Tight Life

I rarely post night shots--not because I don't like them, but because I don't get out much. Time for a change.

I don't know about you, but lately I'm tight-fisted with my time and my money. These days we're all working hard and not taking much time off. Even then we don't spend much. I don't know about you, but I'm saving up for the next recession.

Sometimes, though, you've got to take your battered psyche out to happy hour. Yes, a glass of Two Buck Chuck poured by your own tight fist at home is cheaper than a glass poured by a server in a downtown bistro, but you're paying for elegance, leisure, and the festive feeling of being out with your friends and their psyches. And don't forget the server has a recession to pay for, too.

Doesn't tonight seem like the time? The weather's balmy, the summer's new. A glass of wine at a balcony cafe and a stroll through Old Town, or along South Lake Avenue (for ice cream) would be an indulgent, healing way to waste an hour or two, perhaps with fists unclenched long enough to hold hands.

Margot the Fabulous

Today is a special day in my family because it's the anniversary of the birth of my sister Margot. Margot's not a commenter here and she doesn't check in often, but in case she happens by today I've got a little something for her.

Margot arrived in the world auspiciously. Not only did Mother's Day land on the day she was born, but our mother won a car that day, too. Yeah, an actual car, new and everything. (And just as the birth of a person like Margot only comes around once, that never happened again either.)

I chose this photo for Margot's birthday because the statue is graceful. I haven't found its name or that of the artist, but it's poised at the Huntington Gardens and it might be Diana the Huntress. See, by day Margot's a happy librarian in the Dallas, Texas system. But by night she is Margot, Fabulous Glamorous Ballroom Dancer Extraordinaire! The first time I watched her dance, her grace moved me to tears.

So here's what I have for Margot: if and when she comes to visit me in Pasadena we're going ballroom dancing, and she has her pick of where we go. We could try the Pasadena Ballroom Dance Association, where they have all kinds of classes. And not far away in Alhambra there's Ballroom Dancing-LA, where they even have classes for kids. Or there's the Rose City Ballroom, also loaded with classes, and twinkling with a Hollywood connection.

Or we can try them all. Happy birthday, Mo!

Business Schmisness

I'm told Pasadena has a great night-life, but if you want to find out about it this is not the place.

I like going out at night, I really do. I just happen to like staying at home even more. I used to go out quite a bit (some might say too much). These days, however, if it means getting dressed and driving somewhere, I need a compelling reason.

That reason came recently in an opportunity to meet with a friend who shared some of her business expertise with me. She suggested McCormick & Schmick's happy hour. Not only did that get me dressed, it got me out of the house.

When I saw the menu I was shocked, shocked, I tell you! The prices are outrageous! They have $1.95 chicken sandwiches, cheeseburgers and more. These sandwiches are not teeny nor are they horrible, and they come with fries! There's also a $4.95 happy hour menu with fancier fare, like salmon cakes and oysters. It is beyond my comprehension.

My friend and I enjoyed ourselves. We ate until we were full. We each had more than one drink. The service was good. I paid for everything and the bill was less than $30. (Yes, I am a good tipper.)

What is wrong with these people?

1881

The sign pointing you to the 1881 Club on Washington Blvd. is a classic old beauty. The club itself, however, looks like the kind of night spot I wouldn't enter on my own.

So although I can't review it I googled some links for you:
Yelp reviews.
A review from ClubPlanet.com.
And here's a rave from SleazyBars.com.

So my guess was right, but it's all relative.

I'm not saying I've never been in a sleazy bar. I'm saying...well, I'm not saying. I'm sure the owners of the 1881 Club would understand. One doesn't get to be a classic old beauty without some wear and tear.