The Mecca serves it up proper, old-school style

Any trip to the Seattle Center neighborhood deserves a stop at The Mecca for breakfast, lunch or dinner. The good old-fashioned, all-American food and drink will surpass your expectations and the top-notch service will plunk you right into 1950s diner happiness.
Start with a cup of coffee in the morning, but don’t expect to stay all day on just a cup of joe. The “Sumatra Mandeheling” is good “For three cups or one hour of rental space. You know who you are. No pitching tents,” says the fun-to-read menu. However, you won’t want to just sip the Sumatra, because any of the large entrees will not only fill you up; they’ll surprise you with their skillful recipe and scrumptious flavor.
Although the food is grand, the cafe is split in half, and on the other side of the dividing wall from the small, black-and-white booths, the narrow bar is open every day. The happy hour of the 80-year-old bar offers the best deals of the neighborhood from 3-7 p.m., seven days a week. If a seat at the bar isn’t private enough, the semi-circular “Elvis booth,” as I call it because of the giant picture of the King hanging above it, is all the way at the back, and will set you as private as you could be in this tiny place.
Their shirts, that read “Alcoholics serving alcoholics since 1929,” are probably true for the most part, but you don’t have to be a drunkard to enjoy a timeless classic like The Mecca.
526 Queen Anne Ave N., Seattle, Wash. 98109

Don't move or I'll crash right into you...

It's not easy to work sometimes. The turbulent world holds me up in so many different ways that I can hardly find time to breathe, let alone get on top of the mountains of work that I have to do.
My current projects have seen little in the way of progress in the last week, or even the last two weeks. Being sick held me back, and then, after recovering, the world was full tilt with distractions. Valentine's Day brought a full weekend of non-work related activity, only to lead to a week that saw almost as little progress. Yes, the dogs of distraction, and the pimps of procrastination were working overtime on an easy target. By Wednesday, they had me winding my way to Aberdeen, WA to buy a fast motorcycle. While this is a great advance for the wildest forms of journalism, it does very little for actually helping me write. The picture is becoming clear: stop with the bikes, the valentines, the lawnmower racing, the facebooking, the iTunes music hunts, the online games, the twittering and the blogging (see what it's doing?) until something tangible is produced.
Good God! This is not the time to mill the hours away typing nonsense into the web box; it's time for some action. Two, maybe three more weeks and it will all be coming to a head. The hammer is definitely going to fall and I don't want to have my head under it when it does. Blend in, take cover, and see your way to the front, man. This is the hour of great import.