The past weekend we ventured up to the
Steakburger in scenic Hazel Dell, WA.
This place is fairly amazing - a sort of time warp without the pelvic thrust, it is a thumping piece of 1962 that remains virtually unchanged beside the mighty roar and thrum of Interstate Route 5.
Aside from the Space Age feel of the place, the burgs were fresh and good, the malts chocolate and malty and the miniature golf very, very retro.
In the days of my youth my ex and I used to holiday on the Jersey shore. There are three basic things to do on the Jersey shore: drink, go to the beach, and play either mini-golf or skee ball.
I hate fucking skee-ball.
But the mini-golf in Hazel Dell is pretty amazing, a whole two generations removed from the fancy lights and buzzers and whatnot of the Jersey shore. Peeper raced about from hole to hole, my father-in-law played a bad, methodical game, Mojo and I chaperoned the kids, and my sister- and mother-in-law abandoned halfway through to watch and help the kiddos.
Here Maxine experiments with a putting technique I suspect that Tiger Woods has already abandoned as unprofitable...
So as you can see, much fun was had at the mini-golf behind the Steakburger in Hazeldell.
