Wherein your blogger learns how to pronounce "Skagit," and other matters

So here I've been in Seattle for two days and change. Today found me lunching with fellow blogger Kristy, and we had a grand old time. Kristy's probably missing an ear now since I talked it off like I always do when I meet someone. She did let me know that the tulip-harboring valley to the north of Seattle is pronounced "Skajit" and not "Skaggit," and if anyone heard me saying "Skaggit" they'd know I wasn't from around there. So now that I know the secret I can skulk around up there, my foreign nature undetected.

Mr. T and Trailhead Kid rode the Amtrak up today and tonight we ate at the utterly touristy Ivar's Acres of Clams on the Seattle waterfront. Actual conversation at Ivar's:

Mr. T: So earlier today I thought our son might have an STD.

Me, the forkful of salmon pausing halfway to my mouth: Um, what? Our son is four years old.

Mr. T: Yeah, I know. I took him to the bathroom on the train and I noticed that his penis had red dots all over it.

Me, eyes widening: Oh no. What is it?

Mr. T: A tragic red marker accident. Except, not really an accident, apparently.


Maybe he was just trying to get rid of a penis headache.