I was up at my normal hour. One of my projects was to create a DVD for a baking partner of the Roman Meal Company. I recorded the DVD, labeled it, placed it in a DVD case, printed the DVD case insert, slid it in as the DVD cover, wrapped the case and placed it in a Priority Mail envelope.
I went upstairs and made myself some buttered toast with Tayberry jam (bought at the Olympia Farmers Market) and ate breakfast, while looking out onto Puget Sound and Vashon Island. After toast I began watching two Saturday morning serials from the 1930s of Ace Drummond and then drifted into a nap.
I awoke mid-morning. I needed to take my envelope to the post office, so the package would arrive on Tuesday. The phone rang and Peg stumbled out of bed. I asked her to join me for a trip to the post office and possibly the Proctor Street Famers Market. She accepted. We cleaned ourselves up and got dressed.
I dropped Peg off at the corner of North 27th and Proctor as I drove one block more to the post office. There was no place to park,. I ended up parking kitty-corner from Key Bank on 26th and mailing the package later. I walked into the market on 27th from the opposite end of the block where I had dropped off Peg.
I walked the entire length of the market looking for Peg without seeing her or any friends. The closest I came was Chef Fredo from the Europa Bistro giving a cooking demonstration. When Peg and I joined Donn and Debbie Irwin as Food & Drink co-chairs for Zoobilee several years ago, Europa was one of the first new restaurants we signed up.
Being co-chairs for Food & Drink was one of the hardest community jobs weíve ever done. Imagine, if you will, having to sample food item after food item from great restaurants in the Tacoma area. The job was unrelenting. The things weíve done for Tacoma just never end.
I was half-way through walking back the other way when I ran into Peg. Just like my life changed when I met Peg at the University of Puget Sound, the trip to the Proctor Market changed when we met up in the middle of the market. Up until then it was just crowds of people.
Peg had already nabbed a roasted corn empanada and was ready to try something from The Gateway to India. We first ordered a carne empanada for me and a spinach and cheese empanada for Peg and ate them as we waited in line at the next door canopy for Indian food.
I looked up and think I saw friend ex-state representative Debbie Regala . . . and then she was gone. I turned back to order. We purchased two lamb sausages on nann (flat bread). Peg got a Diet Coke, while I had a mango lemonade. Food in hand we shuffled our way to the shady canopy provided for fine dining on plastic tables and chairs.
Peg asked two women (older thirties and younger thirties) sitting and eating their combo plates from Gateway, "Mind if we join you?" They didnít, so we did. It was a day to start off any conversation about the weather. The day was one of our first summer days even though it was July 2nd. The younger one mentioned she came from San Diego. Her friend mentioned Eugene, but I think that was on the way north also. They love the Pacific Northwest.
The younger one works in an office building in Seattle and can look out her window and see sailing ships lined up like toy flotillas in a bathtub. The older one had a beautiful dark tan. We had a pleasant conversation for lunch in addition to the slightly spicy sausages. The women cleaned up their plates and napkins and dumped them in a garbage container about thirty feet away. A few minutes later Peg and I did the same.
Leaving the dining area we bought two fresh pears. In the process I noticed friend and photographer of our grandchildren Dane Meyer with a clip board gathering signatures for something and then as I turned-about ran into Marion Sharp, Associate Director of Corporate & Foundation Relations at Pacific Lutheran University, at another produce stand. I asked her, "What did you buy me? "Iím just getting some strawberries," she replied. "Well, call me when their ready," I said; but she didnít. Oh, well. It was nice seeing smiling faces of friends.
We had only made it another few feet before I got a big hug from my friend, Jan Taylor. Jan introduced me to her friend Loretta as an old friend from high school. I quipped, "Thirty years ago isnít that long ago. I asked Jan if she was getting ready for travel again. After she retired from Roman Meal, she went to Europe for about a month. It turned out sheís trying to figure out how to go to Paris and live for a year. "Itíll be outside of Paris, we canít afford hotels or anything." "Outside Paris," I replied, "you might try Sicily."
Soon Peg was back into the mix after talking to Glenda Watson, a friend from PEO. Peg and I had just seen Midnight in Paris at the Grand Cinema the weekend before and she loved the film and the images of Paris. The conversation turned into movies and books with a few jokes thrown in. Looking past me Loretta asked if I knew who the people were in a group about fifteen feet away. I looked and then turned back. "The older or the younger?" "The younger," she replied. "Drew Ebersole," I filled in the blank. She asked if he were in politics and I answered, "Hmmmmmmm, Foundation Director for Metro Parks." Soon, the two men, two women and a child started to move past us, but then Drew saw me and stopped along with his father, Benjamin, whom he introduced as visiting from Baltimore.
Within seconds we were laughing and having a good time. Benjamin, prefacing a story with the admonition, "Iím going to tell you a story, and when Iím finished you are all going to say, something like: oh, I canít believe that." He then said, "We live in a retirement home," as he pulled off his baseball cap to reveal a full head of white hair. We responded with different versions of, "Oh, I canít believe that . . ."
Itís easy to see where Drew gets his friendly and easy going manner. The watermelon doesnít fall far from the tree.
Loretta met Drew at an election campaign meeting for a friend. People never look the same wearing shorts and Hawaiian shirts in bright summer weather in the middle of a farmersí market.
We bid Jan and Loretta good-bye and made one more stop at a bakery canopy. We ran into our new friends from San Diego, again. The younger one asked, "Have you ever heard of the Old Milwaukee?" Of course thatís one of our favorite breakfast places. She extolled the virtues of their carrot cake. Peg chimed in about their huckleberry pancakes. Then we began wondering about drink pairings with carrot cake: milk, margaritas, red wine . . . anything.
Food, friends and a great day at the Proctor Famers Market. With our final words of, "Weíll see you at the Old Milwaukee," we walked to our car with a cinnamon/sugared donut for Peg and a super-sized, super-sweet, honey barn muffin for me.