B-Town Undercover: Walking Cove To Clover Makes Me Love Burien
While working on a humorous story the other night I received a text:
Lori: “ru walking the c2c tomorrow” (In text speak=”Are you walking the Cove to Clover race tomorrow?”)
Me: “Forgot all about it. What time?” (Notice my perfect punctuation, unlike my friend’s…)
I won’t bore you with the details of the 22 text messages discussing the C2C race. Why we didn’t just call each other is beyond me, because I’m really super slow at texting. I can just imagine Lori looking at her cell phone impatiently and wondering about the ten minutes between each text.
Next order of businessâ€”my Cove to Clover race day attire. Something green, comfortable, and zany, because since I certainly won’t be fast, I may as well be fun.
Tom, my husband and our chauffeur dropped us off near the top of Snake Hill. Mr. Big and Mr. Small (sporting their green scarves) yapped and marked everything in sight and checked several ‘pee-mails’ for good measure. Neither of us wanted to fight the crowds (or walk down, then up Snake Hill) so we started walking and talking. Less than 50 feet into our walk (we’re in the enviable position of first place because the race hasn’t actually started), and I notice my hand is bleeding. I’m not kidding. Fortunately the medic truck is right in front of us. Lori watches as Mr. Big and Mr. Small take advantage of the situation and tangle their leashes. Perhaps Lori will fall over the tangled leashes and scrape her knee. She is looking rather envious of all the attention I am receiving from Mr. Handsomeâ€”the medic.
Another 50 feet puts us in front of the first drink stop. Naturally, we’re their first customers because the real runners have yet to make it up Snake Hill. At this point my dear friend is becoming rather exasperated with my slow pace, although I assure her I’m just getting into my rhythm. We’ve just reached a perfect walking synchronicity when shouts alert us to the first runner.
And then he’s gone. We barely had time to dash to the side of the road before he breezed past us. I must say his outfit was rather brief but then maybe real runners actually need to dress light in order to run faster. I wouldn’t know but I’m pretty sure my yellow and green lady bug top would hamper my running ability. And need I sayâ€”it was so hard to focus on the task at handâ€”walking, when there were distractions everywhere.
Young folk, old folk, stroller baby folk, big dogs, small dogs, costumed dogs, you name it, they were all there. All 950 of them, running for a charitable cause. Last year it rained costumed cats and dogs and the run was still a huge success.
Burien has come a long way in the 20 years that I’ve lived here. You can call it Beercan or B-Town. I call it home.
EDITOR’S NOTE: We’d like to extend a hearty “cngrts” (Text Speak for “Congratulations”) to Shawn, who will be releasing her first book this spring, called “Mommy Are we French Yet?“
We’ll be posting more on this exciting news, but for now here’s a blurb on it:
If you have ever wondered what it would be like to live in another country for a year with your children, in Mommy, Are We French Yet? you will discover that it is not an insurmountable task.Â But itâ€™s made doubly rewarding when the day-to-day chores and challenges are approached with humor. Shawn Underwood moved her family, her husband and three kids along with her sisterâ€™s family, to the south of France to experience the joys and frustrations of living abroad first hand.
Whether running headlong into the language barrier, where faux pas are a given and the best way to communicate is with a smile or just trying to shop at the local market, keeping a sense of humor is the key to overseas success!Â As she and her extended family travel in France and throughout Europe and Egypt among other countries, they learned that being a good ambassador for your country is worth its weight in gold.Â Donâ€™t ever be afraid to ask questions!
Come along with Shawn and her family as they learn to embrace the local culture, even if it means eating pig intestines or trying to cook turkey American style.Â Whatever happens, the chocolate is sublime in any language!
Twenty-five years of living in Burien gives Humorist Shawn Underwood much fodder for her writings.
All of her stories are true, or at least have a grain of truth with no added embellishments.
Or something like that.
Read more of her humor at her website here.