Leisure

I'm a fan of Tuesdays. This semester, they've been my primary day off. Mondays and Wednesdays are both teaching and office hours days, Fridays are teaching and b.s. bureaucratic work days, and Thursdays are usually the days I go in to the office even though I don't have to, just to catch up on shit.

Which leaves Tuesday as the day that I have all to myself. Today was a classic one, in the 8 week history of my life in Cleveland.

Woke up about noon, dawdled and gradually got ready, took Ellie out, threw the peanut-butter slathered rawhide in her crate for a distraction, and then headed out for the day.

Stop #1 was Talkies, where I got a coffee, bought a couple birthday cards, and was bribed by a fellow patron to go across the street and buy some beer for him. Fear not, he was 21, and had driven over from Indy to buy some just-released, limited quantity stout from Great Lakes, but they limited purchases to a maximum of 6 22-oz bottles (total cost = $90). He wanted to get at least 12, but had apparently made a scene in the gift shop, and needed someone else to go get more. I agreed to do so, and probably made a friend for life. The barrista, not the beer freak, as I think she was getting tired of his begging.

After returning to Talkies and dropping off dude's beer, I finished my coffee, wrote in my cards, and then headed to the bank to deposit some cash. After kissing my cash good bye, I stopped by the Glass Bubble Project to hang out for a minute and pick up the painting I had agreed to buy last weekend. Mike was there, along with Mitchell Sotka, the proprietor of what sounds like a pretty cool gallery over in Rocky River. I'd met Mitch briefly last weekend, but hadn't really had a chance to chat with him. Today, it was just the three of us, and we were all able to joke around for a while. He's a really funny guy.

After Mitch took off, Mike handed off the painting to me, showed me some stuff he'd been working on, and then it was time for me to get back on the road. (FYI - This year is the 50th anniversary of On the Road. More on that cultural milestone in the next week or so). I hopped the rapid down to Tower City, where the nearest post office is located. I dropped a 20-spot sending a bunch of packages that had been languishing forever on my kitchen counter, including: information on civil war reenactments and a piece of hardtack to Dan the Man; a bunch of gallery flyers to Ducky, as part of my campaign to get him to move here; a birthday present and card for my brother, the same for an old grad school friend, and a t-shirt from CSU to send to my former office-mate.

After dropping off the packages and hanging out in Tower City for a bit, I got back on the rapid and headed to W. 25th. It was about 4:15 when I got back, and I was famished. Happy hours at the various upscale eateries in my neighborhood would begin in 45 minutes, so I decided to drop into a nearby bar and drink a beer while I waited. The Garage Bar was closed, but the Old Angle was operating, so I strode in and asked the comely barmaid, in the most charming delivery yet, what their least expensive brew was. The answer was Pabst, in the 16-oz can, for 2 bucks. The price was right and I peeled off 3 slick singles from my roll of, well, singles.

After an hour, a couple beers, and a gratis whisky shot, I pushed away from the bar, walked out into the drizzle and down Bridge to Momocho, hoping to catch the happy hour. I was on time, and greedily ordered a half-price margarita and the duck taquitos (about $7 with the happy hour discount).

This was the 3rd time I've been to Momocho and every time it has been great. The first time I went in, it was for a killer 5-course tequila pairing dinner (only $40!!!). The next time, it was for incredible pepita-encrusted trout, which revolutionized my thoughts on ordering fish at non-fish specialty restaurants. It was incredible, just like the cod course at the previous tequila dinner was.

Tonight I went with duck, rather than seafood, and was rewarded handsomely. The taquitos were basically a large serving of pulled duck breast, as well as some ancho barbacoa, along with onions and peppers -- and five small corn tortillas, with a beautiful pomengranate sauce and a nice verde salsa on the side. Although the margarita was just OK, the taquitos were great. I finished up, said goodbye to my lovely server (one of the consistently best I've had ever), and walked back home. The rain had stopped, I was feeling content, and I still had plenty of time to feed, water, and walk Ellie before tonight's Indians game. Speaking of which, it is about that time...