The weather this weekend has been heavenly! We’re looking at sunny skies and 70°F weather until next week. On days like this, there is no better place in the metro to be than Chambers Bay in University Place. There’s plenty of room at this park to lay out and soak up some rays, fly a kite, or take a long run.
Or if you’re like me, you’re out snapping pictures of the Olympic mountains and bird’s nests with your underused tele lens. And when you’re out doing that, a group of teenage girls call you ‘ma’am’ and ask you to take their photo (with three different cameras) while they sit on a log. No worries, happy to oblige, just don’t call me ma’am, please!
This brings me to my next topic: when does a ‘miss’ become a ‘ma’am’? When she gets married (which I am), when she looks to be about 30 years of age (which I speculate I do), or otherwise? I have no idea, but somehow my honest face automatically contorts into a stink-eye scowl when I’m referred to as ma’am. Maybe I need a lesson on embracing the aging process, because it’s a long journey and I’m really just starting out.
Until I’ve come to terms with the inevitability of teenagers getting younger as I get older, I’ll just continue bird watching on Puget Sound while sucking on lemon drops and listening to This American Life podcasts.