Living Large

Living In The Land Of Giants

It's no secret that I am...petite. I remind myself of a French Bulldog, I act like I don't know I'm shorter than most of my peers. And now all of my children.

Deep down you know you are smaller, but you don't dare let on because that puts you in a position of weakness. It helps that I have a talent for being able to jump pretty high.

That really helped when I played basketball in junior high school. I was consistently underestimated.

Never let them see you sweat. When I helped coach the 6th grade boys basketball team they (the boys) thought it was quite funny.

They weren't laughing by the end of practice. I ran the hair off those boys. The next day it only took a few punishment laps to wipe the smirk off of even the most A.D.D. riddled specimens. Sometimes it's really fun to be mean.

As a child, and as a mother I've never backed down from a fight because I was the smallest one involved in the conflict. That's partially how I got my nickname "Psycho Mom" when my now adult kids were in their teens. Sometimes I had to make dramatic gestures to prove my point.

There is a rumor I once drove my big red Navigator up over the curb and on to the sidewalk of our small town to confront  a few of them who had not come home at curfew and did not call me. It was priceless.

Or the time I cut my son's friend's nipple with my kitchen shears (I really just grazed it). Johnny was full steam (wearing only his swimming trunks) chasing my sister in law around the kitchen dangling a dead rat by the tail. He learned not to come into my kitchen doing something outrageous when I had a sharp implement in my hand.

The land of big feet

I do admit that acting tough can be tiresome. The one good thing about all of my daughters growing taller than me is they have outgrown my shoes. We still snitch each other's clothes, but my shoes are now safe to be left alone.

And it does come in handy at the grocery store to get items off of the top shelf without having to climb the refrigerator section like a monkey to get the banana yogurt. Of course I prefer to grocery shop solo, so there's always a trade off.

Moving to Texas is Like....

Getting poked with a hot stick in your eye. Just kidding. I have been so hot all summer, even before I arrived in Austin. But now I can say I've experienced 30 consecutive days of 100 degree days. After 10 days of really trying to be out and about in the extreme heat we gave up and did what everyone else around here has been doing.

Hibernating.

School started last Monday and we are finally seeing a slight drop in evening temperatures and signs of life in the neighborhood.I don't have a true opinion of how I feel about it yet. Soon it won't be so hot and I'll get totally unpacked. Then I'll let you know.

It always takes me a long time to develop a fondness for something. I remember when my mother in law first laid eyes on my 7 hour old first born. She asked, "did you ever think you could love anything so much?"I don't remember my exact response, but I do remember thinking " I'm not even sure I like her yet!" These things take time.

That was 29 years ago and I can honestly say I love her like crazy.

Survival Elixir

I've created this lovely summer cocktail to chase away whatever ails me since I moved. I've been ailing most days so I'd say my vitamin C  and anti-oxidant levels are probably in a pretty healthy state right now.

I'm not joking. I've been buying lots of blackberries. Yes, I do go through all the trouble to make it pretty with all of the ingrediants you see here.

I developed a fondness for really nice cocktails prepared with fresh ingredients (no mixes for this girl) since I've been blogging.

Where's the connection, you might ask? Since I like to take pictures for my blog or for restaurant reviews I often end up chatting with bartenders at fine establishments like The Admiral in my favorite place, Asheville, North Carolina or at Zed 451 in Chicago.

I'm afraid my palate has been spoiled by the likes of these places and their Watermelon Refresher or Kiwi-Basil Martinis.

So if you want in on my latest pick me up, dust me off and slap a smile on my face libation:

Sasstown Blackberry Cocktail

fresh mint sprigs

12 cucumber slices

3/4 cup fresh lime juice

about 8 ounces fresh blackberries

10 teaspoons turbinado sugar

1 cup Gin

1 cup club soda

-place  berries, cucumber, mint in a pitcher

-using a wooden spoon or small spatula muddle (smush) ingredients

-add sugar and lime juice and give it a good stir to break down sugar

-add gin and club soda

-serve on ice, garnish glass with a slice of lime, slice of cucumber and a blackberry

Voila!

There you have it. If you don't have turbinado sugar, you can sweeten it with simple syrup or granulated sugar....adjust to your taste. If company is not coming I make it 2 servings at a time using 2 ounces gin, 2 ounces lime juice and 2 ounces club soda.

If I'm too lazy to make this I go to plan B, a glass or two of my current "go to" red wine: 7 Deadly Zins, a nice everyday Zinfandel out of Lodi, California.

The funniest thing, which gives a real hint to my state of being right now is that I wrote this post to add to Keely's Random Tuesday over at The Un-mom. Only I just discovered it's already Wednesday.

I hate when that happens.

The Mayor Takes A Free Ride

Or The Wily Temptress does Chicago with a gang young enough to be her children. Oh, wait, they are her children: 

The female chatter in the car helped the drive to the windy city pass quickly. All the way from Detroit in 3 1/2 hours to sitting on the freeway for 35 minutes only 5 miles from our destination. The secret to doing a quick weekend away is to leave by noon and arrive in time to settle in and prepare to get the most out of your 2 nights away.

That means food and your pre-night on the town cocktails. Being the practical woman I am, I had drug all of the ingredients for dinner in my cooler. It wasn't mommy benevolence that motivated me to plan ahead. I didn't need ESP to know my daughter would slink in from a week of travel for work and need to be revived if she were to be any good to us at all.

Chicken breasts were thrown on the grill and pasta was quickly made with an overpriced but yummy jar of Williams-Sonama's Creamy Florentine Sauce. Some of those good old North Carolina tomatoes were sliced up, seasoned and we had a fantastic meal to go along with our our sassy margaritas. We sipped and people watched from the second floor balcony fabricating stories about the people passing by.

Feeling refreshed we spilled out onto the sidewalk in the cool night air and off we went to find fun in the Fulton Market District. And I assure you there is plenty of fun to be found there. We ventured deeper into the Meat Packing district to the children's favorite low key hang out, The Fulton Lounge.

Justin, a gorgeous young man welcomed us at the door and asked for ID. "Surely you don't need mine young man." I do believe he was flirting with me when he said, "Missy, that most definitely means you too." He said it in such a sincere way that I took a liking to him right there on the spot. He smoothly chatted us to the perfect area in the lounge for our group of 6.

The lounge is situated in a hundred year old building, a former book binding factory just a few blocks north of restaurant row on Randolph making it a perfect place for before or after dinner drinks. Even though the space is urban and expansive it's thoughtfully furnished to provide a low key vibe, totally sophisticated but not pretentious in any way. Music plays in an unobtrusive way and the staff is attentive without taking over the show.

I like a place that knows it's mission and sticks to it. I'd surmise there objective is to have an environment that's conducive to intimate conversation and cocktailing within the community. I had a hard time choosing from their unique martini menu but I went with the Fulton Essence. It was made with Sky Melon Vodka, watermelon elixir, home made sour and fresh lime. The night was off to a great start.

I was reluctant to leave as soon as we did but I had given control of our travels over to the locals. Next thing I knew they popped us all in a Taxi to head over to the River North District's hot spot of the evening, Zed 451. I moaned a bit about not staying in their neighborhood so we could walk around instead of paying cab fare and they were all, "don't worry mom we'll get the Zed bus to take us home." I know when my leg is being pulled but I just let it go because I was determined to milk every drop of enjoyment out of the evening.

When I'm wrong I say I'm wrong. Zed 451 had a wonderful mojo going on. It was energizing but not overwhelming with a constant flow of different groups coming and going on their way to somewhere else.We ordered up a plate of Spicy Chicken Empanadas with dipping sauce. They were a great taste bud tease arriving piping hot and crispy.

The bartenders know how to handle themselves and keep things moving which really is a feat when you observe them making their specialty cocktails.

They have a a juicer built into the bar where as quick as a wink they'll have whatever fresh juice needed for your selection squeezed into their magic mix and served up in a perfectly chilled glass.

I was sorely tempted by our friendly bartender to try the Blueberry Thyme martini, but I had already committed to trying the Kiwi Basil Martini.  As he chatted with my daughter I realized he was retelling the incident that had occurred the weekend before when another visitor of my daughters got involved in some loud drama with her jerky boyfriend.

We piled back out into the lovely summer night air and was about to suggest we do a little city strolling. But  what to my wondering eyes does appear? There really is a Zed bus, willing and able to drive us back to the apartment. It felt totally decadent to be carted home in our very own bus.

We offered to bring our driver down some freshly baked banana bread and a couple of North Carolina tomatoes but he thought I was just being polite. I guess he doesn't read Sasstown or he'd know I don't say things I don't mean and I really appreciated the Free Ride.

Which led me to think about that old Edgar Winter song, Free Ride. Click hear to see the psychedelic You Tube of the official 70's party song. We were a little delirious by this time since we had all been up since dawn to make this trip happen to celebrate my sister in law's 65th birthday. The night was topped off at home with a crazy little dance party. A week later and I'm still recovering.