, "Heather is a carpenter's dream: she's flat and easy to screw." My personal favorite is been repeatedly asked if I am anorexic. Then there is also being asked why I need to work out, or how many times I work out in a week. Women also seem to feel free to ask me what my clothing size is: can you believe how tacky people are? Most people would never walk up to an overweight person and make comments about their size or ask them their weight. So why do people feel entitled to do both to a person who is on the slender side? Many people may read this and wonder how I could possible complain ...

Tomorrow morning will be the kind that everyone can identify with: the crappy-feeling, first after a break up kind of morning. It will be that much harder to pry myself out of bed, on a Monday, when NPR starts blasting at 5:58am. Nothing is particularly pretty at that hour, especially when I remember that it is the debut morning of my singlehood....super. Warning: possible sarcasm dripping from the rest of my commentary. Normally I prefer to keep my personal life out of my blog. However, the method of this particular break-up was so noteworthy that I couldn't resist. I'm hoping that this story makes others who are in in my predicament feel better about being unexpectedly single. I preface further commentary with the following statement: no men were injured during the making of this blog. I have been dumped in a variety of equally unfortunate circumstances. But I do have to say (in fairness to former boyfriends)that my exes were all kind enough to end things in person. Now I rea...

All it takes for an incredible performance, is to have exceptional musicians. I could be in a hotel room crowded with people in folding chairs. Or I could be at showcase, people murmuring and shuffling in after the music has begun. Or it could be absolutely ideal, like it was last night: perfect lighting, intimate venue, and an audience of loyal fans. I have seen Girlyman in all of the above settings. Predictably, last night was the best. But it wasn't the external factors that made the show so ideal. I hold fast to my first statement. All I needed was to have Ty, Doris, and Nate up on the stage, smiling and singing in their perfectly intertwining harmonies. The music was made even better by how radiantly happy the three of them looked as they played and sang. From time to time, they would look at one another and just beam. I have never seen people who so clearly love what they do. And all of them had effortless rapport with the people in the crowd. They joked and told stories as ...

The sun was burning down upon me, making the top of my head feel like it was on fire. There was only a slight breeze from time to time, almost an insult in its infrequency. The slender trees did little to abate the scorch of the Greek sun. I was standing a stone’s throw away from the legendary city of Akrotiri, on the island of Santorini. This city of ash served as my backdrop as I talked of Byron, Keats, and Shelley. My fellow students sat on a small gathering of boulders and listened as I compared Pygmalion to the Stepford Wives. My professor swatted at flies and nodded encouragingly when I faltered. Where Athens had been dirty, the people suspicious, the streets chaotic and noisy: Santorini was lanquid, the locals beaming and welcoming us in. The white buildings with touches of blue cast a spell on all of us. Children played near the fountain in the town square, old women chattered on a nearby bench, a scruffy dog sat in the shade. By night, young people crowded the cafes and restau...

It has taken 9 years, 3000 miles, 5 bags and a lot of nerve to get to Seattle. And I wouldn't take any of it back. This is only the second full day in my new city, and it already feels like home. This place has always felt that way to me. Seattle has been pulling me back since I spent the summer of 1999 here. It was the best summer of my life, exactly what an almost 21-year old would want. I worked in a neighborhood coffee shop and was best friends with everyone at work. I went to concerts, water parks, street festivals, a nude bike race (yep, it's the truth!) I was able to spend quality sibling time with my older brother, something I hadn't been able to do in quite some time. I lived in Seattle for three months that summer, a time that really changed my life. I was here in the Pacific Northwest again over this past Thanksgiving. The pull to be in Seattle was stronger than it ever had been before. It didn't matter that I would have to quit my job, change coasts, break ...