Am I recovered from our SeaFair weekend? I should be, since we were only there for one day, but I’ve been dragging butt since we came home! It was fun, and Helen and I had such a wonderful time (with our heads on swivels because there was always so much to look at). First, we stopped at the Boat House in Allyn for a yummy lunch, then hit the road north to our hotel where we met up with John. A few annoying things, such as setting my navigation wrong (to John’s oral surgeon instead of the hotel—totally opposite directions. D’oh!) And then the hotel guy telling me that he didn’t have a reservation for us. I showed him the confirmation on my phone and then he told me he didn’t have that number in his system. I had fantasies of coming across that counter and grabbing him by the neck. (Fantasies only!) Then he said, “Oh. There it is.” There was also the A/C unit that sounded uncannily like a Merlin engine, so John raised the thermostat to minimize its running. We had to keep a window open since it was HUMID, and we all laid in our beds listening to freeway traffic, grinding gears of semi trucks on the local road, and also TRAINS. All night. None of us slept. OK, maybe a bit more than “annoying.” But wait! There’s more! At 5:30 a.m. while we were getting ready, there were gunshots just below us (with the window open) at a gas station followed by squealing tires and lots of shouting. Turns out nobody was actually shot, but one vehicle intentionally plowed in to another then peeled off. Cops came. And really, this wasn’t a terrible part of town. The hotel was a Red Lion (not fancy, but fine). It was all just…a bit much.
We’d been expecting warm, sunny weather but the forecast changed in time for the weekend. It actually rained on our drive from Harstine Is. to the hotel! (It hadn’t done that since June 21st). But we lucked out Sunday because even though it was cloudy, it didn’t rain and while humid, it wasn’t beastly. (The breeze was nice). But the biggest bummer was that John wasn’t going to be driving the Squire that day. The day we came for. You know, to watch him drive the boat. The day before, while all four boats were doing their thing side-by-side, on the final lap John’s boat motor (80-year-old Merlin!) threw a rod. Blew a hole the size of a soccer ball through that massive engine. I still can’t believe it didn’t damage the boat itself, but John immediately knew from the violent shudder that Something Was Bad so he shut the motor off post haste. Then he was towed to the docks by the rescue boat. I guess I’m glad we weren’t there to see it happen, but it would have been awfully nice to actually see him drive! And yes, the motor is toast. As John says, “That’s boat racing.” Lots of things go wrong, and that’s just a common phrase in hydro-speak.
But we made the best of it.
Below is from Friday’s successful run. John’s driving da red boat!
In other news, Quinn got an early birthday present!
Her name is Coco and she is a Morkiepoo—a mix of Maltese, Yorkie, and Poodle. What a cutie! (Both of ‘em!) Look at that face!
Sandra says she reminds her of Chewbacca. Lol.
“They aren’t indicting trump in the middle of his campaign, he’s campaigning in the middle of their indictments.”
