The 5$ Giddy-Up Mondays (now 6$) hold a special place in my heart. Whether salad or wrap form, with or without Goddess dressing, and always ordered with the house made hummus (don’t cheat yourself of the experience), it always did what it needed – and much more – to satisfy all that masticate in this converted house from the neighborhood. An organic haven and natural eatery where you take a number, probably run to an open seat, and wait for someone to smoothly set your food down and nab your number in one fell swoop.
That brownie – that is terrible, please don’t (I won’t even begin to describe its foulness) – that my brother chucked out of my sunroof while driving down Orlando Avenue is a lasting memory. You don’t forget smiling with each comment of disgust. And, you really don’t forget the rearview mirror shot of brownie pieces shattering into the sky behind your vehicle shooting down a 6-lane road.
A door that, when opened, leads to a ladder that leads to another door; for all I know this newly accessible door could lead to an even longer ladder. Poetry night – sitting out front where a yard or cars should be stationed and instead finding tables with towering parasols snd a mic set up – and wondering whether in fact black dildos are bigger. Not to mention the live music set up in the living room under the red, orange, yellow fabric rays that don’t make the room shine, but liven. As though this is the only sun that suits us plants, where we can grow tall and find appropriate sustenance.
All of this in this green – so green – Keys cottage, where I have read that tea menu half a dozen times (and still ask for recommendations) and countless Young-Adult novels (thank you Sarah Dessen), will keep me coming back for brighter and hale days.