you can go home again and/but you'll be older

On this most recent trip to Omaha, I found myself doing homework at the same coffee shop I studied (and held gainful employment) at in high school. Ten years later and still the same thing but oh-so different.




My sister is just about to enter her early-mid-twenties and is facing that startling, requisite quarter-life-crisis. She said to me, "I just thought I would be in a different place by now." To which I lovingly replied, "When they said that you could be whatever you want, they lied." Perhaps I come off as a cynic, but I think there's something liberating about limitations.

And libations.

My mom, sister, and I finished our mini-pub crawl at the Homy Inn, a small bar in Omaha that has champagne on tap. We split a pitcher of surprisingly decently good bubbly, got some popcorn, played pickles and listened to my mom tell stories about she and my dad before we were born. They knew each other six months before they were married, had their wedding on Wednesday morning, and honeymooned in Jamaica on $160. They were young and in love in the late 70's and drove across the country in a junker. It makes me feel romantic and nostaligic for a time I didn't know.


Before we went Homy, we lounged at the Surfside Club, an Omaha instituion on the banks of the Missouri River. Mooned by a boater? Check. Corn fritters with honey? Check. $7 pitcher of Old Style? Nope, it's PBR now but we still got it.

The pub crawl started at home with lunch with the extended family. My sister and I discovered the new summer beer-verage: Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy. It's like last year's Michelob Tuscan Orange & Grapefruit but better. Perfect to sip with ribs and all the Midwestern Memorial Day meal fixins. This beer brings a sunny disposition.

And even if you're not where you thought you'd be, that doesn't mean you can't enjoy where you've ended up.

lesson 1 for the upcoming festival season

Two Miller Lights is not sufficient alcohol intake to deal with a bouquet of college kids budding in a beer garden.

combinations and divisions

Coincidentally, the day I bought tickets to see Vetiver, Marcus's co-worker recommended a place with amazing steak tacos that was right around the corner from the venue. Vetiver & awesome tacos? Plans made.




It turns out there are actually three locations of La Pasadita within 50 feet of each other which is confusing. Which is the best? What caused the break-up? Family feud? Should we get one taco from all three? We picked the closest one and got a bag fulla carne asada tacos for take-out since there was limited seating. We walked down the street to Rite Liquors which is a bar/liquor store with a big, neon cocktail lounge sign and divey feel. It's the kinda place where the guy beggin for change outside eventually wanders in and has a drink and the bar staff is sweet as schnapps.


Bellied up to the bar, chowin on tacos, and sipping Dos Equis, it felt like drinking in a combination ABC store and my dad's (or perhaps your vaguely creepy uncle's) house. You know, in the good way.



Vetiver played at Chopin, a beautiful theater space in with an Eastern European leaning. While I'm not much of a thee-ah-tah goer (except for of the cheesey musical kind), I would go back to see one of the plays just so I could sit in the space and enjoy another one of the beers they stock in the cafe. I liked the Warka I tried which advertised both a "unique taste beer" and a tribute to Polish revolutionary Kazimierz Pulaski on the label.


Perhaps for our next outing we'll get banh mi, drink Caipirinha, and fly a kite by the lake. Ah, yes, it's all coming together.

i guess no one would eat there if it was called "fat ass"

Some Friday nights are fated to end in take-out and television and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful for Potbelly's milkshakes with cookie-decorated straw. I am not, however, appreciative of the name of the fine establishment. Especially as I'm supine on the couch, remote in hand, full of spicy Italian sub, with crumbs on my pjs.

the grape doesn't fall far from the vine

I really have the most amazing family. Everything you could hope for - smart, loving, comfy hedonists with a penchant for rocknroll who have lived just enough tragi-comic moments to lend credence to a memoir with a true midwestern aesthetic.

My mom spearheaded a cross-country roadtrip from Nebraska to North Carolina with her brother and father with a pitstop in here Chicago. This in and of itself is awesome. We all got together with second-cousin/uncle/future country music chart topper, Bill and his sassy lassy lady friend, LeAnn. Lemme tell you, we had a good time. We had pre-dinner drinks, dinner and drinks, and dessert and drinks. You've gotta take Bill and LeAnn's advice if you go to Bandera. Get the prime rib and grilled artichoke with a 7&7 or dirty martini or glass of wine (or all three) to wash it down. Cheers!

leather and lace

It's all connected you know. The Thermals played at the Bottom Lounge. When we got there, I ordered a Two-Hearted Ale, a hoppy delicious beer that reminded Marcus of his friend Chris. When Chris drinks Two-Hearted Ale, he sings Neutral Milk Hotel's "Two-Headed Boy" along with the name. When I walked in to see The Thermals, I thought of Portland which made me think of Emily and Cindy and Aaron and Carrie. Then as the band started rocking, I reminisced sitting in Andrew's car and hearing this band. I could go on and on...