A geek in a black dress.

So Good Sister asked a couple of days ago for the info that she'd need to set up a wire transfer. I got it to her, natch. It's so nice to talk to her on the phone when she's not stressing about something related to Mom, living or dead. The last time that happened was what, 2017?

And I even found something out about Evil Sister. She's moved out into the country, but she didn't change jobs, so now she's got a commute that's about 30 miles (50 km) each way. Even when I had a car I would have considered that bananas, but I'm a city girl to the bone.

And on the subject of big cities, here in the upper left corner of the coterminous US I'm preparing to visit the upper right corner: New York City. I've booked a COVID shot. I know that A-at-the-Merc told me that all the fun is in Brooklyn & Queens, but that's musical fun. The museums, queer stuff, and kinky stuff are still mainly in Manhattan, so I'm keeping my hotel reservation there. If, Goddess willing, the house closes and I suddenly end up with a fat stack of cash, I may spring for someplace nicer.

Besides, I'm not afraid to use a MetroCard should I feel a dire need to get to the outer boroughs*. But in truth, the one place far afield that I really want to go to is QXT's, a giant Goth joint in Newark, NJ. (!) A says it's the stuff, and I'm inclined to believe her. It's near a commuter train station, apparently, but more research is needed.



*That's right, kids, I'm hip to the Big Apple lingo.

I have a tiny little front yard garden. It came with a couple of sourwood trees, half a dozen oakleaf hydrangeas, "Sky Pencil" Japanese holly, and two one species of bush that I haven't identified yet. (Yeah, I know there's an app for that. The Tickler has it, so I can ask them.)

What's interesting, though, is the ecological succession. When I first moved in, I had lots of bare bark mulch and plenty of golden orb weaver spiders. The spiders are no longer quite so prominent, and clover covers most of the bark mulch now. I haven't tried to remove the clover because a) that would be too much work, b) the bees love it, and c) I don't have anywhere near enough capacity in my little yard waste bin for it. Seriously, I fill that bin weekly for months in the spring & summer as it is just pulling up dandelions & thistles. The Tickler says they've never seen clover grow as tall as it does at my place, and I haven't either.

But wait! There's more! Willowherb, with tiny pink flowers, is a native plant that's volunteered in the last couple of years. I'm also leaving it alone because pretty.

And then, over just the last year, the yarrow arrived in grand style. It's now taller than I am, with plenty of inflorescences. Its biomass rivals the clover, so I'm leaving it alone for the same reasons as the clover.

At this point it's all I can do to keep the lavenders I planted from getting choked by clover or shaded by yarrow. I replaced some hydrangeas with lavender because the former don't handle the dry summers nearly as well. Indeed, a common theme here is drought tolerance: lavender and yarrow come through the dry Seattle summer (yes, we have them) without any trouble, the clover and willowherb turn brown but bounce right back in the spring, and the poor hydrangeas & Japanese hollies just burn unless they get lots of shade. I replaced the sun-damaged holly with oregano & thyme back in the spring, to my great satisfaction.

Since clover is a legume, I can't help wonder if the symbiotic nitrogen fixation that happens in legumes (the subject of my dad's Ph.D. thesis!) is preparing the way for species like willowherb and, more dramatically, yarrow.

That stupid cold — my COVID test came up negative — made up in brevity for what it lacked in manners. Good thing, too, because I'd like to be social this evening without spreading the ick. Maybe Shin Black ramen with fishcake helped me recover quickly.

Meanwhile, on the opposite coast, the offers and counter-offers for Mom's house have been flying. Work was busy yesterday, so between meetings I was sneaking a peek at documents and frantically signing them. If we lost a sale because if I was too slow and Good Sister flew out here and cut me into easy-to-carry sections, no jury would convict her at this point.

Good Sister is scrambling to find an electrician to get all the outlets working in Mom's house. One of the contractors ran into an issue, and GS tells me that niece E had found non-functional outlets months ago at least. Oh by the way, since those are (mostly?) the original outlets from 1974, they look unattractively old. GS already had GFIs installed, which weren't there originally: if memory serves, they weren't required until 1975.

My sister has already gone through the informal hiring route — a co-worker of E's, as I recall — and found it wanting. There may be an open house this weekend, so the pressure is on. However, our agent is sanguine, and Good Sister says that interest in the place is robust.

But y'know, it just sort of figures that there'd be one last damn thing having to do with Mom and her house. I'm honestly amazed that GS limited her venting to maybe a minute; she's certainly earned more.

She wanted to know what price ranges I was willing to accept. I'm deeply unwilling to be a hardass because a) I don't feel like gambling with stakes this high, and b) I don't want my poor middle sister to have an aneurysm because I dragged this out too long. I don't know what Evil Sister's feelings are on the subject, but I'm pretty sure there are limits to her evil.

I got around to something that I'd been meaning to for years: I finally rode Miss Indigo Bike across the SR 520 floating bridge*. The current bridge there opened in 2017, complete with a lane for peds & bikes, which the previous bridge there lacked. It took me eight years, but I did it.

How'd it go? Well, getting onto the trail involved a few wrong turns and backtracking. There isn't any signage on the Burke-Gilman Trail** telling you how to even go south, much less get on SR-520. The pedestrian-and-bike overpass that gets you safely across the 6-lane arterial has been there for ten years***, but neau, there's no sign telling you how to find it. This looks like a job for a guerrilla.

How's the actual ride? It's a fantastic way to zen all the way out. Bike traffic was light, with a high proportion of serious cyclists, and the weather and the view were right on. And the high rises at the east & west ends aren't that bad, at least if you're used to Phinney Ridge. I stopped at the east end and took a picture, natch. How long did I take? About two hours, including all the doubling back and the break at the far end.

Thence to brunch on the Hill at Lost Lake with Comfy Lady! Her job, in public health, is under direct threat from Trump's gangsters, which... urgh! But otherwise, it was lovely. Happiness is eating outdoors this time of year.

Went home, read, got groceries too delicate for a messenger bag, made dinner, and crashed hard. Seriously, I lay down at about 1930 thinking I'd nap for a couple of hours. I ended up sleeping over nine hours in my clothes & makeup with the blinds & bedroom door still open. I guess the ride caught up with me. Welp, now I know how to cure my own insomnia. Luckily, I didn't have any firm evening plans.



*That's right, kids, a concrete pontoon bridge. We have three of them here in Washington state: two across Lake Washington, which borders Seattle to the east, and one at Hood Canal on the other side of Puget Sound.
**The Burke-Gilman used to be a railroad right of way that got turned into a paved trail not quite fifty years ago. It hugs the waterfront in Seattle's north end, including the University of Washington, for which it's a commuter artery. It runs up the west side of Lake Washington all the way to its northern end.
***The overpass over Montlake Blvd. was built as part of the project for the University of Washington light rail station, and it was an excellent idea. The station is right next to the sportsball stadia. Across from the station is the bulk of the UW campus, of course, and kitty corner is the enormous UW Medical Center. Just south of there is a drawbridge. So yeah, there's a high density and volume of irritated drivers at that intersection, just what you don't want as a bicyclist.