Missing
I will miss some unique things about where I live when I move away.
Dotted along the roads and highway are little unmanned stands with flowers, curly willow, blueberries and the like. Posted signs tell the price, and a small metal box is attached for payment.
I have never seen this before, as any similar stand would be dismantled and stolen in minutes, even in the "better parts" of LA. Seeing them here made me feel happy, like I felt as a kid when I didn't worry as much about other people.
There is a little restaurant at the airport in Astoria. Yes, there's an airport, albeit a very small one. The restaurant shares the building with the little office where airport business, such as it is, is conducted.
At this restaurant are the best buckwheat pancakes I have ever tasted. They're big as dinner plates, made fresh from stone ground buckwheat flour by the cook/waitress/airport secretary, who's a sweet and charming young woman. Two breakfasts so big that you can't eat lunch are under $10.
There is a beautiful boutique with exquisite art from all over the world in downtown Astoria. It is the place where I display my Vodou art, which is not, by the way, a big seller up here.
The owner of this botique, and another like it farther down the Oregon coast, is Lynn Buckmaster. Lynn is very bright, a former securities analyst. She and her husband, who owns a business that recycles fish parts into fertilizer, are witty, charming, and full of surprising talent.
Both are big hearted genuine lovers of people, and two of the few Republicans in this liberal enclave. Every time I see either of them, I leave with a smile.
The stands, the pancakes and the Buckmasters are all a part of Astoria, where I learned that I'm not yet retired. Thanks for the lesson, pretty little city. It was a beautiful time.
Dotted along the roads and highway are little unmanned stands with flowers, curly willow, blueberries and the like. Posted signs tell the price, and a small metal box is attached for payment.
I have never seen this before, as any similar stand would be dismantled and stolen in minutes, even in the "better parts" of LA. Seeing them here made me feel happy, like I felt as a kid when I didn't worry as much about other people.
There is a little restaurant at the airport in Astoria. Yes, there's an airport, albeit a very small one. The restaurant shares the building with the little office where airport business, such as it is, is conducted.
At this restaurant are the best buckwheat pancakes I have ever tasted. They're big as dinner plates, made fresh from stone ground buckwheat flour by the cook/waitress/airport secretary, who's a sweet and charming young woman. Two breakfasts so big that you can't eat lunch are under $10.
There is a beautiful boutique with exquisite art from all over the world in downtown Astoria. It is the place where I display my Vodou art, which is not, by the way, a big seller up here.
The owner of this botique, and another like it farther down the Oregon coast, is Lynn Buckmaster. Lynn is very bright, a former securities analyst. She and her husband, who owns a business that recycles fish parts into fertilizer, are witty, charming, and full of surprising talent.
Both are big hearted genuine lovers of people, and two of the few Republicans in this liberal enclave. Every time I see either of them, I leave with a smile.
The stands, the pancakes and the Buckmasters are all a part of Astoria, where I learned that I'm not yet retired. Thanks for the lesson, pretty little city. It was a beautiful time.
posted by Kitty O'Keefe at 6:47 AM
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