My Just Reward



Earlier this week I had some errands to run over in another part of town. You know – away from home. So I started mentally planning my trip and realized I could turn it into a bike ride. I mean – I have baskets for cry-eye – why not? So on the appointed day, I kicked the tires and took off.


The round trip was only about 15 miles, but that was a nice bit of exercise and I checked something off my to-do list. Right smack dab in the middle of the ride, I started getting hungry. So I began looking around for a little restaurant and a bike rack.


I found plenty of places to eat, but bike racks? Not so much. I couldn’t understand that, but hey – this is L.A. We love our cars, people. So I kept riding. I passed place after place, good food after good food, but no bike racks. Finally, I remembered a craft beer joint nearby. I also remembered how the owner is a biker and had bike racks installed out front for his customers. I rode to the bar, secured my wheels, went in and found a spot at the jam-packed counter and placed my order. The ‘tender asked if I wanted to run a tab or close out my order. I looked and him and said, “Dude! I can’t ride drunk! Close that bitch!” He laughed and brought me my check.


Now you’d think I was most looking forward to my food – a smoked duck and bacon sausage lunch special. And I was hungry and the food was good. But my just reward for all that biking? A beautiful wild ale.



I figured that beer would last me through my food and then some, but I started talking with the chick seated beside me and my food took a little longer than expected and before you knew it, I signaled the ‘tender and said, “Dude! Open that bitch! I need another drink!” We all had a good laugh and easy conversation continued. Before long, it was time to go. The ‘tender high-fived me on my way out and the counter chick and I exchanged our good-byes. I walked outside, unlocked my bike and headed home.


It was a good day. It really was.

Bus Stop Brew



I don’t know about you, but when I’m taking transport of the public variety, I tend to stick to the schedule and hang close to the pick-up points. I suppose I opt for this behavior because I have some fear of missing the next bus or train, and being stuck for lord-knows-how-long.


But since I started following the dude over at the Drunken Bunny blog, I’ve envied his masterful use of public transport transfer breaks, and how he manages to fit in drinking and dining during said breaks. Seriously. He’s inspiring!


So the other day I found myself with about 24 minutes betwixt buses. And I thought – why not go and have a damned beer already? So I did. And it was awesome.


I hope I can learn to have a little more faith and relax a bit. Choosing that path certainly paid off for me the other night. And I daresay it made the bus ride across town all the more pleasurable. Bonus!

Walking in L.A.



While out walking the other day, I spotted some photo-worthy sidewalk graffiti and it made me laugh. Especially since it was Election Day in the U.S., and Ohio was – at that very moment – voting against legalizing marijuana.


And my reward for being only a nobody and walking in L.A.? A lovely Funky Pumpkin sour beer from Boulevard Brewing Company in Kansas City, MO and a local paper about beer. Pretty danged nice.


Ready For The Weekend!



Beer and gummy vitamins. Looks like I’m ready for the weekend!

Insert Sad Face Emoticon Here




Today I’m missing a Beer Clug meeting – the first of the New Year. Why am I missing said meeting? Because I’m still off hooch and will be until my bizarre malady is diagnosed.


I don’t want to make a bigger deal of it than it actually is, because not drinking isn’t the worst thing in the world. But I also don’t want to minimize the facts, either. I like hooch. I like drinking. Pairing a lovely wine with a delicious meal is a treat. Savoring a beautiful brew with friends is a blessing. Sipping a Porn-Star-Dirty Martini at a sleek bar is too cool for school.


But hey – I can bend an elbow with apple juice, and toast my friends at their meeting…


You don’t even have to say it. I know it’s nowhere near the same.




Mister and I have a previous commitment and will be missing the Beer Clug’s Oktoberfest outing today.


I remember my first underage beer. I didn’t like it and thought all beer must be terrible. (I think it was probably a Bud or something along those lines.) As I grew older, I drank beer here and there, but not until I had my first Guinness did I know how truly good beer could be.


Now that I’m more adventurous, I try all kinds of beer. I’m not crazy about hops, but I do at least try things. Sometimes.


To my friends who will be enjoying Oktoberfest today – prost! I’ll catch you the next time around.

For Friends



Today I’m having a bash for my friends. My Rock Camp friends, to be precise.


All week I’ve been cleaning and prepping. I started marinating certain foods on Wednesday, and I’ve been collecting beer for over a week. Is this crazy? Maybe. But when you’re doing something for your friends, you don’t mind. In fact, you’re happy to prepare. I mean, we’re talking friends here, people! Friends! I’m so grateful for the ones I’ve got that I gladly put in effort toward their enjoyment. After all, why not?


All that being said, it’s Party Day. And I’m hoping the planning pays off and that I get to enjoy the company of my friends. They are truly a fabulous lot.




Big goings-on here in America. Independence. Fireworks. Beer.


However you celebrate today, let’s all try to end up with the same number of fingers as we woke with, shall we? Safety, y’all. Safety.


And Independence. Fireworks. Beer.

LA Kings Parade!



On Monday I decided to take myself downtown for the L.A. Kings’ Stanley Cup Victory Parade. Simply deciding to do this was a feat, as it would have been much easier to blow it off and take care of some bidness. But I didn’t blow it off. Instead, I – along with around 250,000 others – called in well and headed downtown. (250,000 is the most repeated estimate of parade attendance. I didn’t see that many people, but what do I know?)


My big plan was to take the train. I drove to the nearest station, but there wasn’t any parking. As in, I drove ever-expanding concentric circles around the place and there just wasn’t any parking. Now, the fact that the parking lot looked a lot like a tail-gating party was a good indicator that just about everybody and their brothers also decided to take the train downtown. Was I deterred? Nope. I simply drove my ass home, parked the car then walked to the nearest bus stop. The bus arrived on time, delivered me to a different train station and that was that.



When I arrived downtown, I was a little later than I’d originally planned. I sussed the sitch and spotted a great little space behind the barriers. I squeezed myself in and I was set. The parade was due to start in 10 minutes. I settled in and relaxed.


At the appointed time, the cheering began and our first glimpse was of…



Skin. Okay. Not my thing, but what-evs. If I’m being honest, no one around me was much into the skin factor either, and the real cheering didn’t begin until the very next bus appeared…



Jeff Carter, Marian Gaborik and Mike Richards!



And then we yelled for Kyle Clifford, Jake Muzzin and Jordan Nolan.



And then Bailey the mascot rolled past.



When Coach Sutter appeared, I was laughing at the fact that he was actually smiling! That’s a rare sight, friends.



Then I beheld it. The. Stanley. Cup. Oh, and there’s also that L.A. mayor dude. What-evs.



Alec Martinez (who scored the series-winning goal), Drew Doughty and Trevor Lewis were next.



They were followed by Jarret Stoll and Justin Williams.



Bringing up the rear were Tanner Pearson, Tyler Toffoli, Martin Jones, Jeff Schultz and Dwight King. I admit – I missed a few shots of players. Couldn’t help it, though, as I was jumping up and down and cheering. Yes, I’m a dork.


And that was the parade!  Short and sweet, I know. In fact, the entire route was barely a mile. The crowd began to follow the buses toward Staples Center, but I didn’t join them. I had a different plan: a seat at the bar of City Tavern, a new-ish downtown gastropub.



I looked up and saw the live parade coverage on the the bar’s telly. As I didn’t need to watch it, because I’d lived it, Dotty, I turned my attention to the Iran-Ghana World Cup game. I also focused on the menu, but that should come as no surprise.



In fact, leave it to a Southern gal to order oysters and cheese grits for lunch. And beer. Can’t forget the beer.


After someone treated me to a second brew, I moseyed back to the train. Kings jerseys were still visible just about everywhere I looked, and I spent most of the trip home smiling. I was thinking about the friendliness of the crowd. I was thinking about seeing the Kings players, day-drinking atop the double-decker buses. Most of them weren’t wearing their pretty teeth. They were just flashing hockey-given, gap-toothed grins.


I won’t lie – I put off some work to have that sort of day. And I’ll be catching up the rest of the week. But it was such a fun choice! There was so much joy along that itty-bitty parade route. So much smiling. So much cheering.


I have to say, I highly recommend calling in well.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!



I’ve been on a week-long sabbatical, and today I break the alcohol fast. I picked a great day, don’t you think?


I will also be cooking up a storm. I’m mixing it up this year, trying a new soda bread recipe as well as breaking from cooking all my veggies along with the corned beef. It isn’t that the old stand-by recipes have failed, I just want a change. Change is good, you know.


And if you’re Mister, right about now you’re thinking, “Change is pizza.”


Don’t ask me. I’m not the boss of him.


Happy St. Pat’s, y’all.