The word Seattle makes me think of the word Cuttlefish.

This morning I saw miles and miles of mountains, and I wasn't really doing anything out of the ordinary. I was just driving back to Issaquah from downtown Seattle, and for the first time in many, many days there wasn't cloud in the sky, and the visibility was outrageously good. And there in the distance were huge snow capped mountains with jagged peaks, all around me like I was driving in the bowl of some enormous crater. I didn't know they were there before - the constant gray overcastedness of this area has kept the clouds low and the fog pretty heavy. I've talked about the mountains around my house before, but what I didn't know was that beyond that little cluster of mountains was a serious set of mountains, as if my mountains were teenagers who came to ask me out on a date and the mountains in the back were the parents, staying hidden by the fog so the teenager mountains didn't think they were hovering. Or, my mountains were fresh out of mountain college, and the big mountains were hanging back to oversee them and make sure they don't screw up the important task of being mountains. But then this morning, the fog lifted and I got to see that I'm not dealing with the big mountains at all, and the big mountains tried to duck back into the storage closet, but too late. Now I know. That's ok, I don't mind being surrounded by the little mountains. And I know they'll do a good job as long as the big mountains are in the background.