I kinda regret promising an update. But I need to do it, the 90-some-year-old-bitty-who-watches-How-I-Met-Your-Mother-reruns-on-her-old-tube-TV-in-her-nursing-home-version-of-me will be realllllly mad at me in 60-ish years, so okay . So here we go.
The Doots turned 3. That was kind of a ‘big deal’, and then again I was too busy to really spend a lot of time planning it down to the color of the paper napkins, but whatever. He had ice cream and met up with Coco and Steve at Roadhouse Pizza for the big birthday meal and got to bust through a streamer doorway to start his day. Not too shabby.
FYI – Roadhouse, oooooh yeah. That’s where we used to go when I was little, for my dad’s birthday. My brother Paulo still adores it and I totally thought of him when I saw that – even after a very nice expansion and remodel – the once-divey-but-awesomely-delicious pizza joint saved the scary troll mural.
Also they have bathrooms on the main level now, instead of making you trek down to the vaguely-finished basement to use the facilities, and yeah we’ll just leave it at that. The pizza is just as yummy as it always was, and that’s all that really matters AMIRIGHT?
Scott’s parents visited this weekend. They spent Friday with Peter, taking him to the zoo and out for pancakes and had a great time. We all grabbed fish fry, hit up Brennan’s, and let Pete rip into more presents. Spoiled, this child.
We also checked out Bluephies with them – ummmmmm yeah awesome. Not only is the food good and the menu intriguing, but it’s right off Monroe Street (two places here that are our dream residences: the Jacob house, which we drive by and stalk everytime we drive down Mineral Point Rd., and somewhere on Monroe Street).
PS – Scott and I split the bloody mary flight, which included their regular (good), their horseradish (gooder), and the bacon-infused vodka version (um, GOODEST).
Also this weekend: we finally planted our garden goodies in our plot at my work ‘community’ garden.
And rode around the neighborhood on the old trike (we got him a balance bike for his birthday and the seat is just a smidge too tall for him, darn it).
It’s like his face is frozen in that expression, for reals. That’s his current ‘smile’. Good grief. FYI I also took pictures when we took him to the splash park this week, but they are on my second-rate DSLR and I’m too lazy to upload them tonight. So you don’t get to see them. I am sure you are crushed.
Sunday we headed downtown for dinner. We hit up the Old Fashioned.
A few reasons why I am, after one meal, in love with The Old Fashioned.
For one, I saw some dude there who if I squinted hard enough, looked like a chubby and also vaguely dorkier (if ‘dorkier’ is possible) version of my brother. And if this place is okay with Faux Paulo, then by God: it’s good enough for me.
Two: they serve toddler beverages in old fashioned glasses.
Three: their adult beverage list consists of (1) several versions of the Old Fashioned, and (2) over 100 Wisconsin-only beers. No beers allowed if they were not made in Wisconsin. There is something very lovely about that.
Four: the food is good. And Four-Point-Five: they have this giant map of Wisconsin on the wall and, because Pete knows we live in the star, it makes our kid totally looks like a genius when he announces loudly to anyone within earshot that “HEY HEY HEY! I LIVE HERE IN MAD-SIN BEE-SCONSIN”.
Five: can’t beat the view from the window seats.
Mmm hmm, I think this is our new fav. Very different from 715 and Free State, but definitely on the same level.
And that is it, dudes. You are welcome, 90-some-ish-year-old self. And now: I am outtie. I still have a lotta wedding images to cull and edit.