Really only three things of note happened this weekend, two of them exciting for both of us, and one mostly happy for Ryan.
The first exciting thing was my brother and and sister-in-law were in town and we went out for drinks. We started at a nice bar and ate some delicious appetizers and drank some frouffy drinks. Then we managed the miracle of a table at Bathtub, Gin & Co.
I have poked my head into this place a time or two, but never gotten in. The first trick is finding it. On a back alley beside dumpsters, off of a sketchy pay-parking lot, is a wood door. If you look hard enough there is a metal plate with Bathtub, Gin, & Co. inscribed on it. Inside there is only space for 25 persons. You enter on the center landing of two narrow wood staircases, downstairs there were a few surrounded tables, but we headed upstairs to the action.
The space looks like it was once the brick back storage closet of a restaurant, and now the brick has been supplemented by darkly stained oak flours and a thick wood bar with leather stools pushed up to it. The bartender (the best I’ve met in Seattle) reigns over the two-man show with only a few shelves of select liquor, no measurements, and within an arm’s stretch of the entire upstairs. He reached around the barstool inhabitants to hand us our drinks at the one table.
Everyone went silent when we each ordered. My brother ordered a simple Gin and Tonic made with Oxley’s Gin of London. The smoothest gin and tonic any of us had tasted. The bartender made me a ‘Dealer’s Choice.” I chose Ebb and Flow Gin and he made me the stiffest and sassiest cocktail in my limited experience.
The next item of note is my new market basket. Every week I have been admiring the baskets that a small African man hangs on the outside of the market fence. They are round and bumpy and have so much character. I finally bought one. The man explained that once a month I must sprinkle water on it (“like with ironing, water a bit, and let it have shape…”) to keep it supple and strong.
The last happening of note was a fishing expedition to Green Lake near our house. I went unprepared for a man’s fishing ferver. I accompanied him, thinking that after I had walked the 3 miles around the lake back to his spot, and drank my coffee, we would be ready to be off on a more exciting adventure for the holiday weekend.
I was mistaken.
For almost four hours Ryan was incredibly patient, casting his line, sitting in the sun and waiting for a fish to bite.
I sat. Stood. Paced. Took pictures. Went and got us lunch. Texted my sister. Called a friend. Held the fishing pole. Watched the slackliners and paddleboarders. Tried my slightly-numb-with-cold-wifely-loving-best not to annoy Ryan.
I love that he fishes. But I think I’ll stay home or bring a book next time.