the great alaskan latte

I was thinking how odd that the moments in my life that now seem to belong to stories are not always the moments that felt straight out of a novel at the time.  For example, a particularly adventurous weekend in Chicago when i was a college freshmen seems very difficult to write down without sounding ridiculous, unbelievable.  I've generally never written anything inspired by any of my time overseas.  But the very boring days at the coffee shop in Alaska are super easy to write about. Maybe because it was a coffee shop/car wash.  That guy my own age who had already been married, divorced, and was now dating his ex-wife.  The other customer (as in, 2 of 2) who always talked to me about baseball for some reason... specifically the Detroit Tigers if i remember right.  And that's pretty much all there is to draw on, but it seems like plenty.  

I was also thinking about how the views from my various workplaces get so etched in my mind.  The very lovely house/law offices across the street from the dry cleaners where i had my first job.  An Arby's.  Fred Meyer (and an awareness of mountains to my left).  Some nice tall trees above the houses along Joy Road and the sushi chef who would back and forth in front of them several times a day.  The hill and a decrepit set of stairs leading up to east campus.    Now a Sunoco and a church steeple and whatever weather happens to be on its way here.