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Although there were some “glitches” to the weekend, it was a pretty awesome time to live in Tacoma.
I woke up bright and early on Saturday morning ready to go to the farmer’s market with Francine.
As I walked into the living room, still slightly blind and not yet caffeinated, I heard an odd noise in the living room. I wandered in, dazed and squinting thinking that I was going to have to deal with a mouse or something.
The sound was too distinct, too rhythmic, as I got closer, it sounded like “drip… drip… drip…”
It was barely drizzling outside, nothing should be dripping.
That’s when I found the leak just inside my front door (the only flat part of my roof)
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a few buckets and an emergency call to Guardian Roofing and my house is now graced with a lovely white tarp (hey, it’s only ghetto if you use a blue tarp right?)
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At least it didn’t happen during the actual rainy season. It will all work out.
I still managed to have a lovely girls afternoon with my long time friend Betsy having her birthday pedicure at Club Biella and a nice lunch at Dukes on the waterfront.
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I came home to catch up on writing and to clean my office (my desk now resembles and archaeological dig: I think my PSE bill is in the Precambrian layer)
Ah, but that was not to be. My phone rang and it was my manager. She has only called me at home twice in the last five years. The last time was an emergency with a suspect in the act of committing fraud. This time was no different and after three hours, I had the satisfaction of seeing someone who has been the bane of my existence for the last three years lead away in handcuffs.
After that, I headed North to meet up with some friends from high school for a mini reunion. We graduated [cough] 30 years ago in Ventura California, but two of us live up here in the PNW and another friend who now lives in San Francisco was up visiting family
Sunday morning was another (unfortunately) early wake up call because the guy that was going to stain my fence and pergola couldn’t do it on Saturday as planned and came early Sunday.
I was ready for a slug day, when my friend Janet showed up on her bike wanting to go for a ride. It was just what I needed (to get off my ass) after 3 months of escrow, moving and rehabbing a fractured foot/big toe.
We wandered around the garden grazing on blueberries and peas and marveling at how Tagro creates mutant like vegetable growth.
We rode out to Proctor to check out Jubilee Cupcakes. I had tried the place once under the old name/recipe and was disappointed by the dry (almost stale tasting) cupcake. I had heard that they reworked their recipe to make it more moist, so I was anxious to try it.
We arrived at 11:45 to find a huge sign on the door saying that they wouldn’t be open until 11:00. The door was unlocked so we went in.
We were excited to try the cupcakes and sip some coffee on the porch.
We chose our cupcakes and asked for cups of drip coffee.
They couldn’t do it because their espresso machine was “being serviced”.
They had “french press” coffee on the menu so we said that we’d like that.
They couldn’t do that.
So is it that they can’t boil water without the espresso machine (no stove, no microwave?) or that you can’t grind coffee without the machine.
I can tell you that if it was my business, I’d have walked the one block over to Metro Market or Safeway and purchased ground coffee. If it was a water issue, I’d have grabbed a microwave or teapot form home.
Sorry Jubilee, but this may have been your last chance.
It’s too hard to try and love you.
We rode out to the Antique Sandwich (where we have NEVER been disappointed), and had pie and coffee out in the garden.
After that, we had a lovely ride around Five Mile Drive amongst the old growth trees and Puget Sound and then headed over to the HUB to enjoy a happy hour Buffalo Chicken Pizza and a Harmon beer.
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We meandered back towards my hood (Hilltop) and stopped off at my friend Francine’s house. I could smell the unmistakable scent of roasting coffee beans.
We wandered her garden for a while and then headed back home.
Francine and I then went foraging.
The alleys of Hilltop are ripe with opportunity and culinary delights. We picked (and ate) our fill of blackberries, checked on the overgrown grape vines that will provide us tasty treats in a few weeks and also visited some apple trees.
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When I got home (with the few berries I didn’t eat) I engaged in an experiement.
I didn’t have any small tart pans, but I did find a funky little pan that bakes little bundt cake shaped brownies.
I rolled out some pie crust with a bit of extra butter and moisture, cut it into little circles with my water glasses and lined the mini bundt forms with the crust.
Then I made a tart filling out of sour cream, fresh eggs (from the back yard, it doesn’t get any more fresh that pulling it out from under a chicken) flour, sugar and vanilla. I topped the tarts with blackberries so fresh and sweet that they didn’t need any sugar.
They turned out awesome (now I just need to figure out how to replicate the recipe).
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I’m tellin’ ya…
Heaven is a little slice of Hilltop.
~L
Mood: exhausted 
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