April 5th and the Dangers of People Watching

Last Friday we took our guest to the majestic Snoqualmie Falls. We only managed to stand at the observation deck for a few minutes before the wind and rain rendered our umbrellas and jackets useless.



Then we headed over to the posh Salish Lodge and Spa. It really was a gorgeous looking place with lots of coppery light fixtures and blazing fireplaces and a cozy library I wish I owned. We had lunch at their dining room where my sister exercised her imagination on an unsuspecting family.



About the food though, we demolished their bread and their butter. The butter was nice and soft as exhibited by the smooth quarter inch thick spread I slathered on my bread. What? There's nothing wrong with a little high quality butter every once in a while. You would think that being a lodge and spa, that they'd serve some grainy bread with a sprinkling of nutty, seed-like bits and then instead of butter they would pour a little bit of laxative-infused olive oil. But they didn't.

While waiting for our entrees, we noticed a family of five at a nearby table. The mom was minding her infant child and the dad was looking after the two other boys. The dad ordered a bottle of what appeared to be beer. He sipped it slowly and with a sullen look on his face. My sister had the best view so she was narrating. She then gasped because she saw the dad let one of the boys drink his beer. Not just one sip but a lot. We concluded that the dad was depressed and bad at parenting. That he couldn't wait to finish lunch so he can call first his girlfriend then his dealer and that his son will most likely grow up with a tendency toward alcoholism. Yup, that's what we thought until the dad turned the bottle a certain way and we saw the label which said:

ROOT BEER

Moving on, our kind server William brought out our mussels and clams, grilled portobello mushroom sandwich with fries, creamy root vegetable soup, caesar's salad (with balsamic vinegar) and french onion soup. Everything was delicious. But, something about the too-peaceful ambience and prices kind of made me want to head to a Burger King and then stuff my face with a whopper immediately afterwards. I don't know why.



Oh, by the way (by the way),



Layne Staley
August 22, 1967 - April 5, 2002