What a week it has been. First, the four alarm fire four miles away that woke us up with the burning chemical smell. Turns out most of our neighbors also woke up at the same time to the smell. Several of us walked out into the street investigating, but we missed each other.
Then I recognized a couple friends on the cover of the Seattle Weekly. In reading the article about the communal living arrangement, I discovered that I also knew two of the founders. Just goes to show what a small town Seattle is. In fact, I went to the paint store yesterday (if you read The Nerd, you'll know why) and ran into an old neighbor who owns a local restaurant. Today I went back to the paint store and ran into a regular customer from the bookstore where I used to work. So I really shouldn't be surprised to find that the same commune that Jan and Bob helped found is the one that Mitch and Jamie joined ten years later.
While outside chatting with my neighbor Nancy the other evening, a couple down the block came home from work and found a person passed out on their front stairs. The nanny was home with the kids and was unaware of this. That's not surprising, there's a gate and fence at the top of the stairs, but it would have been startling if she had tried to take the kids anywhere. Was he just drunk? Sick? Mentally ill? Dangerous? We didn't know. He was clearly breathing but not responsive to all the noise as we gathered and talked near him. The homeowner called 911 while her husband cut through a neighboring yard to get to the house. The medics decided not to dispatch an aid car, but the police did show up to encourage him to leave. All in all it was weird and sad. In retrospect we could have been nicer to him, but we weren't mean, just kinda cold. He could have been sick or dangerous. It made sense to call in the professionals. But could we have done more ourselves?
This is also the week that 34 years ago my father committed suicide. Yesterday, on that anniversary, my little sister in Ohio sent email saying that she was having breast surgery today as a follow-up to a core needle biopsy last week. (first I had heard about any of it.) They won't know if it is malignant til next week.
Glad the week is almost over. Time for the week-and. When Zach was young, that's what he thought we were saying when we said weekend. I like it better than the original and still say it. It's not the end of the week, it's an extra bit. Makes it a bit more special, don't you think?
In knitting: Dorothy, thanks for the link to the Eastern Uncrossed knitting tutorial. All this twisting and untwisting of stitches bends my brain, but in a good way.