Every day I’ve been purposely walking 3 miles–specifically around Seward Park. Unlike my usual stroll around the hood, there are no cars, no decrepit houses, no streets to cross. The water gently laps up against the edge of the peninsula occasionally, prompting me to actually remove my headphones and listen. Covered park shelters turn into company picnics along the way, ducks march around looking for food, children wade cautiously after them. Rain threatens overhead all the time as the World’s Worst Summer Weather continues. Across the way I can see Mercer Island in all its splendor, so close to the park I can almost touch it. I-90 is in the distance, roaring along. To the south I can barely make out Boeing’s manufacturing plants.

My cat is out of food so she’s been eating sushi grade tuna out of a can. The can was a gift from someone a few weeks ago–tuna caught in Kingston, WA. It’s not like I meant to give her this big treat, merely time and forgetfulness has prompted this decadence. Companionably I eat the tuna right alongside her, whole, straight from the container; all the Omega Fatty acids, Vitamin E, and other tuna goodness seeping in. Outside, my tomato plants sag from the weight of the rain. Unhappy, yellowing, some of the leaves are spotted. Green tomatoes dangle next to red ones, I fear they will never come to term.