Wallingford Lives
Two events occurred this weekend that damaged our long and strongly held opinion of Wallingford as a sleepy bedroom suburb-within-the-city this weekend. Yes, Wallingford still tears down 4-unit rentals in lieu of 4500 sq ft single-family monstrosities at a prodigious pace, and can only get riled about an issue if it involves people using Gas Works for anything other than leisurely walks, but this weekend it showed signs of life.
First, people used the park. We broke the longboard out of winter storage during a few free minutes and kicked down to Gas Works where we were greeted by summer-sized crowds. It was like a July day had been picked up and dropped on the park in the middle of January. Leisurely walkers, frisbee players, skaters, dog accompaniers and all that sort were flowing into the park as we arrived. It's nice when you think "only an idiot would stay indoors on a day like today" and when get to the park you're surrounded by your fellow non-idiotic Seattleites. There was even some kind of well-scheduled sailboat race going on.
Second--and this counts as a weekend event because the weekend lasts until you show up at work on Monday (or Tuesday, or Wednesday)--someone offered us a bowl hit at the bus stop this morning. It may be a common occurrence elsewhere and could maybe even get annoying if it happened every day, but this morning we took it as a sign that Wallingford can still fog a mirror. Politely declined the bowl, if you were wondering.
Counterexample: the light came on in the one-room condo unit that is directly across from Seattlest's kitchen window. The residence contains one perfectly-made queen-sized bed, one chair, two breakfast bar stools and exactly two personal effects: a holiday basket that sits on the floor and a note that sits on the bed. None of this is ever visible while Seattlest does the dishes--despite our proximity and the lack of any kind of curtains or blinds--unless someone stops by and flips on the light, which they do from time to time. Nothing ever changes, no one ever arrives, nothing's ever moved. The light just goes on and off.
