Trying to stick with this this year. My other resolution is to procrastinate less, so aaahahahahahahahahahahaaaa *snort* we’ll see how that goes. Anyhoo, photos for days 1, 2 & 3 of 2016.
1/1/2016: Yeti Feet! (Barbered soon thereafter.)
1/2/2016: Dumplingpalooza!
1/3/2016: Random photo of orange piping.
In yesterday’s installment of “adventures in remodeling,” we packed up our kitchen. For the next few weeks, we’ll be camping out in the living room, cooking with a single burner and a microwave. In other words, the same way we’ve been cooking for the past 20 years, but in the living room.
Just kidding.
Sort of.
This process required us to pack up everything except a small collection of kitchen equipment that we’ll use in our living-room camp-out. I thought it was telling that our first two must-have choices were a martini glass (Tim) and a colander for pasta (me). What we’d want on a desert island.
As I packed up the various drawers of random kitchen equipment, I came across a couple of interesting items that I think I tossed in the boxes coming from my Dad’s house in 1997. I find them funny for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is: my father essentially didn’t cook. He knew how to make his own standard breakfast (two fried eggs over easy; burned* & buttered toast); a couple of standard dinners (hamburgers;** steak; roast chicken****); and vacation food (lobster*****). I don’t think he was unable to cook; he just liked those things and didn’t see any reason to expand his food horizons. When he and I traveled to China in 1981, he survived largely on packaged peanuts.
Anyway, here are some of the tools I inherited from Dad. First, a snicker for your inner 11-year-old:
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* Intentionally. And when he ordered bacon in a restaurant, he would go to great pains to insist that it be burned as well.
** Classic divorced dad moment: he wanted to make hamburgers for us; little shits that we were, we*** wanted McDonalds. Dad: “OK, then, if you want a McDonalds hamburger, I’d be happy to step on your burger before I serve it to you.”
*** And by “we” I mean “Bruce.”
**** IIRC, Dad’s recipe called for dowsing the chicken in butter every five minutes while it roasted. No question, that was an excellent roast chicken.
***** Steamed; dipped in butter.
****** This has to do with the temperature of light, not some weird-ass reverse affirmative action.
I spent part of last week in Helena, Montana on a new/old case in which CREEC is joining the ACLU National Prison Project and the ACLU of Montana as co-counsel on the case of Langford v. Bullock. The Langford case was brought and settled in the early 1990s, but the implementation period is ongoing with respect to a claim under Title II of the ADA. CREEC is lending its expertise in this area.
Jon Ellingson of the Montana ACLU, Ajmel Quereshi of the ACLU NPP, and CREECsters Sarah Morris and me.
Sarah and I flew into Missoula, met with Jon and Ajmel, and then all drove over to Helena. The meeting went well, and left me a few hours of Wednesday afternoon for a leisurely stroll around Helena. As I’ve mentioned — among other places, in my Ramps of Route 1 post — I love to observe the small ways that small town small businesses find to provide access.*
First up: Taco del Sol on Last Chance Gulch Street.** I love not only their tile ramp
but that, even as a small restaurant, they made Braille menus available.
Also the carne asada burrito was fantastic!
Last Chance Gulch was a sort of pedestrian mall that did a great job ensuring the one or two steps of rise at most stores was ramped. The giant plush bear added an extra touch at the Lasso the Moon toy store.
And accessible ice cream!
Helena had a couple of hilarious access fails, as well. Flower pot access fail:
Pink flamingo access fail:
And major design brain fart fail:
The photos below were just randomness from my walk:
And my photos could not capture the beauty of the mountains, but I tried:
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* As with the original post, I have to offer this disclaimer, because every now and again some defense-side attorney (hi, guys!) may read this: I did not evaluate these ramps for compliance with the Standards. I don’t know their dimensions or slope. If you try to introduce this as evidence in one of my cases, I will file a Motion for Judicial Notice of Completely Missing the Point.
** Not kidding!
A divey bar with excellent food and access to the roof deck – what could be better?!
Tim and I have been coming to The Pioneer for a couple of years now. It’s not far from our house and had a nice patio where you could chill with good drinks and snacks in Colorado’s dry summer air.
It’s a college bar – hence the name, after the University of Denver Pioneers – but if you go early enough, you won’t be overwhelmed with students and it has terrific Colo/Mex food – far better than the décor would suggest. And the margaritas are fantastic – so fantastic that I only go there on my bike.
Sometime last year, we noticed that they were adding a roof deck on top of the patio. “Oh well,” we sighed, “I’m sure it won’t be accessible, but then it’s an old building and we can still drink margaritas on the patio.”
This week we’re on staycation, chilling at home, getting various house-related things accomplished, avoiding work email, and — when the mood strikes us — wandering up to The Pioneer in the middle of the afternoon. We settled in at a patio table and then, just for the heck of it, asked if they had an elevator.
“Yes.”
Huh?
“Yes, we do, but someone needs to find the key.” I was so blown away by the fact that they’d installed an elevator that I did not stop to comment on the fact that it would be great if their disabled customers could use it independently.
Morgan — our extremely friendly & helpful waiter — found a key and, well, “elevator” turned out to be a mild exaggeration. Here is the door to the “elevator” on the roof deck.
And the, um, view from the “elevator” at the roof deck level:
Tim: “Am I almost up?”
Me: “Yes, if by ‘almost’ you mean ‘about halfway.'”
Once we got there, we were glad we’d asked, and so very glad The Pioneer had installed an “elevator.”
Short restaurant review: I had the goat cheese quesadillas — they were spectacular. Tim had the veggie burrito (shhhh don’t tell) with mushrooms, poblanos, and potatoes. Also really really good. And margaritas all around. And you canNOT beat the view:
Seriously, as a restaurant we can walk/roll to and stumble/weave home from, with delicious food and a friendly staff, we love the Pioneer. Slightly less sarcastic photo of the view looking south:
And of course, The Pioneer himself:
My father-in-law Denver Fox celebrates Father’s Day by ordering*
with a side of whiskey brickle ice cream. Because Father’s Day!
Tim and I had an amazing omelet with a crawfish pepper sauce.
None of us ordered but all of us were entertained by
All at Fourteen Seventy-Two on South Pearl Street in Denver.
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* I had to find a way to include the name of the dish, because I kept reading it “Bananas Foster Wallace.” You too, right?
Thought Snax 