Northwest repeat.

If youre ever in the SeaTac airport and need free wifi, go sit near Tully's by terminal A9 and use the code 2063333333. Im probably stealing by telling you this, but I firmly belive that free internet should be a right, not a privilege. And if you want to buy a coffee there, its not bad.

Any how, Im waiting for my flight. The first leg of my cross country journey was by car; today by plane, train, and automobile. I hate to feel like I am promoting companies on my blog, but Virgin America is a godsend. My flight today from Seattle to San Francisco is resounding $38. Incredible. And its not some gross little plane either, very high tech. Clean, modern, and you can play video games, watch movies, order food, and even chat with other passengers from the tv screen built into the head rest in front of you. And Virgin America, if you ever find my blog and want to reward me with a free flight, you can reach me at Hot_child_in_the_city@rocketmail.com. I kid, but seriously, Ill shamelessly promote you for free things. That extends to anyone. :]

Now as I sit here, I really ought to be working on scholarships or doing something the least bit productive, but instead I blog. I find myself doing that alot. I dont know what exactly I wish to accomplish though it, but its enjoyable and I like having my opinion out there for virtually anyone to read.

Like I said earlier, Im in Seattle rather than Kingsburg. I drove my Grandmother home. She is quite a lady. Fun, outspoken, and very very kind. She even bought me pie. We drove up through California and Oregon on Saturday, and spent the night with Aunt Charlotte, her sister. While technically my Great Aunt, I have not very great aunts older than her. Just a clarification, as crotchety-old-lady-with-bowls-of-taffy come to mind when I think "great aunt." Anyhow, Grandma and Charlotte hung out while I went to Portland for the day.

I'd only been to Portland once before years ago, so having a personal tour was awesome. My uncle Jason and his new wife Laura (along with Jason's bandmates and little dog) drove me around the city and it was absolutely lovely. We went to a coffeehouse or two, walked around the Hawthorne district, and snuck onto the campus of Reed College. Oh, and we went to a cupcake shop!

Kudos to Ben for the picture. Saint cupcake it was called, on the corner of 17th and Flanders by a St. Mary's church. (Thus the name) Not bad, but all the cupcakes had cream cheese frosting, which I dont always care for.

After we left Portland, Grandma and I kept driving, all the way to her house in central Washington. I made myself take pictures, so here are a few more.

Grandmother and I at Spiffy's, home of the giant pie.

White Pass Ski Lodge. I remember crying when my dad took me here when I was 11. I hated (and still do hate) skiing.

Elk, ready to attack.

On a side note, the best band in Portland can be found at www.myspace.com/archeology. Great music and they are touring soon and will be in Fresno this May! They also give good tours of Portland. :]

Ill leave you with one last picture:

The 12 year old boy in me had to take a picture by this sign. Heheh...because, well...its true.

Better than Narnia.

Downtown Kingsburg is wired. To what extent, I have no idea. I am sitting in Gino's, or what will soon be the restaurant formally known as Gino's, kinda like that creeper of an 80's singer.

Anyway, about this restaurant. Quite a history from my perspective, if my memory serves me. I remember my first visit to this place, when my mother put up flyers here when she was promting a local guy when he ran for congressman in 1996. I was in first grade then, and this place was a bakery. I remember walking in and seeing the cookies and tarts and chocolate eclairs behind the glass display case and how I longed for my mother to buy me one. She neglected me; continuing to staple flyers up on the bulliten board near the roped off staircase. Where those stairs led I never knew, but more than I wanted a pastry, I wanted to climb them and find out. My mother grabbed my hand and dragged me back to the station wagon. I requested her opinion about the world at the top of the stairs and she replied, "Storage probably." I knew there must be something more interesting and magical than just boxes up there, but being the mature 6 year old I was, I humored her.

Over the years I heard of the quaint bakery becoming an italian restaurant, bought out by a man named Gino. I tended to eavesdrop when I heard people talking about the place, and from what the rumors told me, Gino sounded like a jerk to work for. It seemed like there was always a help wanted sign in the window, and I was determined to work there when I was old enough.

Fast forward a few years. It was a normal friday evening for the Floyds, ocasionally hungry people, decide to dine out, a rare occurance. My father, always looking for life expiriences for my sister and me, took our family out to italian food. With such little fine dining epirience (I consider fine dining to be anywhere that cloth napkins are provided), I remember being amazed at $13 plates of pasta. The food was good, but I had nothing to compare it to. We never ate there again as a family.

7th grade stirred more curiosity. The restaurant was in the news when Gino, along with a movie star, a former child star, a porn star and 131 others, ran for the governor of California. He lost, and soon after sold the restaurant. I visited again in December of 2007. A group of friends and I decided to treat ourselves to a nice meal and they had a nice time. The restaurant itself was alright, but the waitress seemed to have it out for me. No refills, no smiles: for me at least. I nearly gave up then, but the mysterious staircase held my hope.

It changed hands a few more times since, and I recently heard that it had been sold again. I decided to check it out, and just sit in for coffee and blogging. The newer, nicer waitress told me that a man named Carl purchased it. It will soon be named "La Bella Voce," translated as "The Beautiful Voice". Carl, as it turns out, is an opera singer and hopes to slowly transform this place. He keeps walking by my table and I wish he would intoduce himself, and maybe, just maybe give me permission to go to the top of those stairs.