SEATTLE October was, erm, cute. I could tell you about all the fab walks and dinners and kayaks and pool dives, testing secondhand scuba gear. Hell, I even managed a Tom Robbins play in there, complete with juicy cowgirls, thanks to alert friends. But, really, why? My head buzzed at the start and ever-so-much louder at the end. Karmic net gain: zero.
As I tell my students, no one wants to see the protagonist flat-line ... get with the epiphany!
(Ahem. That would be another blog. Shoo.)
Then Halloween. I should have ranged far afield with the Messquerade, the bike scavenger hunt, as I'd just interviewed principles for a P-I article. But the never-ending cold reared its head: so I spooked Ballard trick-or-treaters instead with my "evil editor" costume.
"Yes, the T-Rex-headed tiara is an elaborate adult in-joke about work."
"No! I don't want to explain my red-smeared newspaper petticoat or fake blood-drippy novelty knife. It's HALLOWEEN, kid."
The four-year-old literalist wore a practice-job costume. And while I salute his spirit, well, $hit, jam in some fangs and enjoy life while you can, punk...