Bar Notes: Eastside Distilling

For my birthday, my brother Kerry hooked me up with a tour of Eastside Distilling.  I had almost forgotten about it until Tracy found the gift certificate in our office the other day.  With our reservation set, Tracy and I set off to discover a local craft distiller who would only come to exceed our expectations.

Day drinking.  I'm normally not a huge fan of it, but what can you do?  We had a 1 p.m. reservation, so it looked like we were set to get our buzz on early.  Located on SE 7th Street in Portland, Oregon, Eastside Distilling is an unassuming storefront that one could easily slide by as it is in the middle of the block.

Eastside's Storefront

 Their industrial sign is a perfect match for the neighborhood that surrounds it.  Mostly commercial/industrial, the distillery cozies right on in to its environment.  Upon entering, we were greeted with the tiny retail storefront that displays Eastside's good as well as other locally made products that any home bar could use.  They carry locally made mixers, chocolates, pepper additives for Bloody Mary's, etc.  Amongst all the local goods, one can find the regular paraphernalia: t-shirts, flasks, glassware, etc.  Yet, it is what lies four steps below that makes this distillery special.

The distillery's tasting room is a modest cordoned off section of their retail space, but the experience one can have there transcends their modesty.  As part of a scheduled tasting, Tracy and I joined about eight other people in a sampling of spirits from vodka to flavored rum to specialty bourbons.

The Tasting Room

Our tasting bartender was a funny young woman from the south, so, of course, the Kentucky Derby was playing in the next room.  While she occasionally allowed her attention to drift to the screen, she brought the Derby into the tasting, hinting at the chance for fresh Mint Juleps after we sampled her wares.

We began with their potato vodka, a lovely example of this neutral spirit, but we were soon gallivanting our way through spiced rum, ginger rum, and coffee rums.  Each taste of these specialty liquors evoked a drink recipe in both my mind and Tracy's.

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The rums almost called to their mixers, their flavor counterparts, and we whispered ideas to ourselves as the group commented on their tasting notes.  The coffee rum called to me particularly, although you would have to be careful with this as the bartender noted that an ounce and a half of the rum was equal to the caffeine of a cup of coffee.

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Once we finished our trip through rum land, we moved on to the whiskeys.  Tracy is normally not a fan of whiskey in any form, but she was a good sport about it and tasted her way through some of the infused whiskeys.  Eastside offers the solid Burnside Bourbon, which, if I remember right, is made in small batches and aged for four years.  It isn't your old bourbon and Coke type of bourbon. This whiskey is sipping whiskey, and it holds up remarkably well on the palate.

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The bartender, a true saleswoman, pointed out that they have an Oregon Oaked Bourbon which was unavailable for tasting due to its limited quantities.  This bourbon is aged especially in Oregon oak which is said to be a touch more porous and so infuses the whiskey with greater notes of vanilla, caramel, cinnamon, and maple.  Just as the bartender intended, I was tempted by this specialty bourbon, but, alas, didn't walk away with one.  Next time!

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The last two bourbons we tried are infused with local fruit.  The Cherry Bomb is a fun way to mix up your old Manhattan recipe.  No need to keep a jar of cherries around with this unique whiskey.

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In addition to Eastside's Cherry Bomb whiskey, they produce a new Marionberry Whiskey that stood out to me immediately.  The fruit is readily apparent in the whiskey, but, for me, it didn't take away from the overall flavors that I crave from a good whiskey.

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With the tasting over, it was time for a cocktail.  Tracy wound up having a ginger rum drink, while I opted for the Marionberry Whiskey with Cock and Bull Ginger Beer.  I wasn't disappointed.  The ginger beer brought a sharpness and fizz to the Marionberry Whiskey that had me craving the second cocktail before I had even finished the first, the sign of a winning cocktail recipe in my house!

The whole experience was rounded out by our tour of the distillery, a one room operation guided by Brian Cooper (an apt name for someone working with barrels).  He gave us a peek behind the science of distilling and answered all of our groups questions about the process of making whiskey.  We were lucky that only four people decided to take the tour because it freed Brian up to really answer the questions without missing out on the chance to showcase their operations.

Discovered this mad scientist in the tasting room at Eastside

The whole experience was a wonderful one, one highlighted by the friendly staff, the top notch customer service, and quality products that didn't need a sales pitch.  The people at Eastside Distilling know what they are about and that is a philosophy of product-first while making the sometimes mysterious world of specialty liquor seem approachable and fun.

Tracy and I wound up walking away with a bottle of the Marionberry Whiskey and the Below Deck Ginger Rum, which added up to us receiving another free tasting for two.  The only next question is: Who's coming with us?

All in all, Eastside Distilling was a great experience for Tracy and I.  We had a blast talking cocktails with all of the staff.  I recommend those in the Portland area with even a slight interest in the science of cocktails make their way down. For reservations, connect with them here or click here for private party reservations.

Personal Note: The Big Think

The last couple of days have found me in a personal pickle.  I've been presented with an opportunity to take my life in a new direction of sorts, or to at least pick one direction from amongst the many I'm working at any given time.  It's put me in an introspective space, a mindful insulated place where I don't know what my next move will be.

As such, I found myself feeling that old urge I get whenever I'm percolating a new idea/opportunity: the urge to drive!  After I got off work, I jumped in the truck and proceeded to drive around town.  I've always loved to drive, to take off and hit parts unknown, to drive on roads I'm unfamiliar with and get a little lost.  Although this time, I was drawn almost immediately to the McLoughlin Promenade.

In Oregon City, there is a 7+ acre linear park that runs along the ridge above downtown.  It's edged on one side by a sheer drop and on the other by businesses and historic homes.  It's a nice place to visit in the day, but it feels a bit dodgy at night.  I took the risk though.  For some reason, I needed to sit above downtown and gaze into the distance toward Portland.

It was a beautiful night.

The view from near the Oregon City elevator.

It was perfectly warm and spring was in the air.

Magnolia (?) tree near the elevator

I didn't necessarily come up with any great ideas, any real solutions to my dilemma, but I did find peace of mind and a spot for a quick ten minute meditation as I gazed out over the city lights of Portland twinkling in the distance.

It's important to take a moment to clear the mind before making any life-altering decisions.  A long drive, a meditative moment, or a good run are all good ways of centering oneself before committing to the fray.  I've made many a good decision as a result of these three techniques.  I'm hoping to keep using these techniques in the coming weeks as I begin to decide what it is I really want and how I am going to get there.

Life is a grand adventure, and these moments of decision, or real choice with real consequence, should be a reminder that it is so.  The fact that I find this decision so challenging is because it means I am invested in my life.  In many ways, that's all I've ever wanted.  It's the reason I write, the reason I read, the reason I love.  To quote some Yiddish from Fiddler on the Roof, "l'chaim." TO LIFE!

Bar Notes: Mister Disgruntled

Last night I had a run-in with one of the types of people that servers and bartenders dread across the board: the perpetually disgruntled patron.  It was a solid night, nothing too busy, but not dead either.  The restaurant received a call that a party of 12 would be arriving in 10 minutes, so we set to work pushing tables together and getting prepared for their arrival.

There was another large party of 10 or so in the restaurant celebrating the end of their fantasy football season.  They were mostly drinking, but it took a good bit of attention to make sure they had what they needed when the new party arrived.

This isn't last night's group, but the size and scope of the party was similar.

After the hostess took the initial drink order, I brought the drinks out to the table and greeted the 12 newcomers.  When I dropped their drinks at the table, I informed them of the dinner special and asked if they were going to be a single tab or separate tabs.  They told me that they would have 9 individual tabs across the 12 people dining.  Great!  I love having this information in advance.  I can do so much with this information as long as I have the heads up.

I set about taking their order, making careful notes as to their drinks so I could split the tab at the time they ordered.  I got through 11 of the 12 people when I ran into Mr. Disgruntled himself.  He was the last to order, and when I got to him I was greeted with this, "I'm going to be very specific, so I think you should write this down."  I already had my pad and pen in hand, so I nodded politely and took his order.  He ordered a hamburger (easy enough) but was specific about condiments and garnish (easy enough).  As I repeated the order back to him, he nodded, made one small correction, and then said, "If you don't get it right, I'm not afraid to send it back."

Awesome!

I could tell by the man's attitude that he was going to be a lovely customer.

I proceeded to flawlessly ring in every order, split the check nine ways, assign the proper drinks to the proper tabs, and continue to provide them with drink refills while managing my other large party and the other tables in the restaurant.

About 15 minutes later, dinner was served.  All 12 people were served at once with food hitting the table while it was still steaming.  The hostess helped me run the food, but it was difficult as people had moved from their original seats to converse.  We were auctioning off the plates (calling out the order to get peoples' attention) and dropping them at the appropriate spots.  In the hustle and bustle of it all, my hostess dropped a burger with cheese and bacon in front of Mr. Disgruntled.  While I still had food in my hands, I turned to see him throw his hands in the air like it was a stick-up.

"I didn't order cheese and bacon," he said, looking around the table. "I didn't order cheese and bacon."  His voice raised with every repetition.  The hostess looked at me aghast for a moment, wondering what to do.  I told him, "I'll be right there, sir."  I dropped off the two remaining plates in my hand, swooped over to his side, and removed the offending burger.  I returned to the kitchen to check the ticket to make sure I had rang it properly.  I had.  The cooks, in the confusion of multiple tables with one large party, had simply placed the wrong burger patty onto the wrong plate.  I returned to the table with another armload of food to be greeted with Mr. Disgruntled again.

"People tell me I'm too specific, but, obviously, I'm not specific enough since no one can ever get my order right."  I'm practically standing next to him as he continues to rant to his table mates.  "They say I over-explain, but I can't tell you how many times this happens to me."

I admit.  I hit red.  I have a thing about common courtesy and the place of empathy in a society.  The way this gentleman was carrying himself was entirely disrespectful.  I'm sorry, but just because I'm a server, doesn't mean that you have the right to address the situation, and my part in it, like I wasn't there.  I was ANGRY!  The last thing I heard was, "I thought I explained it perfectly."

When I returned to the kitchen, his burger was already in the window.  It was cooked exactly as he had specified, garnished correctly, and still steaming off the grill.  I grabbed the plate, turned, dropped it in front of him, and said, "Here's your perfectly explained burger, sir.  Enjoy your meal."

The comment caught the man unawares, as well as the speed with which the order was corrected.  The woman sitting across from him met my eyes and gave me that pinched "sorry-about-him" kind of look, and I was off to serve my other tables.

It wasn't my finest customer service moment, but it got the point across to that guy. As I walked away, I heard on of his friends exclaim, "See!  Kyle fixed it!"  I had introduced myself to the table earlier.  The guy devoured his perfectly explained burger and fries without further complaint.  In fact, I returned later to refill his fries and drink and the man was singing a new tune.

By the time the group left that night, the man shook my hand, thanked me for accommodating his group (he was the one who called ahead), tipped me almost 30%, and made sure to say he would come back again in the future.

Sometimes we go into a situation thinking things are going to be one way when they are actually going to be another.  This goes for that man and for me.  He came into the situation thinking he was going to be disappointed by his experience, and it almost made it come true.  I quickly followed suit and thought this guy was going to be an asshole and never redeem himself.  Both of us were wrong.  There were a couple of bumps along the way, but we inevitably found our way to having a mutually positive experience.

In both our cases, we needed to get past ourselves and simply focus on the other person.  He didn't understand the work involved in serving a party of his size with separate tickets and other restaurant concerns, and I didn't think about the fact that he might have had some really negative restaurant experiences that jaded him.  In the end, we both proved our first impressions wrong.  I guess we just need to keep our minds open to the experience and let it all shake loose as it will.

Sometimes even our negative experiences wind up doing something positive for us.

Bar Notes: Orenco Taphouse

Last night I got the opportunity to head over to the Orenco Taphouse on 1198 NE Orenco Station Parkway in Hillsboro, Oregon.  I was meeting a friend and colleague from Pacific University there and it was close for both of us as I was teaching that day.  As per my usual, I arrived early.  I'm habitually punctual, can't help it.  As I'd never been there before, it took me a minute to identify the place in the dense neighborhood of Orenco Station.  Once I did, I was in for a treat.

Image courtesy of Yelp

The Taphouse is a minimalist space on the corner, and upon entering you get a nice open feel to the place.  The style is industrial, with a lot of concrete, steel, and high ceilings, but with most of the tables occupied on a Tuesday night at six, it felt warm and inviting.  It was nice to step out of the rain and into this friendly space.
The service at Orenco Taphouse is minimalist too, in the good sense.  Customers are greeted with a giant television above the bar that displays the 20 rotating beers currently on tap, their relevant details (hop source, ABV, etc), and the price.  It even displays the style of glass you will get with the ounces displayed alongside the price.  It is full disclosure at the Orenco Taphouse.  There is even a clever graphical display that tells you how full the kegs are.  See the image below for what I'm talking about.

Photo courtesy of Home Brew Talk discussion board user Fuzze Wuzze
This board is actually from Bailey's Taproom, but Orenco Taphouse uses the same technology.

When you finish reading through the choices on the board, you step up to the bar and place your order for a taste or a glass.  The servers behind the bar were knowledgeable and friendly.  I was impressed by their ability to discuss any of the beers on tap.  The Taphouse isn't a table service type of joint.  This is very much a belly up to the bar kind of establishment.

Also, they don't serve their own food, but work in conjunction with other local businesses to have food brought in.  They have some light bar snacks for $1/$2, but you are otherwise phoning in your order.  I think this is great.  Orenco isn't trying to be everything to everybody.  They bring the beer and their knowledge to the party; let others take care of the food (which could be my new party philosophy!).

I had a glass of Cascade's Bipolar Imperial IPA and a Pils by Commons Brewing.  Both beers were excellent examples of their style.  I could have stayed and had more, but I had to beat feet before I had to phone for a ride home.  Always drink responsibly, folks!

Overall, I had a great experience at Orenco Taphouse.  It was exactly what one should expect from a taphouse: good beer and good conversation in a casual, drop-in neighborhood environment.  I will return when I'm meeting people on that side of town.

Thanks, Brent Johnson, for the invite and for bringing the A-game conversation.

Zen and the Art of Waiting Tables

Tenth Anniversary weekend at the Wild Hare Saloon and Café is officially over, and I’m a little sad to see it go.  I worked the whole weekend—Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.  Saturday was the big hootenanny with the Gentlemen’s Club Band and they tore it up!  The night was so much fun full of music, dancing, familiar faces, and a real celebration of our time together as the Wild Hare community.  I couldn’t have asked for a better party, but Saturdays inevitably turn to Sundays, and I found myself back at the Hare.

Photo courtesy of the Wild Hare

In an effort to be responsible, I left my rig at the Hare.  Since Shea had a birthday party to go to on Sunday afternoon, I wound up coming to the hare over two hours before my shift began.  I walked into the 10th anniversary party part 2 as many of the folks from the night before were there for breakfast and drinking down the mimosas.  The energy in the room was high, almost electric with excitement carried over from the night before.  I joined a large table of friends and ordered myself a big ol’ burger to help me fuel up for my coming shift.  After talking and laughing for a while, I retired to the back to read my book and enjoy some quiet time.  It wasn’t meant to be.

One of our servers was blindsided by a family emergency in the middle of her shift, so I scooted her out the door and jumped out into the restaurant to lend a hand.  It was a nice Sunday afternoon with the party going on and a few other families having a late lunch/early supper.  It was the opposite of a normal Sunday. Normally the energy of the shift starts slow and ramps up to the dinner rush.  This shift was due to present me with all kinds of exceptions to the rule.

First, I caught up on the other server’s closing work, got the place tidied up a bit and hit the floor.  It wasn’t long before we were full to capacity in the restaurant and the bar.  I had to hit the ground running.  After a few awkward moments of trying to figure out what was going on, I thought I was getting everything under control, although I have to admit that I had a bit of anxiety about my service as I felt a little fuzzy headed. That’s when the wine glass happened.

Photo provided by HC Online

As I was collecting a tray full of new drinks off the bar, I turned to make my way to the table.  The sound of glass breaking was what made me aware of my blunder.  In my attempt to hustle, I had spun around too quickly and l launched a full glass of wine over the edge of my tray.  It crashed to the floor and sent glass shards across the floor of the bar area.  My heart dropped.  I was already feeling behind the gun a little bit, and now I would have to find broom, dustpan, mop, and gracious apologies for those who were sitting near the spill.  It wasn’t what I needed in that moment.

With the help of my gracious server, Melissa, we got the mess cleaned up lickity split, and I had a new glass of Wine by Joe sitting on my tray as I made my second attempt to navigate my way out on to the floor.  I was feeling totally unsettled, adrift, floating into the weeds, afraid I would drop the ball and give someone bad service.  That’s when I had my moment of zen.  

As I was entering dinner orders into the computer, my thoughts clamored through my to-do list.  I was unorganized, shaken, and ready to freak out.  The energy from earlier, the daytime server’s personal anxiety, the wine glass, and a couple of other situations had set me to work with bad energy.  I was anxious when I didn’t have to be.  The thought crossed my mind, “It’s just burgers and fries, Kyle.”  This is one emergency mantra of the management at the Wild Hare.  We use it to try and calm down servers in just this situation. It’s a reminder to not get too overwhelmed, to calm down, to have fun, to smile for Chrissake.  I decided to take my own advice.

While I had about seven things to do in that exact moment, I stopped.  I turned from the computer, surveyed the restaurant, looked over the customers and their tables, counted heads, and just took in the scene.  I wasn’t making a mental checklist.  I wasn’t freaking out about what was going to come next.  I just watched them for a moment and realized they had no clue I was panicking.  The way I figured it, if they aren’t upset, then I have no reason to be upset.  I took another deep breath and walked back out on to the floor.

The next day, the daytime server said she waited on a couple at lunch who had been in the night before. They had such a great experience the night before that they decided to come in for lunch.  They told her, “The gentleman who waited on us did such a good job.”  I couldn’t believe it.  I don’t know which table they sat at or who they were, but it just proves that sometimes you just need to take a deep breath and forge ahead.  There’s no need to let anxiety rule.  Breathe.   Breathe.  Maybe it’s all just burgers and fries after all.

Image courtesy of Lifetasteslikefood.com

Work Life Balance

Any time one decides to take on extra work, an additional project, or just a couple hours of overtime, the threat of upsetting the work-life balance becomes immediately real.  In the last couple of weeks, I have found this to be true.  Like a new romance, new endeavors can have their romantic period, a time flush with the fever of the new and unknown.  A project can be seductive, distracting a person from his normal mental routines and causing him to become a touch obsessive about the object.  The danger here is losing track of all other aspects one's life.  With this in mind, I began researching work-life balance to see if others had similar experiences and/or tips for remaining balanced in periods of change.  Here is one man I've found who asks some of the same questions.

His name is Alain de Botton, and he is a writer who brings philosophy into the everyday.  He is also the founder of the School of Life, which is a social enterprise that questions the basics of life and tries to make learning and therapy relevant.  I first found him on GoodReads when I ran into this quote:

“There is no such thing as work-life balance. Everything worth fighting for unbalances your life."

I wasn't on a roll in terms of finding those tips that would lead to a greater sense of balance between work and the rest of my life.  I was encouraged by this quote though; it validated something I've been experiencing lately.  For example, sleep is something that is taking the back seat these days.  About twice a week, I am up at 3:30 a.m. working on new material or reading books like Jay Baer's Youtility, but I am also up at 6:30 to get Shea ready for school.  It isn't a lot of sleep, but I do feel pretty good because I'm working on things I enjoy, on a new direction for the family.

What this does provide me though is a fair bit of anxiety.  New projects and new endeavors, change of any kind really, can be nerve-racking, and I do sense that I am a little wound up.  That's when I dug a little further into Alain de Botton and found his TedTalk.  

If you aren't familiar with Ted.com, then you need to follow the link immediately.  There are talks on all kinds of subjects available there.  Everyone will find something they enjoy.  After all, their motto is "ideas worth spreading."  But that is a little off topic.

After a couple of minutes of listening to his talk, I found this quote, “It’s perhaps easier now than ever before to make a good living.  It’s perhaps harder than ever before to stay calm, to be free of career anxiety…”  In all my talks with friends, family, customers at the bar, and students at the college, this does seem to be true.  So many people I talk to have this anxiety in one form or another, so I wonder what it is I am chasing.  What ideal of work-life balance is there out there?  

It isn't that the idea is unimportant, but it is an ideal that may be un-achievable if one is working hard at challenging one's self.  This feeds into Alain de Botton's concept of success and failure that he talks about in his Ted Talk.  I'll be working on this balance my whole life because I know myself well enough to know that I'm always in search of the next challenge, the next adventure.  I'm not willing to sacrifice my time with my family and friends, but I am willing to lose maybe an hour or two of sleep in pursuit of the next challenge that presents itself.

Community on Veteran's Day

Veteran's day began as Armistice Day in 1938.  Dwight D. Eisenhower eventually declared November 11th as Veteran's Day on October 8th (facts courtesy of the Department of Veterans Affairs).  It is a day where we are meant to commemorate the men and women who have served this country by dedicating their lives to the armed forces.  It is not a day to take lightly.  I was thinking about it all day, and I wondered how I was going to be able to observe the day in the appropriate way.

I close the Wild Hare on Mondays, and I knew I would encounter at least a couple of veteran's over the course of my shift.  I knew I would buy a beer or two over the course of the day.  I thought that was how I would do it.  I would treat some of those men and women to a cold one.  Day observed, right?  Well, almost.

After a solid dinner and nice rush of twenty-somethings afterward, I thought the shift was winding down.  To my surprise, a young couple came in twenty minutes before the restaurant closed.  I served them dinner, and was thinking THIS would be the end of the shift.  About 5 minutes before the restaurant closed, this group entered the restaurant looking for something to eat.

(Photo courtesy of Debbie Turrentine)

They were apologetic for arriving just before closing, and they were even willing to walk back out the door.  I knew immediately this was an unacceptable scenario.  I insisted they sit down so I could serve them something hot from the kitchen.  

The family took their seats, and I got them a round of drinks.  When I returned to the table, the senior member of the family, the serviceman, offered me his hand and said, "Thank you for serving us."  I was flabbergasted.  I immediately retorted, "Thank YOU for serving US."  The whole family was so polite and gracious throughout the whole evening.  I was touched.  As I worked around the restaurant, working through my closing duties, I listened to the whole family laughing and carrying on.

I knew the owner, Joan Monen, would want me to buy the man a drink.  I did.  It wasn't enough.  I decided in that moment that I would purchase the man's dinner and the rest of his drinks.  He only had one more drink and a bowl of chili, but I wanted to do this for him.  I went to the computer, split the man's food and drink off the main tab, reached into my tip jar, and paid the tab before anyone could object.

It was a small gesture, the only kind available to me at that juncture, but it was enough.  The man wound up shaking my hand and thanking me for the service and the kindness.  It was like he was stepping on my lines.  These were the things I needed to say to him.  He was so kind the entire evening.  I just wanted to say thank you for everything he did.  He joked with me the rest of the night, and his family, I think, had a great experience at the Wild Hare.   

This is what the owner and management of the Wild Hare call the "Wild Hare Way."  It is the standard of service we hope to provide to our customers when they come in.  Is every day like this?  Every table visit?  Every customer exchange?  No.  It is not.  Do we strive to make it that way?  Yes, we do.  The way we create community within our towns is by being kind, personable, and attentive to others.  This goes beyond the server-customer dynamic.  It is how community is created on any number of scales.  Attention, kindness, and affection are the keys here.  Today is supposed to remind us of that.  I consider myself reminded.

Like an Old Shoe

I worked all weekend at the Wild Hare.  Friday night was a big concert night with the South Carolina band "Sunny Ledford" playing and Saturday night featured "Rodeo Rose".  It's been a while since I've been behind the bar on big nights like these, but it felt natural.  It felt right.  There are many times when I'm behind the bar having fun that I wonder why I am so career motivated.  I enjoy bartending a lot of the time.  I enjoy moving, being with people, and "hosting" the party.  There's something about it thought that always made me feel like it wasn't enough.  Something that made me think that it wasn't a legitimate career.  I think it was more about the way other people viewed the job more than the way I did.

So, it's nice to get back in the "pits" and sling a few drinks.  I had a really good time when I wasn't stressing out.  But that's all part of the deal, the stress is the fun, and the fun eliminates the stress.  What a weekend.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

It's been a while since I've had to commute home at 4:30 am.  There's something mystical and magical about being on the roads at this hour.  I drive 99E like I have a million times before, but when it's at 4 am and the roads are empty, it's different.

The world opens up for the 4 am driver.  There's rarely another car on the road and they rarely seem to be driving close to me.  I have a giant bubble of personal space around my car.  I'm unhinged from company or communion with other drivers.  I don't have to concern myself with spacial awareness as much and I find my eyes drifting up to the night sky.

I don't have the best night vision.  It sucks, but its true, so I rarely find myself gazing at the night sky while I drive.  I'm too afraid of other cars pulling up short in front of me or someone stepping off the curb and into my lane.  But at 4 am one is given the license to look up. 

The night is partly cloudy and the clouds don't seem to retain a glimpse of grey.  The patches of light stars behind them peek out as if shy.  I'm listening to the world news on the BBC and I'm struck with new ideas, new inspirations. 

I'm a night writer, almost always have been, and I find that my ideas flow best under the cover of darkness.  It's been a while since I paid attention, but I'm glad I did tonight because it brought me back to the computer this morning.