Sunday, March 18, 2012

Reflections from my Green Lake ambulations

So, once or more a week, I gather winter gear, and walk around Green Lake. Here are my random observations and obfuscations that amuse, or abuse, my mind, in no particular order.

Ready for the stream of consciousness?

Outside Starbucks, my mandatory stop for victuals, there is a nice wrought iron corral marked stroller parking. Yet, I have never seen a stroller in there. Dogs, yes, lots of dogs. Why is that?

So, I go inside and there are two professionals of somewhat uneven ages sitting at the bar, talking business. Not unusual, a. What was striking was the outstanding eye contact and engagement of the woman, as she spoke with the man. Girlz, listen up, and take a lesson. Put away your freakin’ dumbphone, and pay attention.

Back on the path, I observe Seattle impolite, with walkers three to four abreast with dogs and leashes, who were not about to split, yield, or in any way be courteous to those walking the opposite way. Not only that, but I feared serious flesh wounds on them, as it was obvious they broke a huge bottle of perfume and got it all over them right before commencement of said walk. Ladies, gents too, leave that crap at home, or at least scent, instead of drenching yourself. We don’t want to smell it.

I checked with my friends the trees and the small, younger ones knew spring was around the corner, and were starting leaf explosion, very nice, and confirming of the coming spring. I checked with the older ones, and they just reported that they awoke from their hibernation, looked around, and said nope, I’m rolling over for another month or so.

So, everyone comes to Green Lake for exercise and fresh air, what is up with folks circling the parking lot, or standing and waiting for someone to pull out so they can have a close-by parking spot. HELLO!!!! Park down the street, people.

Along with the trees, the older ones, like me, I can tell it is not spring in my world yet, as I am still checking out the dogs, and the kiddy-kins in the strollers, instead of checking out the hot semi-nekkid chicks, because they aren’t yet. There was one gal in a spaghetti strap top on one of the milder days, and to that I say, you go grrl. Hubba-hubba.

You yuppies with the five year old and his training wheels, give me your kid for under five minutes, and a patch of grass and I will teach your urchin on how to ride a bike without those infernal appendages. I didn’t even know there was such a thing, and even I learned with my Dad’s steady hand on the back of the seat (or at least that is what he told me, I don’t think he was holding on most of the time)

To the old codger feeding the crows bread crumbs, I certainly hope it brings you great joy. Not good for the birds, and since they know your gig, your fellow walkers must risk being shat upon (the past pluperfect of shitted, if you didn’t know) by the hoard when they walk past you.

Lastly, good luck to the couple that I presume proposed to each other. There is a huge stump cut about a foot above the ground on the west side of the lake. It was covered with rosebuds, in the shape of a heart, with other petals scattered about the ground. Either that or some folks have more extreme kinks than I do.

Thus concludes my report from Silly Seattle.

Geezer OUT!

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