On Saturday morning, the bakery at my favorite coffee shop was dark and empty. When I asked the barista what was going on (thinking that they might be on an extended holiday vacation) she told me that the owner had had a heart attack and things weren’t looking good. I left shocked and sad. Also, glad that I had repeatedly told him that he made the best pizza ever, which is true. He died last night. He was only 57. I guess I didn’t really know him, but I saw him every Saturday, occasionally exchanged pleasantries, etc., but he was nice and I liked him.
Last night was 63B girls’ night out. D’s as usual, but they now have an expanded food menu. I tried the pop-eye pizza with lots of cheese and spinach and was pleasantly surprised. They have some sort of “tiger sauce” for dipping, which came along with the fried zucchini and was amazingly good and amazingly bad for me. I should have taken some photos. I’m still not used to this whole thing I guess.
Tonight I’m headed to Free Ride. Maybe I’ll try to take a photo of my sad, pathetic bike, but I’m pretty sure that it will be too dark.