I awoke in Donkee's million-dollar house this morning. (I knew him when it was only worth a quarter mil, don'tcha know.) He kissed me and left for work. The house, and the city, were mine.

I looked around for acceptable breakfast food, but didn't really find anything, so I walked the two blocks to Broadway. This is the heart of Seattle's gay community, and honey, there are a hundred visuals to prove it on every block.

I forgot how convenient and frustrating it is to live here. I'm two blocks from Vivace, my bank, Julia's for brunch, Jai Thai for dinner, and Noah's Bagels should I feel a little less a shiksa (Yiddish: שיקסע) than usual.

I hit the ATM and then walked across the parking lot to Vivace.



I got a double tall decaf nonfat latté. I know, no fun, but I really can taste the coffee this way, and it's already too hot for a hot drink. Another block down I went into the QFC and got a Brown Cow peach yogurt. Breakfast is served.

I overlooked the garbage, the overflow of all the things people use and discard in a city life. I passed by the woman begging with her neatly lettered sign. I ignored tantalizing consumer goods beckoning from windows every twenty feet. I had my coffee. I was set.

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The city will be warm today. Like so many days in this unusual summer, it will also be overcast and muggy. It's as if someone transplanted Nebraska's June weather, but without the nice parts like thunderous lightning storms and fireflies.

I have a date for brunch with CopMan. This birthday thing gets to be quite nice in one's forties.

School at one o'clock, then home to rest. A girl can only take so much indulgence.