The man in the pub.

Every Wednesday night (with a few exceptions here or there when the homework load is simply too great), Connor and I go to "Dipco" (Lancaster Dispensing Company) for wing night.  For those of you who don't know, Dipco is a charming Victorian pub right in the heart of downtown Lancaster.  It's a favorite spot of ours.  Over a couple beers (my latest favorite is a honey raspberry ale... delish!) and a dozen of their delicious wings, we'll discuss the things you would typically talk about on a Wednesday night.  We talk about our classes that week, our homework load, our hopeful plans for the weekend... you know, normal stuff.  Connor and I also talk about something else that perplexes us every time we're there. 

There's an old man who goes to wing night all by himself every week.  He's often dressed in light colored blue jeans with a neatly ironed red or blue plaid shirt tucked in to his pants and a tweed jacket hanging on the back of his chair.  His beard is silvery and his jet black eyes sparkle like shards of glass in the moonlight.  The man sits at a small table, often in the corner of the restaurant that sits up higher than the rest.  He's always there before we arrive and leaves after we've paid the check and gone on our way.  Sitting on his table are three items that are there every week, without fail: a glass of white wine (or occasionally a small pitcher of beer), a plate of wings, and an enormous book.  Each week I try to strain my eyes to see what book he's reading.  They're always monstrously large, a good couple thousand pages each.  The man is never at the beginning of the book.  He's always in the middle or somewhere towards the end.  He seems to be a big fan of any sort of theory, whether it be literary or scientific.  Some weeks he reads books on history, or birds.  Last week his book of choice was Les Miserables and the week before that was A Tale of Two Cities.  So yes, this man has impeccable taste in books. 

Now up until this point, my story mostly seems like a charming story about an old man who enjoys a good book or two with his wings and wine.  But there's something about him that makes me think there's more going on.  When he sits at his table and looks out over the restaurant, there's a sadness in his eyes.  He watches the people, follows them with those jet black eyes of his.  The corners of his mouth twitch and occasionally he'll scratch his cheek or adjust his glasses higher upon his nose.  But mostly, he just sits there.  He sits in his chair and reads, takes a sip of wine, and watches. 

Those sad eyes make me wonder.  I wonder, does he have a family?  Does he come to Dipco for wings because he wants some alone time before he returns home to chaos?  Or does he come in order to be around people?  Perhaps he's looking for an excuse to avoid another lonely night at home in a quiet, empty house.  I've never seen the man smile, or hardly even talk.  He speaks to the waitress when he has to, but otherwise he keeps to himself.  Does he have any happiness in his life?  Where does he come from?  What does he do every day? 

I have so many questions I want to ask the strange man.  Perhaps one day I'll try to speak to him.  But part of me doesn't ever want to do that.  There's something wonderfully mysterious about him, that I'm almost afraid to solve.  Perhaps I'll just leave it and keep on wondering about the man in the pub. 

To bake or not to bake?

The holidays are fast approaching so that means one thing:  I finally have an excuse to BAKE!  In preparation for this exciting time to arrive, I have been spending some time browsing food blogs (a favorite pastime), looking for fun, new recipes to try.  I thought I'd share a few of my tasty findings with you all...

Aren't these just adorable?  I can't wait to make these simple little brownie bites dipped in semi-sweet chocolate.  They'd make a lovely addition to a holiday dessert platter.  I'm most excited about finding clever ways of decorating them.

Sprinkles!

 Made with a buttery graham cracker crust, a caramel base and pumpkin cheesecake filling, this cheesecake screams two words: 

Delicious. and. Calories.

In this case, I'd say the delicious cancels out the calories. 

I'd have to say this was one of my favorite discoveries in the food blogosphere today.  This simple spread consists of three fantastic ingredients: 

Butter.

Confectioner's sugar.

Whiskey.

(or brandy or rum)

As Julia Childs would say, "whisk the [ingredients] into submission" and serve up a dollop of the sauce on your favorite warm pie, cobbler or crisp.  *smacks lips*  Simply wonderful.

There's so many more recipes I could show you but my laptop already needs a mop to clean up all of this drool and I'm guessing yours does too.  So sorry for salivating... I know it's terribly un-ladylike.  

I had more to write about various other things but I'll save them for the next post.  I'm tired and GLEE is available to watch online now, so I know where I'm headed... :)  

However, I'll leave you with a question:  What are your favorite things to bake over the holidays?

*All photo credit from Pioneer Woman Blog

Oh, the irony!

My life is hysterical at times. Connor likes to tell me I'm accident-prone and he's definitely right about that one.  I tend to attract weird, crazy, abnormal happenings.  I don't really know why that is, but it's been that way since I was a kid.  At least I provide ample opportunity for everyone to laugh, right?

Last Saturday, Dad and I went car shopping.  We've both had it up to "here" with my stupid Jetta (I call him Sir Cantankerous) and in my Dad's words, "we aren't sinking another worthless dime into that piece of junk."  It's time for a new car.  Actually, it's been time for a new car, but we'll get to that in a minute. 

So at 8:45am, we made our way through the lovely city of Coatesville (sarcasm, yes?) to the Toyota dealership to begin our search for a new vehicle.  Mom mentioned that she would be needing to drive my car to the grocery store while we were gone, so I gave her the keys before we left. The check engine light had come on in my car the day before, but that happens from time to time, so I really wasn't worried.  Besides, it had been about 40 days since the last car disaster, so I figured it was due for some trouble, due to Sir Cantankerous' record.  Anyways, the search began at the Toyota dealership and Dad and I sat down to talk to a sales lady about leasing possibilities, pre-owned cars, etc.  About an hour into our 'visit,' we received a phone call from Mom.  Our conversation went something like this,

Mom: Sarah, I'm sitting at the gas pump at the Turkey Hill in Parkesburg and your car won't start.  Is there something I'm doing wrong? 
Me: *sigh* Are you serious? 
Mom: Yes, Sarah.  I'm serious. 
Me:  We're gonna have to get it towed. 

Story.  Of.  My.  Life.

The irony of my situation really amazes me.  Of course, Sir Cantankerous couldn't have waited to break down until after I've purchased a new car.  No, that would let me off too easily.  Since then, the verdict has been an estimated near $600 bill to fix the starter (which burnt out) and a few other things related to it.  No way, jose!  I am not payin' that.  At this point, I'm past getting frustrated about it and I am just laughing.  It's simply ridiculous, all of the things that have gone wrong with this car, and of course they aren't going to stop when I decide to look for a new one! 

Sir Cantankerous has certainly earned his name over the past 27 months or so that I've owned him.  To shed a little light on these past 2 years and why this beloved car has made my life so full of joy and happiness:

-The air conditioner leaks onto the floor of the passenger side when I drive up hills or the temperature exceeds 98 degrees. 
-If I turn my key too quickly in the key hole on the driver's side door, all of my windows will go down. 
-The motor in the driver's side back window is broken and so the window slides down into the door if I don't fix it every five minutes (or after I hit a number of large potholes in a row).
-The radio remains on, even when the car is turned off.  I have to manually turn it off and if I forget, the battery runs out.
-Do-Mi-Sol, Do-Mi-Sol, Do-Mi-Sol rings for a good 30 seconds after I shut my drivers side door.  I suppose the car thinks it's giving me a nice serenade before I begin my drive? 
-The AM radio only works if you turn it up ALL the way and even then it's hard to hear.

I could go on and on... this car is hysterical.  I'm certainly not complaining though.  Sir Cantankerous has been good to me and kept me safe through many a snow and ice storm on my long drives back from Lancaster.  But will I miss him when he's gone?  No, I don't think I will.  :)