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I had an old, wooden, dilapidated shed on the South 40 behind my house.
As I sat at the breakfast table, with the fragrant odor of Yuban coffee wafting about my nostrils while gazing through the steel-gray fog and clouds surrounding my house and scattered across my field, I shivered at the thought of stumbling outside into the freezing temps to get some firewood and fully realized with astounding clarity that this would be my destiny for at least another six to eight weeks.
This column has brought me a great deal of fame in our mossy little corner of the world.
It’s a sure sign of age when you find yourself saying, with increasing regularity, “Things are different today.”
Unlike many, if not most, guys, I’m not much interested in cars. Never have been.
Well, friends, it’s been quite a year.
‘Twas two days before Christmas and o’r the Plateau, I drive here and there, meeting people I know; It’s still early evening as I drive down 410, And cruise into Buckley where I stop quite often.
Christmas is a romantic time of year and therefore, you would correctly presume, romantic personalities rise to their full fruition during the holiday season.
Our economy is so screwed up it would boggle the mind of a Hindu holy man and King County still has an unemployment rate near 10 percent.
There are some ridiculous rumors floating around the Plateau about my drinking habits.
Since the very first pilgrim/Indian feast in 1621, Thanksgiving has been a time of family gatherings.
So, I went bouncing up the steps to KeyBank, clutching a certificate of deposit interest check tightly in my grimy, little fist, intending to cash it to secure a few nickels and hoping to greet Cherri, Rosita and all those charming tellers.
Well, friends, just in case you haven’t yet geared up for the occasion, I would remind you that this Sunday all those terrifying, unholy creatures of ancient folklore will once again stagger, float and crawl across our fields and streets.
Once upon a time, way back in the early 1980s, Doug Williams of Whistling Jack’s fame, Bob Grubb of Greenwater and Jeanne Lyman of Crystal Mountain, along with two or three of their associates, sat down over coffee or beers and decided many tourist attractions around Mount Rainier could use a little promotion.
I was stumbling down the street last week when I saw an attractive, middle-aged woman walking toward me.
Well, friends, we’re still waiting for the promised economic recovery
Gene Groesbeck was Enumclaw’s premier movie tycoon from the early days of motion pictures until the mid-1950s.
Well gang, in the last year it has become quite apparent our economy is more screwed up than anyone suspected and there’s no quick fix on the horizon.