Two weeks (sort of) back in time …
Salty sea air, toes in the sand. The train screeches by. Clear, swooshing water as the boats pass along the Fremont canal. Fresh, crispy croissants and fruit pastries from Bésalu. The influx of sweet, bright, really really pretty cafés tinted a pale blue and scented with roasted coffee beans. The winding, vine-hugged stairways lead nowhere. Crows, my beautiful crows. A bright spring sun followed by a cool breeze. Pain au chocolat from Coyle’s Bakeshop on Greenwood. Split-shot (NOT half-caff) soy latté at Lighthouse. The musical fountain at Seattle Center surrounded by lovers, families, texting teenagers. Mountain views, sprinklers and bright red chairs at the Olympic Sculpture Park. Tomates Provençale at Le Panier. And watermelon juice from the Juice Emporium next door to Mee Sum Pastry, where I always get a curry beef humbow. There was a woman in a wheelchair on the bus, the #11 who, when she found out the driver was German, attempted to connect with him by claiming her mother was from Stuttgart while rambling on about strudel, sauerkraut and wienerschnitzel, to which he nodded politely. Bittersweet memories lure me back into Bimbos, a crusty old haunt, where I end up feeling like crap not only because I wonder why in the hell I expect anything good to come of forcing my way into a life that is no longer mine, but because of the shitty stoner nachos and Manny’s I pretend will add something meaningful to my life. The best asparagus I’ve ever eaten at Westward, oh and the oysters, and the clam dip, and Zoi. At Golden Gardens, an elderly couple walks by, stops to discuss the logistics behind the training of a dog, in particular this dog that waits patiently while his owner grasps a ball, and then … and then … wait … wait … throws it far out into the bay, over and over and over again, the dog running around me each time after coming ashore, spraying me with dog water and sand. I like it. A slightly vintage coupon for a free coffee at Top Pot. Both girls I talked to there were from the south. Italian sodas at Bauhaus. The new one, not the old one, which is now only a shell of a building which will, like most other classic spots, transition into a condo with an array of crappy, but still kind of interesting, corporate storefronts. Walking and more walking. And the flu …
And a missed amazing workshop/festival in Port Townsend … and lots of sleep. And waaaaay before that drinks at Hotel Albatross and Hazlewood and the Ballard Smoke Shop and Hattie’s Hat. And then no drinks, because my body hates them. And lunches and such with the exes. And love. And friends. Beautiful friends. And markets. And church on Mother’s Day. And lots of vitamins. And more sleep. Get well cupcakes from Guy via Cupcake Royale. Shishito peppers and fried tofu at Black Bottle. Sadly mediocre setas and croquetas at Ocho. Skip the broccoli and cauliflower dishes. Trust me. Tacos with my cousin and friend at El Chupacabra. Hanging with more cousins, including a new one, too briefly. Everything, too brief. I thought I wouldn’t love it. I thought it would end up being heavy and depressing. I loved it, despite the flu and missed opportunities. And it was sunny … in May. (TONS ‘o pictures to follow)
Biscuits + Brioche 