You can never go home again...

(Forgive the pink background. I had a Dance Party with Holly Hobby cupcake from Cupcake Royale in Ballard and it must have seeped into my brain. I now feel pretty, oh so pretty...)

Daily Stats:
Words: no more yanky my wanky, the Donger need sleep
Caffeine: morning cup & far-too-late-in-the-afternoon iced latte
Evil Calories: ALMOST ate lunch at Jack in the Box (or Jack in the Crack, as we used to lovingly call it) but opted for Quiznos instead. Still evil, but less "get me to the hospital now" evil.
Reality TV: zilch

They say you can never go home again. Of course, they usually mean this in more of a spiritual sense. However, sometimes you can never go home again. Literally. Meaning, you can never go home again because they've flattened half a city block in your old neighborhood to put in stacks and stacks of "modern, cool & efficient" condos (read: tiny, overpriced shoe boxes).

*shakes head & sighs heavily*

I know, I know...Seattle is an ever-growing mecca of uber-urban-chic. I get it. I was part of that uber-urban-chic back in the 90's. I lived in a matchbook sized apartment two blocks from Broadway. I'd get my coffee every morning from the Vivace cafe and, as I walked to my job at an "I'm so hip I could puke" music company, I'd give my change to the overly pierced/tattooed homeless kids sleeping on the bus stop benches. But the kids are gone, the Vivace cafe is gone. Even the music company packed up and moved to California. "Oh, yeah, they really cleaned it up and put it a bunch of new posh restaurants" a friend of mine said. "Isn't it great?"

No...

It's not great. It makes me feel old and frumpy.

Anyhoo, we're back in windy/dirt encrusted Goldendale for a couple more days, then back home to the midwest on Tuesday. So many things I need to get back to. Writing. Running. Not eating like a Beluga whale. Funny how your standards drop the closer you get to the end of your vacation. I almost ate at Jack in the Box today. Divine intervention prevented it (or the fact that they were terribly understaffed and after 10 minutes of waiting at the register while the employees just gave us weird looks, we finally left).

However, if you live in the Seattle area, go to La Carta De Oaxaca in Ballard (it's pronounced "wa-ha-ca". I kept saying "waks-ca-ca". That's wrong.) The food is exceptional. Just ask this boy. He was seen eating more beans and rice than a two and a half year old should be allowed to eat. There is sure to be interesting smells coming from him over the next few days.