Coeur d'Alene, Idaho

"Take the Adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes! Tis but a banging of the door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are out of the old life and into the new! Then someday, some day long hence, jog home... when the cup has been drained and the play has been played, and sit down by your quiet river with a store of goodly memories for company."   -  Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

The cabin (rented for "business") on Coeur d'Alene River

The view from the cabin

In the summertime, CdA is popular for golfing, fishing, and general boondoggling. Last week, this Cascadian prep did just that - golfed for pike and fished for golf balls. I've never been very good at either. Now boondoggling - there's something in which I have great skill.

A Family's Dog

Today our beloved 12-year old Black Lab left for the happy hunting grounds, or more appropriately, "that beach in the sky."  Thank you for the happiness you brought to our family. You will be missed!

"Miga"

  

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." - Dr. Seuss



Feria de San Fermín (in Cascadia)

In honor of the annual event in Pamplona, I whipped up a nice Spanish paella last night. As usual, I imbibed throughout the whole process and forgot the peas! Nonetheless, it turned out to be a fantastic dish - the color, aroma, and taste of saffron is one of my favorites.  So, too, is Rosé...

Last Night's Paella

No, we didn't have the traditional Albarino or a Rioja Blanco to compliment the dish, so we made due with this nice French (Rhône) Rosé.  We don't get too uptight about that kind of stuff - mixing countries of origin and cultures at the same time. We are American, after all, and, as such, are used to bastardizations borrowing the best from what any particular culture has to offer. (If mixed breed dogs are better, why can't the same theory be applied to food?)

The accompanying wine.

  

I say don't limit yourself! Leave all that pretentious BS at the door.  You just might get gored if you don't.

"This wine is too good for toast-drinking, my dear. You don't want to mix emotions up with a wine like that. You lose the taste."

- Chapter 7, The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway

A Seattle Icon of Epic Proportions

The Location: Lowell's, an iconic restaurant in Seattle's Pike Place Market.
The Inspiration: The Epic's "Fuzzy Photos from Great Bars."
This Afternoon's Drinks (at least a few of them):



"Mi Novia" (muy, muy caliente)




Douglas Fir Eau de Vie




Naughty Nellie Golden Ale

Whether you live in Seattle or not, The Pike Place Market should always be on your hit list.  Aside from the expected excellent seafood markets, bakeries, cheese mongers, cafes, etc., there are the unexpected things and places which really make it shine. Locals and tourists collide, mingle, smile at each other and it's all good. Shopkeepers are genuinely friendly and don't seem to be there just doin' another shift. We are all happy to be here. Lowell's is great because it has three floors of seating all with epic views of Elliott Bay, West Seattle, and the Olympic Mountain Range. Note well: the bar is on the second floor and the best time to go is any late afternoon.  Ask for Nick.



Hip Hip Chin Chin! Signing off for a week - Happy Fourth of July!

Boom Boom Bow

Almost one year from today, we will set sail out of Victoria, British Columbia for our  approximately two week voyage to Maui. Four of us on a 36-foot boat and the Pacific Ocean. I am looking forward to the total media purge, the inability to yield to the calling of my favorite blogs, the inability to write blogs, and the knowing what it's like to see nothing but water for days upon days. I'm told that you cross over out there, mentally, and that there is no going back. Like Cortez, I just might have to "burn the boats" when I get there.

The Race (held bienially)

The Boom




The Bow

"Seven Seas" by Echo & The Bunnymen

Preppy Pajama Poseur

The Urchin of Venice

I was forced to watch "The Tourist" the other night.  Mrs. Cascadian Prep brought it home to watch - not for the story, but for it being set in Venice. My parents had just returned from Venice and it had stoked MCP's interest.  (I don't have an interest in Venice anymore than I have an interest in any over-touristed, smelly town. Trieste... now there's a town.)

Anyway, Johnny Depp spent considerable time running along Venetian rooftops in his "jammies."  It was at this moment that I realized I didn't have any official pajamas in my wardrobe... just the typical boxer/t-shirt set-up. Also, realizing that our family would be hosting a female exchange student soon and that I probably shouldn't be gallivanting through the house in such unsecured raiment [read "eminent wardrobe malfunction" here] I set about procuring a real set of PJs. 

The author's first set of real pajamas in two decades.

I landed on these from Lands' End.  And in the spirit of going big or going home, I got the double monogram - one on the shirt, one on the pants.  When I came downstairs in them to show off, MCP rolled her eyes so much and with such vigor, I thought she was having a seizure. That's fine.  She can harsh the PJs and harsh the double monogram, but we'll see if she ever gets to wear them now.

Seersucker in Seattle - GTH Pants?

For God's sake, when does it end? It broke 70° F here yesterday, so in a rapturous moment of summertime cheer, I busted out my Jos. Bank blue seersucker pants. I snuck these new babies into my closet, right under the nose of the Mrs. I found that when I procure new garb, if I can sneak the package off the front porch, get it out of the plastic bag and into my closet undetected, I'm home free. Well, not this time.

"When did you get those?" she asks wryly.
"Oh, I've had them a while. They've just been in the back of the closet." I reply.

"First with those red pants, now with the stripes? Can you say 'mid-life crisis?'"
"No!  I can't say 'mid-life crisis' and I won't, I won't, I won't."

An LA stomach with an Oakland badonkadonk

The rumpled writer in repose

I have to admit, I do, at times, resent living in a region where seersucker pants and jackets are as uncommon as the Oregon Spotted Owl, but come on, why should the South and Eastern Seaboard have all the fun?  And as far as the West Coast goes, California probably encourages seersucker to be worn to their famous garden and poolside parties. So WTF Pugetropolis?

That's OK, I'm wearing them anyway, but I probably will wait until the temperature hits the upper 70's/low 80's, when Cascadians are whining about how oppressively hot it is.  I will wear them when my fellow citizens are so tired and rundown from the heat that they can't muster a smirk or laugh. And if they do manage a chiding laugh, I will respond with a laugh and remember what that favorite of all seersucker-wearing icons - Mark Twain - said. 

 Against the assault of Laughter nothing can stand. - Mark Twain

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society. - Mark Twain