|
Sunday |
|
 Woke up surprised to find I'd fallen asleep
on the couch at Beacon Hill housesit where Klaun Klaun was born the night
before. Monte and I rode along the water, he on Christina's '42 Schwinn,
I on trusty rusty squeaky Trek 830. Sat on rocks along Elliott Bay Trail
where I would've forgotten my backpack hadn't we had to wait at Happy Hooker
fishing pier for fresh coffee. Ask not for whom the machine drips, it drips
for thee. T-91 bikepath interesting as always, narrow fenced-in trail between
freight yards and long trains with aluminum fuselages on flat cars headed
for Boeing and a fleet of new cars waiting to be unpeeled like oranges. Watching
a lone perfect burger sizzle on Pacific Inn grill, Monte and I reminisced
about food service jobs and washing dishes. From there we were whisked to
Anne E. Moore's Pie Off where Bruce's Traditional Apple Pie took top honors
though Sarah & I favored the almost exclusively butter & sugar Chess
pie. We both got the headaches we deserved and headed back to Pacific Inn
for beer and grilled cheese with onion rings analgesic, which pretty much
did the trick. The
bonfire was a rainout so we sat around Steve's for a while, gorilla heads
on a string discussing plans for this year's
Burning
Man. |