Pulled into Issaquah on Thursday afternoon, 15 November. Motel 6 is the only one that takes dogs. They were pleasant people, and quite reasonable. Nick and Zack have grown quite a bit since the last time we saw them. Peg and Patrick are as hospitable as ever. It looks like we got here just in time. (See left)
They just put the house on the market and will start looking in the Tacoma area this summer. Naturally enough, the house was spic and span, waiting for potential buyers. (See below)
It is hard to get Nick's head out of a book which is probably a good thing. Zack is a pretty good reader and plays a mean game of chess and/or checkers. That is the Zackster to the right coming to Thanksgiving mass in a line with some tall girls keeping him under control.
They both are into martial arts with Nick sporting a brown belt already. The boys were still in school on Thursday and Friday though I think they have next week off, or am I thinking of Joan and her gang?
Peg and Patrick seem to have turned the corner into a comfortable middle age. Daisy the Expensive Dog is as goofy as ever. She and Maggie got along fairly well, though it was not love at first sight.
On Saturday evening we went to an auction in aid of St Joseph's Elementary School, which is actually split into two campuses, Pre-K through grade 3 at the church and grade 4 through grade 8.
Sunday morning early mass, well 8:30am is fairly early, and then off to the Issaquah Cafe for some of their famous B.O.B., which for the un-initiated starts with some biscuits on the bottom, with some sausage patties next, over which some eggs are laid, and then the whole thing is covered with some lovely white gravy, in other words, Breakfast on a Biscuit.
This is a small experiment in the blogosphere. "If you have no interest in what it's like to grow old, what follows is not for you. However, if it's going to happen to you, and the outcome is ultimately going to be negative, then finding a way to make the process as bearable, even as enjoyable as possible, might be worth a little attention."—from John Jerome's On Turning Sixty-Five
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