24 years ago (and 5 days).

I don't know how old you all are, but 24 YEARS is a long time--no matter how you count 'em (especially when you're wearing cute flip flops--stay with me here...see yesterday's blog...28 years old).

Let me take you back to April 19, 1984. 

 I have no idea what I was wearing--although I was sporting a multi colored, shorter on one side hair do (think Rocco Altobelli hair model), but I do remember what the Big Guy was wearing.  White polo shirt (yes Ralphy, yes collar turned up), Levi's jean jacket, kelly green shorts (I know) and blue Docksiders (remember those)!  

And then...he was driving a huge yellow station wagon. He was actually driving it the night we met, but I was so in awe of...something, that I didn't notice the car (that something must have been really big--think personality, charm, those green eyes). Well, we hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks (and back then we didn't have camera phones or the internet--OMG, I sound like Grandpa Anderson) and we didn't exactly remember what each other looked like (I didn't even know his last name).

So he rings the bell (I am so nervous I hide in the kitchen) and my sister being the "nice girl" that she is (aka Miss Busy Body) answered the door.  He thought she was me and she was so stunned by his beauty (ok really by his height and preppiness) that she stood there with her mouth hanging open--the only time I have ever seen her speechless.

After introducing the Big Guy to my parents and flying to the door to get out of there, I see from the corner of my eye my dad wrap his hand over my sisters mouth to quiet the laughter (she obviously regained her vocal abilities) and drag her to the kitchen.

I found out his last name when he introduced himself to my parents and quickly memorized his phone number when he wrote a check (remember those paper things) at the movie store. I don't know exactly what the attraction was on that night (I didn't stop shaking for several days), but when I got home after my date I sat on the kitchen counter in my mom's kitchen--yes it was my parent's house, but if you know my dad you know it was not his kitchen--and told my mom that was the man (yes I actually called him a man back then--hee hee) I was going to marry.

 

Psychic or love at first sight??

I am what I wear.

I don't know about you, but I can change my mood (and my personality) with a new pair of shoes. Yesterday I was a care free (and kinda cool) 28 year old in my flip flops and jeans (evidently I can change my age too)!

Give me a pair of running shoes and I am 10 pounds skinnier (well at least in the bubble above my head). Today I put on a pair of shiny brown pumps--with a little buckle by the toes--you know "power" shoes. I do my best negotiating when I am 5'8" (ok, ok they only get me up to 5'5", but I felt like 5'8" and that my friends is the important part). The real estate agent didn't see what hit her! (Perhaps because she was looking right over the top of my head).

For the special Friday night "outings" I don a pair of patent spikes and I can dance better than Madonna--at least that is my perception after two Grouchy Dog specials (Skyy orange and diet pepsi-hold the caffein please). And with a pair of these funky things and I can keep up with any of you younger kids--or do you just lag behind because you are embarrassed??

Word of advise--make sure your pedi is up to date and the color matches the mood (nothing wrecks the image more quickly than gnarly toes or chipped polish).  All this from a girl with a freaky foot phobia.

Remember a great pair of shoes can distract from dark roots, a couple of extra pounds or even a goofy boyfriend!

Are we all on the same page??

OK let's just verify--it is April 22nd, right? And that is technically spring--even in Minnesota, right? And the temperature today was in the 70's, right? And it was forecasted that way ahead of time, right (well close anyway)?

On my trek around the city today (I think I hit at least 8 cities...towns...whatever), I saw people under dressed, over dressed and me myself (somewhat of a weather hound)--I was perfectly dressed (funny how that works that way on my blog). I get people who wear shorts when it hits 55--hey we endure a lot over the winter and 55 feels dang good--their legs may be purple, but they are lovin' the sunshine. I even get the people who are still dressing like it's 55--you know pants, light jackets, something in a spring color.  

What I can't accept is the people out today dressed like it is 20 below (that's 20 degrees below zero for those of you who have never wondered north of 35 degrees latitude). One woman was lurking in the footwear department (trying on sandals no less) wearing a Norwegian sweater!  I wanted to tackle her and rip her sweater off...send it to someone in Antarctica that could benefit from a nice warm wrap. Another woman was wearing a ski jacket and gloves--now really...that was pushing it. 

The only explanation is that they are not true Minnesotans.  If they were, their ski stuff would have been washed and stored in the basement for next October (labeled and in plastic bins--am I right Lena?). If you see one of these crazy people out there don't take them down--don't rip their clothes off (you'll look as crazy as they do), just walk by in your jeans and flip flops and hold your face up to the sun. Don't you even think twice about what what people may be thinking of you! 

G.D...we're open for business.

The Grouchy Dog is officially open for the 2008 season.  I will let the pictures do the "talking" today--well mostly...as I can't help but make a few comments.  

Please feel free to stop by any time--if we are not home you know where the key is.  The futon is warmed up and ready for a snuggle, the fire pit is smokin' and yearning for some marshmallows to toast. The beer is on ice and the vodka is steeping in oranges.  What the hell else could you want?  Really?  You know you will find me VDP in hand, butt perched on my stool waiting to see your smiling face round the corner. What are you waiting for--the invitation is on the table, the rest is up to you.

Feel free to leave a photo of your adventures. I promise not to post anything too embarrassing--and I'll be the judge of that! You know the party hasn't started until we see/show a little bare skin--see photo at left (hee, hee).  I promise not to name names...unless someone asks.

Stay tuned for future festivities: "Hats and Halter Tops", "Wild Ride", "Moon Fest", "Super Heros"...

Who needs a boyfriend...all I need is a wife!

I think men and women really want the same thing..)(@&(&^(_ OH sorry, I was choking on my own laughter. But really...it kind of comes full circle if you think about it.  The beginning of the circle (well--the whole circle for men) is all about sex.  Men want it, women have it-yes we all have it, women are just more stingy in sharing it.

Men want it when ever, where ever and how ever (don't even try to deny it).  Women are more fickle.  They want it when they can peel off all their layers--you know...jobs, house work, kids, husbands, life. That is where the men can join the rest of the circle.  What is hotter than a man who puts the kids to bed and then stands in front of the sink in a pair of faded jeans, sleeves pushed up, steam in his hair, suds dripping from his hands...I mean...a man doing dishes? Or how 'bout a man who turns up the music and bumps and grinds through the living room--vacuum in hand?

See this is where the circle part comes in.  Sex---man---chores (throw in a little sex appeal)-woman watching (relaxing, smiling)--sex (on the kitchen floor). Everyone is happy--if you do it right--hey guys I can only do so much! So women...when you are fantasizing about finding a boyfriend (none of mine do...I mean...did dishes) hand your hubby a sponge or a duster and sit back--be prepared to duck if they have not read this...and men...when you want to get lucky roll up your sleeves, dab a little palmalive behind your ears and prep the kitchen floor.

Chatterbox...the pub, not me.

Just in time for spring...you have to check out this great pub.  AND they even have a location in St.Paul for those of you opposed to "west side" living.  A very campy place with gourmet bar food--they have blue paneling, vinyl bar stools and small lamps (cool pink or green shades) on the tables.

Totally a neighborhood bar perfect for dinner or drinks after a long walk or bike ride (really long if you live out by me)!  Stop in for a Carlsberg Elephant beer or a mug of Tzao tea and a game of boggle or atari (yeah for the 80's) or any of their hundreds (ok maybe not quite that many) board games.  What could be better than a little friendly competition and a "french kiss" (that's one of their specialty drinks or what you might get if you are lucky and find a new friend).

I couldn't decide what to order, so I asked the waiter (who seemed a part of the fixtures) which item he suggested out of a couple I was contemplating.  I may not be invited back--I didn't take his suggestion and he seemed irked that he took the time to "share" his opinion and I had the audacity to chose something else.  Well he doesn't know me very well now does he?  Usually I just tell the wait staff to chose for me--I'm sure that would have gone over much better.

Great place and good waiter--just expect to be treated like family (think annoying little sister). The food was delicious and very surprising for the look of the place. Go for the fun, stay for the food. Anyone up for a bike ride through the cemetery and a little lamp lit nosh?

Midtown Minneapolis (what ever that means)

2229 East 35th Street (a bit tricky to find if you happen to...ahh...leave the address at home--What? I was in a hurry)

612.728.9871                      

www.chatterboxpub.net

Have you ever...?

Have you ever gotten up on...say...a Sunday morning feeling like a little something is missing. Maybe part of your memory from Saturday night, one of your socks, perhaps your phone number? You wonder why your spouse is bringing you coffee and ibuprofen in bed--all with a funny little grin on his face (and you are thankful 'cuz he could be banging around and growling at you)? You close your eyes and have visions of laughter (yours and others--you think they were laughing with you) and friends.  You look down and see scabs on your knee and have a vague remembrance of falling (from your spiky heels to the icy ground). You're not sure how you got in bed--or if anyone was there with you.

Me neither.

The things we shouldn't repeat out loud.

My little town may not be know for much (well, maybe it is but I couldn't tell you off the top off my head what that would be), but there is one little "gem" as I have heard it referred to--Blackwater Coffee Co & Cafe.

With a cozy fireplace and couches inside and metal tables outside (down jackets and moon boots optional) they have the seasons covered.  The coffee is strong, hot (yes they sometimes warn you about that) and black (I'll get back to that in a minute).  

But the best part is their sandwich menu.  I'd like to say everything is great, but the Blue Beef is so good that I am unable to order anything else when I go there--I think it may be "world famous".  Well that may be pushing it, but I have heard of people from St. Paul (I know!) going there.

The joint happens to be owned by a friend of the Big Guy...actually became a friend of the Big Guy while the coffee shop was being built.  The Big Guy used to drive around late at night (let's just say Oliver) and would stop by Blackwater before it was even open and offer his advise (aka: tell them what to do and how to do it) and feeling good about his "community service" would come back home for a good (albeit short) nights sleep. Thanks "Q"!

Well...after frequenting the drive thru for my decaf latte' (I just like the taste...really) and overtaking the place after soccer, t-ball and preschool I started thinking about the name and how they came up with it. Unfortunately the Big Guy was in the car with me when the lightbulb went off...coffee IS black water.  Yes I know you got it a long time ago, but I guess I was too busy to stop and think...I mean smell...the coffee. 

Monday...aarrggghhh

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have more arms?  All the things I could do...I could whip through the house and have everything picked up in a snap (or several) of course then I might scare the crap out of the big black furry one--and then I'd just have one more mess to clean up.

Or...I could sit in front of two--or three--computers and work on all my projects at once (let's hope my brain cells can keep up).  I could fold a load of laundry while cooking dinner and calling an old friend or I could put on my make up, dry my hair and drink my latte'--before it gets cold.  I could hold all of my kids and still have a hand left over to pet the dog and one to stroke the Big Guys cheek (what did you think I was going to say?).

Ooooo...I could even lift weights while eating bon bons and sipping a hot tea--wait would I have to lift with ALL of my arms to keep them equal?  Let's change the weights to bottles, the bon bons to ice and the tea to vodka...all with a hand still free to pull out a stool at the Grouchy Dog.

Of course these are all the things I do anyway (yes even the computer thing--the Big Guy laughs every time he sees me like that), but it's not because I have any extra arms--it's just because I passed the "test" (see below) and got to be a mom.

"A mother was walking along the road with her young daughter who picked something off the ground and tried to put it in her mouth.  When the mother told her not to, the girl wanted to know why?  The mother told her it was dirty, bad for her and gross.  The girl then asked her mother how she got to be so smart and know everything.  The mother, thinking quickly, told the daughter she had to pass a test to become a mommy and that is how she knew everything.  They walked along for a while and the little girl finally looked up and said, "So if you don't pass the test, you have to be the daddy?"

BFF

I will assume you all know what BFF stands for (although I have used it in many different ways--once when referring to the Big Guy and it wasn't very nice)!  Today I use it to honor my very BFF otherwise known as Heid, Heid-o-rama and Auntie Heidi.  

Tomorrow we will be celebrating her birthday, and as her BFF I cannot tell you how old she is--we will just leave it at "she will always be older than me".  Age doesn't matter (unless I am younger than you and then I may never let you forget it--if I am older than you then it just doesn't really matter now does it?) when you are out having fun and I promise that to all of you that would like to join the festivities at one of our favorite bars "Psycho Suzi's".  

The idea was to have a bon fire to end the evening, but as Heid has always told me "spring doesn't really start until the day after" her birthday.  Dang she is smart--yeah...go check the weather report. Well, you know the kind of girls we are--we may still be out by the bonfire, knee deep in snow, but guaranteed to be having the time of our lives.

You may wonder why we are still best friends after all this time, but not all secrets can be revealed.  I will tell you that we have been through a lot together--births, deaths, injuries (including Heidi slipping on the ice and landing UNDER her car and me blowing out my knee when being thrown by a "horse"), and many nights of parties.  We have inaugurated "No Pants Night", "Hats and Halter Tops", "Oktoberfest", and what I will simply call "The Bouncy Slide". We laugh at each other's jokes and cry for each other's sorrows. 

There are many different types of friends and even two I would call BFF.  One is the one I married and the other is one who came into my life when I wasn't looking, but they are both people I want to grow old with and share all my secrets with.  I will leave you with a quote from the birthday girl herself:  "You will always be my best friend...you know too much!"

Who writes this stuff?

I happened upon an interesting site today while doing a little "research".  Really--I was looking for on-line magazines (something to do with the Big Guy) and I found a "resource page" for men.  Well now...I just couldn't skip past that!

They have everything--fashion, food, travel...women.  I just had to know what men want to know and think they know about women. Being a woman, I think I might be a good judge. One of the first things I came across was advise on how to make "his little swimmers"...uh hum...taste better.  

I don't know where to start!  OK suggestions (go ahead and let your breath out here): kiwi, watermelon and celery may "lighten" the taste; coffee and beer are believed to heighten "its" bitterness; plums, blueberries and cranberries may make "it" taste sweet or surgary; and "if your lady friend has an affinity for heavier flavors," fish and meat (high alkaline foods) make for a buttery taste. Sooo good to know, should make everyone happier.  Equal opportunity here--I aim to please both sexes...well...hhmmm...I should probably restate that--maybe later.

All that being said--men sit back down, no need to put that beer down or run off to the grocery store.  Now I remind you, this is only my take on this, BUT I don't know any women who sit around and debate the taste of "it" and believe me we talk about EVERYTHING else.  The great debate has always been to spit or swallow--if only we had know it comes (no pun intended) in different flavors.  

Don't want to shatter any (men's) fantasies, but I don't think it lingers on the old taste buds long enough to discern what any of you "Big Guys" had for lunch. Perhaps I missed the lecture on how to treat "it" like a great glass of wine. But if it makes you feel any better--I am happy to revise my shopping list. Hey ladies, what's on the menu tonight??

How much does it cost to buy a green thumb?

I check my thumbs every year about this time for signs of green--nope, nothing, still not a tinge of the good old leprechaun skin anywhere (do you think the Irish are better gardeners?).  

You would think I'd have some green in my blood--my Grandfather's gardens are so lush that they spread and practically take over the house.  During the summer, you can almost make him out sitting in the middle of the path somewhere beneath all the greenery and blooms--although the cigar smoke is usually a give away. 

You might be thinking that the green skips a generation, but you'd be wrong.  My mother has Hawaiian plants growing at her house (yes in Minnesota) all year long--now that's just not right.  And if my sister is not careful her spreading gardens may just swallow up her dog--who would indeed make a cute statue.

It's not that I don't want cute plants in my house or lush gardens in my yard, I am just convinced that my green thumb gene is missing--it happens...I studied the brain last year.  Well, they never actually talked about that specific gene, but I know it's there--or in my case MIA.    

My gardens outside do rather well--even the rose bushes that are supposed to be so "touchy", but I attribute that to the fact that it rains quite a bit here in my home town (especially on the days that I have planned to go to the beach or have an outside lunch date).  They are also all perennials which must mean they have to be able to survive in nature with out much help from the white thumbed girl who pretends to nurture them.

As for anything living inside my house--it must have legs--I am quite good at caring for things that are capable of moving on their own (including spiders and the occasional mouse).  The only living green things in my house are in the refrigerator and they are not supposed to be there!

Who knew about the green thumb club??  Perhaps you have all known about it and have decided to sit back and watch me suffer--Ha!  Well, the secret is out and I just may join--wait...I wonder what the prerequisites are?  I may have to use an alias...hmmm...how 'bout "Must have legs"?

So for those of you who feel the need to burden me...I mean...honor me with green things for my home, I will paint my thumbs green and make friends with my new blooms, but fair warning--the paint usually washes off in the shower.  

Looking for the perfect job.

You may know that I have been job searching since I graduated last May and you may know that I had many fun informational interviews and you may know that I have been working (on and off) part time for the Big Guy.  What you may not know is that I am dying to go back to work...as long as I can find my dream job.

Perhaps if I list my requirements you can all do a little "networking" for me--feel free to turn this into lunches out and happy hour meetings if that will help.  I encourage meeting with people at convenient and easy times.

Let's see...to start with I will need a job that fits my schedule.  I am available from 9:30 (as long as the office is close by--which should be another requirement) until about 3, but I may need two hours off for lunch.  You see the Big Guy likes to meet for lunch to "discuss" our "projects".  We usually meet for an hour and 15, plus I'd need travel time.  

 

I cannot possibly work weekends as there is always something going on like taking the Wild Ones skiing or getting ready for a night out.  And as summer approaches I must be available to help my good friends launch their boat--and I am usually in charge of catering for the outings. Which reminds me that on the weekday evenings that we go boating--I'd have to be able to leave early--ya know to do the shopping and cooking.

Then there is Monday--not available.  This is the day that I recover and regroup from the busy weekends. Actually Friday is not good either as I need to prepare for the busy weekends.  I need Tuesday mornings off for a little secret shopping I do and one Wednesday per month off to have my hair done.  Thursdays are generally open. OK, then there are all the days that the Wild Ones are out of school--like summers, the month of March and much of November and December--not to mention any sick days. 

Now that that is covered, my next requirement is that the work environment be fun and creative.  I don't really care what I do as long as I have the freedom to do it how I want to do it. If I am involved, it will probably involve something crafty (food, design, writing, pretty much anything--I am easy you know). I am a more productive worker when surrounded by excited creative people who love to play while at work--productively of course.

There it is!  Should be easy to find a position for someone like me with just two requirements. Go...have fun, have a cocktail and spread the word.

Who says March 20th is the beginning of Spring?

I say it's all in the attitude, a state of mind. Waking up on April 7th to a blizzard outside your window? I say you have three options: crawl back under the covers for a few days until the snow melts, run outside screaming and swearing at the fluffy white stuff or get your butt out there and have some fun--after all this may be the last snow you see for six or seven whole months! Skip the cleaning, skip the cooking, skip the shopping--heck even skip work--call some friends and go play.  

I think we forget how to have fun--OK that's not really true, but fun with extra clothes on? Doing the things that "kids" do everyday? The excitement and adrenaline is enough to keep you going until the sun comes out--and hey you might even burn off a few extra pounds...just in time for bathing suit season. After all summer is just around the corner.

It's that time of year...again

March may bring you the beginning of spring, a tease of warmer weather and if you're lucky a trip outta the "land of 10,000 loonies...I mean...lakes." For me it brings another round of birthdays (8 if I am counting right--and what are people doin in July?  OK, I KNOW what they were DOING, but why July??) and The Big Guy's idea of spring fun (at least for the first coupla days) Making Maple Syrup!

We all know that The Big Guy is FULL of ideas AND we all know who gets left to carry them out (at least I think you can figure that out).  So...the Wild Ones are coaxed to Gramma and Grampa's to tap the trees, the buckets are hung and we all sit back to watch the thermometer rise and fall.  And we wait and we wait some more.  Finally the buckets are full and we trudge through the snow (at Grandmother's house!) to fill our pails and carry the precious sap home.

I think I must let you in on a little secret--have you ever wondered why real maple syrup (did you even know that what you usually buy in the store is NOT EVEN maple syrup) is soooo expensive?  Well I have learned--and even shed a few tears when buckets have overflowed or spilled in the back of my car.  We have to collect and boil 20 gallons of sap to make 1/2 gallon of liguid gold...I mean maple syrup and that's in a good year.

So this year we are ready for tapping, collecting and boiling--but someone cannot remember where he left the pails and pots.  Oh heck, what's another $20 bucks, after all we are making gold.  We also discover a pot in the back yard left by a partygoer (who brought it full of ice) so we are set. 

The Wild Ones are gone for the night and we are alone at home boiling sap!!  Yippee!  Well it's not often that we are home alone and well we get a little distracted and then we get a little distracted again and then we fall asleep (mind you it is now 1:30 am).  Thanks to my inability to sleep for more than 3 hours, I get up at 4:30 and get about three steps from the bed when I see this HUGE BLACK BLURR and hear this loud mumbled %@%#4.  Before I even realize what is happening (I must have been dreaming or still asleep) the Big Guy is coming back through the bedroom door saying things that Hardcore Rockers would be embarrassed to say.  The only legible and repeatable thing I heard was "I burned the whole f*%#@ing pot".  Ohhh...all I could think of were the hours I had spent hauling and boiling--but what I found the courage to say was "hey, it's just syrup--we'll start again tomorrow" (yeah I know--how cool was I?) 

So we went back to sleep--well we laid there for a while any way--and when I went into the kitchen later I was slapped in the face by a frigid wind.  In his moment of hissy fit, the Big Guy had left the sliding door WIDE open--since 4:30.  The cold should have put me in shock, but when I looked out on the patio what I saw was too crazy.  The Big Guy had not burned the syrup--he had literally burned the whole f*%#@ pot--our liquid gold was laying in a shimmering pool around a pile of melted aluminum!!

If you ever get invited to our house for pancakes sit back, relax and enjoy the maple syrup--it only cost $64 a pint.  Nothin's too good for our friends.

Thanks to the Big Guy's mom and dad for starting, teaching and encouraging this project so many years ago!!  I wish I had a picture of the littlest Wild One with his mouth open wide under the tap catching all the dripping sap--all the while laughing at himself for how cleaver he is and how sweet it tastes.

Time for another review...

No time for fancy restaurants, new stores or even great recipes.  The extent of my cuisine in the last 4 weeks has been hospital food, almost green leftovers in the fridge and one nice meal out at Hazelwood Grill, which landed me on the bathroom floor for several hours regurgitating the "special" of the night--what's a little food poisoning in the grand scheme of things??  I decided that would not make for a great review (and possibly a law suit).  So...back to the hospital.

  

Let's back up 11 years (April 6th, 1997 to be exact).  After spending 30 some hours in labor and a c-section I was blessed with a beautiful (and large) baby girl AND slow moving intestines.  Yeah, yeah I'm getting to the point.  I was unable to eat until "my systems started moving".  Well that was fine for me, but The Big Guy needs to eat (otherwise we might not be able to call him The Big Guy).  He stumbled upon a cafe on the first floor of the hospital and forget the grilled cheese and burgers--he found the best chocolate malt in town.  Imagine--in the hospital? OK three more kids and many other visits to the same hospital, including many trips downstairs for a chocolate malt--mostly eaten by The Big Guy, but I did manage a few bites when the doctors weren't looking.

Fast forward to March 2008.  Back in the hospital, but no time or energy to think about malts...until Jim (who was not eating much) asks for ice cream!  You could see the lightbulb going off in The BIg Guys head--he offers Jim a malt and since he's getting one for Jim...(sounds like a mouse story) why not get one for himself?  So I hear this story and can't get the thought of the malt out of my mind.  I am at home with five kids and I promise (ok, bribe) them with malts at the hospital if they will "just get ready and get in the car," I didn't need to mention to them that I was planning on getting one anyway.

Finally at the hospital, kids playing nicely in the family room (malts all but forgotten by me), one of the sugar deprived nieces reminds me of my "promise."  Well that was all I needed.  We traipsed off to the hospital cafe (a little detour as the hospital has remodeled and I couldn't find the cafe--who would have thought to look in the back of the gift shop?!?!)  Everyone started ordering (with the remodel also came a new menu filled with many flavors of malts).  I was trying to be strong and just eat a little of one of the kids'--I figured with five malts there would have to be some left over for me.  However with all the flavors to choose from--NO ONE chose chocolate, what's up with that?  So I caved and ordered my own.  

I had so many things in my hands that I wasn't able to try my malt before we got back to the family room.  When I sat down (mouth watering), opened my magazine and got ready to take a bite of my favorite, long awaited chocolate malt, my brother-in-law and mother-in-law came in and sat down.  My mother-in-law (who had not eaten much for several days) asked if she could have a bite of my malt.  "Of course" I said knowing there would be plenty--I was happy to share (REALLY...I was).   Well you all know what is coming...she ate the whole thing and I mean every drop! The bright side was she really enjoyed it AND I knew I could get another one. 

I didn't go back down that day (got wrapped up with the kids and the in-laws and the real reason for being at the hospital in the first place--being with Jim).  So the next time I was at the hospital by myself (how'd that happen?) I swung by the cafe and ordered myself a chocolate malt (hey, by this time I really deserved it).  Evidently the word had gotten out--THEY WERE OUT OF VANILLA ICE CREAM (that is what they use to make the chocolate malts) AND MALT SYRUP!!! (FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS!!! I checked!)  So I ordered The Big Guy a strawberry shake and figured it was a sign--perhaps the lady behind the counter is a spy for Weight Watchers.

So although I never got my chocolate malt--please do try to order one if you happen to be in the hospital.  If you are just in the neighborhood, swing through the "drive thru"--you know, the turn around for dropping off and picking up "patients".  By the time they figure out you are inside getting a malt you will be flying down highway 100 sucking down a little piece of heaven.

Methodist Hospital Cafe

Excelsior Blvd, St. Louis Park