Wellness on Alberta Redux: Will Waddle for Beer!

"I'm headed out, Dolly-girl--don't expect me back before an hour before Old Mister is over the yardarm..." What a beautiful day for a waddle in Stumptown. With Professor Javier Boleyn's words ringing in my ears (might as well be his words, something is ringing in my ears all the time at my age), I headed out. Six-point-oh-seven miles later, I parked my carcass at Radio Room and ordered a tall cold one. "Have a tall cold one hop over here!" "Roger, Jack."







An hour later I was checking in with my personal coach, Professor Javier Boleyn. "OK, professor. I waddled 6.37 miles today." "Very good, Jackie-boy. Did you stop at the Radio Room?" "I did." "Based on your prescription, you were were entitled to 0.778 pints of beer. Hmm, that's strikingly close to the 0.8 pounds that a pint of LARD! weighs...Anyway, did you stay on track?" "Well, er, ah. Well, for the sake of Sam, Professor, a guy can't order 0.778 pints of beer. I had an entire pint. I owe you." "Did you stop anywhere else?" "What if I did? You said I could have 2 pints at Radio Room if I waddled 16.63 miles..." "Jackie-boy?" "Well, you didn't say I couldn't stop at Mash Tun for another..." "Why, oh why, am I wasting my brain as a personal coach? Wail!" "Get over it Professor. Can I buy you a beer?"

Wellness on Alberta: A New Strategy in the War on LARD!

Nervously, my fingers dialed the blower. 1-800-2Bad-4Yu. Lots of clicks as the dial returned to the home position. "Jackie-boy?" "Wha, whatthe? Professor Boleyn, how did you..." "I screen, Jackie-boy, I hate to tell you, but I screen." "Screen?" "A modern technique, Jack. Have Thelma teach you about it." "I thought I would get your service." "Well, every once in a full moon, I take pity on what I would call, but I doubt you would, being one yourself, a pitiful soul. What can I do for you Jackie-boy?"







"Professor Boleyn--Javier, may I call you Javier?" "No, you may not. The only person who sells books by letting people call her by her first name is Oprah! and I am decidedly not Oprah! Continue." "Professor Boleyn, I have embarked on a new Wellness Program! It's part of my War on LARD!..." "Which, if I recall from your tedious blog postings, has been mired for some time, no?" "Yes. That's why I have a new Wellness Program!" "Hmmm, I never realized you had an old one. Continue."







"I decided instead of just sitting home and drinking beer, I would walk to the Radio Room..." "Say, isn't that that hip bar-restaurant near where you and Fiora--what is it you call it? 'Set the Brake'--another quaintness I could do without. What does she see in you, I wonder..." "...and drink a couple beers there and then walk home. It's the Beluga Slim Wellness Program."

"Do I recall correctly that Beluga Slim is retired? And is it not true that he eats one meal a day that consists of air, washed down with water? And further, doesn't he walk 12 miles a day in order to drink 4 beers?" I admitted, all true.





"OK, let me run the numbers on your 'Wellness Program'...OK, I completely approve of your stop at the Radio Room, as I understand its hip appeal, though I'm surprised they let you in the door. Your limit there is 2 alcoholic beverages served in standard quantities--no 'Say, a pitcher of martinis would be 1 drink if I drank it from the pitcher, right?' Here is your prescription."




"Javier...I mean Professor Boleyn, this prescription requires me to walk 13.71 miles before stopping at the Radio Room!" "Well, I don't care if it's before, during, or after, but you must walk 13.71 miles."

"Are you sure? Check the numbers! I walk past 3 gyms, 3 yoga studios, and a Pilates place just on my way there!" "You question Professor Javier Boleyn? OK, hand it over and I'll subject it to my Quality Assurance Program. Yes, yes, yes. Wait, do you pass any restaurants? You do? 3 high end breakfast joints, 2 Italian places, 2 pizza shops, 3 Thai places, an Argentinian place, a Southern bistro, and a French bakery. What, 4 bars, a brew pub, and a biscuit place? A whiskey bar and a vegan restaurant--a wash there...You're right. Here's the corrected prescription. 16.63 miles."






"Wail and whoan. How shall I ever pass muster with Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD?" "She approves of this calcuation." "What, you and Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD?" "In league." "Wail!"

Advances in Wellness: A New Strategy in the War on LARD!

Nervously, my fingers dialed the blower. 1-800-2Bad-4Yu. Lots of clicks as the dial returned to the home position. "Jackie-boy?" "Wha, whatthe? Professor Boleyn, how did you..." "I screen, Jackie-boy, I hate to tell you, but I screen." "Screen?" "A modern technique, Jack. Have Thelma teach you about it." "I thought I would get your service." "Well, every once in a full moon, I take pity on what I would call, but I doubt you would, being one yourself, a pitiful soul. What can I do for you Jackie-boy?"







"Professor Boleyn--Javier, may I call you Javier?" "No, you may not. The only person who sells books by letting people call her by her first name is Oprah! and I am decidedly not Oprah! Continue." "Professor Boleyn, I have embarked on a new Wellness Program! It's part of my War on LARD!..." "Which, if I recall from your tedious blog postings, has been mired for some time, no?" "Yes. That's why I have a new Wellness Program!" "Hmmm, I never realized you had an old one. Continue."







"I decided instead of just sitting home and drinking beer, I would walk to the Radio Room..." "Say, isn't that that hip bar-restaurant near where you and Fiora--what is it you call it? 'Set the Brake'--another quaintness I could do without. What does she see in you, I wonder..." "...and drink a couple beers there and then walk home. It's the Beluga Slim Wellness Program."

"Do I recall correctly that Beluga Slim is retired? And is it not true that he eats one meal a day that consists of air, washed down with water? And further, doesn't he walk 12 miles a day in order to drink 4 beers?" I admitted, all true.





"OK, let me run the numbers on your 'Wellness Program'...OK, I completely approve of your stop at the Radio Room, as I understand its hip appeal, though I'm surprised they let you in the door. Your limit there is 2 alcoholic beverages served in standard quantities--no 'Say, a pitcher of martinis would be 1 drink if I drank it from the pitcher, right?' Here is your prescription."




"Javier...I mean Professor Boleyn, this prescription requires me to walk 13.71 miles before stopping at the Radio Room!" "Well, I don't care if it's before, during, or after, but you must walk 13.71 miles."

"Are you sure? Check the numbers! I walk past 3 gyms, 3 yoga studios, and a Pilates place just on my way there!" "You question Professor Javier Boleyn? OK, hand it over and I'll subject it to my Quality Assurance Program. Yes, yes, yes. Wait, do you pass any restaurants? You do? 3 high end breakfast joints, 2 Italian places, 2 pizza shops, 3 Thai places, an Argentinian place, a Southern bistro, and a French bakery. What, 4 bars, a brew pub, and a biscuit place? A whiskey bar and a vegan restaurant--a wash there...You're right. Here's the corrected prescription. 16.63 miles."






"Wail and whoan. How shall I ever pass muster with Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD?" "She approves of this calcuation." "What, you and Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD?" "In league." "Wail!"

Wednesday Evening in Stumptown: Plenty of Bar Space @ Radio Room!

Dolly-girl working the Word Game. Decided to do Wellness. More at Waddling
Towards Fitness soon. Meantime, hows about a couple cold ones @ Radio Room?
ROGER OUT!

A Couple Nights With the Beeches: Tracking Down Trouble on Whidbey Island

A jab in the ribs woke me up from a dream where me and Mike Nelson were fighting to keep bad guys from cutting our air hoses. I woke up with what you, or at least you if you were some people, would call a start. But instead of Sea Hunt, it was Dolly-girl, looking like Cherry in Mark Trail, all perky and such, saying, "You know, Jack, I think it's time we pointed the roadster north and did a check-in with Dania and Leo Beech." "Waa, wha? I couldn't hear you for the bubbles..."


Well, when Dolly-girl sets her cap for a visit with Dania, there just ain't no sayin' nevermind if you get my drift. We packed up the Nash and headed towards the ferry boat that takes a car, driver, and passenger to Whidbey Island for a sawbuck and a quarter. I have to admit, I don't mind the trip and there's hardly anybody that makes a couple feel more at home than the Beeches. They are a couple of nuts without the spiny husks...



Dolly-girl gave them a jangle on the blower so by the time we pulled into their place, they were expecting us and by that I mean they'd laid in what we would call a goodly supply of potables and what others would describe as a some things to wet one's whistle. And it's a good thing, 'cause after that drive, my whistle was whistling "There ain't no beer in heaven, that's why we drink it here..."






Still, we didn't want to just pull up, hit the klaxon, and announce our arrival, so we sort of sneaked up to a window. I looked, and quick turned my back, yelling to Dolly-girl we'd caught Dania in an immodest moment. "Impossible. I've known that girl since she was a girl and there's no such thing as a modest moment for Dania Inebriata-Beech!" "Inebriata?" "Sure, didn't I ever tell you that was her maiden name?" "But never mind that--you need to get some specs, Jack. That there is a trinket jar that Dania's Aunt Heleneaux left her. She was quite the gal and knew there was only one gal that would appreciate that gal on the jar. Inebriata." I couldn't disagree with that.




Turns out, Leo and Dania had planned a get together with some other islanders and it sure was fun. Actually, it looks from the table like it was even more fun than any of us remembered the next morning although when you feel the way some of us did the next day you must have had a lot of fun the night before to account for the snarling through the wave that happens for no good reason if you get my drift.



But, you know, after a nice day of walking in the woods, whistling a happy tune, and maybe having a beer or two, what seems like the perfect activity on a moonlit night? BOWLING! Yes, fortunately, Ebey Bowl has re-opened to the joy of many Coupevillians, including Leo & Dania Inebriata-Beech. So, the four of us headed down there because what better activity when one of us had been taking a lot of ibuprophen (I won't say who it was because a certain wave will be snarled through) than bowling, some drinks, and a garlic pizza? Turns out nothing better, or at least nothing better that we tried until we tried drinking a lot of wine later as we did the post-game on the whole bowling thing.






Ebey Bowl is prepared to take you back to the old days. Bowling jackets, leagues forming, 6 lanes, beer, mixed drinks. Dang. Everything you need to have a night of family fun, and there were families there having fun.
Dolly-girl checked out the whaddaya-want and ordered us up some drinks and more. Missy brought them right to us, lane-side, in a jiffy so as it didn't interfere with our ability to focus on our games.





Dolly-girl started right off throwing rocks and, before long, we were all following suit. By the second game we were scratching our noggins about just what it was that was so challenging about this dang sport.




There's 10 pins and 10 frames, and we were getting scores that were awful close to 100. And we weren't even knocking them all down. I figured it was like that chemistry class I took when I was getting my Forensics ticket--70 out of 100 was what you needed. I don't know why they asked us if we wanted tubes put in the gutters, whatever those are. Hey, if they don't want to scrape leaves off the roof in the fall, go ahead and put something in there.




About half-way through the night, nature called, and I discovered the goods and bads of Ebey Bowl. They had The King overlooking a scale. Dang. They would have to go and remind me after I'd had a couple of brown bottle specials and some garlic pizza, that this weekend might not be exactly what Professor Javier Boleyn had in mind as "Eat Less, Move More" in the 2-Step DUH! Diet. Fortunately, I couldn't figure out what coins were needed so I just had to ignore the weigh-in during this caper. But, as I walked past Elvis on the way back to the lane 4, I could picture Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD looking over her glasses if she wore them, saying, "Jack, Jack, Jack. Pizza and beer is not a diet either I or Professor Boleyn would recommend for you." "Yeah, well, neither are whole-wheat donuts at Gibson's, you Obie, you..." Smack. The bowling ball hit my middle like a potato pancake the day after the kielbasi festival. Dolly-girl. "Don't you be mouthing about my alma ma-ter like that..."


Well, I'm at the end of this story, but I'm here to tell you that I was there so I could tell you here that if you happen to be in Coupeville on Whidbey Island and you want some good fun, head on over to Ebey Bowl. Tell them Jack sent you. It won't get you anything special, but it sounds pretty good, eh?

Violence in America, Fomented by Part-Termer Sarah Palin

We went to a play this afternoon and I spotted this in the playbill. Put in the context of the murders and attempted assassination of a Congresswoman in Arizona, the statement by SarahPAC staffer Rebecca Mansour is not just ridiculous, it's insulting. She has been defend-tweeting Former Part-Term Governor Sarah "Don't Retreat--Reload" Palin since the tragedy took place, and is stating that the crosshairs were not meant to be gun sights. She was aided and abetted by Tammy Bruce. By the way, two of her three book titles contain the word assault.

Quoting from coverage on The Huffington Post: "We never ever, ever intended it to be gun sights," she said in an interview with talk radio host Tammy Bruce Saturday. "It was simply crosshairs like you'd see on maps." Bruce suggested that they could, in fact, be seen as "surveyor's symbols." Mansour added that "it never occurred to us that anybody would consider it violent"

I guess this play is about surveying a cat...

An Afternoon in Stumptown: Looking for Trouble in a Couple Right Places

A little known fact--until 1900 the bulk of the salt used in the United States came from Syracuse. Mayor Stephanie Miner, pictured below, attended high school in Homer, NY where she was president of her senior class and voted "Most Likely to Succeed." At age 41, as a lawyer, a former aide to a governor, and the first female mayor of Salt City, it would appear that she is on her way...
Every now and again, by which I mean every once in a while, or every so often or from time-to-time, or...well, I think you're getting the Kodak I'm trying to snap, or the Van Gogh I'm trying to paint, or the Picasso I'm sketching, or...well, I'm rambling here a little bit maybe, you know, beating around the bush, or how shall I say it, taking a slow boat to get from there to here. Where was I. Ah, yes. From time-to-time, D'Mestiere Investigations brings the chiefs of our branch offices into HQ for some refresher training. This week, Libretto "Books" D'Mestiere, Chief of our Salt City, New York office, is in town for a refreshment, I mean a refresher.



Refreshment, I mean Refresher Training, involves checking out Stumptown Establishments to see if we can spot Trouble in his hangout. Today we decided to check out a couple of spots known for having a taste for brewing what some people call beer, but what we at D'Mestiere Investigations call beer. We pulled into Hopworks Urban Brewery to see if Trouble likes his IBUs. He does.




We headed in the door, expecting the worst. We were disappointed. A couple bar stools found there ways under our butts and next thing you know, Missy was asking us if a cold one might hit some spot or the other. We gave him the up and down. "Give me one that's been to the sub-continent and draught it the way the Limey's do." "Your's matey--and for you?" "I'd like to make a day of it--ESB it will be." "On it." The joint's got a thing about bikes, including the Beer Bike. The lights above the bar look like a graveyard for bikes that have lost their momentum...



Missy was back in a flash with the cold ones. They were mighty tasty--as advertised. It was pretty clear to us by the time we were halfway though what had been set in front of us that there were a lot of things brewing at this urbane hop works, but Trouble wasn't one of them. We finished up, dropped Alex on the bar to cover the tab and there was enough left over to keep Missy in bar aprons for a while.








We both decided a darker place might be a better place, albeit darker and therefore harder to look, to look for Trouble. And how could Trouble not hang out in a place called "Horse's Ass." Wait, what's that Books? Oh, Horse Brass. Well, it's dark at least. We made friends with a couple stools. Missy was busy moving some full kegs in to replace empty kegs that may have been full on Friday, but weren't after Friday night. "You guys looking for anything in particular?" "Beer," we both said with an up-and-down. "Got any?"



I knew he did 'cause I could see the handles over his shoulder. Besides, Beluga Slim had given me a tipster's tip that this place was worth the stop and I was guessing he wasn't going to be wrong. But, I asked anyway. "Can a fella get a brew in here?" Missy gave a little smile and then tossed a card down. "Here's the regulars, boys."





Then a blue piece of paper made its way in front of our noses. "And here's the guest taps. Let me know if you see anything at all that might tempt your tasters." He walked away and gave us some time to, as Dolly-girl likes to say, study the options. We studied like Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD for the medical boards. Missy was back and we were ready this time. "What will it be?" Books looked at him and said, "You know, this time of year makes me wonder if a Renewale might not be just what the calendar ordered." "New subscription, on the way. Yours, Jack?" How did he know my name?



I looked up. "Numquam occasionem praetermitteret habere Gaius Plinius Secundus?"

"Bene elegi, amice. Serviam vobis directe."

"Gratias tibi, amice. Ne loquerentur possumus Latin nunc?"

Books looked at us and said, "Placita. Vobis occidi lingua Caesar!"

Well, that was enough Trouble for one day. We walked into the house and Dolly-girl said, "You know, you two, if you want Trouble with a capital T, why don't you go somewhere where the brew doesn't put people in such a good mood--how about Fruity McBrewskis? Who doesn't want to punch someone when they're full of beer with orange peel, coriander, and chamomile?"

First Meal of the New Year: Jubitz Ain't No Radio Room, I'll Tell You!

"Jack!" Mummph. "Jack, wake up! It's a brand new year and I want to go out and get some birdseed at that Jubitz place that me and you saw on all those billboards when we were comin' up The Valley on the I-5 from seeing the Bard with Professor Javier Boleyn, remember, the ones that say 'Almost There! Only 70 Miles to Jubitz' those ones." Mummph. "Jack!" Whew, musta been all that belly-laughing last night that got a bee in her nightcap. Jubitz? How many times have I heard "Line 8, Northeast 15th Avenue, To Middlefield Road, To Jubitz" when I catch the "Line 8, Northeast 15th Avenue, To Middlefield Road, To Jubitz" in downtown Stumptown to come home after Thelma tells me, "It's OK, Jack. Trouble's on the run today, go on home to Fiora and the boys." The "boys" are Fiora's cats but Thelma and Dolly-girl and Kitty and Kay call them "boys" instead of "cats." You got me.


The image below is a screen grab of a Jubitz
Corporation-copyrighted web page
"It's a truck stop, Dolly-girl." "Jubitz is a truck stop and a whole lot more, Jack. I read about it. They got restaurants, a hotel, deli, laundramat, urgent care, movie theater, clean restrooms, a scale, a truck wash, and free Wi-Fi! They were named #5 in the 'World's Classiest Truck Stop' competition by the Fox Travel Channel! People say 'If you can't be at home, you should be at Jubitz' and "Jubitz is a destination all to itself' and other things like that." Still sounded like a truck stop, and any endorsement by anything Fox didn't carry a lot of hod with me. "I want to go there, Jack. That's that." Well, when Fiora Antonella Bianchi says 'That's that', that is that. We took the truck (of course) and arrived in short order. Get it, truck stop, short order...Oh, did I ever tell you how irritated Dolly-girl is because her first and middle names mean the same thing?



You could tell it was a truck stop because there were a lot of trucks around, including 3 or 4 inside the restaurant. There were also signs all over the place that give you the idea that maybe the Jubitz Corporation had worked with a management consultant on Total Quality Improvement.







We slipped into a booth in a spacious restaurant that didn't look anything at all like a truck stop. Missy stopped by, handed us a whaddaya-want, and asked us if we wanted something to drink. A crack in the armor. Every truck stop I've ever been to, she would have arrived with a coupla cuppas. I made a mental note, ordered a joe--Dolly-girl asked for a baby and a glass of Bull Run. She slipped off to find the drinks. She brought them back. The joe was, well, jane, which shouldn't happen in Stumptown. The baby was, well, sour. She brought her another one. "It's on the house, honey. No one should have to get sour milk."


The images below are pictures of copyrighted print of
The Oregonian and the New York Times and Paul Krugman
We figured out our feedbags, told Missy, and turned our attentions to the broadsheet Dolly-girl had brought with us. What did we read that was good news for 2011? The Baby Boomers are turning 65 and they don't have any of the money they thought they were going to have because of what we saw on the next page about Voodoo Economics and how it's still going on in spades, hearts, clubs, diamonds, Trump, oil, and banks. oh, and our state ranks last in adult care. Happy New Year!



I took a chance from the Hashslinger and had him drop a couple cackleberries on top. Dolly-girl can't corral her thoughts so well in a place like the Cascade Grill at Jubitz so she went for a jack with a love apple and rose, a dose of wreath in mayo, and a side of Murphies. I was passing on the short stack, but she told Missy to bring them along and she'd see what she could do. As you can see from the Kodak on the right, quite a buffet hit the table in front of her.



We dug in and while our jaws were still going up and down, no words were coming out. Not even a 'yum' or an 'mmm.' Dolly-girl soon determined that her eyes had been bigger than her stomach. What the Cascade Grill at Jubitz lacks in, shall we say, culinary excellence, they make up for in volume. Not necessarily, or even optionally, a fair trade.



After we finished and settled up, we decided to walk around and see just what goes on at #5 in the World's Classiest Truck Stop ratings on New Year's Day. We were there so I could tell you here that not a hell of a lot was going on. We did note a map of the US labeled with tiny laminated call-out boxes that had comments in them from people who have been to Jubitz and who felt compelled to write. That was pretty exciting to Dolly-girl who has always wanted a lamination machine of her own. We also noticed a framed letter and picture by a betrothed truck-driving pair who will spend their honeymoon at Jubitz. I hope their wedding breakfast isn't the corned beef hash...


If you are headed north or south on I-5 and you are starved and need gas, weighing, a laundry for clothes and truck, some urgent medical care, a movie, and an Elvis skull statue, the Jubitz and its Cascade Grill is just the place for you. As for me, I'll just stay on shank's mare and keep it local.