Friday

Quick analogy, for you SAT whizzes: Starbucks is to Every Other City in America what ______ is to Beaverton.

The answer, of course, is ethnic grocers. No, really. They're on every corner. You expect the usual generic Asian markets, but here they've been broken down by country. ("Ooh, Korean!") The generic ones are mega-marts the size of your average big-box supermarket which carry such good-for-body-and-soul items such as sushi-grade fish.

Mediterranean. Halaal. Ethiopian. Kosher. I need a Mongolian grocer so I can find a good hot pot.

It's ironic -- Despite moving from the city to the suburbs, my ability to live a 100% walkable existence has increased dramatically. (Of course, I reserve the right to throw up my hands, say, "It's drizzling!" and drive the 150 yards between apartment and work, but somehow that seems doubtful.)

Nothing much happened today; coaching staff meeting over lunch, Kathryn got a sabre lesson, and we went to see Juno. Which fulfilled the high expectations we had for it.