Bye bye sun. Hello, aaagain, to dreary gray skies and rain.
Living in the Pacific Northwest is not for the faint of heart. Or those who succumb to the blues for the lack of the grand yellow ball in the sky.
Random musings are the order of the day.
In follow-up to the cafe relocation, rent's been mentioned several times so a little more info. They moved from a large and comparatively remote spot on a street that didn't see a lot of foot traffic to a small space toward the heart of downtown, where the rents are higher.
There are two cafes in the vicinity, both chains, a fair amount of businesses around, if you shield your eyes from the empty storefronts, and city operations all within a wide walking distance.
There are no genuine coffeehouses, certainly none with the unique flavor of the Black Water. Perhaps they decided they had themselves a waiting niche.
To my understanding in a chat with a barista, the move was voluntary. It's a bit of a mystery really since to my observation they did mighty well at the former digs and enjoy a solid faithful customer base.
Perhaps they simply felt it was time for a change and to get in on some of the downtown action, such as it is or isn't in this recession-depression. Nuthin' wrong with that. Only time will tell. In the meantime, I'll keep my ear to the ground on the sentiments of other Black Water-ees.
By the way, the Black Water's been lauded more than once as the Tacoma's Best Cafe and Place to Meet People, as this cool sign reads.
Onward.
Plum blossoms — or are they cherry? — are popping forth from their firm protective shells on a tree on this property! I discovered that this afternoon when I went out to feed the birds.
Which brings me to …
I returned home with this last night, a 20-pound (9.07 kg) bag of wild bird seed. I'll go without eating before I'll let animals (and others) go without food. I'm funny that way.
I looked the product up online. Its list of features includes "built-in handle" and "satisfaction guaranteed." Cracked me up. How do you know?
On St. Paddy's night I strolled my hood about 10-ish and thought "where is that music coming from?"
It was from the white tent that the Irish pub Doyle's, one of the two biggest in town, had set up in the parking lot.
So (unofficial) investigative reporter that I am, I followed the hill down to check it out. The pub was packed. A line of folks along the sidewalk was held in check and regulated by a security person or two.
The parking lot was teeming with patrons. The band inside the tent wasn't to my ear all that great but played with spirit. Or should that read spirits?
And the resounding thought: Man, imagine the tips.
Closing up, I found this on a Tacoma site I frequent. Someone drew this on an old (and I reckon disused) building downtown. Not uncommon to find this creative funky gritty spirit in the most unexpected spots in town. I just like it. (credit to wurlitzergirl)
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