I love mornings. They mean a fresh start, the quiet of a day full of potential. Sometimes Nico can convince me not to get out of bed, but when I’m feeling really ambitious, my favorite mornings start with a refreshing run around Green Lake or along the waterways of the Burke Gilman trail.¬†IMG_2988This is Nico’s “I’m being too cute for you to get out of bed… right?” look.

IMG_3428Sunrise over Lover’s Cove, Catalina Island – another one of my favorite runs.





I haven’t lived in an apartment very long. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life in a house, and from there I moved on to dorms, the occasional hostel, and back home. I’ve been living in this apartment ¬†since June and, safe to say, have had my fair share of hiccups already. My place is perfect for my needs – a 350 sq. foot studio with a deck for myself and my 10-lb chihuahua. I’m totally happy with it, except for one small problem: it’s brand new.

Why is a brand new apartment building a problem? Hiccups. There was that time, or four, when the fire alarm went off in the wee hours of the morning, with no actual fire. Then there was that other time when the carbon monoxide alarm went off while I was in the shower, and I almost ran downstairs in a towel.

Recently, however, I had quite the amusing incident. Amusing, embarrassing… a little bit of both. The other night I was making some tea. I have an electric kettle, and I happened to also be running my fan and have the lights on, which appeared to be too much for the meagre electrical capabilities of my unit; my fuse blew. This is nothing new for me – over the summer I blew the fuse an average of twice per week. So I did what I always do – went down to room 101, where the fuse box is, and opened the door. This time, however, instead of finding an empty unit… the lights were on. There was a pot on the stove. While my brain registered that someone had clearly moved into this unit, which used to be empty, my body couldn’t stop opening the door, and I found myself face-to-face with the brand new resident of unit 101, who had apparently forgotten to lock his door. I doubt he’ll ever make that mistake again, and while he was both gracious and understanding, I’m fairly certain my face had turned the vague shade of a tomato.

Lesson learned? Knock on doors before entering. Also, don’t make tea after dark or when running the fan.

When I lived back east, Fall was my favorite season because of the incredible colors. Now that I live in a city notorious for it's gray-ness, I've been finding those saturated colors elsewhere. In Wallingford, my little corner of Seattle, murals pepper the city, and you might catch the occasional turned leaf down at Gas Works and Green Lake! Wallingford, in a mural:   Pumpkins at QFC:IMG_3724