“Don’t let aging get you down. It’s too hard to get back up.”
My bro Dave from back in Ohio posted this and I felt it needed posting here. I’ve added and deleted a couple of lines but the meaning still rings true.
To all my bros, both Biker and Non-Riding ones: Continue reading “Biker Bros”
Friday nights are usually pizza night at the Gregor household. Neither one of us really feels like going out to dinner and we sure as heck don’t feel like cooking. This past Friday, Beth, who was getting sick of the same ol’ cardboard cookie-cutter pizza, decided to do a little online research. Her search formula was simple but brilliant; “Pizza for Delivery in Mill Creek WA.” We like pizza, but on Fridays we are as lazy as sloths on ‘ludes, so delivery was a must have.
What came up was Elliott Bay Pizza & Pub. Let me say that one more time, because I’m sure I will be writing more about this place. Elliott Bay Pizza & Pub. In a world of rabbit pellet sausage and tomato sauce made in China, this place is a culinary breath of fresh air. Let’s get right to the particulars. Continue reading “Elliott Bay Pizza & Pub: A Delicious Delivery”
Okay, look. I don’t know who said that wisdom comes with age, but they lied. The only thing that came when I got older was gray hair and the inability to sleep more than 6 hours in a row without getting up to pee.
I’ve decided to deal with this aging nonsense by keeping a record of my thoughts. Random, grumpy, aching-knee thoughts. It is going to be me being grumpy about getting old. As the hair continues to fall, so will the words.
So renew your AARP card and I’ll meet you at Denny’s where we’ll gripe about kids with more hardware in their ears than a Sears store.
Oh, and get off my lawn!
We pull off the road, exhilarated from the ride and parched. Mouths drier than a Brit’s wit. I’m talking dry here. Kelly, Brian and I have not been on the road long, but it’s been busy. A lot of blind, off-camber turns and traffic have taken a little bit of a toll. A cold Coors is calling my name and I feel the need to heed the call.
We stop and pull into a small little dive. The vibe from the place screams “LOCALS ONLY” as we enter the cool interior. Patrons glance our way hoping to see a familiar face and seeing none, return to their beers. I order a $3.50 draft and hand the bartender a 5 spot, telling her to keep the change. I’m “in” now. Oh yeah, so in.
I make my way to the back patio. Biker heaven folks. Porta potty, tables, beer and smokes. Like I said, heaven. Crap! Smokes! I forgot my smokes on my scoot. I now have to walk back out through the bar to get my cigs. Through the stares. The questions. The stale spilt beer. Continue reading “Who Killed Folk Music?”
I’ve just wolfed down a killer Klondike Bar, dark chocolate mind you, that is sitting rather heavy on the 4 extra dry martinis I made for myself tonight. Look, don’t let the headline scare you, I’m just experimenting tonight. I’ve spent the last couple of months writing pablum for the masses. Headlines and short snippets designed to get folks to click on a story. Don’t get me wrong, it is good work and I love that an uneducated biker dude like me was given the chance. It’s just not me, you know? I love to write. I love to express my thoughts in ways I hope that help people understand who I am. That’s immortality, right? It’s what we all look for, no?
Ed note: This was written in 2011, and now in 2019 is still rings true.
Okay, before I start hearing choruses of “We’ve heard this” “It’s not always about Nirvana” and other comments, let me just say this: this ain’t your Entertainment Tonight version of the vibe. Shall we continue?
I’ll be the first one to admit it, when we first moved out here and I could wear my flannel and vests and not feel like an outcast, I was one happy camper. I felt at home here. For one thing, people looked like me! Longish hair, beards, jeans and flannel shirts. Christ, this was me going back to grade school! And yeah, I had a beard in 3rd grade. Sue me. Bottom line, I felt like I belonged, and I was one happy flannel covered camper.
Man, hard to believe another year has rolled around and it’s time for Thanksgiving again. Turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, brussels sprouts in bacon fat and vinegar, freshly baked rolls, pumpkin pie… I love it all. I also love how while there are “standards”, every family has their own culinary tricks, favorites and traditions.
Not only a time for honoring old traditions, Thanksgiving can also be an opportunity for creating new ones. While our individual situations may put our old, familiar traditions on hold, we can create new ones. The old ones never go away of course. They just sit dormant, waiting for their chance to bloom again.
Friendship. Even the word sounds nice. Like a toasty flannel cocoon, friendships embrace us in warm, safe comfort. “Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together” – Woodrow Wilson. “The most I can do for my friend is simply to be his friend. I have no wealth to bestow on him. If he knows that I am happy in loving him, he will want no other reward. Is not friendship divine in this?” – Henry David Thoreau. And my favorite on friends no longer around: “With every friend I love who has been taken into the brown bosom of the earth a part of me has been buried there; but their contribution to my being of happiness, strength and understanding remains to sustain me in an altered world.” – Helen Keller
I’ve been thinking about friendships of late. What they mean, why they are so important to us. What is a “true” friend, and aren’t all our friends true? Semantics run wild, I know, but I do believe we have different types of friendships. Like the flora that covers “the brown bosom of the earth”, friendships come in all shapes and colors.
Some are like the spring crocus. Fragrant and beautiful, yet also fragile and short lived. Even when given great care, they are meant to be around for only a few weeks. The beauty they bring to a mountain side, however, is meant to be treasured for a lifetime. Continue reading “Fir Friendships”
Beth and I love going downtown to the Sport Restaurant and Bar on football Saturdays. Number one reason is that it’s home to the Seattle Buckeye Alumni Club, and watching the Bucks in a bar full of OSU fans is a total rush. Number two reason is the food; great garlic fries, dips and pizzas. This past Saturday, however, Beth woke up feeling like crap and it was a crappy day to match, so we decided to hunker down and stay in. OSU was on national TV, so we were good to go there, but what to do about food?
I was going to just make us some scrambled eggs, but then I saw we still had some smoked salmon left and the wheels started turning. Capers? Check. Cream Cheese? Check. Pizza dough? Surprisingly enough, check! I had picked up a tube of the ready to go pizza dough a couple of days earlier. I was going to make a “Faux Beef Wellington”, but dammit, this was football man! And just like that, Gregor’s Pub Breakfast Pizza went on the menu.
I’m certainly not going to claim this as an original. I’ve had similar versions many times. In fact, the Sport Bar used to make one. This is just the way I threw it together, using what I had. The real key to this, is to make sure none of the toppings overpower the others.