Year in Pictures in Review: Part 2 (August Through December)

AUGUST

My little neighborhood held its first block party.





I suspected Little & Lewis my have my very favorite private garden in the area.





I took a lot of evening walks.



And drank a lot of French white wine, sometimes in my handmade Rubaiyat shoes.







Our plum tree produced an abundance of fruit.





And I made many ginger plum crisps.



I started planting the rock wall with sedums and heathers.





I visited Ciscoe's yard toward the end of its glory.





And found some awesome porn in the attic.



SEPTEMBER

We went to the Bridge Motel party.













We found a sign in our attic.



And I watched this Joan Jett video a lot.



OCTOBER

I got a new camera!





I take more, better photos inside the Brew House.







And of course I did the Halloween tour of Georgetown.





NOVEMBER

I take a lot fewer photos when the days get short.

The Great Stuff antique shop in Georgetown.



Kubota Gardens.







DECEMBER

It snowed.



I ate a crepe at Hangar Cafe. I'm thinking about it still.



We went to the Georgetown Holiday Art Walk.



I got these.



And I think I might be just about done with photos for the year.

Year in Pictures in Review: Part 1 (April Through July)

Back in March, I started this blog because I so loved the neighborhood photo essays in Chuck B.'s Whoreticulture blog. Every day I'd show my admiration through tipsy responses to his posts about Bernal Heights in San Francisco, and soon I decided my flattery needed to be even more sincere, so I ripped off his blog and started this one.

In fact, this very post is based on an idea I stole from him.

MARCH

This was before I started uploading my photos to Flickr, so the pictures all look like crap. I won't bother reposting any of them here. However, I'll reprint my winning entry from a dirty limerick contest at a gay St. Patrick's Day birthday party I attended that month:

Our friend Sonny's exceedingly hot
The boys they all like him a lot
And the girls, how they sigh
With a tear in their eye
When they find out he doesn't like twat

APRIL

April was the month that I started taking lots of pictures of Georgetown.



April was also the month that I started stalking Ciscoe Morris. This is not really true. I just like taking pictures of his planting strip.



This is not a particularly good or interesting photo, but it features the plant genus that I have been obsessed with this year. Whenever I see it in bloom, I'm stunned by just how blue it is. Ceanothus!



MAY

This month it seems like I did nothing but take pictures of the darling buds of May.

Joy Creek Nursery in Scappoose, Oregon.





My yard.



And Ciscoe's yard, of course.







Over Memorial Day weekend, we visited Rich Art's yard in Centralia.







JUNE

In June, the Georgetown dump proposal was killed.

I took more pictures Ciscoe's yard.





Beacon Hill held its first garden walk.





And Georgetown had a carnival.







JULY

July was a month of firsts.

I learned how to use the closeup button on my point-and-shoot.





I visited Hartstene Island and spent over $30 on a bottle of wine.



I toured the Rainier Cold Storage Building.



We built a handsome little fence.



And we went to Toronto for no good reason.

Crocodile Tears

I think I agree with Seattlest's view on the closing of the Crocodile Cafe earlier this week.

Clubs aren't taverns; they don't grow finer with age. It's better to have a steady, sustainable turnaround of clubs and venues. It helps keep the music scene itself from stagnating and compartmentalizing. There's nothing more depressing than a club reaching mythic 'legendary' status with 45-year-old, original patrons -- trying to relive old memories -- throwing lecherous glances at the 16-year-old noobs who go there because it's the cool place to be. The best thing that can happen for a club is to close before it gets tired and becomes a caricature of itself. Clubs best live on in the slightly hazy, alcoholic fog of memories of past patrons.

The Three Imaginary Girls are asking for your favorite Crocodile memories, and people are listing full lineups of shows they loved.

I've been to the Crocodile plenty of drunken times, but I don't think I can remember a single full lineup that I've seen there. However, one memory does stand out, not because of the show itself but because of an embarrassing conversation I had about it the next day:

A few years ago I told a coworker about my previous night out, at one of the Three Imaginary Girls' Christmas shows.

I told the person: "I don't remember a lot, but I do remember getting up onstage and singing 'We Are the World.' Oh my God, I must have been really drunk. Oh, yeah, I got free drink tickets because I won a dance contest!"

Another coworker who'd also been in attendance overheard us and reminded me: "You were the only contestant."