Busy Saturday
Feb. 11th, 2007 12:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
akirlu[Entry begun Saturday]We're back home from taking a daytrip up to Mt. Vernon. As I type this, Hal's at the dining table, playing with his new toy -- a Yamaha DGX202. Call it a portable electric piano. Not quite a full 88 keys, but only an octave short, with full-size, velocity-sensitive keys, built in speakers, and a fully decent range of on-board pre-programmed voices, plus midi and programmable diddly-whatsits. Even as I type this, Hal's arpeggiating his way through the various organ-like voices and strings.
A nice harpist named Amy listed the keyboard on craigslist, selling it for about half what a comparable keyboard would cost new, and since Hal has really been pining for a good keyboard, we drove up to have a look.
Cutting through the Skagit valley, we spotted several fields of wintering Trumpeter Swans, plus the swans' symbiote species, the moss-colored, anorak-wearing birder. The latter were heavily laden with very large telephoto lenses. The former, not so much. (We found out later that the birders were probably prompted by the presence of a locally rare Whooper Swan lurking amongst the trumpeters.) I also spotted a lone bald eagle sitting in the middle of a fallow field. I thought it was a bit weird -- an eagle sitting on the ground like that -- but Tina assures me they do it all the time.
Once in suburban Mt. Vernon, I took Sarah over to the nearby playfields and walking trail, while Hal went in with Amy to try out the keyboard and make sure all the keys worked and such. I thought about taking Sarah along the trail, but the signage seemed to mean that it was a couple-miles loop at least, and so we settled on exploring a disused side field instead. Perhaps Sarah's age, or recent increased leash discipline, have finally taken hold: she was very ladylike on lead and did no tugging at all, other than her usual suicidal plunge to the end of the (precautiously shortened, thank you) leash whenever we set out across a street. Perhaps Sarah is part Langford.
Back at Amy's house, Hal was, unsurprisingly, emerging with the keyboard under his arm. Hal introduced me to Amy and we chatted awhile about dog breeds, and Swedish surnames, and Amy was quite taken with how sweet Sarah is while being a pit mix. Yay, for our little breed ambassador!
After the deal was struck, and the keyboard safely stowed, we stopped by Skagit River Brewery for lunch and a schooner each of their seasonal Trumpeter Stout. (Presumably named for the swans, and a big-ass clue that all those large, white water birds definitely were swans, and not geese.) The Trumpeter Stout was in particularly fine fettle -- sweet complex maltiness up front, followed by the dark, mildly bitter, balanced smokiness. Good stuff. My burger was also fine, but Hal's garlic-parmesan-mash-topped shepherd's pie and, later, our shared dessert, showed that the real genius in the kitchen lies in capitalizing on the wood-fire pizza oven that they've got going anyway. Dessert was their "camping style" smores plate. Genius simple idea: take a chili bowl and fill it with a mix of mini-marshmallows and milk chocolate chips, pop said bowl under the flame until all the marshmallows are uniformly browned on top and the chocolate chips melted, ram a bunch of graham crackers into the mix so they can be used to scoop up the marshmallow-chocolate goo, and serve. Dead easy to make, if you've already got the pizza oven going anyway, plus nostalgic, and distinctive. Also, yummy.
After lunch we took Sarah out for a brief bounce along the bank above the Skagit, but the promised bald eagles in their vasty numbers hanging out on the bridge over the river were entirely absent. Unless bald eagles have lately learned the art of wood pigeon-mimickry, anyway. So we went on to browse the local book store for a bit where I naturally succumbed and bought three books. Including a bird guide. This, however, is only indicative of my desire to know what I'm looking at and should in no way be construed to mean that I've taken another step in the direction of active birding. If at some point I get a set of second-hand field glasses for the Volvo it's only because no Swedish car is properly equipped for road trips without a set, and still has nothing whatever to do with being a birder. At all.
On the way south again, we stopped at the Seattle Outlets mall (rather in-aptly named, since it's not even in the same county as Seattle, let alone closer to Seattle than, say, Everett) partly because Sarah was wanting yet another walk and partly out of curiosity. Curiosity was satisfied by a new pair of Bass deck moccasins for Hal, and a new pair of shearling-lined moccasin slippers for me. Yay, warm toes. And, feeling thus thoroughly soiled with filthy commerce for one day, we went home.
We had intended to just flop for a bit, and then make a brief appearance at Luke McGuff's photo show opening at Cupcake Royale, but in the end I was overcome with floppiness, and Hal a combination of floppiness and Cool New Toy syndrome. As it was, we were late getting over to Bruce and Tina's for Mah Jongg, and the Clarion West annual meeting alas never stood a chance.
Einstein was wrong. Effing everything happens at once.
A nice harpist named Amy listed the keyboard on craigslist, selling it for about half what a comparable keyboard would cost new, and since Hal has really been pining for a good keyboard, we drove up to have a look.
Cutting through the Skagit valley, we spotted several fields of wintering Trumpeter Swans, plus the swans' symbiote species, the moss-colored, anorak-wearing birder. The latter were heavily laden with very large telephoto lenses. The former, not so much. (We found out later that the birders were probably prompted by the presence of a locally rare Whooper Swan lurking amongst the trumpeters.) I also spotted a lone bald eagle sitting in the middle of a fallow field. I thought it was a bit weird -- an eagle sitting on the ground like that -- but Tina assures me they do it all the time.
Once in suburban Mt. Vernon, I took Sarah over to the nearby playfields and walking trail, while Hal went in with Amy to try out the keyboard and make sure all the keys worked and such. I thought about taking Sarah along the trail, but the signage seemed to mean that it was a couple-miles loop at least, and so we settled on exploring a disused side field instead. Perhaps Sarah's age, or recent increased leash discipline, have finally taken hold: she was very ladylike on lead and did no tugging at all, other than her usual suicidal plunge to the end of the (precautiously shortened, thank you) leash whenever we set out across a street. Perhaps Sarah is part Langford.
Back at Amy's house, Hal was, unsurprisingly, emerging with the keyboard under his arm. Hal introduced me to Amy and we chatted awhile about dog breeds, and Swedish surnames, and Amy was quite taken with how sweet Sarah is while being a pit mix. Yay, for our little breed ambassador!
After the deal was struck, and the keyboard safely stowed, we stopped by Skagit River Brewery for lunch and a schooner each of their seasonal Trumpeter Stout. (Presumably named for the swans, and a big-ass clue that all those large, white water birds definitely were swans, and not geese.) The Trumpeter Stout was in particularly fine fettle -- sweet complex maltiness up front, followed by the dark, mildly bitter, balanced smokiness. Good stuff. My burger was also fine, but Hal's garlic-parmesan-mash-topped shepherd's pie and, later, our shared dessert, showed that the real genius in the kitchen lies in capitalizing on the wood-fire pizza oven that they've got going anyway. Dessert was their "camping style" smores plate. Genius simple idea: take a chili bowl and fill it with a mix of mini-marshmallows and milk chocolate chips, pop said bowl under the flame until all the marshmallows are uniformly browned on top and the chocolate chips melted, ram a bunch of graham crackers into the mix so they can be used to scoop up the marshmallow-chocolate goo, and serve. Dead easy to make, if you've already got the pizza oven going anyway, plus nostalgic, and distinctive. Also, yummy.
After lunch we took Sarah out for a brief bounce along the bank above the Skagit, but the promised bald eagles in their vasty numbers hanging out on the bridge over the river were entirely absent. Unless bald eagles have lately learned the art of wood pigeon-mimickry, anyway. So we went on to browse the local book store for a bit where I naturally succumbed and bought three books. Including a bird guide. This, however, is only indicative of my desire to know what I'm looking at and should in no way be construed to mean that I've taken another step in the direction of active birding. If at some point I get a set of second-hand field glasses for the Volvo it's only because no Swedish car is properly equipped for road trips without a set, and still has nothing whatever to do with being a birder. At all.
On the way south again, we stopped at the Seattle Outlets mall (rather in-aptly named, since it's not even in the same county as Seattle, let alone closer to Seattle than, say, Everett) partly because Sarah was wanting yet another walk and partly out of curiosity. Curiosity was satisfied by a new pair of Bass deck moccasins for Hal, and a new pair of shearling-lined moccasin slippers for me. Yay, warm toes. And, feeling thus thoroughly soiled with filthy commerce for one day, we went home.
We had intended to just flop for a bit, and then make a brief appearance at Luke McGuff's photo show opening at Cupcake Royale, but in the end I was overcome with floppiness, and Hal a combination of floppiness and Cool New Toy syndrome. As it was, we were late getting over to Bruce and Tina's for Mah Jongg, and the Clarion West annual meeting alas never stood a chance.
Einstein was wrong. Effing everything happens at once.
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Date: 2007-02-11 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-11 11:51 pm (UTC)