So would you expect that rather than go to the gym I’d be drinking beer on a Tuesday at the beach? It was a quiet end to a day where my sister and I drove out to the beach for our friends’ grandfather’s funeral. I didn’t even know his name until last week, since they just called him Boppy.

After the funeral, several of us went to the pub down the street from the grandparents’ house and, for some reason, ate a bunch of salads. This means my lunch for the day was reception cookies and a green salad plus several beers. For those of you lucky enough to be in Oregon, you may know the effect of Terminal Gravity IPA. Fortunately, my sister doesn’t drink, so I let her drive the hour-and-a-half back  to Portland.

Coincidentally, the bar at the beach is owned by a old neighbor who went to grade school with us in Portland. He went to my high school as well. He always kind of had a crush on my little sister, but she’s pretty oblivious to things like that.