PURSE DOGS TAKE ALL
SEATTLE, Washington Developers built across my poor-woman's water view last week. Curses.
Oh, I know, I know: better for urban areas to sprawl up than out. I miss that sliver of ship canal, that wedgwood smear on the horizon. And I miss the sailboats and trawlers and gravel barges: the traffic coasting from the busiest lock in the lower 48.
Someone broke into the penny-squishing machine there last summer. Twice. So the Army Corps of Engineers moved it to the Visitors' Center, which is a shame: I love a salmon-embossed coin, but not enough to wade past the Marvin-the-Paranoid-Android ranger or the really sucky exhibits of Norwegian fishing lures.
Condos and townhouses spike Ballard, Seattle's old Scandinavian fishing quarter. Kinda like Saint Sebastian and the arrows, but all gritty and urban (think Muhammad Ali and the seminal Esquire cover).
Who are these gentrifyers with the $400 boutique frocks and sports coupes? Can't you people slurp ceviche elsewhere? No, no, noooooo: don't feed that tapas to your purse-dog, whatever the pet-food contamination crisis.
Didn't the au pair teach you manners? WTF?