1. This morning, I relished the quiet of the house and neighborhood I stayed in the last two nights. I enjoyed coffee, got my writing done, cleaned up, and got my things packed.
Mary and I met at 11:30 at The Mango Tree for lunch. I don't remember the last time I ate at an Indian restaurant and now I am eager to return. I enjoyed my order of lamb vindaloo over basmati rice with accompanying plain naan. I was wiser today than yesterday, a good sign that I can still learn. When asked what spice level I wanted, I order 3/5 -- medium, in other words -- and it was perfect.
Mary and I talked about a lot of things, including the virtues of meeting about once a month with one or two other people to read one another's writing and help each other out. I've resisted doing this sort of thing in the past, but I had resisted playing trivia, too, and the more I thought about this Mary's idea today, the more it seemed promising.
Mary works for her brother in the American Legion Building across Washington Street from The Mango Tree and Mary and I popped into their workplace for a quick visit to this, as Mary calls it, "Sam Spadish" classic building. Although her brother's name was not etched in a window built into the door to his office door, I did think Humphrey Bogart might pop up and say, "I distrust a man that says when. If he's got to be careful not to drink too much it's because he's not to be trusted when he does."
2. I left the American Legion Building and headed to the campus of Gonzaga University where Stu and I would be meeting at some point to shop for Zags wear.
I arrived in the Gonzaga neighborhood early and decided to let Stu know I was at Jack and Dan's and to meet me there.
When Christy, Carol, and I last visited Jack and Dan's on March 30, 2007 on our first Sibling Outing, the tavern had fairly recently expanded into the space next door once occupied by a Walgreen's.
Dad and I used to go to Jack and Dan's occasionally in the years between about 1975-84, when it was a longish, single room dominated by pictures and other memorabilia of the Utah Jazz and Gonzaga alumnus John Stockton -- John Stockton's dad is the Jack of Jack and Dan's. Jack and Dan's was a neighborhood bar at the time, serving cold beer to mostly men who lived in the area.
Today, while the tavern was larger, I could tell it was still a neighborhood bar. The bartender and servers working the floor had easy and familiar relations with the clientele. They joked with each other. The servers stopped at tables to tell and listen to stories. I could hear snippets of conversation about baseball. The lone woman at the bar was drinking Hefeweisen, eating an order of Mozzarella sticks, and working her way through a plastic french fry basket half full of pull tabs.
She won eight dollars.
I sat at a table near the window looking out on Hamilton in the old half of the bar and slowly sipped on a black and tan until Stu arrived.
Stu strolled in just as I was finishing my beer. He showed me the room at Jack and Dan's where his retirement party was held and we headed over to the Zags store and now I have a new gray hoodie with a sketch of a blue bulldog on the front.
3. Back in Kellogg, I picked up Charly from Carol and Paul's house and learned she'd had a good visit and, as a real bonus for her, had spent some sustained time out in the back yard while Carol and Paul did some things outside.
Once home, Charly seemed slightly unnerved by the short ride from Carol and Paul's to our house and it took her about a half an hour for her anxiety to settle down. Soon enough, though, she was back into her routines, eating, drinking water, going out back, and resting in the living room.
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