Morning all:

Six-forty-five in the morning, George Gershwin’s wonderful Someone to watch over me coming through my earpieces. Already floating at 27,000 feet I just experienced the beauty of seeing Mt. Rainier’s peak glide by and minutes later the morning sun drenched peaks of Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Hood jutting through the clouds. All this more than made up for some unkind thoughts that crossed my mind as I groggily climbed into the shower about three hours ago. However, I do have my absolutes and it was an almost desperate “bring on the coffee please” instruction that I gave to the cabin attendant even before I got to my seat.

Two nights ago internet connectivity problems prevented me from gaining access in my room. On my way out the door to catch up with some folk I did a quick check on a lobby system. My mail had nothing urgent so it was a quick pass by Adrianne’s site. I was delighted by the fact that she had just posted within the hour. I think that this was the first time that her post read of complete contentment, purpose, and acceptance of her living and work in Tonga. Knowing Adrianne I tend to think that she has somehow finally created some subtle change within the native population of her island. OK, maybe it really has been a two-way street for her.

The “out the door” from the previous paragraph was for a beer next door to the hotel at a pub that is part of the Redhook brewery complex that sits there. Much more spectacular however were the gorgeous grounds of the Chateau Ste. Michelle winery across the street. Once again I have fallen in love all over again with the spectacular beauty of our nation’s North West. It actually makes me wonder why, after a year of horrifically difficult travel, Lewis and Clark bothered heading back east. I just realized that Meriwether Lewis also figured out the severity of his mistake and shortly thereafter took his own life.

Last week Marcia and I spent a great afternoon at our Summerfest. Over four hundred artists exhibited everything from kitsch to spectacular works of art, everything from oils to carving, from glass and wood to steel. We even sat for a one-hour concert of Zydeco music by a band that managed to create an instant party. It was ninety degrees as we tapped our feet and sat eating jambalaya out of a styrofoam container and sipped on a 24 ounce brewsky, oh I do love these summer festivals.

The Captain just rudely interrupted Sammy Davis singing a West Side song to announce our decent into Salt Lake City. I’ll listen to him this time around and shut down the laptop—the attendant standing next to me waiting for me to comply also drives home the point. If I get the chance I’ll jump into the Crown Room and post from there.

Make it a great week.
Cheers,
Dirk