A Tom Robbins Sunset

Sunset 5, originally uploaded by MaryWit.

Would you complain because a beautiful sunset doesn't have a future or a shooting star a payoff? And why should romance 'lead anywhere'? Passion isn't a path through the woods. Passion is the woods.

~Tom Robbins, 'Skinny Legs and All'~

Cats Rule, Dogs Drool

Cats Rule, Dogs Drool, originally uploaded by MaryWit.

I felt so guilty for betraying Sadie in taking this shot, I did penance by taking her to her favorite forest trail and spending precious unemployment funds on her favorite Busy Bones.

Hot Dogs

Hot Dogs, originally uploaded by MaryWit.

The day was sunny--and warm--at the Ballard Farmers Market and Sadie took this opportunity to demostrate her theory of canine passive resistance as a new means of communicating what she wants--in this case, laying down next to the hot dog stand. She got her brat this time, but (are you listening, Sadie?) it doesn't always work at every fish~n~chips stand, hamburger joint or sidewalk cafe we pass.

At ten years old she continues to find progressive and innovative ways to train me to her will. She loves to go...anywhere, anytime, by any means of transport. In these days of my unemployment, we go for long walks several times a day. She's obedient, fresh and happy as a puppy walking away from our apartment, but when we turn the final corner toward home, she plants herself, mule-style, and will not budge. No amount of undignified tugging and pulling (sometimes cursing) will get her moving; it's only when I stop, speak nicely and offer a treat that she will once again resume walking in tandem with me like the well oiled machine we have become after all these years together.

Sunday Morning, Homeless, Expansion. Fremont Condos Sign

Shopping Carts, Sunday. Expansion. Fremont Condos Sign, originally uploaded by MaryWit.

Last weekend I noticed an increasing number of laden shopping carts, those contemporary gypsy wagons of the urban homeless, around this community where seemingly overnight, an infestation of half-million-dollar (per unit!) condominiums and townhouses have infested this charming, working class neighborhood. The gullible nuevo riche have flooded into this PR-created trendy "hot-spot", pushing up housing costs and displacing the traditional working class inhabitants who can no longer begin to afford to live here.

The effect has been catastrophic. Overcrowding, infrastructure stress and social trauma are becoming more visable every day. Lovingly tended gardens and yards have been paved over, homes have been razed, the very sky has been blocked by condo-canyons. Long-term inhabitants--both human and wildlife--who knew every nook and cranny of the neighborhood and its history have been displaced.

For every dollar gained by condo "investers" and developers, by venal municipal government, there will be a cost for we as a society to pay that cannot be measured by mere monetary means. The price will be dear and the decisions they have made, irreversable. Just as an ecosystem depends on infinate layers of interconnection and interdependancy over time, so does a community.

This woman has been inhabiting the new, paved-over (albeit with ultra-manicured patches of mono-grass) "commons," surrounded by massive construction projects--where the only neighborhood grocery store once stood. and newly finished condos and townhouses surrounded her and the newly arrived affluent inhabitants sniff in disgust as they pass by. Other homeless people have begun to regularly gather there on benches.

I first noticed the petite nomad woman on Saturday where she sat quietly in the warm sunshine feeding the birds next to her solitary cart. The next morning she had expanded her one cart to two, and by Sunday night, her holdings had grown to four carts, two on either side of the bench she inhabited. Everything was arranged in tidy bundles and bags and covered with items of clothing in shades of blue. The cherry on this visual blueberry cake was a bright red and yellow sign--Fremont Condos.

I don't know how long the she will be able to stay there, but I hope she remains safe--from the authorities, the wealthy investment flippers, and from the newly arrived groups of taggers and street thugs that have also proliferated since the community destruction began-- coincidence, synchronicity or simply one more symptom of social trauma? I'll post updated photos on the nomad woman for as long as she remains.

Tom Robbins'-- It's Never Too Late to Have a Happy Childhood

Tom Robbins'-- It's Never Too Late to Have a Happy Childhood, originally uploaded by MaryWit.

This week brought out the outlaw in me (it doesn't take much). I got out a fresh stick of chalk, an extra copy of one of my favorite Tom Robbins books (registered with bookcrossing.com) and headed to an irresistable stretch of new blacktop at Golden Gardens' upper parking lot. This photo is the result. I went back the following day to check on the book--the book had been picked up...only the quote remained, and for that moment all was right with the world. As of today, the book has not been journaled by its finder on bookcrossing.

Skinny Legs & All

Skinny Legs & All, originally uploaded by MaryWit.

One of the ten finest books ever written. Coincidentally, the other nine are also by the same author.

From Out of the Blue, DB's Name Appears

The most remarkable thing just happened, bringing to mind the Butterfly Effect. In this, week two of being unemployed, I've been pondering again the legendary Darrell Bob Houston and going through the collection, archive, notes and correspondence I gathered last year. I haven't spoken about him and hardly thought about the project in months until the past week. This morning an email appeared, from a stranger and out of the blue, with Darrell Bob Houston in the subject line. The man had been DB's food stamp caseworker in the early 80's and didn't know DB had died until he read Tom Robbin's epilogue, "The Bill" in Jitterbug Perfume. He googled DB and found one of my posts from last year. The man only spent about a year in Seattle, but remembered DB, who he said always claimed to be a writer. Amazing that it should happen just at the time that DB has once again come so strongly to mind. Coincidence or sychronicity?

To update week two of unemployment--the postition I was offered was the one in the entire firm, I was sure not to take--possibly the highest turnover (intolerable conditions) and even less pay. After five years (three without benefits) and countless back to back 65 hour weeks, I got the 401k investment report for my pitiful retirement fund through the firm, and it appears that the entire $2,057.21 has been lost through their poor investment, leaving me with a $0 balance. It's all I had. Never will I step foot in an affluent, trendy, upscale corporate firm again.

In an attempt to resist the temptation to curl into a fetal position and cower under the covers, I've spent time (when not online searching for work--how can an adventurous woman have lived and worked for so long and still not fit a single job description??) taking Sadie for long, rainsoaked walks through countless parks, revisiting places from the past, reliving memories, taking pictures for flickr (started a new Tom Robbins group there: http://www.flickr.com/groups/aftrlife/ )and going to see the R. Crumb exhibit at the Frye Museum, which cheered me immensely. Emails from eager gossip mongers at the former workplace (Multinational Corporate Lawfirm from Hell--MCLH) have tapered off, and staving off feelings of isolation is a challenge. I eagerly look forward to my front row seat (!) at Cirque du Soleil next month and am unspeakably glad that I bought the ticket before my job went down in flames.