THOMAS WOLFE MUST HAVE MEANT GOING HOME TO VISIT…

So over Spring Break (from my pottery class…) I made a pilgrimage back to my adopted homeland in Quincy.  Flew into Reno and connected with Ms. Fulton, who graciously hauled my fat butt across Beckwourth Pass and into the good old American and Meadow Valleys.

Now let me state firmly that I still consider Quincy to be the nicest place I have ever lived. There, I said it. That being said, however, if you’re just popping in for a visit… well, there ain’t shit to do or see.  I flew in on a Monday and by late Tuesday I had seen virtually everyone I knew on the street (it took me 45 minutes to get from the Wine Bar to Safeway…) and had food and drink at all my favorite watering holes.  Sadly I didn’t make it to LeCoq, but I have never been there without the lovely Tama and thought I would save that for next time.  I had dinner at Pangaea (probably for the last time unless they improve their menu… say, adding French fries?) but, in truth, most of my recreational time was spent in the Bermuda Triangle that is Quincy Thrift, The Drunk Brush and Timmy’s new taco parlor… if you sit in one spot long enough, the whole world will pass by you…

Luckily I had one of the fleet vehicles from Fulton Motors and could come and go as I pleased. This left me able to drag my ass out of bed in Meadow Valley and soak in hot tub quietude before slowly wending my way into the heart of metroplex.