It was one of those perfect weekends -- a gorgeous setting, beautiful weather, good friends, lots of laughter, good food. On our second day there we took the dogs to a dog park on the beach. The tide was out and it was so clear you could see the Seattle skyline. And then Mt. Rainier! Soaring into the sky, its foot clad in clouds, it's snow capped peak looking almost fragile, mystical against the sky's pale blue background. Perfect!
Yes, it was perfect -- what could go wrong? And, well, nothing did until just before we left. The car was packed and we were ready to head home -- where are the car keys??? Keys? don't you have them? We ended up having to call AAA for a tow to the local car dealer to get a new key made and all of this takes a lot of time because after all, we were on an island, not in Seattle! But we all made it home safely -- if delayed, the weather remained beautiful and it was still a great weekend! And it was good to get home and sleep in my own bed -- my bones don't take too kindly to sleeping in a tent even on an air mattress, but I'm not complaining that much, at least I can do it for three nights and still walk around.
It wasn't until after I got home that I saw the cover on the New Yorker magazine and almost lost the lovely sense of peace and beauty that I had so enjoyed over the long weekend. What are they thinking? And why? I've always enjoyed the magazine, but this was so over the top, so totally uncalled for, so disgusting -- needless to say I won't be buying that one again. The news is bad enough every day without something like this to make it even worse. One look at that cover and I was ready to head back to the island.
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