I’m back. It has been a month since my last post, but I promise I’ve been doing things. I just haven’t had much time to write about them! Between moving into my first apartment (!!), finishing my internship, starting classes, and baking cookies, I’ve used every spare moment during which I could have blogged to…nap. Because as much as I love adventuring, writing, and the Internet, napping is my favorite hobby!
Anyway. I’mma share the last twoish weeks with you. Get ready!
Saturday, Aug. 10
I don’t know this little boy.
Three Saturdays ago, I went to the Athens Farmers Market with Guy (previously known as Climber Guy). I adore farmers markets for their intimate quirkiness, relaxed old-timeyness, and well-priced organic produce. But they usually open on Saturday mornings, five hours after I get off work. So I say pretty much every Friday night that I will wake up early the next day and hit up Bishop Park, downtown Watkinsville, or Monroe for homegrown whatnots, but then I sleep until noon instead.
Not this time! Guy said he’d go with me, so I had some accountability. And I’m glad we went! We got there about half an hour before the market closed, so a lot of the booths had scant selections left, but that’s alright because I was (am) broke anyway. I tried some of Mama Bird‘s granola and fawned over various jewelry and bags I couldn’t buy, promising myself I’d return once UGA finished taking all my money. Guy bought some goat cheese from a man whose name I no longer remember, as well as a pepper medley from 3 Porch Farm. The 3 Porch lady was really nice, throwing in some extra peppers just because. Some were delicious in a spicy rice dinner, and the rest lasted quite a while — Guy just cooked the last of them two nights ago.
We sampled Miche‘s meager leftovers, perused the booths for the third time, and left. Moving on!
Sunday, Aug. 11
I spend most of my time in compression leggings and cut-up T-shirts. Guy spends most of his time in hipster pants and bread-stained T-shirts. But sometimes, we dress like real people! On the eleventh of August, we donned our Sunday finest and had dinner at Last Resort Grill, which is apparently the real name of the restaurant colloquially known as the Last Resort. Our waitress was a spunky little woman with candy pink nail polish (to match her kindergartener’s) and colorful sleeve tattoos. She was really nice about my veganism, even checking with the cooks to see if my noodles had eggs in them, which I didn’t think to inquire about. So the dish I ordered — “El Campesino” — was quite different from the dish I received, but what I ate was delicious and didn’t evoke any images of Inquisition-era Spanish peasantry. Guy’s pecan-crusted trout with fancy peas n’ grits was, he says, pretty fantastic too.
The Last Resort, like most places downtown, has a pretty cool history. The first Last Resort opened in 1966 as a music club and hosted Towns Van Zandt, Steve Goodman, Jimmy Buffett, and lots of other well-known folks. It closed down in the ’80s (I think), then reopened in 1992 as a pretty-posh-but-still-quite-townie restaurant. I’m not really sure what the unifying theme of the menu is, except maybe toothsomeness. Okay, I just wanted to use the word “toothsome.”
My favorite part of the Last Resort is actually the mural outside. Maybe that’s because I’m usually too broke to go inside, so I just enjoy gazing at the giant parking lot vegetables. Sista Fran and I have taken many photos in front of those veggies. Like this one:
Oh hey there, high school. This was before the mural got a paint job.
But as fun as it is to hug wall lettuce, it is even more fun to eat spicy pasta while wearing black lace and shiny heels. So that is what I did.
Friday, Aug. 16
Midway through demolition.
I’ve really got to stop spending money on food. I complain all the time about how my clothes are wearing thin and my shoes are stained and holey, but almost all of my dates end in the bulk section of Kroger, and I eat out pretty frequently. For instance, right now I am eating a bagel at Jittery Joe’s after spending as much time waiting in line for it as I would have spent walking to my apartment for “free” lunch. And it isn’t even toasted.
But a coupla Fridays ago, I met up with the Variety Girls — some awesome ladies I met during my time at The Red & Black — at Big City Bread Cafe for a tasty dinner.
Big City Bread doesn’t get enough attention because it sits behind the Bottleworks, partially obscured by a tiny hill and all the cars parked on Finley Street by Grit customers afraid of being towed. The B-works restaurants have great food too, but BCB is the short sibling in the back row of the family reunion picture.
One thing I loved about BCB, once I finally noticed it and went in, is that it has a vegan cookie. Not a vegan fruit bar, not some creepy vegan vegetable bread, a vegan COOKIE. With chocolate. There is oatmeal in it, but it’s not a gross chewy oatmeal cookie containing two choco-chips. It’s a chocolate cookie with oatmeal in it. Basically.
Anyway. Obviously I love this cookie because I dedicated a whole paragraph to it. And honestly, The Cookie is the reason I suggested this particular restaurant for the Variety Girl meet-up. Which was a success, by the way! We chatted about internships and classes and other stuff I don’t remember because it was two weeks ago and joyfully consumed sandwiches, desserts, and coffee we had gladly spent our money on. Hashtag no regrets.
Monday, Aug. 19
This photo is misleading because I took it like a while ago. It was actually dark and somewhat crowded during the show. I am just awkward about taking photos during performances. But I was totally sitting on that person’s barstool.
I first listened to Kenosha Kid freshman year, when I was Facebook stalking people with good music tastes. High School Drum Major Friend had “liked” a band with an alliterative name, and his knowledge of both bands and literary devices led me to believe that I too would enjoy the music of Kenosha Kid.
So I found Projector on Spotify and loved it! I was vaguely aware that Dan Nettles, the Kenosha Kid brainparent, was an Athenian involved in Nuçi’s Space (that’s how HSDMF knew him), but I had no idea until I wrote an article about Kenosha Kid’s Hendershot’s residency in March that the project was way more prolific than its Spotify presence indicates. See Bandcamp page here.
Anyway, I missed the March residency because of school and writing and sleep and whatnot, but I was at Hendershot’s for the umpteenth time this month when I saw a poster announcing a Kenosha Kid performance for the VERY NEXT DAY. I was very excited. I said to Guy, “Guy. I’m going to see Kenosha Kid tomorrow. Do you want to come? You don’t have to, but I am going either way. I think you will like them. I mean, maybe you won’t like them, but you probably will.” And then I started babbling about Dan Nettles and how I’d interviewed him and then gotten the scoop on Hendershot’s moving and how he’s such a great musician and blahblahblah, and Guy was just happy I wanted to do something that was free and wasn’t a trip to the grocery store.
So we saw Kenosha Kid (on Hendershot’s’s third birthday, by the way), and it was great! The band consisted on this night of Mr. Nettles, Robby Handley, and Marlon Patton. They were great. Just jammin’. I hadn’t seen a show at the new Hendershot’s yet, but my suspicions that the larger space would be great for live music were confirmed.
After spending so much time reviewing shows for The Red & Black last year, it was nice to listen to music without taking notes. I was tempted to write this segment like a music review, but I just don’t feel like it. Suffice it to say, Guy and I had a great time listening to great music. And then we went to Kroger.
Wednesday, Aug. 21
The Red & Black still uses this photo. #legacy
Thrice a week, I have 80 minutes of down time between my two English classes. Ordinarily, I spend most of those asleep on the Park Hall Nap Couch, but on this particular Wednesday, I decided to go for a walk. To the Daily Groceries Co-Op! I trekked from campus to Prince Ave with Modest Mouse for company. I bought the vegan “V’egg Salad” sandwich, which was pretty tasty but not fantastic like the avocado-y goodness that is the “T.H.A.T.,” as well as some Bug Bites chocolates (I’ve decided to start collecting the tiny “look what species you are saving!” trading cards because they are pretty and make me feel like a superhero).
The Co-Op is neat because, well, it’s a co-op! (Read my article about it here.) It’s supported and run by owner-members, and it gets as much produce and whatnot from local farmers as possible. It’s full of whole and obscure health foods (mostly organic, though I don’t think that is a tenet) and is quite vegan-friendly (so many sandwiches!). I should probably become an owner-member one of these days because support local business and whatnot. In the meantime, I’ll keep buying chocolate, sandwiches, granola, and pears (I don’t even like pears that much, but Daily has the best pears!).
On a side note, Daily guilt-tripped me when I washed my hands in the bathroom because there is this note posted in there about how using more than one paper towel kills this many more trees each year, and you should be able to absorb all the water on your hands with one paper towel and not kill as many trees, and apparently there is a TED Talk about how to fold a paper towel in such a way as to use it as efficiently as possible, but I haven’t seen it yet, but apparently my man hands are no excuse for using two to three paper towels every time I wash my hands in a public restroom. Since that experience, I’ve freaked out a little every time I’ve used a paper towel. Actually, I’ve used my shirt several times…
Friday, Aug. 23
I obviously put forth a lot of effort in acquiring this image.
Have you seen the Tommy Wiseau film The Room? It’s kind of like my generation’s Rocky Horror Picture Show, except that it really is awful. And when you watch it in a tiny theater with 20 or so snarky college kids inserting dialogue, providing sound effects, making Full House references, and tossing a football between rows, it’s eye-wateringly hilarious.
The Variety Girls and I saw a late-night showing of this filmic wonderwork — the bearer of 1.5 Rotten Tomatoes stars — at Ciné last Friday. Only one of our number, we’ll call her Curls, knew what we were in for, but fortunately she brought enough plastic spoons for all of us to throw some. I’m incapable of doing the film justice in attempting to describe the experience I had watching it, but you should totally hit up Ciné (which, by the way, exceeded its Kickstarter goal!) the next time this movie comes to town.
Well, I guess that’s it, for now…
I actually turned down a few potential adventures last weekend because I was so behind on blogging and didn’t want to be responsible for even more writing. I know, I know, lame. But I really must hit up the Habitat ReStore soon, somewhat out of sartorial necessity, and Sista Fran and I haven’t given up on our busking plans. Now that I am all moved in and developing a routine (well, a nap routine, at the very least), I intend to post more regularly. Let’s hope I don’t end up sacrificing siesta time…