I don’t know if happy hours are things of the past, or if they are more of an east coast thing.  I remember Friday happy hours with friends as almost routine.   Working for neighborhood groups, Friday afternoons would slow down---except for the tool libraries---as City and State workers ended their work weeks with long lunches or early weekends.   

We would meet at Bay Goodman Pizza or Hitchcock’s, Water Street Grill or a wine tasting at one of the hotels, or Remington’s, Johnny’s or Merchants Grill—comfortable places with good friends.   “Happy hour,” for me, conjures up feelings of camaraderie and relaxation rather than discounted well drinks.  In fact, I would often drink tonic & lemon or ginger ale or Coke, chatting with colleagues, the bartenders, neighbors, soaking up the atmosphere.

I had a long day yesterday that began half an hour late with me trying to find my shoes.  At  4:30 pm I was in Yachats again, finished with deliveries and sales calls and preparing myself for the 3 ½ hour drive back up the coast.  I decided to take my half sandwich from lunch to the little scenic area.   I rolled down the windows, popped open a Tab, soaked up some atmosphere and listened to the waves and breeze.  Aahhhhh.

This was totally the happiest hour of the day.

(If you are in Cannon Beach tonight, stop by the CB Gallery in Midtown for the “Sea Creatures” show opening and our Cake Walk.  Last year’s Walk was a hoot, and we have some beautiful desserts donated by CB’s top pastry chefs as prizes.

Also, you can catch some of my “mini-musings” on Twitter.  Follow me at glynisart.)