Saturday, September 17, 2005

Blog Stuff: ...this is where I heal my hurts.

Those of you who shop at Coal Creek may have noticed that I tend to be there on any day that ends in the letter "Y". In order to prevent further clutch slippage, I decided to take Friday off (and by "off", I don't mean my usual "I'll just drop in for a few minutes to see what's up at the shop...")

I started the Day Off festivities by not setting my alarm clock when I went to bed Thursday night. The sight of my bedroom ceiling at 0700 proved this to be a pointless gesture. I toddled downstairs and enjoyed coffee, Diet Cherry Coke, cigarettes, and Eric Flint's 1632 on the side porch for a few hours.

Along about noonish, my belly button started rubbing a callous on my backbone, so I splashed through the monsoon and saddled up the Beemer to go in search of grub. On a whim, I decided to stop at Parkside Tavern and test the vittles there. An immediate plus was the fact that, despite the upscale environment, the waitstaff remained cheerful and polite in the face of a tired-looking chick in jeans, combat boots, ball cap, and a Bladerunner tee shirt. Things just got better from there:
Perky waitron: "What would you like to drink?"
Grumpy customer: "What do you have on draft?"
Perky waitron: "Bud, Bud Light" (customer starts to frown) "Mich Light, Sam Adams" (customer's frown deepens as she prepares to order a Diet Coke) "and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale."
Formerly grumpy customer: "Huzzah! They don't serve that at Charlie Pepper's any more!"
Perky waitron: "Huh?"
FGC: "The Sierra. I'll have one. Er, please."

I ordered the Seared Ahi Tuna appetizer, which was deeeluxious, and had the 9 oz. filet with asparagus on the side for a main course. The filet was okay. Or maybe it wasn't. It was hard to tell, considering that they had apparently dunked it in a vat of butter some weeks back and hadn't let it up for air 'til today. The upside of that was that my plate was fairly swimming in butter to swirl my yummy asparagus through.

Anyhow, the service was good enough to warrant a return visit to explore other parts of the menu.

After lunch, I took the shreds of blue appearing in the sky as an Omen directing me to drop the Beemer's top and crank the tunes, all while seeking some of the wonderful side streets and back roads of West Knox. The streets included Canton Hollow, Mourland, Westland, the tail end of Gallaher View, Bluegrass; the music was the album Sunday 8PM, by Faithless.
"This is my church. This is where I heal my hurts..."

And it's back to work tomorrow morning.

3 comments:

The Commander said...

My legs hurt......

Alston said...

My soul hurts....

Anonymous said...

1632. Good book. 1633 is good too. Not quite up to the first one, but enjoyable. I haven't read 1634 yet.

Eric Flint is a pretty good guy for a union supporter. :)