So it's something to look forward to because even in Seattle, my rainy home town, August is a reliably splendid month. I want to bask in sunlight all month long. I picked a nice lemon yellow for this month's colors, as you can see. It's more or less the color I painted my room the summer before I started high school. Bright yellow walls, bright yellow built-in desk, brown and yellow and rust shag carpet. I don't remember the bedspreads, but I'm sure they were obnoxiously cheerful. It was great, like living in the center of the sun (except for the shag carpet which I now find suspect, but hey, it was 1972, man). My mother hated my room and wouldn't come in unless she had to. Poor Mom. She painted everything white after I went to college.

I haven't seen the house in years. My parents sold it in 1983 and I haven't bothered going back to the island to look at it more than once since then. I was in Seattle over the weekend, so I could have, but my nostalgia centers more around the university district these days. I practically swoon when I see my old sorority and all the buildings on campus. But I reserve my loudest exclamations for the stores that are still operating on the Ave in the same locations as 24 years ago when I started college. It amazes me at how little has changed since I was a student and supplementing my bare apartment furnishing with cheap posters and rag rugs from Pier 1.

I stayed with Janice Murray and Alan Rosenthal as I usually do, and we were ravenous, as we usually are on a Friday night, so after I greeted all five cats and admired the hydrangeas, we went out for a steak dinner at the Wedgewood. Talk about places that haven't changed; I used to eat there when I was a student, and it can't be any different since my grandmother's day. That is why I love it so, that and the enormous shrimp Caeser salads.

At dinner I listened to the saga of the house Jan and Alan tried to buy. They signed on a gorgeous place. The agent and the lawyers were tidying things up. The owners moved out. A week later the owners decided they wanted their place back. Howls of anguish. The agent said he expected to get paid anyway since he did his job. Janice despaired. Alan was ready to just give in, but the agent said no, the owners ought to pay a penalty to get it back. So the agent negotiated, and the owners wound up paying all the associated costs of the original deal, plus a penalty of $9000. "Easiest money I ever made in 10 days," Alan said laconically. They would rather have had the house, though.

Saturday Janice and I went downtown so I could inspect the hotels ("Do those windows look like they open?") and do some shopping. Fortuitously, Nordstrom's was having their annual sale. I hadn't seen the new store since they took over the old Frederick&Nelson's directly across the street from the Bon Marche (the shopping meccas of my youth), and jazzed it up considerably. We had a successful shopping trip. Of course, none of the things I bought were actually on sale, but I scored four dresses which is a not inconsiderable thing. Giddy with victory, we exited and discovered the streets were being lined hours early for the traditional SeaFair Torchlight Parade. Vast quantities of people swirled around the Westlake Mall and the streets nearby. Many balloon vendors were in evidence, and there was much blowing of long plastic horns. "Sounds like a bunch of lovesick moose," Janice said drily, and shot withering looks at a boy who let out a blart on his horn right in her ear. We left the circus and genteely inspected the Cavanaugh, stopped by the new Symphony Hall, and went into the gift shop at the Seattle Art Museum. Everywhere I stopped to shop the clerks would say chirpily, "So, whatcha gonna do the rest of the afternoon? The parade? Been to the museum yet? Checked out the new stadium?" I was slightly disgruntled to be mistaken for a tourist, despite actually being one.

Shopping instincts aroused, we drove back to the U. District to the justly famous Gargoyle Sanctuary. It's an amazingly little shop filled from floor to ceiling with gargoyles, and dragons, and Green Men, and weeping angels, and all the gothic accoutrements anyone could wish for. It's all dark and ooky, and has several fountains going, and peacefully eerie music playing, and the only thing they're missing is a resident cat. They really ought to have one. But anyway, we mooched around there for a while, and I bought my long-suffering coworker a dragon for her computer as a thank you gift for handling my work after I left early on Friday. I pondered wrestling home one of the smaller gargoyles, but opted to save John from an onslaught of goth sensibility. It wouldn't match our relentlessly cheerful decor, anyway.

"This is my favorite kind of vacation," I said happily as we sat around the house that evening. "Lots of shopping, food, drink, and gossip." We gossiped specifically about Clarion West graduates, as I think it's been the kiss of death for several friends of mine who have basically stopped writing fiction after finishing the course. We discussed who would make a good fan guest of honor for Orycon. We dissected the personalities of mutual friends. Janice lit several large candles and we sat in the flickering light talking until midnight at which point we all turned into pumpkins. Very gothic of us.

Sunday we heaved out of bed at the crack of dawn, which is to say 10 o'clock, and dragged ourselves over to a farewell dim sum breakfast given by Jon Singer. Jon is a polymath, and a terrific guy, who is off to the east coast for six months to research pottery, lasers, and whatever else crosses his mind thanks to a gift from a philanthropist. The dim sum was acceptable, and the company was great. I caught up with long time Seattle pals Cliff Wind, Jerry Kaufman, Suzle, and Stu Shiffman. Cliff and I commiserated on neither of us having anyone we went to school with go on to become famous. I guess Montlake Terrace and Mercer Island just weren't hotbeds of genius.

With a mere four hours left before my plane, I had begged Janice to go with me to the Mariners' game at the brand new Safeco Stadium (wretched name; how I hate these years of corporate ballpark names). We planned to try for leftover tickets at the window, but someone at the breakfast gave us free tickets. Score! They were in the nosebleed section but it really didn't matter. I was thrilled to be in the new ballpark. It's utterly high tech. The interior is marvelous because you can see out onto the field from wherever you are whether walking along to your row or standing in line to buy something. The seats are all comfortable, and there's a cup holder for every seat. The video and audio is flawless. The food looked yummy, but we were full so we passed up Ivar's Acres of Clams. I bet they don't have garlic fries to match Candlestick's, though.

It was a good, if unexciting, game up until the 8th inning when Seattle surged ahead to sweep the Orioles for the first time in 23 years. By that time I was on my way back to the airport, but I listened to it on the radio. The weather was radiant all weekend, a distinct change from the previous 16 weeks or so. The same thing happened when I went to Portland for Memorial Day. I am the bringer of good weather. It comes from living in the center of the sun.

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