My old roommate is in town with her dad, and the other day we went up to Seattle. This is the second time J.'s been here, but this time she's going to see Forks, too. She's a huge Twilight fan.
Of course she is. Why else would you go to Forks? Unless you happen to have access to a silver volvo and enjoy watching people's jaws drop. (I'm currently waving with a maniacal grin.)
Whilst in Seattle, city of people who don't learn from their mistakes (as stated by several Seattlites), we went on the Underground Tour, which I'd never done before. That's what happens when you've lived somewhere for your entire life--you never get around to doing all of the tourist things, even if some of them are worthwhile. And was it ever worthwhile.
(We didn't see any rats. Although I did smell something foul. No, wait, those were just the Tacoma slurs.)
We also went to Pike Place (where I have, in fact, been before).
My favorite part (apart from the flying fish and Market Spice shop and the view) has always been the flowers. I love all of the brilliant colors; the unusual combinations, of both color and flowers--the base and highbrow together; the occasional UW bouquet (purple and gold).
But most of all, I love the juxtaposition of the thousands of dollars worth of flowers in plastic buckets, the kind that always carry a warning label about how little water it takes for a child to drown, and be cautious, please, we don't want you to sue us.
m.
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