Friday, July 23, 2010

Seattle...well...on second thought...

I was all locked and loaded to drive to Seattle today but with the way my lucks been running that was very optimistic of me. My Audi is taking a dive like Glass Joe in Mike Tyson's punch out. Very weak performance Audi. It's shaking and flashing that Check Engine light I've been ignoring the past several months. I guess that is not a good sign. I have an appointment with John's Auto for next Monday. Hopefully it is something minor because at this stage of the game my ride is the last thing I need added to my list of things malfunctioning. I feel like someone stole my horse and I'm stuck in some cow-town in Kansas with Little Bill ready to make an example of me.

I miss Seattle. I lived there 8 years of my life (though I can only recall a few of them) and this time of year is the best time to visit. Seattle can be the most beautiful city on the west coast when it's sunny. The water on Lake Union sparkles against the Needle and the beautiful city skyline. What makes it so special is that it is so rare to see. After eight months of overcast, dreary, "why do I live here, do I hate myself this much" weather any sunshine at all is a miracle. This explains why it is also such a clique town. Portland it is not. Seattle always has had a distant feel. There is a lot to do but friends run in common circles. The weather keeps people from socializing more. If you don't meet friends for coffee, or drinks, or some other inside social gathering from late September to late April/May/June then you don't meet friends. You just huddle up in your bungalow like a bear until rain season is over. Forget Winter and Summer, Seattle's seasons go like this: Dry, Mist, Wet, Wetter, and "Just spray the hose on me while I am walking to my car" season. Dry doesn't last long enough. Mist seems to prevail most of the time. And the hose spraying season is especially nasty.

You appreciate the good weather there more then anywhere else though. I have many good memories, and a few bad ones from my time there, and I don't get back nearly enough. When I left that place I was bruised and beaten up. I was sure I would finish every story about leaving there with the words "thank God." But time definitely does heal wounds, or at least confuses us on remembering how much blood we actually lost in the process.

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