Running late

And working late.  Late seems like my theme for the week.  I'm also blogging late (but I'm off the clock.)  Once again, it seems like I had a good idea early in the week, but I've slept since then.

There is, however a radio commercial (I wanted to say I didn't remember what for, but I've heard it along the way. It's CarMax.) that says the best way to start a blog is with pictures of cats.

Doing stuff.

I suppose sitting in a cabinet is doing stuff.  That's Bandit by the way.  The next time I'm out of ideas I may start telling Bandit stories.

There are comments to my last blog that I need to approve.  I promise I will by next week.  I'll have further comment then.

Anyway, there are 940 days till I can retire, so until then you kids get off my lawn.

Friday the Thirteenth

I don't have anything to say about it.  It just happens to be today.  I will observe that, if I retire in 947 days my last day of work will also be Friday the Thirteenth.  Nothing has occurred this week to alter that date, btw.

On Monday I was thinking about using "Bad Puns" as this week's topic, and I had one, but damned if I can remember it now.  But bad jokes (mainly puns) have been on my mind lately.  I have decided that the American Sense of Humor reaches its pinnacle in the sixth grade.  If you can make a sixth grade boy blow milk out his nose, and a sixth grade girl look at you as though you have three heads (in the particularly snarky way that only a sixth grade girl can) you have achieved the comedic equivalent of the Nobel Prize.

So I will now, for the first time, actually solicit comments to my blog.  I want y'all to help me build a Sixth Grade Reading List.  To some of you my meaning may be obvious, but to stimulate thinking for the rest of you I will just mention the collected works of Isaac Perceval Freely.  Just submit your most fondly remembered titles and authors using the Comment button below.

I can retire in 947 days.  Get off my lawn.

Stand By

I was hoping to have something interesting to blog on this week, but while I'm waiting I wrote this as a standby.

One of the things I've always considered a "great job" is restaurant critic.  I have absolutely no qualifications (other than a mouth) for it, but this is The Internet.  That doesn't matter at all now, does it.

A new restaurant opened recently on Third Street in Downtown Baton Rouge.  I watched, and walked by on the way to lunch, as they remodeled the space.  It is called "Restaurant IPO."

I'll let the name pass without comment, other than to say it conveyed to me an impression of higher prices.  I was pleasantly surprised on Monday when I checked the menu in the window.

It was packed for lunch, but there were a couple of stools at the bar.  Those who know me know I wasn't disappointed that I had to sit there.  The service was excellent.  As a former bartender myself I sympathize with anyone who has to work the bar AND serve food.  I always say diners deserve a real waiter.

The menu was interesting.  I had the Heirloom Salad and Loco Portabella.

Both were a la carte, the Portabella on the "Southern Tapas" section of the menu.  I  was familiar with the term "Tapas" but really not aware of its meaning, other than that it was Spanish in origin.  But I could tell it was the appetizer section, and with a little research I learned that is basically what it means.  (I'll probably blog more on that when I need another standby.)

Having recently discovered heirloom tomatoes, the salad immediately caught my eye.  What surprised me (I guess I didn't pay that much attention to the menu) was the fried okra.  The tomatoes were tiny; grape tomatoes unless I miss my guess.  I'll take their word that they were heirloom.  The combination was incredible.  A balsamic vinagrette, fried okra, tomatoes and lettuce.  Who'd a'thunk it?

I am a freak for portabella mushrooms.  Stuff a cap with chicken and cheese, how can you go wrong?  

I have to say that for food of this quality the price was good.  The rest of the menu was appealing, and I've already decided what to order the next time.

And until then, I have 954 days until I can retire, and you kids get off my lawn.