108 entries categorized "Food and Drink"
Brunch at Skillet Diner in Capitol Hill today, a send-off of sorts for a friend who’s leaving Seattle for Florida to take a job offer and move closer to his family.
I ordered Serious Toast, which from the menu description sounded delicious:
Molasses custard soaked thick cut brioche, raspberry jam, local pit ham, powdered sugar, two eggs your way
About 15 minutes later our brunch items arrived and I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from my first time seeing the reality of Serious Toast:
The aftermath of the chicken pot pie recipe Julie Anne made tonight. HELP ME.
Frost’s bacon maple bar, baby.
Flex cannot pass up a chance of a hint of a possible tiny bit of food. We often find him perched in the kitchen sink this way.
But what a way to go!
We had this at Skillet Diner on Capitol Hill. Table for four and we didn’t manage to finish it, oy....
In no particular order.
- I don’t particularly like working from home.
- Flexie. The keyboard is not your resting place.
- Drinking one’s own canned beverages? Feh.
- These kitchen-table chairs UTTERLY BLOW for anything more than about 25 continuous minutes of use.
- Seriously, Flex, go the hell away!
- Yay whatever music I want to play, at whatever volume.
- Remote access is simultaneously
- mind-boggling, even if you know at least the basics of the technology involved
- irritatingly slow
- Annie: The claws are not required for standing on my leg, ow ow ow ow ow
- This neighborhood is almost freakishly quiet on weekdays.
- The sofa, it calls to me....
- GODDAMNED CATS
When I couldn’t work from home, in the days when my job didn’t offer it (retail is hard to do except at the store) and before the technology was fully baked (hail the days of Citrix on Decker Lake Lane!), I wanted to work from home all the time.
Now I can work from home pretty much whenever I want and I avoid it. I like keeping my home and my workplace distinct and physically separate, too easy to lose work/life balance otherwise. And no cats at the office, which makes it orders of magnitude more productive. Or at least far less cat-hair–covered.
Is this what it means to gain perspective, or (gasp!) to become an adult?
Friends playing live music. Doesn’t get much better.
Elliott Bay Brewing Company to the rescue!
Centerpieces and other decor like this is how you tell you’re near the waterfront in most Seattle-area restaurants.
A pint of Amber Ale from Red Rock Brewing Company, the first brewpub I ever visited.
We attended the sentencing hearing for the perpetrator of a burglary in October. Needed a bit of a break afterward.
This morning in the cafe I arrived at the cash register with my meal card to pay for breakfast. I’ve done this hundreds of times, it’s in no way remarkable.
Then my brain kicked in. Or maybe it tripped, or cramped.
The friendly cashier tallied up my purchases. “That will be seven dollars,” he said. It’s always seven dollars, the particular combination of items I’ve chosen over the last couple of weeks. We marveled, again, like we have for the last five or six visits, how isn’t it amazing that it always comes out to an even dollar amount?
So I swiped my meal card, knowing I probably didn’t have quite enough cash value to cover the purchase, and sure enough I was short. “You owe $3.73,” the cashier said.
That’s when the brain kick/trip/cramp started. I fished out my wallet, opened it, saw I had a single bill, and the first thought that flashed through my head was:
Oh shit, I only have a five.
Somehow I managed not to blurt this aloud. I think the part of my brain that was stumbling over the math was also being slapped by the other part of my brain that prevented my mouth from moving and made me just reach out, jerkily, to offer the bill to the cashier, who took it as if nothing was wrong.
If only he’d seen the briefly colossal battle inside my head.