Never wonder if it could rain any harder...

Walked home yesterday from the Pike Place Market downtown, six miles or so, after delivering a pet portrait to a band benefactor.  He was most appreciative, and it was a sweet little picture. The Market was insanely crowded, lines snaking out of every food venue along its corridors, and the wind was starting to whip up.  I headed along Second Avenue towards the Seattle Center. By the time I summited Queen Anne Hill, there was a bit of calm.  I hadn't had much to eat earlier, and as I passed a French bakery, nicely named La Reve, I decided to try some of its feted products.  The pain au chocolat was too bready, and didn't contain enough chocolate, but as I was famished, it sufficed for the remainder of the journey. I munched as I marched along beneath my bumbershoot.  The streets on the backside of Queen Anne were streaming with water and the shaded sidewalks were slick with moss, so I made my way cautiously down to the Fremont Bridge, thinking how dumb it would be to incur an injury whilst walking down hill in the rain.  A pit stop at PCC provided us with half of a turkey breast for the upcoming holiday dinner, and I psyched myself up for the final hills.
All night it rained, and blew from the east/southeast, and at one point was so loudly drumming on everything that it sounded like a stream of jets landing to the south.  It hasn't let up yet...

And we almost had a President from this bunch of weirdos...

Walking along this afternoon, after running some errands, and what do I see coming towards me on the sidewalk but two young fellers all decked out in suits and ties, with name tags; hmm, thinks I, either car salesmen or cult members.  Turned out to be the latter, as in Latter Day Saints.  "Good afternoon, ma'am," they hailed me with false hearty cheer.
"I know about you guys," said I.  "Good luck and good bye."
"We're those Mormon guys!" they cried with glee.
As I passed them and gestured in disgust, one of them said,"I like your hair!"
What the fuck?

Rodential dementia

Out on a hunting and gathering walk, I passed the trashy little front garden of a strange shop that has purported for years to sell commemorative embroidered patches and such other oddments.  I saw a grayish brown, furry shape settled in front of a Coke bottle lying on its side, and figured it was a large dead rat.   It leaped up suddenly, drawing its mouth away from the bottle, and I realized it was a squirrel, sucking pop out of the bottle; yet another sign of impending doom...