Roadhouse Obsession

We've eaten at Zingerman's Roadhouse three times in the past 10 days.

If that's wrong, then I don't want to be right. If I ever have children, I'll probably name them Pimento Cheese and Roadhouse Burger.

Ann Arbor Color

Ironically, I would think that people with mohawks and people who spray paint street signs would run in similar circles. Hmm, guess I should lay off the gross generalizations.

Treats in Treetown and Tigers in Motown

Tomorrow will mark two weeks since our return to Ann Arbor, and so far I think we've met our prerequisites for reassuming our Michigan identities: we've been to Zingerman's and we've been to a Tigers game!



Zingerman's provided Zzang bars and the Tigers provided a near shutout of the Indians, complete with multiple home runs. I'd say the fruits of July have been quite bountiful thus far.














And this week? . . . . . Art Fair!

Village Idiot in Treetown

Very little can put a damper on a sunny summer afternoon and leisurely lunch on Main Street in Ann Arbor. Cool breezes blowing. Cloud-dotted blue skies. Happy people with calm, respectful children and well-behaved pets. Prompt, smiling servers coming and going with trays full of fresh-brewed iced tea and club sandwiches. Lingering smells of barbecue and jasmine in the air . . . . and my fully ambulatory brother-in-law rolling down the sidewalk in a wheelchair soliciting tips for his efforts to antagonize the whopping 1 or 2 peaceful panhandlers wandering around town.


I'm probably the only person in Ann Arbor who keeps my doors locked during the day.
This is why.

Sometimes I'm sure I must be living in some sort of bizarro Seinfeld episode.