Back when Tara used to live here, back when a popcorn bowl full of old maids passed for a “drum” during an impromptu roommate jam, back when the furniture didn’t match and nobody cared, we used to go on long walks.
We walked all over the city. Usually ten miles at a time. Usually after a night of heavy drinking. Those walks were magical.
Yesterday was the Susan G. Komen 3-Day Walk for The Cure. My friend Victoria walked for her cousin Patty, who passed away from breast cancer a few years ago. As a sort-of homage to Victoria, and to Patty, who I’ve felt I’ve gotten to know over the years, and to Tara, who I miss having aroung in my daily life, I did my own little walk around town. I took my phone along.
I just love the unambiguous nature of old signage.
Old buildings, too, have a purposefulness about them. I love old advertisements painted directly onto the brick.
There’s a famous nursery rhyme that goes with this one. It goes something like: “There was an old woman who lived in shoe/ Who had so many offers to buy her property she didn’t know what to do/ So she stood her ground, and ignored their demands/ And she whipped them all soundly, because her house, it still stands.” Or something like that. There are enormous new buildings looming around three sides of this little house. You can read about the whole affair here.
It’s not surprising that someone has already attempted to hitch their money-making wagon to this star. The banner is an advertisement for, you guessed it, a real estate developer. Tasteless.
I’m on my way…
The Fremont Bridge. Apparently, it is the most opened drawbridge in America.
The Aurora Bridge
Toxicity never looked so beautiful in the sunlight. The city’s about to start churning up the soil underneath these old tankers to test for lakebed contamination. Any guesses as to what the results will be? My money’s on Level “three-eyed fish” Contamination.
A rare and fleeting glimpse of Fall ’round these parts. It doesn’t last long.
QUINT. E. SSENTIAL. Seattle in a nutshell right here, folks. All the rumors about us being nut crunchin’, tree huggin’, bubble blowin’ hippies are true. When we the Seattle Tourism Board asks for a local representative, we send this guy.
The University Bridge. It was a beautiful day for sailing. The bridges were getting their workouts.
You don’t see these much anymore. It was just so charming, I had to take a picture.
If I was on a walking team for the Three Day Walk, this would be it.
The upside down tomato planter. Proof to disbelieving Taller Younger Brother that these things really do work.
I’m not a fan of graffiti on public signage or buildings… But this was a departure from the usual (lame-o) tags I’ve seen. Is that Klingon? Xhosa?
On the door of one of the most amazing little clothing stores in my ‘hood. Check out The Frock Shop. And then check out The 350Project. Support little businesses like this when you can.
I’m not sure what this guy’s story is. All I know is that, paid or not, invited or not, this guy is making my neighborhood a whole lot more whimsical. He’s Henry. And I like that he makes me feel like I am living inside the pages of a children’s storybook.
This chestnut: the preferred ballistic of warring children everywhere ages 5 through 12. Burdy used to hurl these things at his neighbors growing up (don’t worry; the targets eventually became his best childhood buddies). I remember hucking them onto the steep slope behind my friend’s house, seeing who could get them to roll the furthest. I don’t know what is is about them that makes them so throw-able. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I found out that these things are FOOD. Chestnuts are edible. They’re part of Christmas song lore, and New York City street carts in the Winter, for godsakes. And here I thought they were just kid-sized naval mines.