Saturday night is for going out to bust a move. Sadly, Mr. R. and I have been sacked by vicious colds. The only thing busting right now is my head and my current move is kind of sluggish. We’re spending date night sniffling and snuffling as we down chicken soup and decongestants. Here’s hoping you’re enjoying your Saturday night. We’ll see you for the Superbowl.
Confession. Because we’re all friends here, right? Sometimes I’m a tiny bit weirded out by the dark. I’m not talking about some vague irrational fear of a dark room. I mean outside in the dark. Because that’s scary, right?
My family has had property in northern Ontario for over fifty years. It’s a tiny log cabin on a tiny island in the middle of the northern wilderness. As kids, we’d go up there with our grandparents and spend a couple of weeks ‘roughing it.’ There’s no electricity or plumbing, and there’s an outhouse out back. When I was a kid there was nothing scarier than going out to the outhouse after dark. Think about it–there are all kinds of wild animals out there. And you can only see what’s in the beam of your flashlight. What’s just beyond that single sabre of light?
Many years later, my folks and I took my boys to the cabin. It was great fun. We fished and hiked and the kids swam in the lake. Before bed, I walked the boys out to the outhouse for one last run before we all went to sleep. I tried to be very brave. After all, I was the grown-up.
The outhouse has no door, so we stood a respectful distance to the side of the shack, shining our lights just in front to lend enough light for someone inside to do their thing. The boys each had their turn and I was last. They shone their lights as I went inside and got settled.
The next thing I know, there’s no light. “Hey, a little help here,” I called out. No one answered. I finished up as quickly as possible and stepped outside to find that those little shits left me out there!
I hightailed it back to the cabin as fast as I could. I’m pretty sure I narrowly escaped being snatched by some gruesome thing with long sharp talons. As I burst into the cabin, everyone looked up from their beds. “Did you run all the way back?” my son asked.
“No. I walked quickly.” Huff. Puff.
Oreo is introducing out a new confection very soon. On February 2, Nabisco rolls out Red Velvet Oreo. Oh, yeah. I am a lucky girl with an advance sample.
According to the accompanying leaflet, the new cookie flavor and color is the first adaptation since the introduction of Golden Oreo. But what sets this confection apart is the cream cheese flavored creme. Oh. My. Normally I can take or leave Oreo but I’ve tried these and they’re delicious.
According to published reports, Nabisco is planning only one production run of the red velvet variety and they expect them to be in stores for about six or eight weeks. I’m thinking don’t waste them on the kids. Put these away for the grown-ups.
Oreo cookies are available in more than a hundred countries. They were first sold by the National Biscuit Company (shortened to Nabisco) in 1912 and by their centennial mark three years ago, 450 billion had been sold worldwide. They reportedly sell 7.5 billion annually which works out to 20.5 million per day.
Clearly someone’s been eating my share of them because like I said, I don’t generally eat many sweets. But I highly recommend Red Velvet Oreo. They’re extremely nummy. It’s a real word. Look it up.
It’s South Florida Fair time and Mr. R. and I took advantage of free tickets courtesy of his work as we do nearly every year. Entrance tickets are are $15 per per person. Add to that the cost of rides and food, the average family of four drops between $200 and $250 for a visit. That’s not happening.
This year’s theme is Las Vegas, which is weird because like the real Las Vegas, we almost couldn’t find our way out of the first building we entered. It was noisy and crowded so we made our way outside as soon as possible. The weather was odd, sort of an unsettled day, cloudy and windy and alternately cold, then warm. This would explain the strange array of outfits we encountered. In a group of people, one person would be all bundled up in a jacket and hat while the next person would be wearing short shorts and a sleeveless top. Mr. R. and I fared alright in our short sleeved shirts and fleece hoodies.
In addition to the strange outfits people were wearing, the next thing I noticed was a large police presence. Every minute or so I’d see deputies from the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office, always in pairs. I wondered whether there was a reason for it, or if it was an just overabundance of caution.
We headed over to Yesteryear Village, a collection of buildings that have been moved there over the years to create a little town. I wrote about it in October, as several of the structures are rumored to be haunted. As we strolled into the little General Store, Mr. R. said, “Look, honey!” I gazed in the direction to which he pointed to see the shelves full of honey. Ever the card, is our Mr. R.
We completed our tour of Yesteryear Village, and yes, I once again toured the Riddle House and took pictures. No spooks to be seen.
Our next stop was the Mooternity Tent, the area where they keep expectant cows. I’ve always wanted to see a calf being born. I am the dork who stands and watches the cows, thinking That one looks like it could go any minute. Like I know anything at all about cows.
Well, as it happens, a new calf had just been born right before we got there. We were in time to see the afterbirth. Ewww. But the cute little calf was just beginning to stand and a couple of cow people (fairly certain that is the proper terminology) were trying to get it to take a bottle. The tiny critter was having none of it.
It eventually found its mama and let nature take its course. For some reason, I kept calling it Puppy. What do I know?
All that drama left us peckish, so Mr. R. and I made our way to where they serve vittles. And may I just say, there’s nothing in the world like the aroma of fair food? Onions and fried stuff and turkey legs over an open fire…
We found our way to our favorite: corn dogs. It’s the one day a year when I consent to eat whatever it is that they put in a hot dog. While we ate we had a perfect view of all the weirdness that goes by at the fair. And again, we saw the deputies two by two.
After our meal, we hit the midway again, not to ride the rides, mind you. I’ve seen one too many report of fair ride disasters on the evening news. But it was great fun watching people on the rides.
Back in Yesteryear Village, I ran into an old friend. He was still hanging around, as he’d been the day we were first introduced a few years back. Back then, Mr. R. and I were exploring the Trapper’s Cabin when I heard a voice shout out in a Florida cracker accent, “Hey, red!” Naturally, I turned around. And older guy lifted the rope separating the viewing public from the Yesteryear docents. He handed me some camouflage clothing and a shotgun, which he had to show me how to hold.
The next thing I know, this picture is part of my Facebook timeline. PETA types, take a chill pill. I did not shoot that pig, nor have I ever shot any living creature. Who knows how old this guy is? He’s still hanging around today. He’d just better not ever get lippy with me again, that’s all I’m saying.
It’s what I like about you…Happy Saturday night!
My sweet and I were relaxing, enjoying our Friday evening.
Mr. R.: Do you have enough wine?
Me: I do not. I have no wine. I’m without wine. Wine free. Completely sans wine.
Mr. R.: Oooohhh, no you’re not.
I was nominated by the lovely SASS-A-FR-ASS for the Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award. Normally I don’t do awards because they tend to take up a lot of time, but she’s such a sweetie and I appreciate her compliment. I am working on a new page for Adventures in Date Night so that I can fulfill my end of things, but too much time has already passed and I want to say a huge THANK YOU to Sassy. Stop by and check out her blog.
I have an affinity for Hemingway quotes. There are times when he manages to capture a moment or a sentiment in an amazingly striking way.
The problem with Hemingway quotes is that there’s always someone who disputes their authenticity. I’ll be honest with you–it’s been a long day and I’m too tired to do the proper research. I just appreciate this quote.
And I resolve to keep in mind the words of our 16th President.
“We have an appointment at 3:30,” Mr. R. said to me on Saturday.
“What kind of appointment?” I asked reasonably.
He smiled sagely. “An appointment. Be ready to go by 3:00.”
The appointment, it turns out, was for me to get a mani-pedi, which I have not had in years. Mr. R. called and set up the appointment for me as a surprise. He dropped me at the door of Polished Nail Spa at PGA Commons. “Text me when you’re done,” he said. And so I sat with my feet soaking in the warm swirling water as I once again contemplated the fact that I’m a very lucky girl.
I had never been to this particular salon before; it was very luxurious, much nicer than the little place I used to go to next to the grocery store. And it was packed, every station occupied by people having their nails done. Each pedicure chair had an iPad, which I tried to use to distract myself from what the nail tech was doing to my toes. It wouldn’t do to kick the poor lady in the head. But confession, y’all, I am not very techie and I don’t own an iPad, so I couldn’t work it very well. I did manage to pull up YouTube but the Rolling Stones song I chose sort of clashed with the spa music so I turned it off again.
When my fingers and toes were buffed and polished to perfection, Mr. R. picked me up and we headed to the part of Date Night I knew about, dinner at Yard House, courtesy once again of Christmas gift cards. Again, Yard House is a chain, but I actually like that place.
It has a cool ambiance, a large diverse menu, and pomegranate martinis. Normally, they have great music, but there was football on, so no such luck. But all was good when my pomegranate martini and the truffle fries arrived. Mr. R. enjoyed his cappuccino with our appetizer while we pondered our dinner choices. He ended up with the Lobster Garlic Noodles along with a Lost Coast Alleycat Amber while I had the Chicken Enchilada Stack. Both were excellent and I might have had another pomegranate martini before we called it a night.
All in all, a gift card to Yard House does not suck. It was a fun date night.
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic by The Police really is our song. Mr. R. has always been a bigger Police fan than I am but I do love this song. We actually saw them play down at Dolphin Stadium (or whatever they’re calling it these days) a few year ago. There’s something really cool about 44,000 people all singing, “Rooooox-anne!”
We almost had a different song, though. Once upon a time we went to Universal Studios in Orlando during their Mardi Gras celebration. Each weekend a different performer appears and it happened that Bonnie Raitt was there that night. We weren’t all that excited about seeing her and had pretty much planned on leaving before the concert. It turned out that we were still at the park and we figured, Why not?
Suffice it to say, we were blown away. She was absolutely amazing. We stood mere yards from the stage, Mr. R.’s arms wrapped around me, as she sang I Can’t Make You Love Me. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. That being said, it’s not much of an Our Song kind of song.
This song, however, is my favorite Police song, for obvious reasons. Happy Saturday Night!
Adventures in Date Night 
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