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pecuniumStrange, to be back in Seattle.
The approach to Sea-Tac was familiar (it ought to be, I've flown into that airport about a dozen times, most of those in the past year) and comforting.
It's a gorgeous place, water, hills, trees, mountains (even the grand terror that is Mt. Ranier) and friends. Lots of friends actually. I have been corrupted. I could live here. It has one of the things I've found I need, mountains. I want to be able to see the shoulders of the world, holding up the sky. OK, so maybe Seattle isn't the best place to see the horizon.
But it has good food, good people, decent weather (I like gloom) and long days (with the obverse in the winter). Yesterday, as we were sitting in the living room (and I was being exposed to, "The West Wing" {which, apart from the propagandizing on guns, I very much liked... it reminded me of being in a City Room, from my youthful days in, and around, newspapering}) Ulrika told me I needed to look outside.
Pale blue gloaming, the still air and the brittle clouds. The soft drip of the water from the trees, a sense of timelessness, that pregnant pause, as the twilight bleeds to night.
Not bad for nine in the evening.
Hal is doing all right, about what one would expect. Convalescence is a pain, one is irritated at what one thinks one ought to be able to do, and frustrated that it can't be done.
Add aches and pains, and one is ever amazed that more nurses don't start killing patients.
The approach to Sea-Tac was familiar (it ought to be, I've flown into that airport about a dozen times, most of those in the past year) and comforting.
It's a gorgeous place, water, hills, trees, mountains (even the grand terror that is Mt. Ranier) and friends. Lots of friends actually. I have been corrupted. I could live here. It has one of the things I've found I need, mountains. I want to be able to see the shoulders of the world, holding up the sky. OK, so maybe Seattle isn't the best place to see the horizon.
But it has good food, good people, decent weather (I like gloom) and long days (with the obverse in the winter). Yesterday, as we were sitting in the living room (and I was being exposed to, "The West Wing" {which, apart from the propagandizing on guns, I very much liked... it reminded me of being in a City Room, from my youthful days in, and around, newspapering}) Ulrika told me I needed to look outside.
Pale blue gloaming, the still air and the brittle clouds. The soft drip of the water from the trees, a sense of timelessness, that pregnant pause, as the twilight bleeds to night.
Not bad for nine in the evening.
Hal is doing all right, about what one would expect. Convalescence is a pain, one is irritated at what one thinks one ought to be able to do, and frustrated that it can't be done.
Add aches and pains, and one is ever amazed that more nurses don't start killing patients.
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Date: 2004-05-26 07:41 pm (UTC)