Time for a mini post! A bite-sized, Trump-fingered hors d’oeuvre of a post which I’m writing, unless I’m repressing memories again, from the first motel I’ve ever stayed in. There’s nothing wrong with this motel, to be clear, unless I’m murdered after posting this. Murdered or not, I’m in Palo Alto this week for work before flying to New Mexico for the long Memorial Day weekend, so wanted to clear the blogging decks in advance of that trip.
Sunny blue skies, as yet murder-free motel
What I really wish I’d taken a photo of, but you’ll just have to imagine instead, is the stolen Google bike (in Google colours) lying discarded in some bushes by the pavement.
Back in Chicago, it came to my attention that I don’t think Chloe and Aaron have ever actually appeared here pictorially, so below is a particularly tense moment from a game of 6 Nimmt! (not a typo) which Katie dispatched for Randi’s birthday:
A clearly outrageous situation
Today’s frozen yoghurt flavour of choice: French vanilla
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Hotel, motel, Comfort Inn