me kathy, you dilbert

Mondays are very hard, in that I must put on pants with a non-elasticized waistband and go to an office and try to act normal. Acting normal is exhausting. How do people work in offices? How do people act normal every day for eight hours?

The answer is that they don't. A couple of years ago when we lived in DC, one of my freelance clients asked me to fill in for an editor on maternity leave and for four months I went to an office five days a week, during which time I had to pretend I was an anthropologist studying a strange culture in order not to scratch my eyes out in my cubicle. I actually took notes every time I had an interaction with one of my temporary, not-normal-acting coworkers.

Anyway, between the old age and the non-elastic waistband and the pretending to be normal for eight hours straight today, I'm a mess. I was going to write tonight about Tommy's Grill, which the yachtsman Rain Man and I went to for the first time on Saturday morning and really liked, but I'm not up for it, so here are a couple photos and the yachtsman's Rain Man's comments.


RAIN MAN: It's yummy. That guy, Tommy? He's nice. And the potatoes were delicious, just the way we like them.

ME: How do we like them?

RAIN MAN: Grilled. Perfectly grilled. Muffin? Grilled.

ME: What else?

RAIN MAN: Egg was delicious. The seats were a little uncomfortable. I was in that booth with a huge hole in it. You could fall into that hole and never come up.

ME: What else?

RAIN MAN: It's true that Tommy never heard the first rule of business: Location, location, location. Maybe he needs to partner with Starbucks. Or Radio Shack. [THESE ARE TOMMY'S NEIGHBORS IN THE STRIP MALL WHERE HIS RESTAURANT IS LOCATED.] With every remote-control-car purchase you could get a free egg sandwich. He's not thinking about creative marketing.

A moto photo of Tommy's Grill's strip mall.

ME: What else?

RAIN MAN [TRYING TO WATCH HOUSE HUNTERS WHILE I TALK TO HIM]: Should we move to Miami?

If you live in the non-Miami/Burlington area, you should check out Tommy's Grill on Shelburne Road. For now I can only speak to the egg sandwiches (everything I want from an egg sandwich, plus not too greasy and with a thick, grilled English muffin) and home fries (real potatoes, hand cut, nicely seasoned), but Rain Man and I will be going back soon to try the fish tacos (homemade tortillas!). Until then, Rain Man will be driving slow in the driveway while I slip into a nice pair of sweatpants.

more motorcycle photography

breakfast at the hot spot

Basically a grilled cheese sandwich that happens to have a fried egg on it.


(That is not a complaint.)

well that's a fine how-do-you-do

It's snowing up in here.


And bleak and ugly.



But the Crazy Pet Lady offers you this small consolation:


The Crazy Pet Lady is going to offer herself breakfast at Libby's Blue Line Diner as consolation (and also as physical, spiritual, and mental preparation for a trip to Costco; pray for me).

travellin' shoes

I spent most of yesterday in Hanover, NH, with my littlest sass. The last time we were in Hanover, we had just left the emergency room, where Maddie had spent hours and hours without being allowed to eat. We stopped in Hanover so she could get a slice of pizza, but while we waited for them to warm it up she claimed she was so hungry she thought she was going to pass out, so I handed her a date-nut bar I'd gotten from my dad. This was not one of those candy bars disguised as a "nutrition bar" that I like to eat, it was the kind of hardcore health food my dad likes to eat. It didn't even look good. When Maddie took her first bite I thought she was going to cry. "It tastes like peanuts," she moaned, distraught, and spit it out in her hand. "Dog-food peanuts."

But yesterday we went to a delicious diner/restaurant called Lou's that Chris would have loved. It's been around for over 60 years, serves breakfast all day, has a huge selection of pies, and their home fries are hand cut but still super crispy (a rare combination: home fries are usually hand cut but undercooked, or those processed potato cubes that are deep fried; there's nothing wrong with the latter, by the way). Here's Maddie at Lou's, no dog-food peanuts in sight:


In other news, Chris and I are off to DC for the weekend. I'll see all four of you loyal bl*g readers when I return (well, I guess one of you loyal bl*g readers is coming with me, but who's counting?).