An hour in the Nashville airport afforded us the opportunity for a greasy breakfast. We decided that "biscuit or croissant" on the menu was not a choice, but a strange amalgam of the two (Pictured: Leigh, dissatisfied with her croiscuit). The bacon, however, was authentic and fantastic.
In Seattle, we lunched on Vietnamese and coffee. A begrudgingly large city, Seattle's odd mix of green, grime, and sprawl evidence its denial of full-fledged metropolitan status. More on that later. Now, we dine on homemade pizza with fresh basil, thyme and rosemary from the garden.
sounds yummy (the pizza, of course) - and spirits remain high even with airport snafus! keep it up!
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