preview pre move

I mentally took myself out of Madison for half a week, and it was not unlike having a small bite off someone else's delicious plate of food. I loved house hunting when I was fourteen, building a life in all the houses that were not yet mine. Not much has changed.

After light apartment hunting, a quick visit to my future place of employment, and getting my fill of Chinese food, I mentally molded myself into Christy's life, beginning with Havana. Where our waiter went to middle school with her and was fancy with our pitcher of pineapple guava mojitos and that man back there judged.. or was envious. Hard to say. Usually the same sentiment though.
Started with twice fried plantains with pineapple salsa on my menu because there were too many choices, and everyone knows I hate making decisions.

Shared some boniato (whiter, less sweet sweet potato) garlic fries with guava chipotle BBQ and chimichurri aioli.

We all got our own plate of pan seared day boat scallops with the boniato making a reappearance in mash form. I might have been feeling the effects of being 2-3 mojitos deep, but these little guys were buttery perfection.

I was so into the evening ambiance for after dinner drinks at Sunol Ridge. Where Mr. Tormey apparently frequents for good reason.

Where I wanted to snack on all the garnishes and lounge in my rocking chair by the fire pit all night long with my ethanol delivery systems.

The next morning I was so into the breakfast ambiance at Hideout Kitchen and Cafe. Where little Christy did not go to after school care despite what the teachers said.
Where I swiveled around to snap a shot of their cozy wine room and the water vesicle reminded me of a graduated cylinder.

And the main event was the greatest waffle sandwich I've ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth.  Country fried steak, cheddar, over easy egg sandwiched between two of the crispiest waffles, sausage gravy, a thick and generous pat of butter, and powdered sugar for good measure. First timer's tip: don't forget the maple syrup and Tabasco sauce.

I was so into the Friday night green and gold ambiance of a Pack...er... A's stadium. Where we wheeled Christy's cashe date.
Where the hot dog craving was real for some reason, and my only regret was that we didn't search harder for a condiment station with more than just ketchup, mustard... and ranch. Where we watched one solid home run before hunting for garlic fries and popcorn. 

"Maybe"

it'a vicious little world that could slay me.

-Sara Bareilles