file under: of love and funeral pyres

it was funny to see that a photo of the fire station i used to live across from when i first moved to seattle was in the local "news" today.

when N and i were walking around the old neighborhood in october, she was amazed at how crackhouse-like my old building was: chain link fence, not a lot of windows, grey stucco everywhere. it was like a little piece of south-central l.a. had relocated to more overcast climes.

walking around with her brought such memories back, though! like fire trucks blaring their sirens at all hours of the night, for instance. i know it nearly drove me crazy at times, but the dog living right next to the fire station had it infinitely worse.

and i had forgotten all about the plaid pantry (a convenience store located to the left of the station - you can see it in the photo!). it was open 24 hours, and it was there that i received a very unexpected welcome from my newly adoptive city - in the form of a walrus-mustachioed guy in a little pickup truck offering to blow me at his house (conveniently located right around the corner). i demurred, despite his "it'll be cool; you know, real casual" sales pitch.

what can i say? something about the guy and his truck said hunting knife to me.