Monday, September 8, 2014

about a bar

Because I needed another place to keep these thoughts.  And because, well, it's been ages.  Hasn't it?

I keep telling myself it was just a place. And I know some people are seeing these posts and thinking "what's the big deal?" or "it was just a bar". Well they're wrong. They don't know what they're talking about. It was more than just a place. 64 North Orange Avenue was a hideout. A treehouse for grownups right on the streets of Orlando. But instead of "no girls allowed", it was 21 and up. There wasn't a secret handshake, rather a yellow legal pad of paper by the cash register with members' names and tabs. When you had friends in town (or your mom) you popped in to show the place off. And your guests either got-it or moved on further toward Church street for drinks. But that was okay. You slid into a booth. Close (but not too close) to the RV and found or made your mark on it's cruddy side. You met your best friend there after wandering in during your first summer of college. He was sitting at the bar. He was behind the bar. He was dating the bartender. You met your wife there. Or husband. After taking many (MANY) strips of photos in which you were kissing found a prince. (He was drinking High Life and poring over juke-box selections.) When you lost your job, Henry bought you a drink. And then Preston did. And then I did. When you broke up, She got Eye-Spy and you staked claim on BBQ (lucky dog). The girls behind you on a Saturday night are mad because you didn't get carded and they are searching blindly in their purses for an ID. But it's your place. You can do that. You can sit on a stool, rest your gut up against the bar, turn a lock that doesn't secure a damn thing and look up at a face who knows what you like in your can. And they probably know your last name and who will show up in five minutes to sit next to you. And I can't lie to myself and say that all that is no big deal. It meant so much to me. I was a patron there a few years and then I told Hurst he should give me a job so I could support my habit. He said, "Okay, come in tomorrow at 7." And I'm so grateful I had the balls to show up (hungover). This post is getting on. And faces and names are popping into memory that are making me happy and sad. Last night Ashley and Hurst hoisted up the rope ladder to the coolest fort I've ever known. I'm so thankful to have been a part of it.

not me

                                   (Ashley happens to be a photographer. Not just a bar tender.)

Monday, April 2, 2012

coffee and COCK at the Dust

JG and I took the kids out Saturday for a bit with intentions of hitting a playground, but we were rained out directly after lunch.  Sort of a bummer, but we did get some (always) delicious grub at Stardust lounge and met up with some fun people. We moved just north of Orlando to Sanford about five years ago, so we try to treat ourselves to a day "downtown" now and then for fresh sites and plenty of  food options. 
Stardust is a pretty hip hangout these days with a full liquor bar and vegan- friendly fare.  I first started my relationship with "The Dust" more than ten years ago.  Back when it's claim to fame was a wicked selection of VHS and DVD rentals and a killer cup of coffee.  I traded books from a single shelf of used paperbacks at the front of the shop and drank my first Orangina on a date with a guy I've maybe mentioned here once before
Over the years, the movie rental part of business must have proven less lucrative because the collection I remember browsing has turned into the backdrop to a newer hangout where healthy food and imported beers reign supreme. The one shelf of books has grown into a wall of books for sale or trade and they still sell the shit out of some Orangina. 
It's a cool place. Has been. Will be. 

But I didn't bring up Stardust because I wanted to review it and make you all jealous that you live too far away to frequent such a cool hangout.  I brought it up because while we were enjoying our lunch last weekend (as much as a group of grownups can enjoy a meal with three kids hanging about), Sam decided to mortify me by yelling the word COCK half a dozen times before finishing it up with one very demure          


Lucky for us, the joint was mostly empty tables peppered with some groups of people on laptops and notebooks who were probably in need of a little comic relief.  

Shortly after the scene, he found a tricycle and began his tour of the shop waving at strangers and honking a pretend horn. 

And pointing. 

Let's hope he doesn't break out the eff-bomb while we're at the doctor's office next week. 

Thursday, February 2, 2012


Wednesday, February 1, 2012


The hair photo was a challenge. Still figuring out my new iPad. Anyone have a suggestion for easier blogging and or posting photos from this brilliant piece of technology? I am currently posting from the blogger iPhone app.

As for the photo, it leaves little to be desired in the way of detail. The hair is a dramatic change for me. Brown bob with a long piece in the front colored yellow, pink, and light blue.

Now tell me I don't have cool shit going on.

::::::: update ::::::::
Joined a gym today. That's cool shit. Maybe I will post from the elliptical or something on Friday. Blogging from the gym is cool, I think.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Hello. Again.

Last weekend somebody told me that my new haircut was going to give off the illusion that I had more going on in my world than being a mom. My old haircut was good. It was newish and "current" and sorta whispered interesting. But this one. This one just screams Yeah, I'm a mom, but I do other cool shit, too. So. This is when I pick up where I left off on my last post. Momming it up still, but sharing the "other cool shit" going on in my world. Starting with this post. Hello, again.

Friday, September 23, 2011

rat race

Sam got a job.  he leaves every afternoon before I call NAP time and goes to work.  before picking up his shape-sorting bucket and heading out he kisses me good bye.  and all the pets.  the dogs both get a hug and kisses on the nose and the cat gets a quick pat and peck on the butt.  (such short salutations are due to his unpredictable nature. the children have learned to make as little contact as possible and to direct the contact as far away from his teeth and claws as it is possible). then sam shuffles, pantsless, to pick up his bucket of colored shapes and makes the long commute to the empty corner cubby in the tv cabinet.  he cheers, “luv you” before carefully tucking his toes and nose in and closing the door.

within minutes, his work is done.  I assume he is a licensed shape-sorter.  and he emerges from his cubicle- quite literally- saying “I’m home” and passing around more wet kisses than you can shake a stick at.  I don’t get that saying. does there need to be a large amount of items gathered before it’s appropriate to shake a stick at them?  or could you just shake a stick at one or two things? anyway.

if you ask him if he’s all done working and ready for his nap, he’ll shriek NOOOOO and pick up his shapes and head back to his office.  he can sometimes be coaxed out of disgruntled employee mode by offering a severance snuggle in the brown chair.  it’s his favorite place to read “one more book”.   one more meaning as many as he can carry from the shelf to the chair in two trips.

once all the books are read and then just a few more are read, it’s possibly safe to hoist the workaholic onto your hip and carry his tired boy body to his bed and away from the stresses of a longish-short minute at work and around the house.

Will work for m&ms… will sleep for nothing.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

toy story

on one of our last weekly visits to see jed's mom and dad,  a little basket was quietly pulled down from a closet and proudly presented to sam on the carpet of the living room floor.

daddy's cars.
and tractors, and trucks, and diggers, sporty cars, dragsters (is that correct?) and one very popular fire truck.

for twenty minutes we all sat around the basket full of old classic toy cars and things (Go-bots and Micro Machines, even...) and oohed and aahed while jed and sam dug around discovering forgotten gems/new trophies.

jed remembered his favorites and which were originally his brother's.  he plunged his hand into the depths of truck-heaven looking for one in particular that another sparked a memory of.  and told stories about the ones with the wheels that "ride smooth".

sam's little hands couldn't rest on just one or two.  his favorite are the ones with the little doors that open and close.  and the ones with the beds that really dump.  and when i caught him playing quietly (for once) in the sunlight this morning on his little red table- i picked up my camera and watched his little boy hands as they made the wheels go.

"daddy's cars" are once again getting their turn.  makes me happy for everyone involved.