Well, that was some kind of Seafair hangover my friends. Our new house is about a foot-and-a-half away from Stan Sayers, aka "the pits," at Seafair. So it's been four days of rumbling hydroplane engines, truck-backing-up-beeps, fire-truck squeals, airplane artistry (or whatever you call it when they zig-zag around and do loopty-loops), kick-ass fighter jets, and window-rattling fireworks at 10:30pm. Yowsa. It's eerie how quiet it is now.
Since we live so close to the action and our street gets closed down, we got "neighborhood passes" and VIP pit access. That means we get up-close-and-dirty with the real hydro fans, baby. So Ed and I packed Ruby into the bjorn and headed into the thick of it, the heart of middle-America rednecky-ness. We boldly entered the hyhyhyhydrodrodrodro pitspitspitspits. And, as you might have guessed, hydro fans really know how to put together an ensemble! Enjoy the eye candy and try not to overheat yourselves with lust.
PS--I had Ed pulling "Say Anything" maneuvers so I wouldn't be too obv with the camera. So whenever you see Ed either on the far side or standing in the foreground in front of a real winner, that's why.
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