Yesterday I compulsively stared at my bare arms, protruding from my tank top–the first time they were out and exposed to sun. It was an amazing feeling, akin to peeling off sweaty socks and airing out feet, or blowing on a burn to take away the sting. Seattle, dark and wet, gave us a reprieve with its glowing day of sunshine and 70 degrees. I returned home on Friday with one thing on my agenda: outdoors. Hilevy, Josh, and I lounged around on our front porch for hours and debated everything from Hobbes to politics (very interesting, considering Josh’s sister is one of those easy going Republicans who could possibly be swayed to the liberal side with the right candidate, ala Clinton at the beginning of his reign).

We walked to Mayas and stuffed ourselves with a jumbo plate of fajitas then walked to the sketchy Safeway where large social gatherings around beat up cars were being held in the parking lot. (Josh and I informed Hilevy that last week a teenager fired several rounds into an unmarked cop car in this very parking lot…no one was injured and eventually the police helicopter buzzing over our house at 10:30pm went away). We bought low fat ice cream and then walked a mile or so to burn off our fajitas before eating dessert (at my suggestion).

Every night Josh and I have resumed our ritual of walking two miles a night. I’ve found a lovely route on Waters Ave., east of our home and high up on a hill facing Lake Washington. Here we walk past the last untapped cluster of water front property. Midst the inflated, fancy, houses are several beat down shacks with gorgeous views. The neighborhood is humble, a mix of homes ranging from turn of the century to 80’s ranch houses. One of the homes we walk by is a 900 square foot bungalow with panoramic views for sale for $348,000–a real steal for waterfront property if you don’t mind the cramped space and no yard. This is compared to most property with a view in Seattle that ranks $800,000 and up.

Unlike our neck of the woods, this neighborhood is cleaner and quieter, yet still contains the rustic charm of a neighborhood barely gentrified. People are friendlier, saying hello as we walk past. A fat yellow cat visits us every time we walk past his house–trotting after us for a block before turning back to his front porch. Josh and I ooh and aah over many of these homes with elaborate decks facing the water and wistfully comment how great it would be to gaze at the view every night.

When we reach the end of the long road, we turn back around, and notice how the closer you get to our house the more abandon houses we see, garbage starts to litter the ground (including a huge used condom splat in front of our walk way), and little rat-sized dogs bark and snap at us as we walk by. We become fiercely proud of our home, sitting on our mismatched street; some houses are well taken care of and others lie in a state. The only person we know on our block is the people that sold us the home next door. Cars bumping with bass stare at us as we walk down the street. The more we walk the more of a staple of the hood we become, a fixture of the neighborhood. Every night we pass through a crowd of Polynesians who have emerged into the evening after a church service in Tongan. The men smoke in a big circle while the children play in the church’s front yard. They part for us to pass on the sidewalk, a little awkward and out of place we pick up our pace and walk past them. Our policy of saying ‘hello’ to whoever we pass on our walk is put on hold…we don’t want to interrupt their conversations.
If it is a nice night we sit on our porch; Josh drinks a beer and I allow Hobbes to roam outside at dusk. We remark on the odd design of the house across the street, guessing that it’s had at least three major additions. The house next door has cemented a curb at the foot of their driveway. We are endlessly baffled by this decision: why curb your driveway? Why park on the street instead? Our hope is that they will remove their enormous driveway and turn it into a beautiful front lawn. We want to see the grass mowed too, even though our own lawn lay in a state of wet dandelion infestation for quite some time and we know we’re being hypocritical. We want the bare chain link fences to be replaced by quaint picket fences and our neighbor’s parked car collection to shrink. We want people to use trash bags so that when cans tip over the trash doesn’t sail freely into our front bushes. We wonder why it is so beautiful four blocks to the east of us and so dangerous four blocks to the north or west. Is the water really that powerful? We see homes for sale on our street and wonder who will move into them…