A PASSPORT ISN'T ENOUGH
We had some last minute excitement (a visa? What?), solved online. As Finch says in American Pie, "god bless the Internet."
"You're a travel writer. You're supposed to catch these things," he protested.
"Yeah, I'm a travel writer STAYING HOME," I reminded I.B. "I next sojourn to exotic Spokane, Washington, to bridesmaid. Everyone's jealous."
Despite the turmoil, we had a lovely evening a walk to the Ballard locks, dinner a deux, wistful lounging with the cats, which make him slightly sniffly. The Inappropriate Beau is also allergic to garlic; happily I'm still in denial about that catastrophe. Because really, a vegetarian and an omnivore who can't handle cipolle o aglio? Hence the name Inappropriate Beau (at least, in part. We'll discuss the flash car later).
We stopped into Karma Coffee to visit the machinery. I felt compelled to explain to the very sweet barista why we were gawping from the street, ice cream in hand, without entering.
"He helped designed
that small-unit bean roaster," I offered. "We're excited to see it
I.B. asked, once we were outside: "Do you set out to embarrass me?"
"Fair's fair. You shout 'author signing' every time we enter a bookstore."
Then I told him, yet again, about my fave New Yorker cartoon of late. Johnny Cohen depicted a scruffy beggar, holding a sign that said "meet the author". And he's such a good person and friend, he laughed afresh.
To repay such loyalty with abject humiliation, here's a pic of I.B. on his eve of departure, round-the-world.