Sea Songs for Volume & Flotsam for Breakfast
A grand weekend at the coast celebrating birthdays (mine) and relationships (ours). Saturday, I had one of those perfect days. Everything was sunshine slow, young, ripe & oceansized. We cruised the beaches, scored at the shops, and the golf balls went far and true. We ate famously well. Locals pointed our bellies to the Sea Hag restaurant for dinner. I got down with a whole Dungeness Crab. Just annihilated the creature. By the end I was wearing butter and bits of crab all over my shirt. The wait staff couldn’t bring napkins fast enough. A little girl at the next table stared in rapt amazement. The protein buzz came swiftly as I dug in. By the end I felt like I could sprint at top speed to Lincoln City. It was an event. Our lead waiter, was an awesome guy who cheered me on and rubbed my shoulders like a heavyweight boxing coach. Funny enough, Sunday morning – still dizzy and recovering from Crab hangover – we waddled down to breakfast at the resort. I wanted a heaping mound of french toast. The waiter came to our table and damn if it wasn’t the same waiter from the night before at the Sea Hag. It was just one of those weekends. Perfect.