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Showing posts with label out on the town. Show all posts
Showing posts with label out on the town. Show all posts

Sunday, April 17, 2011

a windy sort of day

Let's go fly a kite
Up to the highest height
Let's go fly a kite
And send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let's go fly a kite
Let's go fly a kite!
 
Every year,  the Richmond Air Force Kite Club comes to our area for a huge kite festival hosted by one of the local chambers of commerce.  This year, the festival was canceled due to severe weather
Noticing a trend?  Virginia has been having some strange storms lately!


However, I saw a Macaroni Kid post on the good ol' Facebook this morning.  The Kite Club was going to stick around today and hold an impromptu, unofficial kite festival today!  Hooray!  


 So, we threw together a bag, grabbed the kite, and hit the park.  Katie was so excited on the way.  She kept telling Daddy to go to the kite place.  Her excitement over today's activities was delightful.


Katie helped launch our kite many times, always shouting "Hooray!" as the kite flew into the air.



Alex, by this point, is a true kite-flying pro.  I think he'll be ready for a more advanced model next year.  He was practicing making our simple kite dip and dive over the open field.


Saturday, January 29, 2011

texas shithouse

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I just had the worst restaurant experience ever. Really, it was horrific. I suppose the main problem, aside from the crap they called "food," was that the place just did not meet our expectations. But, our expectations were based on previous experiences, which should set a precedent for visits to come. Boy, were we wrong.


Recognize the name?  If so, stay away.  Stay far, far away.  At least if you live in Roanoke, that is.  Other locations may be better, but the menu's still the same.

Walking into the restaurant, we noticed that the decor was all wrong.  It's like there wasn't really any.  When it opened, this location closely resembled an Applebee's.  There was crap all over the walls.  Even sitting through a long wait could be made interesting by a rousing game of I-SPY.  License plates adorned the walls of the bar, taxidermied animals were placed in prowling positions, and there was a plethora of old neon signs, glass bottles, framed photographs, tin signs, flags, and more.  Now, the walls are brown and red, with generic framed posters that should exude a "Texan" feel.  To me, it is no better than a Golden Corral.

Also, there used to be a jukebox.  That's now gone.  Along with all the music.  There isn't even canned muzak coming from the speakers.  Now, there's just none.  The place sounds like a cafeteria, with forks and glasses clinking, people chatting, and nothing drowning it all out in the background. 

So, we get our table after a short wait and find that the waitress is incredibly green.  Now, this can happen in any restaurant, but the Steakhouse used to have the most experienced waitstaff in town.  Their standards were ridiculously high.  I know.  I used to work there busing the tables and it was near impossible to get a position as a hostess, let alone as a server.  Now, they'll hire anyone who passes a drug test, by the looks of it.  (Or, maybe even if they don't!)   From wrong beverage orders to no butter on the bread, to reusing the glasses, to not knowing the selection on the menu, she was bad.  Just really bad.

My biggest pet peeve with our waitress, Provolone (name has only been slightly changed), was that whenever we asked for a drink refill, she would reply, "Please take your straw."  Let me tell you, I have NEVER been asked to remove my straw from a drink in any place other than Chick Fil A.  Never.  Not even once.  Well, okay.  Maybe at McDonald's when they still had the fountain behind the counter.  But, never in a sit-down eatery.  What is that?  My drink was the only one at the table that she was refilling, so she couldn't have possibly given it to the wrong person.  Beyond that, I had tea, my mother had coke.  How hard is that to mix up.  And, even if she did think she might just get confused, it isn't to hard to remember that the right hand is Coke and the left hand is Tea.  That is, if she knew her right from her left.  That's a maybe.

The food came eventually.  We had ordered the "Blossom Petals" as an appetizer.  Anyone remember that Texas Steakhouse used to actually have a blooming onion?  Uh-huh.  When this location first opened, before Outback ever thought of coming to Roanoke, they did.  It was delicious.  There was a kick to the batter and the dipping sauce had a bite.  Not so anymore.  We received a platter of bland, tasteless, limp onion sticks and a cup of thousand island dressing.  This was something straight from the freezer section of the dollar store.  Nasty.  We had to send it back.

After another half hour wait, we received our entrees.  I had ordered the Black and Blue Salad and my mother ordered the ribeye.  Mine should have been medium (warm pink center), her's medium rare.  The waitress put our plates on the table and requested that we cut into our steaks right away to make sure that they were cooked okay.  Then, she stood there and watched us do it.  Again, annoying.  Go away, let me enjoy my first few bites, then come back and check on us after a minute or two.  At any rate, we both gave a perfunctory nod because we just wanted to be left along.

Looking at my mother's plate, I noticed that she had a very bloody pulp of meat staring at me from across the table.  As she started to cut into it, I informed her that she COULD NOT eat that.  Now, we aren't the type of sissies who would turn up our noses at a little bit of undercooked meat, but this was definitively raw.  Not just pink like prime rib, but bloody, stringy, bright red, raw.  It looked like there was a dissected, used tampon thrown across her plate.  Yes.  That nasty.

Upon closer inspection of my own plate, I quickly found that my steak was oozing thick red blood into my bed of lettuce.  I'm sorry, but a medium steak should not be dripping with blood.  I like it juicy, but not THAT juicy, my friend.  The dressing was in a bowl, but had congealed around the edges.  You know, like when you leave a salad plate out over night?  That yellowing slime that forms around the rim of any leftover ranch?  Yeah, that.  That's the sort of funk that was ringing my blue cheese. 

The good news is, after a short conversation with the insanely young manager, our bill was taken care of.  Good thing, because the only thing we actually ingested was the dinner rolls.  He did offer to recook our food, but I wasn't up for a nuked steak on a bed of bloody lettuce, and my mother was so disgusted she was no longer hungry.  I can see why.  My tummy is still rolling at the mere thought of it.

Long story short, we won't ever return to Texas.  The restaurant just is not what it was in its heyday.  I should know.  My stepdad was the first general manager of that location.  Does that make me a little biased?  Probably.  I spent many afternoons in that place before it ever opened, many weekend evenings in its first year or two, and many, many, many nights working there as a teen.  Though my stepfather only worked there a few years, the restaurant retained the character that he poured into it until very recently.  It's a shame that the swinging saloon doors are gone, that the decor is more Western Sizzlin', and that the waitstaff is no longer top-notch.  The place was good.  Now, it's just a chain-smoking dump.

Would I feel the same way if I had never been there before tonight?  Probably.  I'm not willing to pay $17 for a steak from a cafeteria.  Texas Steakhouse is no better than K&W in that regard, just lots pricier and quite a bit shabbier.  I'll pass, thank you very much.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

hey... it's a snuggie!

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The Snuggie Bar Crawl took Roanoke by storm this weekend, and my hubby and I were in on the action.  Organized by Get 2 Know 'Noke, young adults flocked to downtown Roanoke Saturday afternoon, decked out in their finest snuggie-garb, to eat, drink, and be merry.  Read more here.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

snuggie up

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In just two days, I will don a snuggie in public. Yes, I will. This is not a joke.

My husband and I are attending Roanoke's first Snuggie Bar Crawl this Saturday. Though I have never been bar crawling before, I'm looking forward to it. Maybe it is just because I can't wait to document a bunch of strangers making fools of themselves while wrapped in hideous blankets. Maybe it's because we're actually getting a whole night sans kids. Maybe it's because we're going to end the evening at a comedy show.  Or, maybe it is because I get to try to fashion my pepto-bismol pink snuggie into something I might actually want to wear.

image source


I'm thinking about cutting off the sleeves, shortening the garb to cocktail-length, and sewing up the back.  Maybe cutting a v-neck, or going for a more modest faux-v with the help of some ruffles.  Then again, I'm afraid I'll get cold, so maybe some 3/4 sleeves would be better?  We are going to be "crawling" from one location to the next, and I don't really want to take a coat.  I don't want to wear anything too short or too flashy, lest I be mistaken for a rather large, unsuccessful street-walker.  Or, Lady Gaga.  I think there's a fine line here.  I need to find it, stat.

Monday, December 6, 2010

weekend recap

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 Raked leaves for someone who needed a little help

 Played with snow

Snow's COLD!

Built and decorated a gingerbread tree.  Ate a lot of candy!

Went to Sesame Street Live

Squealed with delight over seeing Elmo

What did you do?

Friday, December 3, 2010

how to survive a trip to Colonial Williamsburg

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Recently, my husband came home from work and informed me that he would soon have to go to Williamsburg, VA for a some sort of conference in which Karl Rove would be speaking. He was hoping I wouldn't be upset because he would have to bail on some plans that had been on our calendar for ages. Mad because of flaking out on plans for work? No, not me. Never. Mad because he was going to the very place I had mentioned hundreds of times and not taking the kids and me with him? Not quite angry, but very jealous. So, after sleeping on the idea (and thinking about it a lot), it was determined that we would get to go. The aforementioned plans that I had? Dropped like a hot potato in a crowded kitchen.  Colonial Williamsburg, here we come!

So, um, I was going to have to take the kids on the historic tour without my husband, because he did have to be somewhere that day.  And, Katie had an ear infection.  And, I had to pull Alex out of school to go so I felt like I had to make this trip super-educational.  And, my feet hurt after walking however many miles in 40 degree temperatures.  But, it was so worth it!  

We had a great time.  Really, we did.  It wasn't crowded (at all), we were able to just walk right into all the demonstrations we wanted to see, and most of the buildings were decorated for Christmas.  Alex stood in the jail cell that once held some of Blackbeard's pirates, Katie enjoyed gingerbread and a rousing lap around the courthouse green, and I drank hot chocolate.  LOTS of hot chocolate.  

And, while we were there, we learned a great deal.  Don't believe me?  Keep reading for the inside scoop on surviving a cold day in Colonial Williamsburg (which is in Virginia, for those of you who didn't pass elementary history).

1. Take the stroller and make your child ride in it!  Your back will thank you.  Just remember that you cannot take strollers into any of the buildings, except for the Visitors Center (they trick you at first, you see).  So, make sure you pack lots of treats to lure your child back into the seat after they've been lifted out for the upteenth time.  Also, if you pull a tired, desperate, sad face at some of the Colonists, they might let you take the stroller in anyway.  At the very least, they'll let you park it as close to the door as humanly possible and try to entertain your children while you listen to the spiel that only you are actually interested in.

2. Go in lots of stores and buildings.  Even the ones you aren't interested in!  Trust me, they have fires in there.  You'll be warm.  You'll be happy.  Ahhhhh...... 
This was taken outside the Mary Dickinson store, which sells lots of fabric and hats and aprons and girly stuff.  I saw a cute waistpocket with embroidered birds that would have been perfect for my clothespins... but not for $46.  They can live in a walmart bag for now.

3. Get a map and mark the bathrooms as soon as you arrive.  After drinking all that hot chocolate and apple cider, your children will thank you.  Also, do not, DO NOT, request that your child turn around for a picture while his is running off to find the bathroom.  He will not be happy.


4. Promptly show your kids what happens if they misbehave.  But, don't forget that a child can't get out of the stocks without some help.  Definitely don't walk away, expecting your son to follow you.  He won't.  If he's smart, he'll scream for help.  If he's lucky, you'll hear him.


5. Pose your kids beside some garbage and take a picture.  Don't worry, you won't look like a fool.  See those barrels?  They're trash cans.  See the shopkeeper in the background?  I annoyed him later in the day by ordering some cold hot cider.  I didn't KNOW it would be hot!  I'm surprised he didn't plant a "kick me" sign on my back after that one.

6. Learn some stuff from very knowledgeable tour guides.  This gentleman went on tangent after crazy tangent about Revolutionary history, which was incredibly fascinating.  (yes, really!).  The bonus: We were inside where it was warm.

7. Then, go meet some of the other awesome interpreters.  If you go in the down season, you'll have a chance to actually talk with them.  This guy was a really cool silversmith who spoke in modern-day slang while wearing a period costume.  The whole experience felt awfully Back To The Future-y for some reason.  Equally awesome was his pimp who stood on the street, ushering unsuspecting tourists into this incredibly entertaining demonstration.  Very, very cool and unexpected.

8.  Follow the signs.  Upon leaving the Magazine (where the Colonists housed their guns and other weapons), we saw a sign pointing around the corner to another place.  I can't remember the name of the demonstration or this gentleman, but I'm glad I followed Alex around the corner of the building.  This guy would have been part of the military, working to make bags and hats and things for the soldiers. Upon entering his shop, he immediately put Alex to work, soaking leather for shaping.  While most of the shopkeepers and demonstrators attempted to show how boys Alex's age would be in some sort of apprenticeship position by now (one store owner even offering to keep Alex in the cellar with his cats), this guy actually gave my boy a hands on experience.   Upon questioning about his costume, he also explained that the color of his lapel and cuffs, as well as the type of buttons on his coat, denoted his rank in the military.  Very, very interesting stuff.  

photo by ComputerGuy, via a Creative Commons license
9. Then, get lost in a maze.  Explore the gardens behind the Governor's Palace (you don't need the super ticket to go to the gardens).  If you look hard enough, you'll find this hedge maze.  If you get out of the maze and go around it's perimeter, you'll find the "Mount" from which this picture was taken.  Obviously, we didn't make our way all the way through so I had to rely on someone else's skills to share.
10.  See what you can and smile.  Know that, unless you have more than one day to spend here, you won't be able to see it all.  Enjoy the nuggets.  Take lots of pictures.  Live in the moment.  Cry "Huzzah!" and "Encore!" Especially if there's a particularly satisfying scene.


 The Magazine houses more than just guns.

 



Saturday, October 23, 2010

grace potter and the nocturnals

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On Thursday, I opened up my email account to find an intriguing message.  I was being offered the opportunity to go to a local concert for free, as long as I wrote a blog post about it.  And, I got to take a friend.  Heck yeah, I thought.   I'll go to just about anything for free, and I like to talk anyway so the blogging thing is no big deal.

Now, to be honest, prior to this week, I had never heard of Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, or even the Avett Brothers, for that matter.  I had to look them up to figure out just what sort of show I was in for, and even then I wasn't so sure.  I'm more of a pop girl, myself.  It's easy, fun, and has a good beat.  But, let me tell you, when Grace Potter opened up the show, it was like a musical extravaganza in and of itself.  


My friend and I were blown away by the range of music that we were privy to.  There were songs with pop-py, upbeat tunes, and there were slower, more blue-sy arrangements.  There was a hint of country thrown in with a lot of rock.  Grace and the gang are versatile enough to appeal to a variety of audiences, yet retain a little niche of their own.  

  
Of course, it helps that Grace brings back memories of Barbie and the Rockers.  With those long blond locks and those rock-solid legs, Grace could just as easily be walking the runway, rather than starring in a show of her own.  But, then she wouldn't get to showcase her amazing musical talent, so what fun would that be?


When this lead singer wasn't rocking the guitar or ramping up the vocals, she was nursing the piano and banging the drums.  This girl is talented, I tell ya!  The one thing she can't do, so she claims, is dance, which is why she just kinda sways back and forth during slower numbers and jumps around like a jacked-up kangaroo during the harder sets.


I will say this, Grace Potter has an awesome sense of fashion.  Just look at that dress!  Between her long blonde hair and her layers of ruffles, it was hard not to watch her move.  Lindy, my date for the night, claimed that she wanted to grow out her locks after seeing the fun that Ms. Potter had tossing her hair around on stage.  However, during a fan meet and greet after the show, Grace acknowledged that, like all of us, she has to spend a lot of time on upkeep in order to keep her waist-length locks looking good.  
 Flat-iron, anyone?


 There was such a long line to meet Grace after the show, but everyone stayed in good spirits.  The bubbly 27 year old singer signed autographs, met her fans, and made small talk with anyone who came by.  She seems to have a genuinely humble personality, musing aloud about "ruining" people's shirts with her signature and even balking at the one fan who asked for the star's signature on her wallet.  She acted just like one of the gals!


Upon meeting me, Grace was kind enough to pose for a picture, using her Ellen mug as a prop.









*I did receive two free tickets to the Avett Brothers concert, with whom Grace Potter and the Nocturnals appeared.  I have given my fair and honest opinion of the event, for which I have received no compensation.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

gaga for gaga

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All I wanted for my birthday was Lady Gaga tickets.  You know what?  I got them!  All right, I knew I had them months in advance, but that didn't make me any less excited.  In fact, I was wiggling in my seat when I clicked "buy" on ticketmaster or whatever that website was.  Electronically waiting in line for tickets to a concert you HAVE to see?  So worth it.


I bought the tickets back in May, I think, the day they went on sale.  Not just the day, the hour, the minute, as soon as I possibly could because I was going to be at that concert.  Now, I'm not the type of Gaga fan who can sing all of her songs, including those that haven't been radio hits, like my friend Jannine, but I like her.  A lot.  The hair, the costumes, the upbeat dance music.  Lady Gaga is just a big bundle of fun. 

Over dinner and drinks one night, I revealed to Jannine that I was going to the concert with Mr. Hull.   She just about flipped out!  Oh my goodness, if that girl could have screamed any louder, she would've (and she did, but we'll get to that later).

Fast forward a few months.  It is the day before the concert and I have a dumb mommy moment (I promise I'm not really a blonde.)  John is suddenly unable to attend the concert, because he is dealing with contractors, insurance adjusters, headaches, and more.  Less than 24 hours before Lady Gaga is set to take the stage, I call up Jannine to see if she might want to accompany me.  Wouldn't you know, she doesn't answer the phone.  The girl is fortunate that I left a message. The next day, we hit the road as soon as she gets off from work, drive two hours to UVA, and wait in a line a gazillion people long to get into the venue.

going all out
Oh my gosh, I had no idea that fans dressed up to attend the Monster Ball.  The costumes ranged from fantastic to horrific.  One lady in front of us had a dried up plant pinned to her head and was wearing a nineties-era sparkly clingy blouse with roses, leaves, and sequins, that was paired with a long black skirt and matronly heels.  On the other end of the spectrum, there were many Gaga-lookalikes, decked out in her most famous costumes.  Of course, you had your gays, too.  We saw men decked out in full-body leotards, short skirts, high heels, and complete make-up.  And, you know what?  Some of their outfits were better executed than those of their female counterparts.  I felt like I was attending a way-out-there viewing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

The concert itself was superb!  The costumes, choreography, sets, and all were fabulous.  At one point, Gaga wore a UVA t-shirt that a fan made just for her.  Even though I am neither a Wahoo or a Hokie, even I could appreciate the awesomeness of that, though she did claim that wearing cotton was "against her religion."

I don't care how many of my mommy friends think I'm a weirdo, the next time Lady Gaga performs around here, I plan to go back.  This time, though, Janine and I'll be decked out in our finest.  I'm thinking glitter, spandex, a tutu, and some sort of fun hair accessories should do the trick.  You never know, I might just find a fun gay friend to go along with us, too.
Love Games
Paparazzi Finale

Friday, April 9, 2010

The Shadow of a Man

Childhood is a process of growing up, of maturing, all the while enjoying the pleasures of being young.  Though we want to hold their hands forever, as parents we must learn to let go and watch our children learn to make their own decisions.  This is a hard thing to do because we are ingrained to protect our young.  However, it is an evil necessity.  If children are never allowed to make mistakes, they will not be capable of maturing tho their full potential.  It is through our mistakes, after all, that we learn our greatest lessons. 

Yesterday evening I took my nine year old son to the local skating rink.  While there, he spent much time playing in the play zone and not much time skating.  I observed a great many things during our evening out, some of which I am proud and some I am not.

The greatest thing I learned while watching my son play is that he is finally becoming more confident and aware of himself.  He found playmates easily and, though he broke a couple of rules while playing with them, he exhibited knowledge of the give and take of friendship.  He showed the ability to compromise in regards to imaginary play and games of various sorts.  I am proud of him for this.  As an only child for his first seven and a half years, he can be a bit bull headed and selfish, much like his mother.

I also learned that my son is still quite impressionable.  When the other boys were throwing play balls and jumping off the top of the slide, he joined in.  This concerns me a bit, as it might foreshadow how he reacts to more worrisome peer pressure in the future.  However, once my son was aware that I was watching and he was in the wrong, the behavior ceased.  Not only that, the other boys followed my son out of the area and back on the skating floor.  Might this indicate future leadership skills?  Perhaps.  I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

Though my son didn't always behave in a pleasing manner last night, he made me proud.  I'm beginning to catch a glimpse of the man he might become.  Childhood can certainly be overwhelming at times, for both parents and youth.  But, it is a time worth cherishing through all the ups and downs because, like a child on skates, it will pass in a wobbly blur.
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