This is a notice: Summer has snuck right up on Central Collyfornya. What last week was lush and green is, as of this writing, now drying fast and browning quickly. You thought it would last.
Stop fooling around.
Go get some before it is gone. We were riding the trails (#where is Big Sur?) last week, when it was green, and the lupines were so exploded it was all you could do to keep breathing. Every breath a headful of floral. Just so nice. To that end, I'm slipping away tomorrow evening after work to attempt to catch some of the floral glory in Henry Coe. You should put off your busy work for a couple days and meet me at the usual spot. Supposedly in the 90s next week, so that will be the last chance for green in 2014.
Spent some time seeding the party spots out at the Ord yesterday after work. I could get used to this extra daylight. Checked on the beers stash over on 49, and it remains well hidden 4 inches from the singletrack. That trail is busted down the back side, though. All the corners are blown out and brake bumped and sandy/getting sandier. Bummer time sand pits.
To answer your question, it is a "wake". Also, a committee, a venue (?), a kettle, or a volt.
(It's as though I'm a dangerously balanced eccentric, taking photos of birds while styling, profiling, lounging in my leather seat? )
What else is there to do on a Friday night after boozing it up on the trails? The ShadowBox is on the way home after all. I truly enjoy that bar. The Glen Thompson Band was set up by the shuffleboard table, and the keyboardist was really something else. I received an extensive amount of heckling from the older gentleman to my right for paying for my beer with coins. It was all I had left by then, after high rollering it at the in-the process-of-remodeling Terrace Liquors (no one likes change) to stock all them hidey holes (aside: if you need help finding your flat-backed position on the bike, you should practice by hauling 18packs in a musette. It'll get you there.). After apologizing to the barmaid, I admitted it was ridiculous and he just kept telling me "that's your Life". He is right, and it is a fine one. And after this ribbing he went to hit on the mature ladies with a ring on every finger (yes, thumbs too). He was one of those guys who sits at the bar with all their $1s fanned out in front of them, and I don't get that. Maybe it's just to differentiate him from the lowlifes who scrounge for change. It is also worth noting the 600lb guy in the bowling shirt on my other right, who was surprised and pleased (if an impromptu fist bump is an indicator) when I sincerely thanked him for smoking, like in a real bar. He was one of several. This is California in the 21st century and the ShadowBox has ashtrays on the bar. I hope it never changes.
You know what to do. Do it.
Stop fooling around.
Go get some before it is gone. We were riding the trails (#where is Big Sur?) last week, when it was green, and the lupines were so exploded it was all you could do to keep breathing. Every breath a headful of floral. Just so nice. To that end, I'm slipping away tomorrow evening after work to attempt to catch some of the floral glory in Henry Coe. You should put off your busy work for a couple days and meet me at the usual spot. Supposedly in the 90s next week, so that will be the last chance for green in 2014.
Spent some time seeding the party spots out at the Ord yesterday after work. I could get used to this extra daylight. Checked on the beers stash over on 49, and it remains well hidden 4 inches from the singletrack. That trail is busted down the back side, though. All the corners are blown out and brake bumped and sandy/getting sandier. Bummer time sand pits.
To answer your question, it is a "wake". Also, a committee, a venue (?), a kettle, or a volt.
(It's as though I'm a dangerously balanced eccentric, taking photos of birds while styling, profiling, lounging in my leather seat? )
What else is there to do on a Friday night after boozing it up on the trails? The ShadowBox is on the way home after all. I truly enjoy that bar. The Glen Thompson Band was set up by the shuffleboard table, and the keyboardist was really something else. I received an extensive amount of heckling from the older gentleman to my right for paying for my beer with coins. It was all I had left by then, after high rollering it at the in-the process-of-remodeling Terrace Liquors (no one likes change) to stock all them hidey holes (aside: if you need help finding your flat-backed position on the bike, you should practice by hauling 18packs in a musette. It'll get you there.). After apologizing to the barmaid, I admitted it was ridiculous and he just kept telling me "that's your Life". He is right, and it is a fine one. And after this ribbing he went to hit on the mature ladies with a ring on every finger (yes, thumbs too). He was one of those guys who sits at the bar with all their $1s fanned out in front of them, and I don't get that. Maybe it's just to differentiate him from the lowlifes who scrounge for change. It is also worth noting the 600lb guy in the bowling shirt on my other right, who was surprised and pleased (if an impromptu fist bump is an indicator) when I sincerely thanked him for smoking, like in a real bar. He was one of several. This is California in the 21st century and the ShadowBox has ashtrays on the bar. I hope it never changes.
You know what to do. Do it.
2 comments:
hell yea bars should be of the dive variety
Any diveier than the Shadowbox, and you're risking a stabbing.
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