Every few months or so, I will trek an hour and a half to Winston-Salem, NC to visit friends from college, hit up the closest Whole Foods to Charlotte, NC and dine at 6th and Vine for their fried goat cheese salad. And come November, I will add “buy cute clothes from H&M” to that list.
Instead of dinner at 6th and Vine however, it was a new dining destination at Mozelle’s Fresh Southern Bistro. Mozelle’s is named after the owner’s grandmother and offers such Southern fare as fried chicken, meatloaf, shrimp and grits and tomato pie from the tiny restaurant decorated in cheerful yellow.
Everything on the menu looked delicious,
but my mind was made up when the waitress spouted off swordfish over a bed of lobster risotto as one of their specials. A work of art almost too pretty to eat…almost.
No post-dinner dessert since I had dessert earlier at Dewey’s Bakery, famous for cake squares. And cake smoothies.
What they call a pink lemonade smoothie is made with ice, milk, a pink lemonade cake square and love. Why I had never thought to put cake in my smoothies before I will never know!
No trip to Winston-Salem is complete without a stop at Whole Foods. It won’t be until 2012 that I see this in Charlotte, NC:
Sunday’s lunch=Hello, lover!
If it were legal to marry a salad bar, I would. Whole Foods salad bar kicks Harris Teeter salad bar’s ass.
My favorite was the curry chicken salad and the potato salad. And if Dewey’s put all of my favorite candy in a bowl and called it candy salad, I would want to marry it too.
Haha, every downtown needs a phallic building. It’s the Wachovia building, but I think something else entirely if you know what I mean…and I think you do.
Other funny thing spotted in a parking lot over the weekend:
Mary Catherine Gallagher would be so proud of the Winston-Salem Kohl’s!
A few years ago, you could find my twitter handle as cougarific, but then I decided that twitter was dumb and deactivated my account. I had to get back together with twitter for the sake of pinterest.com but cougarific was snagged up by someone else.#whatwasIthinking?
I’m once again navigating twitter.com and the last 5 minutes of work today found me online getting real-time updates. Thanks to the magic of re-tweeting, I stumbled upon a match guy I went out with a few times last year, Mr.Normal.
From what I can tell, Mr.Normal is alive and well and spending a lot of time gallavanting about town as a free agent, frequenting concerts and dining at all my favorite restaurants. Now I have to ask myself if I should use this information for good or evil. Like: Hey Mr.Normal, I had NO idea you were going to be here! Let’s catch up! Or Hey Mr.Normal, I’m pregnant with your baby. Give me money!
I had nosebleed tickets for Mamma Mia and invited Natalie to be a dancing queen with me for a night. For a pre-show beverage near the Blumenthal, I recommended to her Ritz-Carlton’s Urban Sip, the chic bar on the 15th floor of the hotel providing spectacular views of the city below. My black and white mojito was $15 so I was definitely paying for the view. Totally worth it to spot the rooftop swimming pool of the Omni Hotel and spy on revelers at the EpiCenter.
I swiped this napkin to put into my purse as we were walking out the door…for any nosebleeds later in the evening:
For a post-show beverage, we slipped into RiRa for a drink. The bartender forget to put alcohol in our Sex on the Beach.
I’m at a weird place in my life where I enter into every relationship cautiously optimistic, so it wasn’t a big suprise that Monday happened. After a month with Mr.Dimples I didn’t have much invested, although it doesn’t feel awesome to get dismissed. Though I live alone in a house I bought, it would seem that when it comes to relationships, I’m metaphorically still living with my parents.
At 29, I can only speak to having 2 relationships. Chronologically, I should be a few years into my first marriage and popping out my second kid by now, but alas, I am still swimming in the shallow end of the dating pool. I haven’t been dating for too long, my college friend AZ reminded me over dinner at Philosopher’s Stone Monday night where we met after work. A wallflower by every definition of the word, I didn’t date in high school and it wasn’t until after I graduated college that I landed my first boyfriend. So I didn’t have my first break-up until I was in my mid-20s; an experience I should have had in my mid-teens where I was free to skip school to wallow in my bedroom with ice cream, composing really bad poetry. Instead, I skip out of work after crying in the bathroom and beg dear Natalie to chauffeur me to the nearest outlet mall for post-breakup retail therapy. So far, there have been two excursions to Gaffney, SC and I wonder how many more there will be in my future. I wonder too if I’m alone in this late bloomer’s revolution and if anyone else feels like a paradox.
spotted on the back of my Naked green machine smoothie bottle. It oddly made me feel better about recent happenings in the dating arena.
Who knew that Aziz Ansari, aka Tom Haverford of Parks and Rec fame, was from Columbia, SC?
The only fireworks Tuesday night came from the Knights stadium in my rearview mirror as I drove home along I-77 after my fifth date with Mr.Dimples. Last Monday when I called him, after not hearing from him for 4 days, he shared his feelings about things progressing too fast and that we should pump the brakes when it came to our next date. I agreed and the only thing we did that night on his couch was cuddle. After Hot Rod and snacks, I got a kiss goodnight in his driveway and the promise of a phone call in a few days.
When a few days turned into five, I began to panic and finally broke down and called him Sunday night. No answer. Did the pumping of the brakes become a full and complete stop? Did he just shove me out of the relationship car without bothering to slow down? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been given the boot. It seems to be a running theme with every guy I have gone out with this past year. All four of them. At the end of every first date, they’ll say they had a good time and suggest a second, but then I won’t hear from them again. So when Mr.Dimples suggested a follow-up date during our first, I still had my reservations. I would have to see it to believe it when he showed up at the agreed upon second date destination.
Now that it’s been almost a week since I’ve seen him, I’m imagining the worst but still hanging on to that tiny thread of hope that my phone will ring. He will explain himself to have been dead by the side of the road for the past six days. And brought back to life by knowing that he had to make it to date #6 with me.