Ruby's Bar & Grill

Snappy Chic???

You know, we only live about 60 miles from the city, but we might as well be a thousand miles because we just don't find the time to make the trip very often. The weekend was arranged by Leon and his partner, who are members of this underground contractors organization. All I can say about these guys is.....they DONE GOOD!

You sure would have been surprised. They work hard managing a company where everybody gets dirty and cold or dirty and hot depending on the season. And they give an honest days work for an honest days pay. Once a year the guys managing these businesses get together, get all cleaned up and have a first class holiday party.

We arrived at the hotel after a bit of circling, because the streets are pretty confusing and the cabbies were honking furiously at us. We were driving like tourists I guess. When we drove up in front a very well dressed guy ran over and opened the door for me, and he took the car to the garage. I was sure glad I'd bought a new outfit because the lobby was very, very fancy. So fancy, in fact, that I felt myself standing up real straight. It seems like to me that standing up real straight lends you an air of sophistication, don't you think?

The room was fantastic, nothing like that hotel outside of St. Louis, that smelled moldy and creepy. The Fairmont was top notch all the way. There were gigantic pier mirrors everywhere, and artwork and it seemed like every member of their staff was wearing white gloves. There was a tiny woman who kept madly mopping the marble dry (it was raining outside), and when we sat in the lobby to have some coffee, she was polishing the glass doors like a wild woman. I think she's the one that put white gloves on everybody, cause she didn't want them mussing up her windows with fingerprints.

I felt like I fell in a bed-a-roses when I saw our room and the bathroom from heaven. I think this is what Oprah's bathroom must look like. Creamy colored marble, a private toilet with a sliding door, a beautiful glass shower and a big bathtub. I kept looking at the marble over the bathtub. There was a little silver square where the shower head would usually be stuck, and on the other side was a smaller silver square. I asked Leon to come and check it out.

"What is this?" I asked. "The shower is over there, so what could this be?"

After a bit of fiddling we figure it out. They got a danged clotheline that stretches over the tub!! Heck, it's just like being out in the country after all. Well, except for all the creamy marble. What a snazzy invention, cause heaven knows, sometimes a girl's gotta rinse out her pantyhose.

We took a stretch limo back and forth from the party. Woo Hoo! It's pretty cool to drive around and have everybody wonder who's living large in the back of that ride.

The party was fun and the food was good. The room was as huge as a cavern. I've never seen anything that big in my life, probably the size of two big hay barns, stuck side by side, and twice as tall as the biggest hayloft.

We slept in late, and I just enjoyed that big king size bed. I kinda felt like the Princess and the Pea, cause those were some big mattresses. Almost got a nosebleed sleeping up there.

We were thinking about having breakfast in the hotel, but I checked the menu and the bacon and  eggs was $24, and besides the brochure said that the dress code was "snappy chic". I can't even guess what snappy chic is, and for $24 I can get about 20 dozen eggs warm outta the chicken, at the egg farm on Bowes Road.

So Leon and I decided to stop in the lobby for a cup of Spiked Hot Chocolate, and head out to the Cracker Barrel in Elgin for some biscuits and gravy.

Well, that was a darned good decision, cause I've never, EVER had nothing like that Hot Chocolate. It's gonna be on the menu at Ruby's come Tuesday when I can get all the supplies together. Now mind you, make this at home and make sure you're not driving anywhere. Just sit in front of the fire and sip. Make sure it's a comfy chair, because you probably won't be get up outta of it anytime soon.

Spiked Hot Chocolate

• 1 large coffee mug
• powdered hot chocolate mix
• 1 shot Frangelico liquor
• 1 shot Grey Goose Vanilla Vodka
• 1 shot espresso coffee

Make hot chocolate according to package directions. Add the Frangelico, Vodka and espresso and mix well. Top with whipped cream or marshmallows, if desired.

Enjoy!

Oh - here's a picture of some of that fancy glass that the poor lady was trying so hard to keep clean. As you can see, she's doing a real good job.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v423/Suzanne57/glass-for-Ruby-site.jpg

Monkey Suits & Foundation Garments

Thanks to all my loyal readers who stick by me, even though the bloggin' has been spotty lately. (There at least 3 loyal readers, of that I'm sure!) I know that they will understand that the time between Thanksgiving and New Year's is the hopping-est time of year here at the bar & grill.

You've heard me say before that bartenders and hair dressers on the front lines of mental healthcare in this country. I sure don't know what it is about the holidays that seems to act as magnifying glass to people's problems, but that's the truth. If people feel, deep inside, that they're unhappy or lonely the holidays only tend to make those problems one big gorilla.

People just want somebody to listen, and let them know that somebody is at least paying attention to what's going on with them - and that I am most happy to do. It is my opinion though, that people are way too hard on themselves.

There hasn't been much in my life that would make good bloggin' fodder, cause my life isn't exactly a page turner. It's kinda boring in fact, since Randall James bought his townhouse. And the closest I get to a socialite is when I read about the soiree's in the society column of the Cumberland City Gazette. Of all the socialites, I'll have to say that "Bunny" Maplethorpe is my favorite. She must have a gaziilion frequent flier miles!

But surprise of suprises - Leon got an invitation to a Christmas doing that's being put on by the Underground Contractor's Association. It seems that these aren't just any "ditch digging" guys, because this is a black tie affair down in the city. I think these guys are in charge of big projects, like the deep tunnel. And...we're going to be staying in a fancy hotel. I'm sure those bellboys are gonna notice my luggage ain't Louis Vuitton, but I don't think they'll tell anyone. I will have to remove those hot pink pom-poms from the handle. They come in handy at the airport but might stick out in the lobby of a five star hotel.

Leon had to go order a tux, and I thought it might be a good idea to accompany him on that trip. I sure didn't want him to come home with a baby blue tux and a ruffled shirt. It's just occurred to me that I've never seen the man in a tuxedo. After all, we got married in the judge's chambers over at the court house. So this should be fun.

NOTE TO MALE READERS - Following is a description of my "ensemble".....which Kitty Cartwell assures me is pronounced - on-somb. I don't know about that, but I'll take her word. So, if you don't want to be lulled to sleep, skip past this portion.

I will be wearing a black velvet skirt, gold satin shell, and a Chinese brocade jacket. HEY! I gotta do my part for the emerging Chinese economy. Black hose, and black velvet shoes. OH, and some of those dangly earrings that they're calling chandelier earrings. I was thinking about some kind of necklace, but age and gravity have done things to the neck, and I thought it wasn't wise to call attention to that part of the anatomy.

I'm hoping not to stick out like a bumpkin that just fell off the turnip truck, but who knows? One thing I know for sure, I can hold my own in any conversation. And as Kathryn Hepburn told someone once...."Just be fascinating darling". And that's what I aim to do. If they don't like my package, they're gonna love my personality.

I don't think the social editor at the Cumberland City Gazette is gonna want to report my escapades at the Underground Contractors Ball, but maybe, just maybe, some mom sitting at home with 4 kids and a dog, who only gets out to the grocery store might want to hear about it. I think that's a given, because I used to be that woman, and I lived on a diet of other people's exciting lives for quite awhile. It gets you through the day, I'll tell you.

So, wish me luck. And send me any suggestions you might have about hair or makeup. Thanks kiddos.

Giving as Thanks

"Not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our thanksgiving."

--WT Purkiser

Daddy Ray was a good teacher when it came to the subject of giving thanks. He wasn't a religious man, but he was certainly spiritual. He was orphaned at age 10 and him and his brother Jackie were raised by a bachelor uncle. Their childhood was spent as farm hands, helping bring in the cotton, the peanuts and the sugar cane on a hardscrabble farm in the Florida panhandle. There wasn't a whole lot of time for just being kids.

At age 16 he was offered the chance to runaway and live with a Chicago family who vacationed every year in Florida. Their son was my dad's age and he took the offer to share this boys room and finish high school. So one day he snuck out to the edge of the cotton field, near the road, and buried his belongings to be dug up later that night.

The thing about coming from humble beginnings is that you have a different perspective on giving thanks. Daddy Ray wasn't one for expressing his thankfulness. His thanks were always in the form of actions. Each and every Thanksgiving there were between 2-4 sailors from Great Lakes Training Center sitting at our dinner table. This was no small feat. My dad would drive downtown to fetch the young men from the USO center, and later in the evening we'd drive them back to Great Lakes. It was a two hour drive each way!

My dad well remember what it was like to be a sailor away from home during the holidays. He served in both World War II and Korea, and his way of expressing thanks for having a home and food to eat was to share with those who were away from home for the holiday.

Leon and I have been in some sticky situations ourselves, including an unexpected job loss one Christmas. It was certain that there would be any gifts under the tree for the kids. One of Leon's co-workers sent us a Christmas card in which she wrote, "I know the situation you're in, because I've been there myself. Please accept this gift and use it as you wish. Please do not let pride prevent you from accepting my offering. Someday you will be able to return the favor and help someone else."

It was no small task for Leon to accept that gift. And we have repaid this kindness many times over. As the quote says, the act of sharing is your measure of thanksgiving.

Hope everyone had a wonderful day, shared with your family of birth or your family of choice!

Toast to Toast

My friend Pauline had an idea for a restaurant that she was going to call "Toast to Toast". I guess it would have been more like a coffee house that served only toast, all different kinds of toast.

It sounded like a real good idea to me, cause I've always found toast to be a comfort food. Think of all the possibilities, cinnamon raisin, hearty wheat, pumpernickel, rye, potato bread, banana bread and more, all toasted to a golden brown and spread with sweet cream butter. YUM.

My personal favorite would be cinnamon toast made under a broiler. It brings back memories from my childhood when Gramma Martha Anne would serve this delicacy with hot cocoa and marshmallows.

When Leon and I returned from Central America last January, the first thing I did when I walked in the house was make myself a piece of cinnamon toast.

Broiler Cinnamon Toast

1 slice bread - any kind

butter

1 TBSP. sugar mixed with a little cinnamon

Butter the bread and sprinkle the sugar/cinnamon mixture on top. Put under the broiler until the butter melts and the sugar carmelizes. Eat and enjoy.

The Globe Theater Project

I don't get a chance to go out on weekday evenings, cause I'm usually tending bar, but the other night my friend Val worked for me so I could attend at demonstration. Usually my duties at the bar provide me for a built-in excuse to avoid these things - you know, Tupperware, Mary Kay and such, but this sounded like an interesting evening. They were demonstrating rubber stamping and making your own greeting cards.

Anybody that knows me knows that it peeves me no end to give Hallmark $4.25 for a card that's only going in the trash. But having said that, I'm not so sure about the wisdom of purchasing $432 in rubber stamp supplies to produce some birthday cards.

The evening was quite interesting, as I was the token old broad. All the women were in their 20's and 30's and had kids going to the same grade school. I don't think I said a word all night, and that's IMPOSSIBLE. I talk ALOT. But there didn't seem to be much in common with these young women were chatting on about soccer and homework.

I'm enrolled in classes myself, trying to finish a degree I'd left in a ditch long ago, but these women were talking about working on book reports. OH....I get it....they're talking about the kids books reports, and it seems the more things change the more they stay the same.

Back when Hector was a pup, and I was in grade school, our moms helped us with the books reports too. But now they're doing things called "book reports in a bag"...what's that??? I bet dads are still producing those Cub Scout soapbox derby cars too. Me and Leon could always spot the daddy-made ones at the race, and we always felt sorry for Randall James 'cause he was the only kid that had car he'd actually made himself. The scout leaders had to know what was going on.

My high school English teacher had to know something was amiss when Candy Smithfield and I turned in our final project for our Shakespeare assignment.

Miss Robinson teamed us up into groups of two and said we'd have to produce some type of final project for our semester on Shakespeare. It was to be something other than an essay, a crafty project preferably and it was going to count for 50% of the final grade.

The heat was on and we were sweating like pigs in a barnyard. We heard that Karen and Cindy were making period costumes and were going to perform a scene from a Shakespearean play. Candy and I couldn't come up with a clever idea, and were sitting around her kitchen table discussing our dilemma when her dad piped up, "I see that picture of the Globe Theater there, I can help you build that thing". Hmmmmm....interesting idea.

Wood was purchased, tables saws sawed, nails were nailed, but of course, Candy and I did none of the work. Her dad built the whole darn thing. If I remember correctly the only thing we did was paint the behemouth. I say behemouth because her dad produced a scale model of the Globe that was at least 4 feet tall and just as wide!!

I don't now in hell we got that thing to school, it must have been in her dad's pickup truck. You shoulda seen Miss Robinson's face with the Globe Theater came walking in the door sideways. You couldn't pushed her over with a feather!

She had to know we didn't build it, but she gave us an "A" anyway, probably just for the Chutzpah of trying to pass it off as our project.

That Globe Theater was so awesome, I'm sure that 39 years later it's still in room 304 at the high school.

Now I'm off to figure out how to do a Book Report in a Bag.

Country Living Tips

So, you've always wanted to live in the country? It's a wonderful life, I'll agree. When we moved out here many years ago, we learned everything the hard way. It's a good idea to think a bit before you jump to the country side of the fence. Here's the first country living tip. Well, maybe I'll give you a more than one to start.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v423/Suzanne57/prairie-house.jpg

You've plunked down $180,000 cash money to buy 2 1/2 acres of previously prime corn and soybean field. Good start. Then you've cobbled together another $600,000 or so to build the house of your dreams. Let's be sure that dream doesn't turn into a nightmare, OK?

First off I see you got a tree there. Well, you might need to find a grower that's got some big, big trees he's looking to sell. You might need 30 or 40 of those big trees. That might (just might, mind you) help block the 50 mile an hour winds that rip across the Illinois prairie 12 months of the year. And call your architect and your contractor and be sure that the they have placed all the water pipes away from the outside walls, or you're gonna be mopping up when the water pipes burst in January.

I know you've picked some fantastic Uba Tuba granite for those kitchen counter tops, but you might want to rethink that choice. Get the next one down the price list, and take the money you've saved and buy yourself a generator. Get a BIG ONE. It's probably too late to install an underground gasoline tank, so just buy yourself a bunch of those 5 gallon plastic gas cans. Fill 'em up. All the way up to the top. Store them in that beautiful 3 1/2 car garage. But be careful....you woudn't want any accidental fire, 'cause by the time the volunteer firemen get the tractor back to the barn, and get to the firehouse where they keep the 1,000 gallon water truck - your house will be toast.

Anyway, it sure looks like it's gonna be a swell place.

I've got more tips, but they'll wait. You've got enough to do right now.

P.S. Welcome to the neighbor. Signed....the country folk and the coyotes.

Bad Hair Day

Some would say that I've been having a bad hair day since 1965. As you can see from the photo at the top of the blog, that's probably the last time I changed my hairstyle. Well, it worked for me for all those years, but recently I've been feeling a change a-coming on.

I just couldn't stand all that hair anymore so I popped into the Cut & Curl and demanded that Kim do something about it. She washed and snipped and curled and sprayed, and pretty soon I felt like a new woman. When I put my glasses back on I was shocked. It's different that's for sure.

Next, I had to stop over at the Town Hall to see if the public works department could do something about the pothole on Elm Street that's threatening to swallow my car, or at least wreck a tire and snap an axle. Now you got to understand that the Town Hall is just a narrow storefront on Main Street, and it's only open in the mornings when the secretary is in. All the town officials have real jobs, and important meetings are held in the evenings after Mayor C.J. closes up the tractor dealership.

The public works "department" is one-man-and-a-truck, and he's in charge of the water works and the 5 miles of road that's not covered in the county budget. He does what repairs he can and he plows the roads in winter. That's alot of work for Clem Carter - one-man-and-a-truck!

Clem promised to check out the pothole, and the mayor came out of his office. He'd stopped in to sign some papers on his lunch hour and he commented that my haircut was sassy - kind of a Barbie hairdo, to which I replied, "This ain't no Barbie-do, I'd be Barbie's aging, post-menopausal friend.....

MIDGE!

Sorry, no photos yet. The cameras broke. You'll just have to use your imagination.