Climb down my rain barrel and out my cellar door in Normal entries

I eat out with great frequency here. In part because the kitchen in this house is not cook friendly and partly because I’m lazy. I swear a lot trying to cook in a cramped space with limited surfaces for prep. This town used to have a lot of Greek restaurants; it still does they just aren’t owned by Greeks anymore, the top three I can think of are now owned by Lebanese. Not making a racial statement, I think for some it’s easier to order in that Lebanese restaurants here use English descriptors; e.g. Spinich pie not spanakopita. One of the older chains is called Olga’s, heh, they serve gyro’s instead of souvlaki. So do the Lebanese. Guy-row, jai-row are perfectly acceptable pronunciations, apparently, and when I say year-o they politely repeat it … differently. For the most part the food is the same.

Of late I’ve been going on gastronomical adventures of the homegrown variety. My latest curious dipping-of-toes-in-the-water was the curiosity of the Coney Island Dog, a standard at a few restaurants, um, the kind where patrons want a dog. In my mind I was picturing the sort of dog you get at Coney Island or from a street vendor in New York, Chicago or even Portland. Yeah, no. Here at every place I’ve been too with coney Islands on the menu, your two choices are Flint Style and Detroit style. You can’t really joke about them. It’s not like the cook or waitress will beat you up, more like they’ve heard it all before and the question seems both ignorant and rhetorical. So I picked up a couple of flint style and a boston cooler (a drink developed in Detroit that traditionally uses Vernors ginger ale and vanilla ice cream. If you know what Vernors is I have a hundred bucks says you don’t know it from Boston.).

Maybe it was just the place but what a flint coney Island is, apparently; loose burger, raw onions and very good brown mustard on a fat kosher hotdog.

Hmmmm, this was sitting on my desktop when I woke the damn thing up. Um, I don’t really have either a hundred bucks or absolute certainty that Vernors isn’t available in Boston. I know it’s not available out west. My children were impressed by Vernors when they visited Michigan in the summers. When I think of good ginger ale I think of British or Jamaican Ginger beer.

I’m sure I was inspired to write something when I started this the other day, haven’t a clue, however, what that might have been. I think qualifying a dog from a low rent tourist amusement place in New York as either Detroit or Flint style. But all that is fluff. I’m sure my entries are all chock full of portent and visions, sound and fury, strum and drang and divine comedy. Could be they are more like Coney island dogs from Coney Island; full of lips and tits and not in a good way. Though I have my preferences and biases I could easily go either way, I mean be convinced of either opinion. Fluff is very important; when you fall flat on your face at least you’ve something soft to land on.

I probably had something to say about my knew medicinal herbal fascination, but, in the least ironic and most predictable manner; I’ve forgotten what that might have been. Why do you think they call it dope was the most on the nose anti-drug campaign; it sure doesn’t make you feel less dopey. And that was back when the shit was weak. They got shit that’ll not only settle a fog on your brain and nibble at short term memory, but also pull mean low G-force and eat your face. Also the industry is getting snobby, like wine or cigars, and when an article isn’t scholarly and requiring advanced chemistry, botany and genetic knowledge, it’ll say shit like, spicy bouquet, chewy, with hints of zest, skunk and diesel, and lawn clippings, nutmeg, asphalt and round up on the exhale. They’ll also replace the eating of your face with either ‘ a bouquet of your own skin with notes of liver, spleen and duodenum’ or best medicinal use is for insomnia and misanthropy.

My fit bit readings are improving a lot. Notes about exercising after getting really high; 1) You aren’t physically couch-locked, there is no vacuum seal or bolt from ass to cushion. 2) Standing up is half the battle, relinquish the notion that you can’t move by taking a step and then another (which is true when sober too but takes less dialogue and time to articulate). 3) Get your land legs before launching. 4) Try to avoid exercises that make you giggly. Um, the improving of fit bit readings may have more to do with doggedness than stoniness.

The forecast today is that later in the morning the rain will mix with snow. I’ve been itching to get my bike back on the road. It’s a lot more satisfying to have the wind in your face than the digital readout of speed on a stationary bike. I haven’t been to gym in a while, GF has had one thing after another come up and I don’t really like going alone. I’ve visited her in the last few weeks but not to go to gym. Um, one of our visits was the opposite of working out; steak and lobster. A little bit of hanky and a pinch of panky too but no circuit training, not in the traditional sense. I don’t mind riding in rain and snow when I have a destination, but for recreational or fitness purposes it’s a bit over the top for me and the likes of me.

It’s raining like a motherfucker, I’m not sure how a snowflake will survive such a deluge.