I just spent the last week on vacation in Ballard with guests from out of town. I have one sister and she lives with her husband and three daughters in a small New England town where our parents still live. Their almost annual visits give me an opportunity to view our corner of the city with outside eyes. For my nieces this seems like the land of milk and honey with bakeries and parks at every turn.

My sister and her family jumped out of a huge rental vehicle on a Wednesday afternoon and were in near constant motion until my last glimpse of them on the other side of airport security one week later. There is never enough time for all that I want them to see and do while they are here; every visit is an unfinished work. They didn't get to The Locks - we didn't even go to Golden Gardens. No Webster Park, no Saturday tour of the library, no foray to Theo's in Fremont for the chocolate factory tour. I made a grid of all the planned activities eighteen days before their arrival; as usual it fell by the wayside.

My nieces went from the rental car to the playfield, despite not having eaten all day, and not one of them returned for at least two hours. My nieces' list was short; they wanted me to make cr