In the stairwell of one of my gigs down in Pioneer Square.

I’m pretty certain Seattle’s weather is the joker today. Perpetually changing from sun to rain and back again. Just when you think you’ll be needing that umbrella, you look like a goober for carrying a parasol. Just kidding, it’s raining and now you’ve got water all over your face. Thanks Seattle for your bipolar humor. Instead of fluoride, we should put Prozac in your water.

Yesterday I saw this amongst a pile of black garbage bags, filled with someone’s life. It was outside an assisted living community just on the other side of our park that I walk by daily. I’m not sure if someone passed away, was evicted, or was just getting a jump on moving before the truck got there. An elderly man was rummaging through the sacks in his underwear with socks and sandals on at 7:30am looking for something to wear. Again, not sure if he was the owner of all of these things or if he saw the grab bags from his windows and couldn’t wait to put on a pair of pants or a robe before diving in.

Today, this tiny decrepit altar supported by a flimsy children’s chair and a “Spell-Write Steno Book” to protect the altar from candle wax was the lone treasure still remaining … unless you count an empty five gallon bucket of soy sauce. Attached was a note from Northwest Center, a local donation group who helps folks with disabilities and other tough life situations. The note essentially said that this altar that was made in Thailand (given the Microsoft-esque sticker placed on top of it) was too broken and in need of repair to salvage. Likely, this was one of the main prized possessions in his/her apartment for years, and now, it’s waiting on the side of the road for someone else to see its beauty and give it a home.