absinthe, sweater trees, and the curious habits of seattle

justin and i left vancouver and got on a bus for a four hour ride to seattle, one hour of which was spent at customs.  i have learned my lessons with customs folks.  i pretend i don’t understand english. . . or any other language. 

in seattle we stayed at the arctic club on third street.  immediately, viktor enticed justin with an absinthe.  prepared in the czech manner because the french manner is so . . . yesterday.

seattle are very solicitious of nature.  for instance, they wrap their trees in brightly colored sweaters.  i can’t imagine how they get the trees to settle down for this since it’s awfully hard to get a three year old to let you  put a sweater on them.  click on the x to see the lovely sweatertress!

this seemed like such a strange custom that i thought perhaps i was the one drinking absinthe, but no it was justin who didn’t really like the taste but appreciated the opportunity to have the medicinal effects of wormwood.

the next morning, f2fb friend #280 george moffat.  i hadn’t seen george since high school but there is something–perhaps it is in the nature of how our eyes deteriorate or our judgments soften–that made me think that not only had he not aged a whit but he had become more handsome.  he has settled into seattle and was doing some christmas shopping for his lovely wife and three daughters.  i had to promise to not write down what they’re getting. 

we talked about how lucky we are that we were even able to get together.  so many friends disperse after high school and before facebook came along if you decided you really did want to see a friend you had lost track of, you had to find their parents or relatives.  a lot of private detective work.  facebook is good that way.  george and me–unfortunately, the picture is like a christmas present:  you have to open it!

then i had to say goodbye both to my dad and to george–off to portland on an amtrak for me while justin would travel to tallahassee and then on to hawaii. 

i really appreciated seeing george, but i also really appreciated having some time with my father.  in february, it hadn’t gone well.  and i had worried that my last memory of him would be him saying “you’re a superconman and you’re trying to destroy me!”  now my last memory of him is watching him get into a cab and the man next to me asking me if i wanted to do a good deed for the day by giving him five bucks.