As I was in the midst of divorcing PriorHusband, I went to visit an old high school friend in Seattle. All I knew before I arrived was that they drank a lot of coffee in Seattle, Bill Gates was nearby and that Curt guy killed himself there. Not exactly good street cred.
I fell in love! First off, the “rainy” thing I think is overdone, almost as a way of keeping the weaker sorts out. Secondly, there’s water everywhere, and I’m a water baby thru and thru.
I was dabbling with yoga and these annoyingly-perky meditation tapes and every time I closed my eyes to meditate, I’d see Seattle’s Space Needle.
I did briefly toy with the idea of taking my house buyout money and purchasing an Airstream Bambi. God, I was crazy for the Bambi. Then two friends, within a week, piped up with interesting, shall we say, observations.
BFF Frannie explained what happens when the plumbing lines gets backed up and things spill on to the floor and how, if you snake your arm in far enough, you can often undo the kink by flinging dark material out of where you snaked your arm. Eww.
Another great mentor of mine, Candy, quietly said she always thought I was a “hearth and home gal.” Which struck me as odd, as Candy was my editor for many years and we mainly communicate by email and how could she know that? But she did. She also said there was precious little closet space, enough room for “about five T-shirts.”
So I abandoned the Bambi plan, rented an apartment site unseen (we aren’t on the east coast any more, Dorothy: the deposit on the apartment was fifty dollars. Can you imagine what $50 would get me in NYC? A tip to the doorman, perhaps? )
I got in my car and drove west. I wasn’t flying solo though: my poppa was my co-pilot and my standard poodle, Rebecca, was in the backseat.
