In the Writing Garage

As predicted, it was a perfect weekend. The good weather was expected. What I didn't expect was this shift in attitude I have recently aquired that doesn't seem to go away. I have never been so completely without struggle. Oh I have the same precieved "problems" like everyone else. The bills and tasks of living are always going to be there and my EGO will continue to get in my way, but I'm learning the big lesson of letting it all just unfold without taking it personally. I am currently standing outside of my life while I wait for my next big task. So I gave in to these feelings and have had the benefit of two blissfuls days doing nothing out of the ordinary, but jut enjoying every minute of it.

It was perfect...........

Saturday was crack of dawn soccer cheering for Emma Hamm, star of her 2-4 year old league over there in Surprise, AZ. That was #1 event of the weekend. But there were a few honorable mention moments you might enjoy. One of them being that Mel and I hiked South Mountain, so be it in an Expidition, but for me, that was an exercise in tenacity since I am such a big fan of four wheeling and scarey switchback mountain roads. Once at the top it was a little bit awe inspiring. Even Mel was humbled for once as we marveled at "how the place has grown".

Second & third moments are restaurant reviews, so bear with me. These can be fun. Mel's current mission is to introduce me to every hole in the wall restaurant that has been in business for 30 years or more. You know the type, one family owned, reknown for some reason or unduplicatable recipe that just kept them far enough from progress but not from success. These great establishments are generally humble storefronts with quaint & charming interior surroundings that you just know have been in place for the duration of the place. No updating necessary when you have a good streak going, afterall. The first such place this weekend was:

The Knock Kneed Lobster, let the name speak for itself. Their address @ 32nd Street and Washington in the red light district of Phoenix is just west of Tire Dawg's. Both of which are on the same unfortunate path of the up and coming LIGHTRAIL construction that is about to devour history on this corner. The parking lot is a gravelly space in the back of a nondescript building. Mel advised me not to talk to anyone if confronted out here. So much for valet parking. He reaches for the apparent front door. Let me just say that if you had never been here before, you would have never gotten in because the "front door" in the back of the building was white metal with a steel rod handle and no sign. Who knew? Glad I was with such a historian. When I questioned him about how he knew how to recgonize the front door he just said "Oh, I don't know, I have been coming here for years". SEE! This word of mouth restaurant was worth my wait. The entry hall, akin to grandma's back porch with a Centipeed arcade machine was first opinion. The restaurant itself was as clumsy as the name implied, but one of the more charming places I have visited in quite awhile. It's so laid back, you just hope to find an employee with which to place your order at the walk up counter. Hand written signs cajolled us to return with our claim ticket when our number was called or we would be denied our food. The propaganda in general plastered on the walls had a threatening tone as if their arrogance with fish house fame makes them in charge of all that enter. But I softened to gingham table cloth type dining with nautical decor that did not blend and a wooden bathroom door that was aged enough to offer a splinter. But the place had ambience if not downright character. The food is fish and chips, made with Alaskan or Icelandic cod; deep fried in pure lard that is the draw to this out of the reach spot. If you simply want to taste the most decadant comfort seafood and forego guilt, you can give yourself up to this place. No one would disagree with facts, 47 years in business on the same spot and still acclaimed. I can recommend it.

Sunday's assignment was La Pinta Mexican restaurant on 19th Ave and Osborn in Phoenix. Now when we arrived the above pictured storefront was my first impression. My mind's eye saw bare lightbulbs glaring over uncomfortably close booths with questionable service and I was hesitant. Oh how we judge. The entry was startling as it was bigger than imagined and warm and cozy. Red and Mexican decor of endearing charm reaked with comfortable familiarity. Anyone that has reminisced about a good Mexican Restaurant in Arizona has envision a place just like this. The food was typical Mexican fare but with a genuine taste, and atmosphere to match, this is another one that you'll want to be able to claim, "I've been there".

With so much gastranomical success in one weekend, it was time to quit eatin'. Mel and I ended Sunday night in lounge chairs with the promised Corona and lime, saluting our gratitude.

Besides the highlights and the honorable mention stories of the weekend, there was the in between it all that made it something special. Rather than bore you I'm going to just write the rest of it off........................ But that was the memorable part.

Tonight's Disclaimer, Blogger's Spellcheck is still not working and I am to damn lazy to give any more effort other than hope for the best ...........