Thinking about Jules Bistro and Sunday brunch there. The bloody mary's were something else. And the strolling accordion player made you feel like you were in another city. And you could smoke, everywhere, and I still did...
Thinking about manicure and pedicures. Sometimes, twice a week, just because I changed my mind about the color.
Thinking about my old hangout, The Raccoon Lodge, the east side one, before it closed, and was a real dive bar.
Thinking about the best steak frites I have ever had at Le Charlot, and the days of being waved in, ahead of the long line, because I was a regular.
Thinking about my little hideaway, where I felt as small as a mouse. And could spend hours.
Thinking about Encore Consignment shop, where, if you looked hard enough, you could find $30.00 Hermes scarves, and barely worn Prada boots, and old lady alligator clutches.
Thinking about the most decadent Bearnaise sauce, that tasted good on anything, from this little after work haunt.
Thinking about the clean clothes piled up in every body's bedrooms that have yet to put away.
Thinking about the pile of boots, and snowsuits cluttering the mudroom.
Thinking about what to do with the chicken thighs in the fridge for dinner tonight.
Thinking about my cabinets, and the jumble of pots and pans that are piled up in them, like the game mousetrap.
Thinking about more than I can say. Things that are back to haunt us.
And I don't want to think about those particular things.
So I will go back to the others.