I tried poutine over the weekend. Yip, it's just about as dirty as it sounds- gravy smothered french fries, fat upon fat. Blame Canada for that arterial traffic jam. I never really did like gravy, but I pride myself in being a try-anything gal. I still don't like gravy.
I touched on First Fridays a little bitly last summer in this post, and actually I think a lot of cities do it. I know Muncie does First Thursdays of the month (oh hey, Kieron). Our monthly food truck visitors never really wear out their welcome. I get a fist pumpy skip-in-my-step when I see the lot roped off and hear their generators starting to hum. It's really such a considerate thing those trailers do, dropping dinner at our door, with all the choices no less! My other monthly visitor showed last weekend... that ladyjerk hasn't quite been so kind- I know it certainly did not let me pour my own snow cone flavors, or remind me how cool our neighborhood is. Really cool, or so I think. We buzzed around some of our favorite local shops while I practiced buyer's restraint and P man's tum growled, then took our usual lap around the menus and decided on dinner- which I later found to be a total mistake. Philly Le Poutine Lover felt otherwise. (I'm coming for you next month, buffalo bleu mac & cheese!) Anyway, the block party usually continues into the night, but we hauled our foodstuffs upstairs to eat in the comfort of our quiet lair. I'm a total homebody and I will apologize to no one for that.
Looks like I'm about a week late sharing these photos, but here we are ^^ having a gay ol' time on what I like to call the dog-pooing fairgrounds of our neighborhood. That's all.