Oh, sigh, weekends and driving

I think I’m done with the east side for a while. I mean, save for commuting to work already EVERY day. This past weekend of driving killed me. Fortunately, my new rugged tires seemed to enjoy the lovely highway travel.

I have a cousin that just graduated from St. Ignatius. It was bittersweet, being that his mom (my aunt) was the one who passed away just recently. The solemn memories seemed to dissipate for an evening with multiple trips through the buffet line, beer & corn-hole and a long sunset walk on the beach… with my sister (Yes, another item crossed off my list!).

I ran a few errands on Saturday morning in Rocky River and hoped the dreary clouds would move through quickly. Graciously, the clouds continued their pace and opened up some blue sky to get a nice long bike ride through Rocky River, Westlake & North Olmsted. Whooped, I took an early afternoon nap and had dreams somebody stole my bike at the grocery store, a ‘la Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure.

After getting set for another driving adventure east, I set out for Ferrante’s Winery in Harpersfield — with storm clouds looming behind me on 90-East. We had a fantastic dinner to celebrate my dad’s birthday. We enjoyed a few glasses of Cabernet Blush on the outdoor patio, waiting for the band to set up and for the rain to start. Once seated, and moved on to the Rosso, I had some dish called Pasta Rockefeller with linguini and bacon and swiss cheese and … bacon. YUM. My dad was surprised by the piano cake, but I think we were all shocked upon watching the entire lower level of the restaurant singing and clapping along to the birthday song. One table even gave its own lyrics for the good Lord’s blessing. Mojitos and another losing game of War ensued at the grandparents after we certainly had our fill of Ohio wines.

Also, this weekend I was able to catch up with the east side Mentor Ladies with whom I grew up for a fun (read: fattening) lunch at Panini’s in Willoughby. And I substituted grilled instead of breaded in my buffalo chicken wrap to save a few calories. This is not your typical 3 a.m. Panini’s! (Think: Winking Lizard). Funny to mention, the funeral home that now resides next door to Panini’s used to be a teen club that we frequently hung out at as, well, teenagers. Yes, ironic that the first place in which I smoked a Newport Menthol now houses a funeral home.

Stealing St. Ives from behind the toilets, I’m sure, results in the same type of deathly reminder.

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