Fortunately the zombie horde proved to be friendly and well organized… this time. You can stand down and put away your CDC-approved zombie response plan.

Organized by Eric Pope of Seattle Zombies, the group met at Westlake Station in Seattle and then traveled to SeaTac Airport on the light rail system.

From there they stumbled and groaned their way to the SeaTac Hilton Conference Center to invade this weekend’s Crypticon horror convention, which runs through tomorrow, Sunday May 29.

If you missed this event but want to know about future opportunities to get your zombie on, be sure to check out the Seattle Zombie website or follow them on Facebook.

Photographer Michael Brunk braved the undead menace to capture these images from the front lines in SeaTac on Friday evening. You can click on individual thumbnails to view them larger.

by Dave Markwell

My day began as it normally does: kind of lousy. In a well-intentioned, but poorly executed attempt to get a head start on my schedule, I tried to focus on some work that needed to be done, while simultaneously waking kids, cooking breakfast, making lunches and screaming. Distracted and tense, I really serve no one very well. My kids get frustrated and upset. My wife gets impatient and mean. My dog hides. And I get little accomplished. Not good for anybody. My salvation may lie in the fact that the sun came out and, along with a nice little warm breeze, it should dry my lawn enough for me to mow. I need this little time out to reset myself.

My lawnmower is an escape hatch from my world of lost socks and spilled orange juice. Its 5.5 horsepower hum provides sanctuary from the chaos and deadlines and bickering. I need a good stint behind my mower. It puts me in a good mood. It is a simple, yet effective, tool for bringing me back where I belong. I love mowing the lawn. I have my best thoughts while walking behind a mower. I enter a wonderful Zen state and head deep into the inner sanctum of my mind where my most important thoughts reside. I gain access to the deep well of ideas and understanding and truth often buried in the shallow concerns of my daily obligations. Mowing the lawn, for me, is meditation in motion. The visceral impact of a tidy lawn with clean, straight lines symbolically, yet tangibly, trims my spirit’s own fuzzy edges that haphazardly spill over onto my mind’s sidewalks. I like a clean edge. Clarity and peace live in a clean edge.

In the often muddy and fragmented world of my thoughts, certainty seems hard to come by. Graciously, my lawnmower meditation strips away the extraneous and burdensome chaff that clogs the machine and I return to where I belong.

I believe we all have a home base, a comfortable couch that settles us in the eye of our daily hurricanes. This place, though we know it exists and where it is, is often overlooked. Life is busy and we are pulled in many directions usually far away from our center. Traveling outside of this zone makes us uneasy and uncomfortable. Fortunately, our soul is closer than we think. It lives in a quiet moment watching the kids play baseball, enjoying a walk with the dogs or even standing over this sink silently washing dishes. It lives in the soft moments of life happening every day. It is easy to look past it, but it is always there, this wonderful and brief moment of self-awareness and insight. Joy and answers are here.

So, today I will dust off the old lawn machine, gas it up and mow. The lines will be straight and the edges will be tight. Today, I think I’ll linger in the gentle and calm eye of my hurricane a little longer than usual, because, without question, I’ll be in the wind again soon enough and that sucker can sure blow hard some days.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

While standing a little closer to the mirror than I am generally comfortable with this morning, I noticed a couple of stray eyebrow hairs sticking straight out like cockroach antennae. I promptly snatched them in my fingers and plucked them. After my eyes stopped watering, I stepped up to the mirror again for further examination. This was not a good idea and proved, again, that ignorance truly is bliss. I have a lot of stray hairs growing in some odd places. I anticipate an exponential increase in this phenomenon in the coming years. Not good.

I call this strange phenomenon the “conservation of hair law”. When faced with the misfortune of seeing the top of my head in some misplaced mirror, I notice my egg-shaped, sparsely covered scalp. The egg size has grown with the passing of my birthdays. While the hair on my dome seems to be leaving me, it is, in actuality, just changing places. The conservation of hair law is in action here. Instead of my head, my hair now finds homes in my nose and ears and on my back and shoulders. The eyebrows seem to be fertile territory as well. I anticipate a future in which I will not need a sun visor due to my eyebrows being so long and unruly that they will shade me just fine, very Andy Rooney-esque. My chest also gets a lot of action.

I don’t do a lot of “manscaping” to combat this. Though, some nominal maintenance is necessary to remain looking like I don’t sleep in a van. For example, to avoid looking like I am smuggling ferret tails, I do trim the chest hairs that creep above my shirt collar. Also, when I notice, I will pull the long nose hairs, that if left unattended, would have me looking a little bit too much like a taller Hitler in no time. I shave the “birds’ nests” on my shoulders so my shirts fit properly and when the long, anomalous neck hair starts to tickle, it goes bye-bye.

I am, gratefully, not terrifically vain about this. Metro-sexuality is a steep climb for me. I consider men who take too much care in how they look a little untrustworthy and a lot unmanly. Long lapses in my grooming exist. I cut my own hair. In fact, I haven’t paid for a haircut in over ten years. I clip my own. I don’t pluck, trim or shave very often. When I do, though, I receive many compliments. People notice when I look put together. I’m not sure if I actually look “good” or just “good for me”, but I don’t really care either way. So, while I am not super vain, I am slightly insecure and I like it when people say nice things to me.

In the future that I hope to be around for, I will, out of necessity, be forced to ramp up my manscaping efforts. The clippers must be well-oiled and sharp. Those coarse, thick old man hairs are probably tough. I hope to get them and find out for sure. By that time, though, it is likely I will have stopped caring much at all about this stuff. I have known many old men and very few well-groomed ones. I suppose there are bigger fish to fry at this point. I say this with reverence and without judgment. I hope, one day, to join this club. It is a good club to belong to. It is filled with rich lives and no pretense and an understanding that only comes with years. This club contains the disheveled and unkempt best that humanity can produce. I want to be president of this club and, as I observe the peculiar new tufts of fur appearing in strange new and unlikely places, I think I’ve got a decent shot.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

I am not a political guy. I don’t follow much international news besides the stuff that makes the Today Show. I, probably like many other folks, am largely consumed by my own daily battles. I don’t pay much attention to what others are up to. As I strayed from my staple TV channels this morning into CNN territory, I was struck by the revolutions occurring in the Middle East, specifically Libya. It is a sad situation. Watching the presumably have-nots fight for a larger piece of pie and some true ownership of the country that is built on their backs is intriguing. Throughout history, most change in political structure is spawned by the haves having too much and not sharing with the people upon whom they rely. Understanding my own lack of understanding and that this is a terrific over-simplification of a complex issue, the core of it, I believe, IS simple; people want fairness.

Fairness is perhaps more nebulous and complicated than I think it should be. As children we are taught this principle in very elementary terms and motivated with a carrot or a stick, whichever the situation requires. I was not unfamiliar with the stick. Our most basic understanding of fairness includes sharing, taking turns and expressing some grace in doing both. I’m not sure how these rules translate to the minefield of global politics, but it seems like they shouldn’t be that hard. Greed, I think, is probably a tough foe, though. As I sit on my old cheap couch armchair quarterbacking, I sincerely wish for good and just outcomes that serve the right people. Whoever they are.

In circumstances such as these, the contemplation of issues beyond my scope of knowledge and in most cases, interest, confounds and puzzles me and makes me really appreciate that they aren’t my problems while not denying the global responsibility we all have to ensure some appropriate level of human rights in this world we share as citizens and stewards. If they call, I will answer. But since I don’t foresee my phone ringing any time soon with anyone looking for my opinion, I will just go about my day.

It is a nice day. It snowed last night and the world outside my door looks cleaner. Snow has a wonderful way of masking the depressing griminess of winter. Dust and mud and bare trees create a landscape borderline uninhabitable and somewhat apocalyptic. I need green grass and colorful blooms and sunshine. These are alive and make me alive, too. But I’ll take snow over rain, at least for a couple of days, until it gets ugly, too.

This morning I will take a break from thinking the important thoughts about situations that aren’t mine and enjoy the fact that they aren’t, except at the gas pump. I will watch “Handy Manny” as my little girl incessantly chirps “I’m hungry”. I will make pancakes and maple sausage. I will keep looking out the window at the winterscape and feel pretty good. Unlike much of my life, snow is tidy. Much un-tidiness occupies my time, so I’m taking a break. I’m going to sit and drink my coffee and remain, for as long as I can, unburdened by the wolves at my door. I will put my head in the sand and play pretend. I will take a few minutes and pretend that I don’t have to remove the warm blanket from my lap and do something. This will only work as long as my patience for the endless stream of the “I’m hungry”s endures. Which, as it turns out, is not that long.

Well, it was good while it lasted and as usual it didn’t last long enough. But, it never does and maybe that’s why it’s important to recognize when it’s here and enjoy it no matter how long it lasts. A brief moment of peace within the eye of the hurricane is very welcome. It is tranquil and liberating, centering and grounding and necessary. And I’ll take all of them I can get.

But for now this moment is over…my daughter needs “attention and a quesadilla”. I hope the rest of the day is as simple as tickling a seven year old and melting some cheese.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

As I stepped out the front door this morning, I suffered many mixed emotions, none of them good. The half-frozen, sleety rain whipped through my several layers and I felt nothing but despair.(no poetic intent here…it just happened) I don’t like the cold and rain separately, but I especially don’t like them in combination. The unfortunate fact that the rear window of my truck was busted out last week did not comfort me physically or emotionally. The day was dark and so was I.

In circumstances such as these, when the depths of my S.A.D-ness slices deep, as it did this morning, I have, out of a sense of necessity and desperation, developed several techniques for softening the blows. These coping mechanisms include: listening to island music and visualizing warm places. I try to remind myself that the pain is only temporary as I count the calendar days until spring.

This morning a fond memory arrived as an old friend in my mind as a savior from this somewhat depressing morning: Many years ago, in one of several lifetimes I have lived, a couple of buddies, Scott and Jason, and I took a road trip to Costa Rica. It was filled with adventure and fun and lots of stories. It was also hot. Real hot. A lot hot. And one night was especially smokin’. So much so, in fact, that I wrote about it then. This thought is what saved me this morning. Here is the story of a night many years ago written in a molten motel room in Merida, Mexico:

“I lie here in the soft bed of our cheap motel room. My back sticks, moistly, to the tainted yellow sheets. The ceiling fan above ticks noisily along as its breeze seeks to tame this brutal night. I see the lightly tanned skin of my stomach keep time with the beat of my heart. The sickly sweet humidity sweats hungrily through my dim awareness as I try to sleep. My roommates shift restlessly in the damp tropical heat, savoring each delicious draft the over-worked fan delivers. We lie, each alone in our thoughts to explore the possibilities of our lives. Each one is presented certain circumstances, through fate or folly, and must decide on a path. We all have, more or less, decided on this sauna to attempt to sleep in, for better or for worse.

I’m sure in the grand scope of life poorer decisions have been made by all, but it makes one think about how we came to this decision and whether possibly this decision is representative of other decisions and the fact that no matter how fast and noisily the fan sings, sometimes it’s just going to be hot.”

I was and am warmed by this memory. It is nice to know that memories like this exist. They are good and necessary. They remind and bring peace and perspective. Many more chilly days await and I think it’s worthwhile to keep my little jewel a little closer to the surface. Even the most miserable of days don’t stand a chance against a dank and steamy Mexican motel room with a screaming ceiling fan.

To quote from “Three Day Blow”, the best final line of any Hemingway story: “It was a good thing to have in reserve.” Damn right.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

Here’s a video proof, chock full of a one-man band, singer, a “live” tree, Santa, costumed carolers, and some crazy, hyper flapper-style tap dancers doing “Jingle Bells,” shot on Wed., Dec. 22nd:

And here’s another one shot Dec. 20th:

by Gina Bourdage

Most days being in your undies in public would be the nightmare we just woke up from.

Today is not that day.

After a frenzied Internet campaign via Facebook, the NYC group Improv Everywhere convinced people nationwide, myself included, to ride public transit today in their skivvies.

I have had that little voice in the back of my head ask me numerous times “What the heck are you thinking?!” and to be completely honest I have tried to talk myself out of participating.

In hindsight of the type of year 2009 turned out to be, most of us could use a little more light-hearted humor in 2010.

According to the Improv Everywhere website, “not taking life too seriously” is exactly the reason behind the nationwide “No Pants!” rides on buses, trains and subways all over the country today.

So relax, take a deep breath, drop trou and enjoy life…

Yep, actually getting out of the car and taking off the pants without the little voice telling me i am officially crazy was impossible. If it weren’t for the other twenty or so fellow pantsless participants I might turn and run. It is a little odd with children pointing “Hey mommy?!” but thank goodness everyone is “decent” and there’s nothing here you wouldn’t see on a beach.

After the first stop half the train is pants free. Who knew it was so easy to get people to rock their undies in public?

Oh boy this went to another level when i just saw a pantsless family.

I am impressed with the level that we, the pantsless mob, have pulled this off. Never have I seen so many strangers be so friendly with a smile and supportive silent acknowledgment that there really is something bigger going on here.

The confused and bewildered looks of the unsuspecting other riders is worth all the initial butterflies.

I encourage everyone to be a part of something that brings people together the way this has.

Here are some pics of the event (more to come so keep checking back!):

Here are some pics sent in by Readers “xtina” and “hollywood,” who added:

“The ride was great…So much fun we got off and on at different spots … ending at Westlake and walked to Fox Sports Bar where we enjoyed a cold one in our undies… Way fun”

Here’s a video clip, courtesy “lasrina” on Flickr:

Including unused margarine squares, as evidenced by this weeks Craigslist Ad O’The Day, found on seattle-tacoma craigslist > seattle > free stuff:

Three (3) pounds of margarine squares, unopened, recently purchased.

Just can’t eat it anymore. 

Email: sale-810531527@craigslist.org

Found this rather amusing “Found” posting on Craigslist (our fave part is the second paragraph, where the Finder starts ranting about receiving nasty emails and advice on what to do with the found camera).

I found a camera in a rental car at the Seattle Airport. I posted a few photos from the camera. If you can identify the camera, the car you were driving, and some of the other photos in the camera, I’ll send it back to you. It looks like a fun wedding! Hope you had a good time.

Please stop sending me nasty emails telling me what I should have done with this camera. I’m trying to do something nice here. I contacted the Rental Company but the prior renter of my car did not report anything lost. The rental company does not maintain a Lost and Found at SeaTac airport. Craigslist is the best I can do. If I keep getting less than friendly emails, I’ll just delete the posting and sell the camera on ebay……how’s that!

Email: comm-798276830@craigslist.org