Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Sometimes you just want WINGS.
And the last time that happened to me, I found myself sitting on a wooden stool at Billy Jack’s Wing and Draft Shack. I’m not really sure how I got there, but who cares? I’m glad I did.
Here’s the thing about eating wings. Once you start, you really can’t stop for any reason. You have to continue on til they’re gone. Why?
1. They’re just that delicious. I had the Classic Buffalo, and Brandy had the Sticky Sweet Chili sauce. (By the way, they use only fresh, never frozen, locally sourced chicken. So there.)
2. It’s dangerous. If you take your attention away from the task for even a second, you could get wing sauce in your eye, and then you’ve just ruined the whole experience, haven’t you?
3. Manners. Let’s face it–eating wings is kinda gross. Best to plow through that messy, sauce-on-face, skin-stuck-in-teeth ordeal quickly and do one big finger-licking session at the end.
One thing I’ve learned from this blog gig is patience. Because Brandy is always taking my beer away to photograph it. Maybe I should order a “dummy beer” for her to photograph so I can hold on to mine. (Mine!!) Not to mention the delayed food gratification I must also endure. The mouth-watering aroma of buffalo wings wafts upwards from the steaming plate…only to be snatched away by Brandy before I can make a mess of it. On this day she had to build a little barricade of stools, tidy up the surrounding area, search out the perfect light, and climb up on another stool (by this time I was ready to chew my own arm off) arrange the plates just so, and snap the picture.
Sheesh! Sometimes you just want WINGS. just kidding :)
While I’m partial to Classic Buffalo, Billy Jack’s has many sauces to choose from, like Habanera “Shocker” and Thai Peanut, plus other indulgences like Fried Chicken and Waffles, Loaded Fries, Doughnuts, and a Fried PB&J. I think they’ve officially proved that you can fry anything. In fact, now that I think about it, the whole place is based on cravings.
In addition to the food (and the beer, of course), it’s an interesting little joint. Where do Aaron and Patrice get all these awesome knick-knacks?? I love the firefly-in-a-jar chandelier. And the colander lamps. And all those doors.
You can drop by Billy Jack’s on S. Main downtown, right across from Dave’s Taverna. They’re open Sunday through Wednesday 11 am til 12 midnight, and Thursday through Saturday 11 am til 2 am. That’s plenty of time to eat your weight in wings. But get in there soon before the June specials are gone!
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Physician of Hair Dye?
pHAIRaphernalia.
beauty and the beast.
“I’m right hair.”
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
the doctor is in.
remedies for your issues.
tHAIRapists.
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
There are many reasons I–and other women–like to go to the salon. You go in feeling kinda droopy and frumpy, and come out looking all trimmed and polished (literally). Fingers and toes massaged and glossy, locks and tresses smoothed and shorn, “unruly areas” waxed and plucked, tension relieved, gossip released, ego boosted and mood restored. It’s therapy. It’s miraculous, really. For a few minutes you let yourself imagine you’re outfitted in a gorgeous gown and gigantic diamonds and a tiara… or maybe a sash, yes… and you step outside and see your pumpkin carriage waiting as you click click click your glass slippers toward it… Of course that fantasy shatters when you get in the car and realize you’d been sitting on a melted crayon all day. And the car smells like cheese or feet or something. And then you remember that you meant to go to the bank first and checks are bouncing all over the place… and then you look in the back seat and think, “What the heck is that?? Oh, yeah, my kids.” And then you go get a round of Slurpees. And you’re the best-looking mom in the whole 7-Eleven.
What I haven’t told you, though, is that as great as my salon is (and I’ll get to that in a minute), I hate getting my hair cut. This has nothing to do with the salon or the staff or some scarring event from my childhood. It has to do with how ugly I feel with wet hair. Yes, it’s ridiculous.
I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. First of all, it’s red. And if you are or ever were a redhead, you know that it garners a certain attention from people…and not the same kind of attention as, say, blonde hair gets. So growing up as a tall, geeky, scrawny redhead was not the easiest.
What’s more, when my hair’s wet, it sticks up, it sticks out, it curls, I have a horrible cowlick that becomes pronounced, and it causes me to have an “ugly girl” moment. This is why I cringe at the thought of having wet hair in public. You’ll never see me standing under a tropical waterfall allowing water to cascade down my head and back. No. If I’m ever doing something that involves water–canoeing, the beach, a pool–I’ll have a hat on my head nearly the entire time. You can see my hair after I get home, take a shower, and get it back under control. And so I looked at this mortifying experience (not only of having a friend witness the hair cut, but TAKING PHOTOS OF IT–oh, the horror…) as a way to face my fear.
UGH. Okay, so I’m kinda glad my crow’s feet are there to divert attention from my dorky head.
And I’d rather face my fear at The Studio than anywhere else. I’ve been going to the The Studio since 2008 and I can honestly say that since then, compliments about my hair have skyrocketed. Last Wednesday I had my monthly appointment for a hair cut. Instead of dishing about my personal life in the chair, as I usually do, Brandy and I tried to initiate a more blog-appropriate conversation. My stylist that day, Ashley K., had actually not cut my hair before because my usual stylist was recovering from a pesky hand injury. Ashley K. wasn’t at all intimidated and welcomed the “challenge of a fresh head.” It’s kinda like solving a mystery: she followed the clues Elizabeth had left a month before. That got us on the topic of the creepy practice heads.
Ashley used to leave her practice head in various positions in her car just to freak people out. Someone else left her practice head in her living room window when she went on vacation so people would think someone was home. Or they’d think there was a severed head in there and not want to break in.
Then Brandy asked Ashley if there are questions she’s frequently asked. One is, “Do you cut your own hair?” The answer is no. I imagine it would be hard to reach all the way around, even if you’ve practiced on hundreds of creepy plastic heads.
But haircuts are not all they do. They have a long list of services ranging from waxing and facials and even makeup lessons to body polishing and hot stone therapy and massages, from manicures and pedicures to hair cuts, coloring, and conditioning.
They offer bridal services for the bride and groom, and guys–you can even get a beard trim. Now, gentlemen, don’t freak out! I see lots of guys there. If you haven’t tried it, you should. At the very least, you’ll be surrounded by gorgeous women. Just promise me you won’t look when my hair’s wet.
The Studio is located on 33 East, on the same side of the road as Burger King, in a large beautiful old house with gorgeous flowers out front. One last remark: if you know someone in dire need of therapy, get them a gift certificate. It works. I know firsthand.
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Water is the ultimate miracle drug. Since our very conception, we’ve been comforted by it. We spend nine peaceful months cradled in water, then emerge with a lifelong desire to return to it. We soak in hot water after a stressful day, letting it relax our weary bodies and minds. We seek cool water on a hot day; it invigorates and cleanses us.
We take trips to the beach to get in the water and feel the weightlessness it provides with each passing wave. In water, pain seems to dissolve; it envelops us in softness and freedom. Our hearts beat more easily with less weight. Our joints feel better, our muscles relax, tension floats away. And when the kids are bickering and whining and have gotten on the last millimeter of my last nerve, it’s TIME TO GO TO THE POOL. Westover, as a matter of fact.
Once there, we sprayed everyone down with sunscreen, put floaties on Cal, and dug all the torpedoes and diving toys out of last summer’s still-sandy beach bag, and shooed the kids off to the pool. I settled down into a chair in the sunshine, letting my entire being sink into the solid frame and feeling my thigh flesh seep into the seat cracks, and letting a barely audible “thank God” escape my mouth. Ahhhhh.
welcome to the pharmacy.
classic beauty!
Our friend Danielle accompanied us, pretty in pink and a straw hat. For a few minutes no one said anything–it just felt good to be in the sun and near water. But then “Sexy and I Know It” came on the radio and that got us to talking. Cal had started singing it in the car earlier (by the way, he pronounces it “suxy”) and Bree had answered (in sing-song fashion), “Cal’s inappropriate and he doesn’t know it.” We also heard “Party In the Whatever Rockin’ House Tonight” and some Katy Gaga. We continued talking about the usual–boys, do-I-look-okay-in-this-swimsuit, kitchen counter tops, and Brandy’s awesome ultimate rainbow fantasy towel, courtesy of Nanny.
The kids were having fun swimming and splashing around and getting out of the pool now and then to warm up, chat, and play. From where we sat, we could keep an eye on everyone, plus the place is well staffed with rotating lifeguards (“pool police” I call ’em), Another nice feature of Westover Pool is its shady areas. You can get out of the sun when you feel you’ve had enough. There’s a grassy area, too.
Then Bree and Blake decided to go down the water slides. There are three, and the tallest one is a long, huge spiral. I knew that Cal, whose head is the only part of him that seems to grow, was much too little to ride, plus he could get his giant head stuck in there. Blake was tall enough last year. But I was nervous about Bree. Two years ago she was just a hair too short to ride, and though disappointed, she felt confident she’d be tall enough for the next summer.
So last summer when she was still too short, she was TICKED. HOT. IRATE. In a small, cute kinda way. Maybe they raised the height requirement–who knows, regulations change, but to her it felt like she’d never catch up to that blasted red line.
It reminded me of my brother and the whole drinking age debacle. It was 1983, back when the drinking age was 18. My brother was 17, and he was counting down the days to his first legit beer with Dad. But just two months before the big day, the threshold was raised to 19. Then the next year, 20. He was TICKED. HOT. IRATE. Anyway, if Bree was somehow, after a year of outgrowing every pair of pants she owned–twice, still too short… well, I just covered my eyes.
YAY!! Vindication!
Just a few minutes later I found Cal in line at the diving board among towering teenagers. I had to break it to him that he’s too small for that too. Meh. He took it in stride.
We stayed for a good three hours before a new case of the crankies set in. Next time this happens in your household, try Westover Park. You can easily make a day of it, what with the playground, picnic areas, frisbee golf, a skate park, activities center, and pool. The pool is open Monday through Saturday noon til 7pm, and Sunday 1pm to 7pm.
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
‘Twas the First Friday in June and all through the city
the stores and establishments were decorated all pretty
with artwork created by talented locals.
So I grabbed my umbrella and put on my bifocals.
The clouds rolling in at us taunted and frowned,
but they didn’t keep people from walking around.
I parked in the deck and briskly headed for one
of my favorite stores, The Yellow Button.
A rumble here, a sprinkle there would never prevent
us from hosting our first I Love My Burg/Brandy Somers Photography event.
Seeing all the photos finally printed was such a delight,
and really, for me, the best part of the night.
Brandy’s photos were hung by the stockings and dresses,
each one a testament to her camera successes.
My attention meandered for a sec, I admit…
when I saw this green frock and said, “I’ve GOT to have it.”
Sweet truffles from Zest! sat on a tray
next to iced tea, pretzel chips, and guacamol-ay.
And just as we’d hoped, just a bit after five,
the first of our customers began to arrive.
First was Sarah Murphy, who swept into the shop
carrying three naked baguettes–a strange photo op
for three modest girls in poses of debauchery…
then I ripped the bread in pieces: my kids were hungry!
Distracted by what sounded like a serious scuffle,
I had to diffuse my kids’ fight over a dropped truffle.
While Sarah and Brandy were fencing with bread,
in strolled Amy from Many Nights Ahead
with her friend Bailey, who’s a photographer, too.
I was thankful the fight scenes were finally through.
People came, people ate, people drank and got stickers.
They dressed up in outfits that were truly ridickers.
And then Brandy quickly took all of their pictures.
We saw Ellie from Zest! and Brent Levy from RISE,
with his playful wife Natalie in a crazy disguise.
Valeri managed to traverse the treacherous three feet
between Ten Thousand Villages and Miranda’s retreat…
She just really, really wanted something sweet.
Oh, and Seth Crissman–the knight in soggy armor
who retrieved wife Theresa from the front of Explore More.
He gallantly showed that chivalry exists,
sheltering from the rain his wife and two guests
and still dressing up silly with very few protests.
At seven p.m., the rain had not at all abated,
so the kids sat out back and silently waited
for me to dart through the flooded downtown
and get to the car, and drive it around
which I did, so we could see Elliott Downs.
We were wet, we were cold, and we were dog tired,
but, by golly, we were also truly inspired
by the number of dripping wet fans that we saw
Still walking through town to gaze in quiet awe,
Not caring that their wet jeans felt like wool,
or that their hair looked really uncool…
Seeing them participate no matter what
reminded us what a cool town we’ve got.
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
What more could you want than food + laughs?
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
strategery.
still trying to think of a caption for this one.
tony’s gonna get poked, crushed, or pummeled.
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
There’s something about improvisational comedians that appeals to us all. Maybe it’s that we’re impressed by how quick on the trigger they are. Maybe it’s that they are MacGyvers of comedy, creating humor out of some random words, a feather boa, a Q-tip, and a plunger. Still maybe it’s that they find themselves squirming in the most uncomfortable situations but manage to emerge without anything exploding. Or perhaps it’s that improv comedy is a reflection of life itself–the beautifully strange daily occurrences in all our lives.We are all improv comedians (or tragedians) in that way.
Still, it’s fun to go out and see people act ridiculous.
On a warm May evening, Brandy and I took her kids to see a performance by No Strings Attached, Harrisonburg’s own improv comedy troupe. The performance was at Plan B, a cute, little BIG coffee house in Broadway. I was glad to finally see that place. Spacious and comfortable, it houses a mix of modern and vintage mid-century furnishings, two bars, a toy area for kids (or whomever, really), and a cozy fireplace. They also display lots of local artwork–some for sale–and they use real plates, mugs, and silverware–nothing disposable. It just feels good in there.
No Strings Attached, starring (on this night) Rachel Jenner, Tony Lopez, James Oates, Steve McClay, Jeremiah Meadows, and Gbenga Adekunle, took the stage at about 7pm for a two-hour set and were introduced by an employee of the establishment who sat at the sound booth. Brandy had a weird Wizard of Oz moment as she looked around for the source of that voice. “…Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.” Except there were no flames or any giant, misshapen, green heads.
Rachel explained a few things to the spectators. First, all their material is unrehearsed and supplied by the audience. Second, they often ask for volunteers to assist on stage, and she insisted that “if we ask for volunteers, it’s to make us look stupid, not you.” Hm. I happen to believe in “stupid by association,” but okay.
Then the show started. And although I’ve seen them before, I’m familiar with what they do, and I was all equipped with my notebook and pen, I’ve never tried to take notes at one of their performances–and it was a nightmare. Everything happened and changed so fast, and nothing made sense for more than like a minute and by the time I wrote anything down, it had morphed into something else, plus I kept getting distracted by the performance itself, PLUS I was laughing my butt off at times… so my notes are but a random collection of… weirdness. Like, “Remember that dog that was licking on it?” And, “Why am I supporting his head? He’s dead.”
???
I remember that those two lines came from the same skit, but I have no idea what the skit was about.
My favorite part of the night was a charades-like game where the group asked the audience for two adjectives and two nouns. They got “transcendental” and “photogenic,” and “dog” and “sponge.” The group divided into two teams. One team had to mime “photogenic dog” to Gbenga and get him to say it, and the other had to act out “transcendental sponge” and get Steve to guess it. WHAT?! And as they guessed out loud at each other, Steve and Gbenga were actually hurling really bizarre insults at one another. Now, get ready to write some of these down for future use:
“You’re modular.”
“You’re circular.”
“You’re a transcendentalist square.”
“You’re a transcendentalist nerd.”
“You’re a fixture.” ???
“You’re a person that’s not a king.”
“You get smaller and you go through the air and your eye pops out.”
Okay, so maybe you had to be there.
Steve, puh-leeeeez UNDERSTAND this!
Somehow Steve got “transcendental sponge” before Gbenga guessed “photogenic dog.” Here’s how to act out “transcendental,” in case you ever need to:
1) Act like a train. (trans)
2) Hold up ten fingers. (cen)
3) Act like you’re at the dentist. (dental)
Voila!
And for sponge:
1) Pretend to wash dishes.
2) Pretend to wash a car.
3) Pretend to wash a dog.
4) Act out an ocean floor scene.
5) Get frustrated.
6) Do lots of squeezing motions with your hands.
7) When your partner STILL doesn’t get it (ugh, Steve!!), do lunges, and somehow that’ll work.
I’m sure between the photos and this entry you have a crystal clear picture of what to expect when you go see No Strings Attached. Ha. Catch them on Harrisonburg’s next First Friday at Downtown 34, and be sure to like them on Facebook to stay informed of other upcoming performances. Prepare to giggle, snort, cringe, guffaw, squirm, gasp, and possibly even sneeze. I’m sure it’ll be excruciatingly uncomfortable and side-splittingly funny for all involved!
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
Valley 4th Run starts at 9am on Wednesday, July 4. You can register online til June 29, but if you want a T-shirt, register by June 18. Whatcha waitin’ for??
beer garden following the run!
Saw lots of happy folks at the promo party! 
Hi, Kai and Kevin!
Ella and Nicole. Precious!
fuelin’ up for the race.
stay tuned for a few more pics tomorrow!
Harrisonburg is so awesome that Brandy and I will never run out of material for this blog. I think I speak for both of us when I say that we feel–not as bloggers, but simply as citizens–a slight pressure at times because there are soooo many things to do here–some are well-established traditions, and some are fledgling endeavors–all spearheaded by super creative, ambitious people and attended by an active and supportive community. And that’s the formula right there: ideas + support = action. We have a lot of “action figures” in this town.
A week ago, Brandy and I and the four kiddos attended a promo party at Capital Ale House for a brand-new Harrisonburg event, the Valley 4th Run. Also in attendance were Anna and Greg Pelletier with their sweet baby boy (I was so glad to hold that little bugger. He’s adorable, and cuddling an infant every once in a while quells my impulse to have another of my own.) In fact, there were lots of people with kids at the promo party, so I didn’t feel too awkward about mine being there… until the bartender had to tell them to quit running around so much. Eeeek. Brandy and I herded them into the empty room adjacent to us so no one else would have to witness their naughtiness.
adjacent room antics.
I was starving, so we sat down with a beer and an appetizer. Live music was provided by Colin Wright and his guitar. We later learned that he’s part of a group called Doctors Without Borders, and he was in the ‘burg for just a few days between assignments (another H’burg action figure). Anyway, we nibbled, enjoyed the music, and mingled with some of the many folks who came in to sign up for the Run.
We also got to chat with one of the Valley 4th Run action figures, Kevin Gibson. Created by Kevin, Alan Maynard, Jackie Walsh, Marcus Bartley, and Laura Babcock, the Valley 4th Run offers area runners three distances–one mile, 5K, or 10K–and five charities to choose from: Harrisonburg Downtown Renaissance; Harrisonburg/ Rockingham United Way; DR 100; Rockingham/Harrisonburg SPCA; and the RMH Foundation.
Kevin Gibson, Action Figure.
All of the races are contained in the area between the monument in front of Harrisonburg Baptist Church, and Chanello’s Pizza, near the Local Chop and Grill House. Here’s a map of the routes if you want more detail. Kevin plans to line the routes with four or five local bands, encouraging fans, and maybe even some cheerleaders. If you’d like to help with sideline activity, contact Kevin–I’m sure he’d appreciate the volunteers. The race ends at Turner Pavilion, just in time for Beers ‘N Cheers in the Park (race participants get a beer and hotdog ticket!), AND, if you want to make a day of it downtown, you can stick around for the Valley 4th parade and fireworks! Could you even imagine a better day in Harrisonburg? Geez–it’s almost too awesome. So this Fourth of July, get out of the rat race and run for someone else’s life that day. Let’s make this event a Harrisonburg tradition!
gettin’ pumped.
running is good for you.
Like I’ve said before, something strange always happens.
It was a spur-of-the-moment plan. The air was thick, and the day was hotter than two cats fighting in a wool sock. Still a week before Westover Pool opens, and the kids and I were craving water. The sprinkler–even the fancy one with twelve settings–just wasn’t gonna cut it.
So I decided to take the kids to Riven Rock Park for a cool dip in the river. I texted Brandy, and she agreed to meet us there with Blake and Ella after they finished up at a friend’s birthday party. We got there first. The park was busy. Not overly crowded, but lively. Lots of families with the same idea.
So you’ve read a few paragraphs now and might be wondering, “Where the heck are the photos??” Well, you see… about that…
Brandy and her kids arrived. We saw them pull in and ran to greet them. And amidst the hugs “hello” and the retrieval of bags and towels and such from her car, she–woopsie–locked her keys and phone (a.k.a, the “river camera”) in the trunk. You KNOW that oh-my-gosh-i’m-a-complete-idiot-i-can’t-believe-i-just-did-that feeling. We’ve all had it. In fact, one time I flushed all my keys down a public toilet. It SUCKS, that feeling. Then she remembered her spare key, tucked up under the car somewhere. See? It pays to think of these things. Only the key was severely eroded and bent, and it nearly broke off in the door lock (but it didn’t, thank heavens!), and so we were back to that horrible hyphenated feeling. <sigh> Seeing as how we were all there, and the kids were dying to get in the water, and even with my phone we couldn’t have called anyone because we were out of cell range, and it was just too darn hot to stand there and worry about it, we decided to enjoy some time there and deal with it later.
Our first plunge into the frigid water involved lots of slipping and falling and shrieks and giggles. For some reason that now escapes my memory, we decided to cross the river (not very wide, maybe thirty feet, and only shin deep), and I swear it took half an hour to help four kids teeter across. Then–yep–we had to go back across. Still, along the way we saw a crawdad or two and some minnows, and we were refreshed by the cool water, the warm sun, and the beautiful surroundings. After that tiring endeavor, we got out and hiked up the trail a bit. On the way back down, Brandy spotted a place where a calm, three-feet deep pool had formed, surrounded by nice trees and rock formations and some mild rapids downriver from us. Blake and Bree jumped right in and were able to swim around. Cal is a bit short and couldn’t touch the bottom, so I hauled that fifty-pound boy up on my hip and used a giant stick (a branch, really) to balance myself on the slippery river bottom. We were going along just fine until Cal got wiggly, and I got slightly off kilter and lost my footing… and then lost one flip flop… and then lost my stick. By now Cal had practically climbed on top of my head to get to safety, but thankfully, my feet found a grip and we were all fine. Sheesh.
So it was time to finally deal with the car situation… the kids were tired and starving (and the adults, too), and we’d all had enough sun. The car thing turned out to be no big deal at all. We piled into my car and drove back into cell phone range, called AAA, let the kids play on a playground while we waited (not long at all), drove back to the park, got the car unlocked, swung by Beyond for some sushi (by the way, I realized on the way to Beyond that I was wearing a bikini top and a wet skirt. Woops. I actually called to see if they just wanted to meet me in the street, but they were cool with it.), picked up some pizza, came back to my house and enjoyed a very much deserved feast on my deck. Hence, these photos–the only proof you have that any of this actually took place.
okay, so imagine we are standing on the bank of the river, and not on my front porch.
sooooo freakin’ hungry.
gone in like ten minutes.
a warm spring evening on the deck.
all that worry and sweat and she’s still this pretty.
konked out before she even got home.
So, you’ll have to visit Riven Rock Park and see for yourself. Just be careful not to lock yourself out of your car, slip on the rocks, or lose your stick. But even if you do, it’ll still be a great day.
Copyright © 2012 · All Rights Reserved · ilovemyburg.com. Photos by Brandy Somers. Written content by Katie Mitchell. This material may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, or printed without express written consent. Thank you for respecting our intellectual property.
The rain didn’t dampen any spirits!
i love my burg. 