We managed to thwart the line of patio-hopefuls that formed at Cascadia today and snag ourselves seats on the patio. Now, since my husband (who we sent ahead, to hold a place in line, because, well, cheaters do sometimes prosper if they plan ahead) was only fourth in line, we were sadly in the cook-in-the-still-quite-hot-sun section rather than the cooling-under-the-shade-of-the-umbrellas section of the happy hour crowd, but a seat, sometimes, is a seat. Joy was had. Miniburgers were eaten. Calamari cones were disposed of. The bucket size of French fries was guzzled, in a hurry. The Incredible Eating Nephew? Only ate three mini-burgers (and a calamari cone. And fries. And lemonade). Hopefully he’s not getting sick (I suspect his massive 4:15pm snack may have had something to do with his relative lack of appetite). I even remembered to bring a camera to take a picture of the pile of mini burgers we ordered, which made my blog police even happier.