If (when?) I find myself living in another place, I'll always remember the neighborhood streets of Seattle pretty much like this: a tumbled tangle of flowers on a hillside, a house peeking through.
Sunday morning was gray, but warm. The streets felt deserted. Ross and I walked down our street to the Volunteer Park Cafe, which we had been meaning to try for quite a while. We were not disappointed. We shared a blueberry lemon scone that dissolved on our tongues. My coffee was french pressed and delicious. I had a croissant with brie and the thinnest slices of apple. Ross had a strata.
On our way, we pitied the workers working on such a quiet morning, cutting down a tree that must have dropped its branches too near a house.
The next day the tree lay in pieces, ready to heat a few homes for the winter.
Carla threw a surprise birthday party for Kendall, and we were invited.
We met many nice people, and Miss Lulubelle, who is obsessed with catching and fetching rocks, even past the point when her mouth bleeds. She kept coming back, the rock balanced between her teeth, a crazed look in her eye.
Carla grilled a whole salmon.
Polly baked the party cake.
And of course, Kendall blew out the candles.
And sliced it up.
For First Thursday, Ross, Jerritt and I converged at MOHAI--the Museum of History and Industry.
First, we viewed a diorama constructed in 1955: the Denny Party settlers arrived at Alki Landing in November of 1851, where they were greeted, presumably, by drizzle, and by Chief Sealth. In the diorama, Sealth was rather plain looking. This isn't him, but this fellow looks pretty much identical.
All of the women were crying, or looking extremely worried.
How in the world did this electric analog computer work? This was used for research by Boeing, way back when.
The dust and clutter in our apartment was really getting out of hand.
Now that we've cleaned, it's almost like a new home. Ross' work station is pretty nice, I think.
If (when?) I find myself living in another place, I'll always remember the neighborhood streets of Seattle pretty much like this: a tumbled tangle of flowers on a hillside, a house peeking through.
Sunday morning was gray, but warm. The streets felt deserted. Ross and I walked down our street to the Volunteer Park Cafe, which we had been meaning to try for quite a while. We were not disappointed. We shared a blueberry lemon scone that dissolved on our tongues. My coffee was french pressed and delicious. I had a croissant with brie and the thinnest slices of apple. Ross had a strata.
On our way, we pitied the workers working on such a quiet morning, cutting down a tree that must have dropped its branches too near a house.
The next day the tree lay in pieces, ready to heat a few homes for the winter.
Carla threw a surprise birthday party for Kendall, and we were invited.
We met many nice people, and Miss Lulubelle, who is obsessed with catching and fetching rocks, even past the point when her mouth bleeds. She kept coming back, the rock balanced between her teeth, a crazed look in her eye.
Carla grilled a whole salmon.
Polly baked the party cake.
And of course, Kendall blew out the candles.
And sliced it up.
For First Thursday, Ross, Jerritt and I converged at MOHAI--the Museum of History and Industry.
First, we viewed a diorama constructed in 1955: the Denny Party settlers arrived at Alki Landing in November of 1851, where they were greeted, presumably, by drizzle, and by Chief Sealth. In the diorama, Sealth was rather plain looking. This isn't him, but this fellow looks pretty much identical.
All of the women were crying, or looking extremely worried.
How in the world did this electric analog computer work? This was used for research by Boeing, way back when.
The dust and clutter in our apartment was really getting out of hand.
Now that we've cleaned, it's almost like a new home. Ross' work station is pretty nice, I think.
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