It’s three days late, but I want to devote this post to my dad, Joe Sullivan. The reason I’ve waited to write this post is that I’m having a hard time knowing what to write: Not because I’m low on ideas, but because I have so many things I want to say.

Now, let me preface this by saying that Dad and I don’t have a touchy-feely, emotion-sharing type of relationship. We like to exercise hard together, not have conversations about feelings. But I’m going to go out on a limb for this Father’s Day post. Here goes.

Dad, thank you for your years of patience, love, and understanding. Your calm, acceptance, wisdom, and love have helped make me the person I am today. You’ve been the tactful listener when I needed it. Your thoughtful conversations have given me guidance ever since I was old enough to appreciate them. Your faith, reliable attendance at church, and teaching me about Christianity helped me form my own foundation as a believer.

You taught me everything I know about how to pitch a tent. You flew me on pillows when I was a small child. You read Dr. Seuss to us so many times you could quote entire books from memory. Your “fish, broccoli, and rice” menu is something I still think of first when I have fish. You hiked many muddy miles with me, even carrying my backpack when I was too tired. You taught me basic photography techniques and encouraged my interest in photography. We’ve spent innumerable hours walking and playing with the dog. You taught me all the trails at St. Edward’s State Park, and we’ve walked and run on all of them. You sent me silly pictures and videos while we were in Massachusetts. Recently, I’ve deeply valued the hundreds — probably approaching thousands — of miles we’ve ridden together, rain, shine, cold, hilly; it’s reassuring to know that if something happens, you’re there.

You’ve always been there when I needed you.

You and mom provided a wonderful, stable, loving home for us to grow up in. Your commitment to your job, even when it was awful, made it possible for us to establish long-term ties at school and in the neighborhood. You modeled what a loving marriage looks like and provided us with a two-parent home, improving our chances of having stable marriages. You showed us by example how to be responsible Christian adults and spouses.

I love you, Dad. I can only aspire to one day be a parent like you.

Dad and Katie at Deer Lake, July 4, 1996.

Well, I’m happy to say that since the Rapture didn’t happen, I get to turn 27 after all. What a relief. Of course, there’s something kind of gloomy about turning 27 years old — it feels like a big step closer to 30; it’s not prime, although it should be (7, 17, 37, and 47 are all prime); it’s not a milestone in any way. That said, I’m very grateful for the years I’ve had, and for the years ahead.

Yesterday, my family got together for strawberry shortcake and a game of Gloom. Strawberry shortcake is my traditional birthday cake of choice, and has been for years, ever since Colleen was allergic to strawberries and we never had them in the house except for on my birthday. Now she can eat strawberries, but I still love strawberry shortcake on May 23. There were no local Washington strawberries, thanks to our very cold, wet spring, but California strawberries came through for us.

To celebrate today, on my actual birthday, here’s what I pulled out of the fridge for breakfast.

And here it is, my strawberry shortcake breakfast of champions.

I nearly swoon over those shortcakes, called Orange Scone Cakes — the recipe is heavenly. It’s online here, or in my Recipes from Home cookbook, page 103. Lemon zest, especially from Nana’s Meyer lemons (thanks, Nana!), substitutes well for orange zest.

I have no exciting plans for today, my actual birthday, except to do some chores around the house and get my resume updated. Thrilling 27-year-old activities!

A last few pictures of Carmel from her short stay with us. If I sit cross-legged on the ground, she immediately comes and sits in my lap.

In the kitchen the other day, Carmel was vacuuming for us, Hoovering up food scraps from the corners. She twisted her head and stuck her snout under the oven to get something, and Ian said, “Oh, look, she comes with an edge attachment.” Which nearly caused me to snort tomato soup out of my nose, let me tell you.

I just like this picture.

Today instead of me vanishing for the whole day on a long bike ride, Ian and I went and hiked up Tiger Mountain. Actually, we hiked up West Tiger 3. There were a number of other peaks we didn’t get to today, which was OK with Ian. This is his game face.

You can’t tell, but it was apparently Asian Hiking Day, unless every day is like that there. I don’t know if it’s usual, but I swear 75% of the other hikers — and there were a lot of them, even on a cloudy, cool day — were middle-aged to old Asian people. There were also some younger Asian people with kids. But it was almost like a tour bus had disgorged a group of them, or maybe they’re a hiking club and today was Tiger Mountain day, because they clearly all knew each other. Anyway, it was kind of surprising.

Also noticeable was the grade. It was unrelenting almost from the start all the way to the top. I hadn’t been up to Tiger Mountain in years, since high school or maybe very early college. Definitely not in the last 6 years. And that was to Poo Poo Point, which I don’t think was as steep of a climb as this. Today my miles of biking paid off and I didn’t have any trouble, but poor Ian had to grit his teeth and put some real effort into getting up to the top. He was a good sport. It probably didn’t help that I loaded him down with the two water bottles and snacks. I carried my Rebel XS, which didn’t really prove worth the back pain it incurred (it seems like any time I carry anything on my back, no matter how light, I end up sore. Bah, humbug). Not much to take pictures of when the summit is mostly clouded in. But since I carried it all the way, here’s a picture that doesn’t really capture the vibrancy of the green or the mistiness or, most of all, the steepness of the trail.

And, lest you think I’m skipping out on the biking, tomorrow after church I’m planning on doing what should work out for me to be about a 75-ish mile ride to Snohomish with Team Earthdreams.

Yesterday was Ian’s birthday. He turned, oh, approximately mid-to-late 20s. Age aside, we decided to celebrate by using our gift certificate to Gold Class Cinemas to see True Grit.

It’s difficult to describe how excellent the entire experience was. First of all, we dressed up. This made me realize that (a) I need to get a pair of nice shoes; (b) I’ve lost weight and my good dress doesn’t fit as well as I’d like; (c) I need to learn how to do long hair so it looks good. All that aside, I felt pretty sexy getting dressed up and going on a date, and that was fun. Also, Ian looks good in a suit.

Second, Gold Class Cinemas is super luxurious, despite their excessive fondness for the color orange. They had a lounge with a fireplace where we waited, looked at a menu, and ordered dinner — which we opted to eat during the movie. In the theater, we had a pair of huge, incredibly comfortable reclining seats that had a small table between them. On the table was a button to summon a server (I used it once, to get a blanket and more water). We received our appetizer shortly after the movie started. When we finished that, they brought our dinner and side (the fries were huge and delicious), and we finished with dessert a bit later. What really struck me was how quiet the theater was. Usually you hear people whispering, seats creaking, candy wrappers crinkling, etc.; conversations are totally out of the question. In that theater, we could have a low-voiced conversation without disturbing anybody else. It was so comfortable, I almost forgot I was in a movie theater. So the theater experience was superlative.

The movie itself? One of the best I’ve seen in a few years. It reminded us of Gran Torino. The acting was superb — Jeff Bridges, Hailee Steinfeld, and Matt Damon could hardly have done better — the cinematography excellent, the music spot-on, the story compelling. It had many moments of unexpected humor, which contributed significantly to the overall tone. I lost myself in the movie completely. I suspect that we’ll end up purchasing the DVD eventually. Wonderful.

As I said: Best movie experience we’ve had, possibly ever. And an excellent way to celebrate Ian’s birthday, except that this’ll be hard to beat.

When the only way to go is up, things do start getting better. No, our floor isn’t miraculously fixed, nor is the dishwasher back to normal. But after Christmas my parents, my sister and brother in law, and Ian and I — and Carmel, of course — piled into two cars and made our getaway. We took a ferry across to Kingston, drove a long loop around with a stop at Dungeness Spit, the longest natural spit in the world (I think). Some time I’d like to hike the whole thing — 5 miles each way — but that wasn’t the day for it. We just fooled around on the beach for a while, continued on, but only after reading about Brant’s Goose (“The Goose With Problems,” the sign’s subtitle said). This intersection we found particularly humorous. Anyway, we made it to Kalaloch Lodge with no problems and settled in OK. It had two bedrooms and one hide-a-bed in the living room; Ian and I drew the short straw and ended up in the living room. The bathroom was only accessible through one of the bedrooms (it had two doors, a source of endless potential embarrassment), an interesting and awkward feature. However, it also had a little kitchen and dining space for all of us, which was a nice redeeming feature. It also had a sign warning us about the KILLER LOGS on the beach, ample fodder for jokes the rest of the time.

On our only full day on the Peninsula, we went to Ruby Beach but didn’t find any rubies. We did find lots and lots of paving stones; lots of logs washed ashore; sea anemones colored purple, white, green, or mint green; a few snails; limpets; big barnacles and little barnacles; some kelp, whose species I should know but don’t; seagulls; and Least Sandpipers. Poking into tidepools never gets old, no matter how grown-up I am. Then we went to the Hoh Rainforest, where we split up. Colleen, Jordan, and Mom did a couple shorter hikes around the visitor’s center while Dad, Ian, and I did a 6-mile roundtrip hike. We saw a ruffed grouse on the trail and watched lots and lots of salmon in a creek, but no elk, despite numerous signs warning us of frequent elk sightings and to stay 100′ from any elk. The same sign said that “Dogs are the natural enemy of all woodland creatures,” so it was a good thing we left Carmel back at Kalaloch. Amazingly, the entire day remained dry: It started sunny and got a bit cloudier later on, but we never got rained on. That’s a small miracle on the rainy side of the Olympics in December.

On Wednesday morning we played a game of Gloom, a card game Caitlyn gave us for Christmas. The best part about it was the stories people told as they played these disastrous happenings on their characters. There wasn’t any “Overcome by Kitchen Floods” or “Rattled by Rats” in there, though.

We packed up and drove to Lake Quinault Lodge (their rain gauge for 2010: 13 feet, more than 2009 but nowhere near the record 17 feet), where we did a nice, pretty hike — lots more hanging moss, this time glowing in the sunlight — and then waited…and waited…and waited for lunch at the restaurant there. We entertained ourselves by watching the roofer right outside the window as he climbed up and down and engaged in all sorts of really risky-looking feats. When the food finally came, we scarfed it down, then made our getaway. Carmel had worked her way out of her box and into the back seat, where she startled Mom when Mom glanced into the back. We ate Pirouettes and drove on small roads through tiny towns. Wind cut our last stop, at Copalis Beach, short. It was amazingly windy, almost enough to lift me off my feet. We worried about Carmel getting sand in blown into her eyes, and so kept the visit brief. Also it’s a pretty boring beach, just tons of flat sand as far as you can see. Good for those beach buggies, though. And that was really the end of our little Olympic Peninsula. Ian and I still have a ruined kitchen floor and broken dishwasher, but at least we got to have a fun break with our family before worrying about it too much.

I forgot to mention this yesterday:

Happy 30-Year Anniversary, Mom and Dad!

You have set an example for us, your children, in how to make a marriage last. Your commitment to each other means that Colleen and I have a much better chance of making it to 30 years in our marriages, too.

Your consistent love and faithfulness to each other has been a foundation in our lives, unwavering even through hard times. You’ve shown us what commitment means; your marriage is a tribute to you and a reflection of God’s love for us. You’ve provided us with a safe, loving, reliable port to come to no matter what storms buffeted us. You cared for us (and innumerable hamsters, not to mention fish, Sneaky, Truffles, PC, Carmel, two chinchillas, and a couple cats), stayed at jobs that were at times stressful or boring or depressing, saved for our educations, took care of your house, paid off your mortgage, supported missionaries, took in foster children and single moms and a plethora of visitors — and still managed to be an example of love, weirdness, commitment, and affection in marriage.

Thank you for everything. Well done. We love you.

Here’s to at least another 30 weird years.

OK, it’s time to move on from the exciting bike crash. That’s in the process of being resolved, and in the meantime I’m contentedly riding the red bike.

This Saturday — a quintessentially Seattle fall day if ever I’ve experienced one — Dad and I went for a hike to the Kendall Katwalk. We saw a pika, some very aggressive beggar birds (one of which brazenly perched on Dad’s head), a pickle on a picnic bench, and a few other hikers, most of whom carried buckets of mushrooms. It was a perfect day to be a mushroom, actually, although not if mushroom hunters later found and drooled at the prospect of eating you. We also saw some very nice misty views of pretty fall foliage; I think, but am not totally sure, that it was sumac changing colors so brilliantly.

Anyway, Kendall Katwalk is known for having these dramatic drop-offs, but somehow they’re not so dramatic when they’re completely cloud-shrouded. We felt wind that seemed to indicate wide open space high up, and at one point the fog (is it fog when you’re up in the clouds?) cleared enough for us to get a nice glimpse of the valley below. Dad tried out his new cell phone’s camera on some of the views, which was a little odd since I’m used to Dad having all this amazing camera technology with him all the time — tripods and lenses and filters and stuff that help him take pictures. His cell phone camera produced this:

But I’m more used to Dad producing photos like this:

We had an excellent hike and came back pleasantly tired and fairly damp. I barely had time to shower, change, and help Ian with dinner before his parents arrived. We made honey baked chicken, bread, salad, and apple crisp, all of which turned out quite tasty. Best of all, we had a nice evening catching up with them after their 5-week European adventure.

Then on Sunday after church I attempted to make chicken stew with dumplings, but it turned out kind of watery and flavorless, for all there were zillions of vegetables and chicken broth and all sorts of goodies in there. Darn. Now we have 1.5 huge Tupperware containers full of it and I’m not sure what to do with it; I guess we’ll just suffer for a long time.

And last but not least I’m reading a book called Spin that’s quite original and well-written, but I suspect that I’ve been lured into yet another series. Hmm.

And that’s it for now.