Backyard Barbecue

Joeball has gone on record as saying he sometimes feels a little guilty when he advocates that the ride head for somewhere on his side of the West Seattle Bridge; his consciences troubles him a bit to be seen as pushing for a destination close to his home when he knows that may be a long haul back for most everyone else.

I, on the other hand, being not nearly so considerate, experience no such misgivings about stumping for a spot in the general vicinity of home and hearth, and so it’s certain that from now on, my default vote will be for the newly-discovered (or, at least, newly-ignited) tumbledown chimney we congregated around last night, a hilltop hideaway so close to my house that I was able to take the unprecedented step of stopping off chez moi halfway through the evening for a change of socks and a bottle of beer from the fridge, much to the surprise—and even consternation—of the wife and kid, who never expect to see me around at times for which I’ve secured a hall pass.

Remarkably, I first arrived at the abandoned barbecue all the way from Bothell before anyone else got there just from Westlake, but the only explanation I could initially figure was that it must have been decided the place was too exposed and that some alternative destination had been set out for; yet when I came back from home half an hour later to cavort with the assembled, I was pretty surprised to see how secluded the place turns out to be, its only downside being an inability to ring the fire, although it is sort of fun to stand above and toss logs into the chimney.

The moon sat over Lake Washington through spindly, leafless branches, giving things a charming Nightmare Before Christmas kind of feel; teh Jobies delivered Chinese; I’ll have no qualms at all about campaigning to go back time and again.