Tequila

One of my best friends swears by Ponak's. I love him anyway. Still, I meet with him at the Southwest Boulevard restaurant far too often for my taste. I recently made the mistake of partaking of Ponak's signature "liquid attitude." The next day was rather unpleasant.

Tractor Pull

I recently cruised 135th Street between Roe and Pflumm for the first time. While I realize it's fashionable to deride the new development, doing so would be disingenuous of me. The truth is that I see the attraction. The athletic fields are spiffy. The restaurants are undoubtedly fabulous. The houses are handsome. The tens of thousands of people who have drifted to the southwestern fringes of the metropolis are living in style. The tractors now working the few remaining fields adjacent to these outlying suburbs will soon be mere memories.

Smoked

Is this anonymous rock chick sick or sad? The cigarettes suggest that she might be both. Yep, you guessed it. I'm one of those extremely irritating former smokers. I'm disappointed that the revolting habit is on the upswing among people in their twenties. Cut it out, dummies!

This Song Is For the Ladies

Here's a quarterly reminder about my other online shenanigans. I continually reveal way too much of myself at There Stands the Glass. I also take great delight in affectionally provoking the Kansas City jazz community at Plastic Sax.

Huron Indian Cemetery

I recently added a new location to my list of favorite spots in the Kansas City area. The Huron Indian Cemetery is a spectacularly serene patch of elevated land in downtown Kansas City, Kansas. With its elegant trees and aged grave markers, the site exudes a sense of tranquility.

Chicken Fried Steak

"The fat looks good on you." That's how my plumber greeted me when I met him at my front door this morning. I thought I'd dropped weight in the year since I'd seen the guy, but apparently I'm delusional. I prefer to think of myself as "Kansas City skinny". Meals like this chicken fried steak at Woodswether's Cafe don't help. I'm sure my choice of beverages has nothing to do with it.

Living Among Trees

I once heard a visitor to the Kansas City area remark that we are fortunate to live in a forest. I was reminded of that observation last night. It does seem that only land cleared by humans is free of trees. Everywhere else, including this ridge along I-35, a thick forest abounds.

Economy? What Economy?

Just how many employees does Goldman Sachs have? Based on the conspicuous consumption I witness on a daily basis, it would seem that tens of thousands of area residents are raking in hundreds of thousands of dollars annually. Sure, I see plenty of destitution and abject poverty. Just as often, however, I spot scenes like last night. I watched the All-Star Game in a bar packed with men gulping $5 beers and women toying with $10 strawberry salads. The only signs of depression were on the faces of consumers who couldn't find a parking spot within a hundred yards of the establishment.

The Rent's Just the Same

"The rent's just the same," my entrepreneur-minded father would chide when I would beg him to let us close up shop. He constantly bombarded me with such aphorisms. I thought of him yesterday. Friday began with a meeting at Kansas City Cafe. The restaurant opened early for the event. Fifteen hours later I parked outside the restaurant at 1532 Grand. Yet the establishment, open a mere twenty hours a week, had been closed for five hours. My pop might have spit on their window in disgust.

Free Popsicles

I'm a sap. Flash a sincere smile and give me a free popsicle and I'm sold. I walked out of a grocery store on July 4 thinking that Hy-Vee was the happiest place in the world. I had the opposite experience the next day. My visit to a national bookstore chain outlet was an exercise in frustration. The store was out-of-stock on their advertised sale titles. Furthermore, the atmosphere was dismal. Maybe they should try handing out free popsicles.

Taste of Troost

I'm not quite ready to proclaim Saturday as my favorite Independence Day ever, but it sure was fun. The Taste of Troost festival exceeded my highest expectations. Here are my notes. A friend and I were kind of hoping that the rapper unaccountably wearing a sleeping mask would topple from the stage. That would have insured the day's place as my most memorable Fourth of July.

Fare Is Fare

A recent visit to Chicago revealed that public transportation allows a person to travel from Midway Airport to the metropolis' northern suburbs for fifteen dollars. That's roundtrip, including a stop at Grant Park for lunch at Taste of Chicago. Inspired by that positive experience, I intend to employ The Metro tonight to avoid First Friday parking hassles. I'll spend three dollars to use bus line 123 to skip between Wyandotte and Paseo along 19th Street.