A guy in his sixties, bald on top, long hair pulled back at the sides of his head into a pony tail, dressed completely in denim, flushed face, slightly protruding eyes. I should have checked for cowboy boots. I look at how I'm travelling today, denim as well, grey hair, black socks and shoes, even a dark blue T-shirt under the denim shirt. How much of a cartoon do I look mixed in with the others? Who might conceivably care and, if so, why? Young women with tattoos on their arms, sometimes their hands and more than once on their back, just below the neck at the top of the shoulder blades. Have no idea how her generation perceives these, how exotic or pedestrian tattoos might have become. Are they something young women do to kill a summer afternoon before they start high school in the Fall? Styles change. Hip moves on.

The plane is full, the Seattle airport is full and I should have made a car reservation before I left. Worked out all right when they discovered I wanted to rent one over the weekend, but stupid. Place was packed. Place is probably always packed, will be packed and probably was packed when I was there last except I just didn't remember. Spent five minutes sitting in the dark figuring how to adjust the seats and exterior mirrors before I could start it and get out on the highway. A disadvantage, perhaps, of owning and driving a 20 year old antique. Arrive in Seattle at my aunt's house in Ballard, say hello to my aunt and my mother who has been staying with my aunt while my sister and her family are out of town on vacation.

My cousin Denny came by and provided the subject for the picture. On this laptop screen I have no idea what it will look like up on the web, but I'll find out next week when I return. Meanwhile, bed, some sleep and then some pictures.