There’s a bunch of flower pictures, from Pike Market Place, or whatever the spot is called, up in an earlier post. I was wandering in and amongst the flower stalls, looking for something to take back to the hotel room, trying to remember, what flowers make Ma Wetzel sneeze so?
(And the flowers that make her sneeze? Unlike some members of my immediate family, I dont’ try to get the flowers that make the ‘wee Scorpio mum’ sneeze. I earn enough aggravation as it is, thank you very much.)
While I was following the Monorail’s path, as a trail, I was making an attempt gather my thoughts and come up with just one coherent image, a single way to describe Seattle.
It’s a plenty funky town, that’s for sure, and I fit right in, except for the fact that I don’t have any tattoos, but other than that? I’m not even a blip on the radar screen, one way or another.
Twice, one with my father, and again, a little later with my mother, I had Sagittarius baristas making us caffeine – based beverages. Just weird, like that.
The image, though, from Seattle? Good points? Cars stop for pedestrians. No, I mean, unlike home, the cars and drivers actually obey the law, and yield to the pedestrians. That’s a big plus.
However, one morning, there was a guy driving along, in a new mini-cooper convertible, top down, just smiling and as happy as could be. In the drizzle. Not rain, but not sun, so the driver was happy. With the top down. Mark me, precipitation.
