So there I was, downtown, wandering around UWT, looking for a restaurant/store that was Coco something or other that a little bird told me was there.

I couldn’t find it.

So there I was, downtown, looking decidedly elderly and unstylish amid all the SOTA fashionistas, but reveling in the sunlit, crazy-cool campus energy.

So there I was, downtown, hungry as a bear waking from hibernation.

So there I was, downtown, like some kid in a candy store, overwhelmed by dining choices.

Rock Pasta?  Nah, too many carbs. Spaghetti Factory? Carbs, lots of ‘em. TwoKoi?  Not in workout garb, thanks.  Grassis? Ditto previous not.  Hot Rod Dogs? Tempting, but  then there’s that double wide butt I’d like to minimize. Renaissance Café? Hmm.  Possibility.  May come back.  Starbucks?  Not for lunch, not today. Taco Del Mar? Remember the butt? Subway? Meh.  Indochine? Hmm.  Spring rolls would be nice.  But in workout garb? Ew.  The Swiss? Hmmm.  Tempting, tempting, tempting cubed.  But if I have food there, I will have wine, or beer, or wine and beer, and really? It’s, like, one in the afternoon.  And I’m a responsible worker-bee and parent.  El Gaucho?  That’s funny. And not open for lunch, though a steak would be super nice.

There’s the car, so I’m off to try another institution of higher learning.  The mother in law has told me about a neat little place she found on her amblings by the University of Puget Sound, through Harned Hall and in the very scholarly courtyard.

So there I was, in North Tacoma, soaking in the sunshine and smart-rays of a campus atmosphere.

Mmmmmm.

The Oppenheimer Café, an all-glass building with sweet light fixtures and posters to remind you to go to the Hawaiian social at the SUB, made me happy.  Foods were priced in dollars and points.  A curried Waldorf salad wrap with an iced non-fat latte sounded like the winning lunch ticket to me; I wandered back to my car (parked on Greek Row, where once again I felt geriatric and un-hip though hippy) and scarfed my food as I drove to my next worker-bee destination.

True, the tortilla had the texture of leather, and the curry was remarkably subtle, verging on nonexistent.

But dang, it went down easily, and the atmosphere, and all my walking, made me feel wicked smart. â€" Jessica Corey-Butler