My friend, Georgia, pulled into in Seattle this weekend as part of her No Book Tour. She's a fellow blogger, yes. But comparing her wildly popular spot on the internet, i am bossy, with All Adither is like contrasting a gazelle and a banana slug.
Still, she cleared a whole day for me. A day in which I showed her Fremont, Lake Union house boats, Ballard Ave., Pioneer Square (and how sucky it is to be caught in Mariner's traffic). A day in which we gulped coffee, roamed around, stopped for more coffee, bought skirts, ate and talked and talked and talked.
At one point we wandered into a second hand shop to browse. We found a basket of black and white photos. Some with ballpoint captions scrawled across the back, many simply naked, unidentifiable. And we both fell somber, sifting half-heartedly through the snapshots. Through moments that had been important enough to capture on film, but that had, ultimately, become vintage kitsch.
Later we saw an old man with grocery bags looped over the handles of his wheeled walker as he tried to board a Metro bus. That sort of trumped the photo basket. But the photos stuck with me nonetheless.
It was a big day. One that gave me a good-conversation-rich-food-fantastic-sludgy-coffee-poignant-moment hangover. And now I am tired. Very, very tired.