We went to a show the other night that was simply amazing. We saw The Bad Plus in a venue new to us. Because we were at the early show, there were only about 30 people in the audience. I hope Richmond showed them some love at the late show. If not, we are collectively fools.
Yesterday, the better-half’s sister (still weird typing that) brought her kids over to hang out. His aunt and grandmother visited as well. They brought a cake that the sister’s mother would bust out for special occasions. It was a nice touch and delicious:
The nieces dig their new uncle because this is what happened in our backyard:
That is a crazy obstacle course like American Ninja Warrior.
Today we are smoking bacon and taking care of a few yard chores, but mostly sitting around.
Even though this house was gutted and rebuilt, there’s always something that’s not quite right, isn’t there? An utter moron installed the lights in our downstairs bathroom:
See those arrows? They are pointing you in the right direction to see this:
Oh hey, it’s totally OK to install lights without covering the electrical box, right? We’re pretty sure whatever sconces were there before the sellers left the house were not the ugly things we inherited. They don’t go with the rest of the fixtures in the bathroom and a hack installed them.
The story gets better. The boxes weren’t even the right kind of box–rectangular boxes aren’t for light fixtures (think switches or sockets):
Two trips to the hardware store later and the new boxes and lights were installed:
Did you happen to notice in the fourth picture that weirdo paint job? Who doesn’t take the mirror down when painting the rest of the room? The mirror just hangs off two hangers. Easily slid on or off the hangers so you don’t have to painstakingly go around a mirror with a paint brush.
This weekend we drove west to hang out in Blacksburg. Though it looked like we would not be able to get there and back again, we did do just that.
Friday night we had a nice dinner at 622 North. Neither of us had ever been there. Part of the building is a bar with pool tables and the other side is where your parents go while you shoot pool and drink shots. We sat on the parent side. We both had an excellent cocktail before dinner and enjoyed our meals.
Saturday we took a very long walk in the snow and worked up an appetite for a late lunch at The Cellar.
Saturday evening we sat in the hotel bar for a drink:
The snow storm started up again and the hotel sent people home early:
Because of the storm, the hotel restaurant was serving a short menu which didn’t appeal to us and so this is what happens when you eat a late lunch and a storm won’t quit: (Junk: it’s what’s for dinner)
Aside from the misstep of not planning on snacks and a bottle of wine for the room, we had a great time.
Friday night I asked the better-half if he could make me a side car with the juice from half a tangerine. Yes, we had half a tangerine in the house, go figure. Boy howdy, that’s a good drink.
Last night we enjoyed them with the juice from tangelos:
I may have a new favorite drink.
After taking a bunch of brush to the landfill, the better-half said he was going to his favorite flower shop. Nothing says romance like rolling to the dump on Valentine’s. I was a little more excited than was necessary. And the flowers are very pretty:
We made Steak Diane, asparagus and roasted potatoes with a mushroom purée. Oh yeah!
A pretty good Saturday and a pretty good way to spend Valentine’s.
First there was the stare down contest in which the rules changed so rapidly, I forgot what we were playing. Then, the worst thing ever during I Spy. I spy something gray. There were too many giggles so I knew the answer was my hair.
So, our leaves still sit in the street. One day my prince leaf truck will come. New mega recycle bins were doled out today and we did not get one. I’m a little sad because we are recycling fiends. Oh well, next round of bins will surely correct that. Or, there is something about our side of the street that is cursed–mountains of leaves and no new recycle bins.
This morning, at 4am, there was a noise in the kitchen best described as 4 wind chimes being thrown on a concrete pad. The culprit was in our bedroom faster than you can say “wha?”. The better-half channeled his grandmother and said “what in the world”–that phrase tickles me to no end–and then we went downstairs to see some items on the floor (the noise was likely my travel coffee mug) and other things strewn about the counter. The faucet was on. The faucet, people, was on.