Claire C.

I woke up this morning groggy, with many fewer clothes on than what I went to bed wearing, and the face of my tuxedo cat inches from my own.

"Meow," she told me, her pitch whiney and pathetic. She blinked at me while I stood, used the little girls' room, and wobbled into the kitchen, rubbing the bruise I got on my shoulder from running into the doorhandle at the gas station after a mad dash to FedEx and then to the bank last night. Since there was food in her bowl, I can only imagine that she was reporting on what I already knew:

It's hot in Seattle.

Wait, no, let me rephrase: It's FREAKIN' hot in Seattle.

Sigh. For a city that's used to muggy days and rain falling on our heads in droves, this summer's heatwave has been murderous to our way of life, our work, and naturally, our moods. Most of the houses and apartments here are built without air conditioning, mostly because our "summer" usually lasts all of two weeks at some point at the end of July or early August.

The ActiveRain offices have been affected, too. Today will be our hottest day ever in the history of Seattle, and yesterday's build-up to that point was evidenced by the hollow, shadowed eyes that our workers came in with, indicating that the heat had made their sleep restless and unfulfilling. Joel stated that he was just going to sleep in his pool from now on, while Kerrie railed against the heat -- admitting that she'd left the windows open all day the day before.

It's interesting to be detached from the bulk of the office, as shut up as I am in my own little square of space in the corner. They laugh about me having bionic ears because I can hear every detail of every conversation out there, but as the heat ratchets higher and people get less sleep, their moods are changing, tempers are flaring faster, some are more ADD than usual.

I guess it's fair to say that the AR Staff is just as human as the rest of the world. Most of us are aware that we're tired or feeling stressed or just unfocused, but it's so hard to keep on the straight and pleasant narrow when you just can't seem to get enough shut-eye or when you walk outside and Washington's turned into Texas for some ungodly reason.

We've been under an excessive heat watch and a non-precipitation warning for the better part of the week (I have a plug-in on my firefox that shows me these lovely things), and fires are cropping up around the state caused by lightning storms and other threats to the environment. People are toting two or three bottles of water at once to stave off heat exhaustion.

My vet even recommended that I shave my short- and medium-hair cats.

I'm fully convinced that my hometown has gone more and more insane as the mercury rises; honestly, for the sake of the office and my coworkers, I can only hope that it cools down soon so that we can all get some rest and stay hydrated. I think I speak for everyone when I say, "Give us some rain, already!"

If you all know me by now, you know that I care a great deal about the community I live in, and that I love my kitties, who were both rescued from shelters.

The Seattle Animal Shelter recently had a huge dryer fire at their facilities on 15th Avenue, causing them to lose a lot of their stock of textiles to help comfort and pad the temporary homes of the cats and dogs there. I realize no one may be able to donate a new commercial dryer to them, but they are asking (nigh, begging, pleading, with scores of big, sad puppies with big, sad puppy-dog eyes) for donations of towels and blankets to the shelter to restock.

Luckily, they didn't lose any actual animals during the fire, but some had to be relocated to foster homes for the time being, due to lost space and cleanup.

If you are in the Seattle Area and you can send (by post) or drop off donations, please do! Here's the info:

Address: 2061 15th Ave West, Seattle, WA 98119
Shelter Hours: Monday-Sunday, 12:00-6:00pm, Closed for Holidays
Telephone: (206) 386-PETS (7387) main / (206) 386-4285 fax

I'll be taking a load over there myself - my towels have seen better days, but I'm sure there's a puppy out there who would rather lay on it instead of a bare kennel.

One of the best things about blogging is that you have the interactive tools to not only hold a decent discussion with others who are interested in you and your life, but that you also can do it at the touch of a button.

I recall back when I hosted my first webpage; I had a template in a file called RMC and everytime I wanted to post an article, I pulled out ye olde template and cut and pasted my content into it, then uploaded it to my hosted space.

Thank goodness it's not that difficult now.

In response to the questions about the view out my window from this article, here is my photo of the St. James Cathedral. Although not directly out my window, this was sure a pretty sight as I left my apartment on Sunday afternoon. The sky was so blue and the sun was shining off the steeple's immaculate white exterior... I'm not a religious girl, but yesterday was the perfect day for angels to sunbathe.

With all of the trees around the neighborhood turning shades of fall, soon they'll all be bare, and I'll get to take "Wintertime in Seattle" pictures.. they tend to be cold and beautiful. I'm not much of a photographer, but now and again, a scene does strike me.

What is outside of YOUR windows that you so often overlook? St. James rings their bells every Sunday, hour by hour, and to announce births, deaths, and weddings. They also ring it in the evening as the sun goes down, as if to tell everyone to get indoors, that it's time to wind down for the day. I love churchbells; having grown up in Spokane, to this day, the Clocktower's bells still make me smile when I'm in the vicinity.

Coming over the I-90 Bridge from the north is one of those small, simple pleasures I take after a hard day of writing with my fellow authors up in Everett. You see, right before the bridge, traffic tends to slow down while people decide whether to take the Express lanes or not. I'm unperturbed, myself, because as the bridge's incline sharpens and traffic comes to its peak, one must only look slightly to their right to see the most gorgeous city on the planet: Seattle.

While living on the East Coast, I heard those New Englanders down my city because "the only thing special about that skyline is the Space Needle". Now, I'm not a quiet person; unfortunately, the crew here at ActiveRain gets to hear me speak my mind when there's something on it (Sorry, guys!), and it's a well-known fact that even during my interview, I told them that I don't mince words. So I told those New Englanders what I really thought about their opinions: You've obviously never been to Seattle.

The Space Needle is Seattle. It's part of our skyline. In fact, I'm not the only one who's miffed about the fact that Las Vegas tried to replicate it! (Fie, Las Vegas, fie!) Bottom line, though? The Space Needle is not the only thing to look at. No. If you come over the I-90 bridge in the early or the very late hours, watch how many colors we have in the sunrise and sunset. Those clouds that pour rain on us turn a brilliant menagerie of gorgeous, eye-catching shades, and on a clear day...on a clear day, there's sky forever, colors forever, and with the buildings standing tall and proud against it, the city is ever-quiet as you enjoy the painting before you.

Walking around downtown, I often find myself walking around slow walkers with their necks craned back so that they can see this or that. On eye-level, Seattle looks like a small-town city with some very big hills and sure, there's some water somewhere. It's very quaint, with venues and restaurants everywhere, a huge, glass-encased library, and tons of cute little corner stores. These neck-craners, the ones my sister and I lovingly refer to as 'tourists', tend to get caught up in the overhead structures of skyscrapers, epic construction sites, and the immense, immaculate beauty found in glass, steel, and concrete.

My Seattle's walkability, quiet cityscape, and awe-inspiring natural -- and sometimes unnatural -- beauty are just a few reminders of why people flock from all over the country to live here. My Seattle is a burbling spring of human activity, a quiet, metal forest in the world of man, and has a funky, technicolor skyline to trump all of those snobby, nose-in-the-air, East-Coast skylines.

Personally, I think they're just jealous of our Space Needle. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

So many people who live in this fantastic city whine and moan about the traffic problems. I'm not one of them. I've lived many places all over the country, one of them being Washington, D.C. (Second Worst Traffic in the Country, according to studies run late last year); while there, I worked in Bethesda and lived in Baltimore. Overall, it was about a 50 mile commute during Washington, D.C.'s rush hour, taking me anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour and a half to get to and from work.

I learned the meaning of patience doing that commute for a year, but I loved both cities and loved my job, so I gritted my teeth and did the stop-and-go traffic. Moving to Seattle after doing that commute for so long was a breath of fresh air; the motorists are exceedingly polite, people understand the definition of the word "merge", and motorcyclists are not the crazy, death-defying speed-demons that I'm used to, cutting me off and crossing four lanes at a time.

With today's launch of Localism, and after about a week of laboriously hand-approving posts from around the country, I found myself inspired and mystified by the sheer knowledge that is stacking up on that site. We have a lot of extremely intelligent agents writing about the place they know best: Home. Unfortunately, I was sorely disappointed that my favorite neighborhood was sadly unrepresented in the vast scheme of knowledge that is currently being compiled.

Downtown Seattle is not the traffic chaos that people make it out to be. Those of us homegrown Seattleites will tell you that yes, the traffic sucks, solely because there are so many cars on the road. To that, I say pish tosh. I say: Look around you! I do, everyday, and usually, what I see are the transplant Seattleites tightly sealed into their hybrid vehicles with the A/C gusting through their hair and their sunglasses blocking out the natural light that we so rarely see throughout the year.

There are a few, though, a few of us homegrown Seattleites, who are like me. They have their windows down, their music up, the wind rushing through their hair, and they're singing. Sure, they may be singing the worst possible version of the latest boy band craze or some organic alternative song from the nether reaches of Olympia, but they're singing. To them, this scene is perfect. I'll tell you... we live in the most beautiful city in the country. Those of us who know this are the ones who have the urge to pull over on the I-90 bridge to watch the water as it waves against the concrete. We're the ones who hear the gulls and smile. We're the ones who can't wait for traffic to slow down a little so we can smell the salt in the air as it breezes through the car windows.

Transplant Seattleites, the ones who have moved here from other places, whine about the rain when it comes, but they forget how much the rain makes us appreciate the sunlight when we have it. Those of us who are born and raised on oysters and Dungeness are the ones who will tell you that Seattle isn't about the rain or the traffic. It isn't about the clogged highway or the sealed up, air-conditioned vehicles. Seattle is a sprawling mecca of natural beauty and a showcase for the simple luxuries that we all take for granted: clean air, blue water, and brilliant, unfiltered sunlight.

That's my Seattle. That's my Downtown. Why do I <3 Seattle? Because happiness is standing on the I-9 bridge, eyes closed, face misty with the spray off the water, the wind whirling around you, and the gulls calling. My Seattle has traffic problems, but they pale in comparison to the earthly wonders that we are so lucky to have on our proverbial doorsteps.