Checking in

July 30, 2010

Yeah, I’m here. Been busy. Haven’t been cooking. It’s 100 degrees. Even beer doesn’t taste good.

It’s really been a pretty sucky week. Nothing particularly wrong…just a big case of the blahs. Plus busy. Went to lovely El Dorado. (Arkansas, for any of my readers who may be from parts other than Arkansas, and where it is pronounced “el do RAY do.” I kid you not.) I can testify that the El Dorado Country Club has no clue in hell how to cook a tuna steak, either. What had started out as a respectable tuna steak was cooked — and this after I asked for it “as rare as you can cook it” — GREY. All the way through. I wanted to weep. I wanted to go into the kitchen and show the cook how to grill tuna.

The waitress had some interesting tattoos, though.

You gotta love LA. (That would be Lower Arkansas, for you uninitiated out there.) El Dorado is smack in the middle of no-damn-where, of which there is a copious amount in LA.

We made a pit stop in Fordyce (known for being the home of Paul “Bear” Bryant, and also as the home of the Klappenbach bakery, which is pretty freakin’ awesome) on the way back. That was where I overheard this snippet of conversation as I was restroom-bound and some guy was buying three, count them, three, 30-packs of Bud Light:

“But what HAPPENED?”

“She told me she wouldn’t marry me unless I got rid of the dogs, and I ain’t gettin’ rid of the dogs.”

Personally, I believe the better part of the deal would’ve been to have kept the dogs (read: “dawgs”) and ditched the beer-drinker, but that’s just me. But, I mean, 90 Bud Lights? That’s just wrong. Now, 90 Yuenglings, that would be another matter.

Went out tonight, because it’s Friday night, and I have fallen into the habit of not cooking on Friday nights, and besides, bitch of a week, and all that. So we went to the Flying Frog, a new place about a half-mile away. I rate ’em a 1 on ambience, a 4 on service, and a solid 9 on the Cobb salad. That was one FINE Cobb salad. Burgers looked nice, too. And they made some scrumptious sweet potato fries. Dinner for three, $4o plus tax and tip. And that was with a couple of Woodchucks for me.

And with that, I’m going to bed before all the Harleys (it’s H.O.G. rally weekend) commence parading up and down the lake. You and y’mama ‘n ’em have a nice evening.

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One Response to “Checking in”

  1. Kate Says:

    My neighbors – Anna, Danny and Bo the white West Highland terrier – who look after Miss Jake when I’m gone – loaded up the Harley in the motorcycle-carrying camper thingy and went to Hot Springs … emphasis on the HOT.

    Them and nineteen bajillion other people. The car’s thermometer says it was 106 at 4:30. I believe it. Was gonna grill tonight; NADA!


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