Mukilteo, WA

 

Something about the rhythm of the ocean speaks to me--the calls of the seagulls, the colors of the water and the sky meeting somewhere in the distance, the sting in the air, the waves constantly coming in or going out.  Not the sand.  Ew.  But everything else is almost magical to me.

Friday morning I awoke EARLY and couldn't go back to sleep, so I crept out of bed, slithered the computer and my case studies out of my bag, and snuggled myself into a chair by the window as I watched the colors of morning overtake the darkness of night.

I watched the ferry come back and forth, fully of commuters (and school children) up even earlier than I.

Brad and I had a leisurely breakfast as we plotted out our day.  First order of business: buy me a decent jacket, hat, gloves, and scarf.  I may think the ocean is beautiful, but February in Washington is very different from February in Arizona, and I always manage to underpack warm stuff. I'm sure my bundled-up appearance revealed that I was a tourist (no more so than Brad's ASU sweatshirt).

The seagulls are well-trained scavengers up there, coming just close enough for taste after taste.  

Our hotel had the best walk around the piers.

AZ folk are unaccustomed to timing their travels to the ferry's schedule, so we found ourselves with almost an hour between boat and nothing to do.  We drove around the community, admired homes and yards and  . . . 

 . . . I had to take this shot at the park.  Love that scowly man.

 There is something so amazing to me about driftwood and the beauty of the water-battered wood.

Brad found this log trapped on the rocks and his first thought was: "You know I gotta push that into the water, right?" Then he tried to push that water-sodden log into the ocean, and he gave up about a foot short.  It was way heavier than it looked.

For someone who gets motion sickness fairly often, I was surprised how much Brad loves to ride the ferries. I remained cozy and warm in the car.

We did rent a Fiat 500 for the trip, and I knew that after driving it for the weekend I'd be able to convince Brad to buy one.  After riding in that baby car for less than an hour, the car had convinced ME that our Suburban is a much better fit.

I still have a Cooper on my list, though . . .