Originally published June 2012
Edited May 2013 to include the latest scariness, intrepidly snapped by my daughter:
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| Mmrrwwwaarr |
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| Mmrrwwwaarr |
After a serial killer imitates the plots of his novels, successful mystery novelist Richard "Rick" Castle gets permission from the Mayor of New York City to tag along with an NYPD homicide investigation team for research purposes. A "guy's guy", he proves popular with the male team members, but immediately offends the sensibilities of the team leader, Detective Kate Beckett. Though she'll never admit it, he slowly wins her over with his innovative approach to crime solving. He brings to the table skills the others don't have: contacts in Manhattan high society, free-form creative thinking, and years of developing believable fictional characters that have inadvertently molded him into a natural criminal profiler. But life is not all crime fighting adventure for this wealthy playboy: his relationship with Beckett becomes even more strained when he unveils a new series of detective novels featuring a racy character based on her, and his home life is dominated by his mother (a fading Broadway diva) and his whip-smart teen-aged daughter.
Tiffy's death anniversary approaches again, and I'm wishing we had a space we could visit when we are thinking about her, maybe want to talk to her. I always envision something like a columbarium, such as this one, but one that isn't sealed. Something we can add pieces of, memories of, Tiffy as we are able. I don't think this is what they're used for, though.
According to the website, Seattle's "Rock Box" (located off Pine Street in Capital Hill) offers the experience of "Rocking like a salary-man". Well, this salary-woman had seen enough Japanese and Korean TV shows where a group of people sing really bad karaoke in a private room -- slamming back drinks and appetizers -- that she really wanted to try it, too.![]() |
[More pictures to come.] |