This should do it.

The East side is home to tons of amazing restaurants, but on Sundays I like to spend my evenings dining at Mimi and Cricket's. They make amazing meals for a large group of folks, I consider it an honor just to be invited. They are also very smart ladies, as the picture suggests--this hangs on their fridge. You probably can't read it, but a google search led me to this site, where you can read the text.

Labels: food, pictures

I'm back. Ghostfinger at the Belcourt.

Labels: music, pictures

My first injury! And how! I was skating in a drill and all of a sudden I'm airbound, landing mostly on my face, my glasses flying into the fray. one of the first things we learn in derby is how to fall, but "on the face" is not a preferred way. I notice that my face is bleeding, apparently in the process my glasses broke, causing a tiny cut near my eyebrow. If you've ever had a cut near your eyebrow you know that it's going to bleed profusely. It did, scaring the heck out of everyone (me included).

One girl told me that boxers get hit there all the time. One told me that I was the first girl to spill blood on our track, thereby making it officially "ours." Our male ref came over terrified by the sight of the blood, thinking I had lost a tooth. One girl ran over with a camera to get a picture--before you think she's cruel know that I requested this (perhaps I will post it later).

There was a bit of an arguement, as yet another girl ran over with an antique first aid kid, telling us that it dated back to WWII (I think), which concerned someone who thought that the items within would be outdated; luckily only the box was antique, the first aid items were new. I was informed that there was a book in the kit that told us how to do sutures with a needle and a strand of human hair, but I was glad that this was not necessary.

One of our girls is an RN so she took care of things. Most girls just get interesting bruises. I get a nifty scar.

Damn. Look at that eye. Do you see a crow's foot? Do you see a bag? Hell no. This is what 31 looks like, bitches. Don't hate.

Labels: pictures, roller derby

Ok, I'm giving up. I mean it this time! Giving! Up!

The day started in the 9am hour. of course I wasn't up late the night before. I actually got tons of sleep, but when a telemarketer (yes, I am on the Do Not Call list, so this must've been one of those loophole situations) called I was up. Might as well get going, right? And there were estate sales to be visited! One in a neighborhood I love, the other the estate of an antiques dealer. These would be great.

Oh no. The BD estate sale was in a great neighborhood, had great stuff, and I walk in the room and zero in on a table piled with old polaroid land cameras and equipment. This is my kind of thing, right? Only I look at the prices and gasp. They want me to pay $50 for a 210. Go look on ebay for a polaroid 210. HELL NO. I could tell it'd been in storage for a while as it had that weird scummy feeling to it. You know, kind of fuzzy and ever so slightly stinky? Right. No. They had a few movie cameras (8mm and the like) but the sticker shock I had from one ($100!)
left a sour taste in my mouth so I had to leave.

LeeAnn's sale was much more my speed. It was the antique dealer's house, and while I couldn't afford much of it (it was very nice stuff--yes, antique dealers do keep the best stuff for themselves) I did pick up a couple of books. It was crazy packed in there. I was happy for LeeAnn, bringing in big crowds. See, BD usually has the high profile sales but considering her recent turn to crappy sales with too-high prices I am on team LeeAnn.

I also found the time to stop at the triumvrate of rack shops--Ross, Marshalls, and TJ Maxx. I nearly fell to my knees in praise of the deity who smiled upon me; I found pants that actually fit! Also low top chucks and some cute slip ons. It's stuff like that that keeps me going and makes me forget the many times I've waded through polyester Bill Blass crap.

Meanwhile, Denny's getting clean. Dang time for it too, I forget how soft his fur is until he gets a good scrubbin'.

The night ends with a movie with the sister--Knocked Up. This was all we could agree on. We don't get to movies with each other much so I took it. I came home hoping for an SNL rerun. No such luck, so it was early bedtime for me and the dog.

Labels: estate sales, pictures

Divorcee Acres isn't the hippest part of town. I do like it, it has a small town feel to it but I'm just 15 minute drive from town, 20 minutes from the irritatingly hip East Side. The neighborhood is young families on their way up, retirees, and, of course, divorcees. Within three miles are a grocery store, a library, a locally owned pizza joint, and my parents. It's a good location if not exactly a cool location.

So there's also a park nearby, just a scant mile from the house. During the summer they have a concert series with family friendly shows, and often I can hear the shows from my front porch. Recently I commented to my parents that the acts are good and all, but why not have a nice rockabilly band? They assured me there would be one, but I didn't expect it would be THE HILLBILLY FREAKIN CASINO. Yes. Them. Less than a mile from my house. This would be the coolest thing to hit the Acres this year and I made sure that I would be there. Not that that would be a stretch, as I'm not
a big socializer these days.

Dad and I grabbed sandwiches and took the dogs and our portable chairs over to the park early enough to get a good seat. This was not a problem, and I was a little upset that that there wasn't a bigger turnout--the more folks that showed up the more likelyhood that the coolness would be revisited upon the Acres.

Little drama before the show, however. As I mentioned, we took the dogs. Since there weren't a bunch of folks around I just kind of let the dogs wander as far as their leashes would allow, and at one point looked to see Flash over peeing on a lady's purse. Unfortunately the lady also happened to be walking back over after a visit to the SnoCone stand. She freaked, understandably, but was very polite about it. I did offer to replace the purse, she declined. Dad wanted to leave but like hell, I was staying.

The band rocked the park. They were fun, and they did a great job of keeping it family friendly (I was a tad concerned). They even played my request (PBR if you're asking). Dad enjoyed it. Denny sure as hell enjoyed it, barking his approval on a few songs and wagging his tail like crazy. He made friends, getting an ice cube from one couple and a good scratching from another gentleman who allowed a few doggie kisses. Flash--well, he spent time in my lap. He gets a little scared by loud noises.

If they come to your town or you happen to find yourself on Lower Broad late one Friday night I highly recommend, and bring your tippin' money.

Here's hoping for the same next year...

Labels: divorcee acres, music, pictures