We’re in Seattle, driving up and down city streets, looking for a place to park. At one time, I knew secret free spots, but the city’s upped their game and has installed a shit ton of signage that blocks me.
We’re parked half a mile from Climate Pledge arena; a $3.89 street parking price tag isn’t wrong compared to the $80 one a block over.
Evelyn’s napping, which means Cathy, Dave, and I are speaking in hushed whispers and having a moment of people watching – a shirtless man with pants that hug aggressively tight to his waist is waving a stick over his head like Gandolf – and we are playing on our phones.
I can’t wait for Evelyn to see Seattle Center’s fountain and all the excitement of the Kraken game.
And how about those Mariners? Seeing that bottom of the ninth home run gave me chills and transported me back to the days of Ken Griffey, Joey Cora, and Randy Johnson.
Anyway, it’s a good day to be healthy and alive. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 