The northwest corner of First and Jackson can be tricky. During rush hour, traffic whizzes by, despite the fact that there’s only one block of street left until you hit Elliott Bay. In places, cracks in the tarmac reveal old bricks underneath. The curb cut is...
Finally. I was not the token wheelchair guy in the room. The scene? A national conference in Atlanta focused on the study of disabilities. The audience? Wonderfully diverse. Riding in one of the elevators after sessions on the first morning, I was joined by four other...
I’m buying chicken frames at Uwajimaya, my grocery store of choice in the International District. A fellow shopper at the butcher counter asks, “What do you do with those?” “I use them for chicken stock,” I answer. She looks incredulous....
I got blessed during the last Seahawks game, and not because of the outcome. Gus and I ventured out for supplies right before Blue Thunder, our local drumming corps, marched fans into the stadium. They had massed on Occidental and King, resting their instruments...
Leslie and I now work a block from each other, which is really great, really. Carpooling is good for the environment, right? The couple that commutes together transmutes together, or cahoots together, or something like that. So it’s all good until it’s not...
I asked the vendor at the U-District Farmer’s Market what makes a second sweet potato a second sweet potato. Little things, mostly. Mostly superficial. Every time I purchase seconds, I feel disproportionately proud. In the summer, it’s tomatoes for...
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