Walking along Elliott Bay, I was reminded of the my first visits to Seattle, almost thirty years ago, when I was living in Portland. How much time has passed since then, how much water under how many bridges and over how many dams...
There's still one thing that still doesn't make any sense to me:
This is, believe it or not, Christopher Columbus, standing on a Seattle pier in front of the viaduct, staring out at Bainbridge Island, which is more than 3,000 miles farther than the explorer/imperialist ever actually penetrated the western hemisphere. Putting aside the sort of modern-expressionist style of the sculpture, I have always questioned his placement here in the gateway to the Pacific (an ocean with which he is not associated). The plaque makes some sort of connection to the Italian-American community here, but I still wonder why they couldn't have picked a less geographically-bound figure, such as Galileo or Leonardo or Garibaldi.
While I was pondering, Otis called with updates from VMH, where she was with Pater for an outpatient visit. Since no one had responded to my dinner call**, I bussed up the hill and met her at Ballet for some victuals before we headed home together.
So, I think tonight holds Steamboy on DVD and maybe some productive activity later, but me-day is all over but the snoozin'. The lesson learned from this exercise: even when I give myself carte blanche to do whatever it is I want to do for a day, I wind up pretty much doing what I do all the time. Either I am really boring, or I have a pretty good life.
I'll take door number two, Monty.
*There used to be a tartan kilt place on the Steps, and the sign is still on the main directory, but either it has closed down or I've gone batty and missed it.
**Sorry, Soapy! I forgot about your email sitch and didn't get your email until we got home.
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