Not A Hill To Die On

 

Not even a knife from the business itself could cut through the stench.

Friday night we went bar hopping. I think bar crawling would be more accurate. We hit 2 bars--maybe 3, if I am not mistaken. I had almost no food in my system (save for the exquisite mushroom and leek quiche made by L), thank you GLP-1. 2 or 3 drinks later I was hammered. No idea the name of the first bar. Next, we went to the great-uncle's famous Admiral Benbow Room, where he was karaoke king---I learned only at his funeral 23 years ago-where his music was played exclusively during the viewing of the body (why do we do that viewing thing, anyway?). He had a helluva voice, Gene Smith did. I wish I would have known his talent--it would have been fun to sing a duet with the man I didn't know whatsoever, but with whom we spent a few holidays and saw at family weddings and funerals, until the last funeral he attended---his own. We had so much fun, laughing at terrible jokes told by the bartender and me--I started it (dad joke aficionado that I am). The bartender indisputably ended it as the king of all bad/dad jokes.

Saturday, I woke up just a little drunk--that hasn't happened in a long time--which in the parlance of someone pushing 60 means--decades.  I had only had 2-3 drinks and stopped hours before closing time. Getting older and rarely drinking means that getting hammered can happen on the cheap, despite drinking good whiskey. Also, I beat a Midwesterner at Duck Hunt, a rare occasion for any local boy, and unheard of for me.

We spent Saturday together and although I don't see how it's possible, had an even better time than on Friday. We went to the best antique store around. Located in

Renton and remaining nameless for selfish reasons, it is where I found the German nutcrackers, one of which looks very much like Omi. Anyway, while there I stumbled across a pen knife from the Seattle Rendering Works--which now sits odor free on my keychain. The Rendering works, its former location is viewable from my deck when the leaves have disappeared, was the phantom scourge of summertime Bryn Mawr. When the wind hit just right we would have the odor of animal flesh--largely rotting--being rendered into glue. The stink would generally last for hours, and if the wind was right, several days. Scourge is too polite a word. My friend Robert Huffman's step-dad, had an independent business gathering up old grease from local restaurants in 55-gallon barrels and delivering it to the rendering works. I would smell the truck from 1/2 a block away each morning as I would near his house on my Seattle P-I and Renton Record Chronicle paper route. 

If you knew the geography of the land mass between the rendering works--which sat at the bottom of a great ridge--the backbone of the old Empire Way (Now MLK), you would marvel at how nature could pick up the scent of cooked death and drop it into the depression of land that is Bryn Mawr. Note that Bryn Mawr is Welsh for great hill. 84th Avenue S is nothing, if not a great hill. (Also, why didn't they teach us this when we were students at Bryn Mawr Elementary School?).  I used to, every chance I got, ride my 10 speed up that hill and then would race down as fast as I could. It was even more fun sledding down. 84th is steeper than Pike or Pine, is longer than any other hill around the area, except Madison. The views are incredible. You can see Seattle, Bellevue, Mercer Island, the Kent Valley, south to Mt. St. Helens (we would watch the eruptions back in 1980--what a gift). Skyway is essentially a plateau before the ridge falls away between Riverton and Tukwila, which is where the rendering works site sat. Side note, once I crashed my bike riding up the hill when a bunch of girls in the back of a truck drove by and waved at me when I was about 12. I fell, hit my head, and knocked
myself out. It turns out it was family friends, which i would have known if I had been wearing my glasses. Tween vanity. 

Wow. This was supposed to be about the Iron Goat Trail. Next time. 

L, who is decorating her new home in an Alice and Wonderland Theme--which given my

mother's love for Carroll's poetry may cause her to reconstitute, reanimate and return to see the finished product--found a beautiful clock at the antique store which will go amongst her collection of multiple clocks. While at the antique store, I saw a framed photograph of robber baron and railroad magnate James J. Hill. I thought about buying it, but I am not made of money these days and so filed it away as interesting. 

Tandem massages were next, followed by a trip to a float place and then food, all courtesy of L. The day was exquisite. I can't remember any day as good this year, until the next day, which was spent with Abby.