This is Firewood in Murphys, which is where we enjoyed the beer and pizza I mentioned yesterday and is a must-stop for lunch whenever I'm in the area. This time was a little different, however, because the upstairs hadn't been opened before and it was neat to get to see the unique loft railing from that perspective.
There is a great little bookstore right next to the restaurant -- just beyond the actual stacks of firewood that line the outside wall -- that is watched over by a likeable but rather uninterested-in-people dog. I'm not certain whether he will sound an alarm (or tear a hand off) if someone walks out with something they haven't paid for, but I wasn't about to test the theory.
The one less-than-bright spot on my visit was learning that my absolute favorite store in town, a lovely little floral shop, is no longer there. I have killed every single plant that I bought there, but I enjoyed the hell out of them while they were alive, and I really liked the lady who owned it. I came home and killed a plant in memorium. Which wasn't easy, by the way, since it has hardly stopped raining here since I returned.
Tomorrow's episode: When smoke gets in your sun.
P.S. I would be including links to the places I'm writing about, but none of them have one. California or not, this place is small-town America.
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