Do you remember that “Good idea, bad idea” animated short? I think it was on Animaniacs or something. Well here’s my version:

Good idea: Starting a blog
Bad idea: Starting three blogs while simultaneously running your own business and eating an egg salad sandwich (you know, because egg salad is messy.)

So that’s why I’m shutting down this blog. But don’t feel bad…it’s not just this blog that I’m ending — I’m also skipping town on the two other blogs that I run (including one that I’ve worked really hard on for a year and that receives a bunch of traffic.)

Why? Lots of reasons, but mainly because I want to write fiction. I’ve been making up characters and story lines in the sanctity of my bedroom at night for a long time now, and I’d like to focus on that instead of splitting up my time in a zillion different places.

So if you want to find me online, visit Mary Lee Owens. That’s the only place you’ll find me, besides at the web design studio. And I do hope you’ll stop by, since we really haven’t gotten to know each other very well yet.

Bye vabeachnik! You were a good idea, but just not for me right now. Peace out.

Well hmm. I think it may have been a bad idea to start aNOTHer blog. But anyway, I won’t give up on it yet.

So where’ve I been? Over here, putting together the first ever Carnival of Modern Home Dwelling. I’ve also been working out at the Bayside rec center and being entrepreneurial.

But I just got a digital camera (mine’s been broken for a while), and I’m crazy-itching to use it. So expect great things! And don’t forget…this weekend the Beach Street performers are all coming out to play; I’m pretty happy about that. I’m especially looking forward to the Amazing German Juggle Boy (hope he’s coming back!) and a couple of new performers that are awesome and that I have the pleasure of knowing, Loren and Felicia Barton. Yay for Va Beach in the summertime!

I’m not a big fan of barbecue. It’s messy for one thing. And I don’t like the little hard bits that get stuck in your teeth. But sometimes you just want something fast and different, and so we decided to give Smoked from Above a try.

We walked in the door at 6:45pm and noticed a very strange thing — we had only 15 minutes to get our food, eat, and leave. They close at 7pm. Kind of quirky, but we were up for the challenge. Looking back now, we probably should have high-tailed it out of there right at that minute. And not because the food wasn’t great — it was awesome. But with two children ages 2 and younger, you definitely want to give yourself some breathing room.

Anyway, we walked in, and it was pleasantly busy. People were ordering and eating and talking. You got the feeling that everyone had been there hundreds of times before. We went to the counter, and not knowing what to order, we went with something safe — the pulled pork barbecue sandwiches with fries. Nothing fancy. Just simple and quick (we hoped).

The kind people at the counter had us take a seat and brought our food out to us. They served it in those little red plastic baskets lined with paper…nice and laid back. We proceeded to eat.

First mistake — we had forgotten the sippy cups. You know where this is going. My 15 month old daughter immediately dumped an entire 20 oz. cup of lemonade, ice included, all over her lap. Nice. One of the guys from the front (wish I had caught his name) came by and helped us clean her all up. This time they brought a new drink…complete with lid.

Next mistake — thinking we could get out of there in 15 minutes. We were scarfing down this food, but it was so good that our mouths just didn’t want to scarf. These sandwiches begged to be savoured. The sweet and tangy sauce (which wasn’t too thin, like most barbecue I get around here) was delightful. The fat steak fries were steaming hot, and they gave us so many that we could have had fries every night for the next three days.

Thankfully, the people there weren’t rolling their eyes or pointing and whispering at us, the customers who poured drinks on their floor and were still there at closing time. They just kept on rolling, closing up shop, and telling us we were perfectly fine where we were. We’ll definitely be back.

Here’s how to get there. You know Baxter Road, right? If you’re coming off of 264 onto S. Independence (toward Holland Road), you take a right at the first light. And then you take a right into the first shopping center on your right. It’s on the right-hand side of that shopping center, underneath the Smoked from Above sign (and you thought it would be under a different sign.) My only advice? Get there early.

Sometimes we like to just get out our trusty phone book and take our chances with our dinner. That’s what we did last night. We decided that pizza was going to be the best choice, and we wanted something different. Somehow we ended up at La Pizzeria.

La Pizzeria is this little place behind the BB&T Bank on Shore Drive. If you’re coming from the Norfolk direction, it’s past the bridge and before Great Neck Road. Roundabout there. When you pull up, you’ll think you’re going to a Russian place because of the font over the restaurant. Fear not, my friends. You’re in the right place. If you’re still unsure, ask yourself — are there pinball machines? Is there a claw machine? Is there a giant pizza guy painted on the back wall near the restrooms? If so, yes. You are there.

My two-year-old and I drove up and went inside. The pizza was ready for us, as they told us it would be, and it was truly hot. HOT hot. Good sign. We gathered our pizza, paid, and left. Before we left, we found out that La Pizzeria has been in business since 1986. When we asked for a to-go menu, we were given this little gem, which provided great entertainment throughout our dinner:

Apparently, they were out of menus at the moment, but we could look at this and give them a call. This is what they write the orders on, after all. Shouldn’t be too hard.

We tried, we really did. Perhaps we just aren’t up on our pizza toppings. We’re still stumped about SP (spam?), BR (brownies?), and HP (hot provolone?). The belly-laughs that came about due to this piece of paper made it entirely worth the trip.

But as much as we loved it, we couldn’t eat the paper. For that reason, it was a good thing the pizza was phenomenally delicious. It’s New York-style pizza with a thin crust and tons of cheese. Huge, fold-in-half kind of slices. Very cheesy. Very, very good.

It’s not a place you’d want to take your date to as far as the atmosphere goes, but if you want to pick up a pizza or have it delivered, La Pizzeria does a bang-up job. Also, a note about calzones: what is the consensus on what a “real” calzone is made of? Theirs have ground beef, onions, and cheese. Or just cheese. John said it reminded him of a Philly cheese steak. Not what we were expecting, but not entirely bad. I’d love an educated point of view on this.

We’re all about the underdog around here. Really. But sometimes you just can’t pass up something just because everybody and their uncle knows about it, loves it, and would like another helping, please.

Case in point: a little place I like to call Frankie’s¹. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s over in Kempsville in the Fairfield Shopping Center off of Providence Road. You know, behind Hardees. I think there’s a Food Lion around there somewhere, too.

Yes, Frankie’s. Every so often after John² has had a really rough day and is asking me for dinner suggestions, he gets this look in his eye. It’s a little wistful, a little hopeful. I immediately know what he’s thinking: he wants ribs. And he wants me to drive over to Frankie’s and get some.

Yesterday was one of those days. I agreed to pick up the stash if he would place the order. (Come to think of it, somehow I ended up doing both…how did that happen?) So we looked at the online menu, even though we didn’t need to because we always get the same thing:

One king sized portion to be split among the two of us: it’s always plenty. We ordered a baked potato and baked beans on the side. And for the wee ones:

One Little Frankie’s barbecue chicken meal. With french fries.

Aside: For some reason, that little quote at the bottom of their kids menu always bugs me. It’s kind of like those signs that say “Shoes and shirt required” or “Wash your hands after using the bathroom.” I highly doubt that the people who DON’T watch their kids are the type to read signs and then say, “Oh wow…I didn’t know I should be doing that. Thanks.” And the rest of us feel just a bit derided for no good reason.

Moving on. We also ordered extra cornbread because it’s the sweet kind, and we like the sweet kind. After I placed the order, I drove down there in the POURING RAIN (or perhaps it was only a drizzle?) and went inside to get the food. As usual, they asked my name, placed my bag on the counter, took my credit card, gave it back, and smiled as I left. It was all very quick and easy. Just the way I like it.

I love how the bag has my name on it. It kind of makes me want to say “Hey John, remember how I was the one who ordered the food AND picked it up without your help? Look who’s name is on there. Mine. Guess who gets to eat the food? Me.” But there’s way too much food for one person. (Frankie’s, forgive me for the upcoming horrible photo. I am no food photographer, but I tried to make up for it with a bit of photoshopping.)

The food did not disappoint, as it never does. The ribs were sweet and fell right off the bone, the chicken was spicy with a little sweetness to kick it up, the cornbread muffins were perfect, and the baked beans were the best. The baked potato was a little underdone, but we don’t go there for the baked potatoes, you see. And they’re usually just fine³.

Just in case you were starting to become fond of me, I need to let you in on something: I am one of those weirdos who actually fills out survey response cards. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe I have a power of the people complex. You can imagine my happiness when there was one of these to fill out on my way out the door:

1. Warning: you will be subjected to a looooong jingle by clicking on the aforementioned link. Just thought you’d like to know. Oh yeah, and their website has crashed my browser a couple of times. [↩]
2. my husband and partner-in-crime [↩]
3. Except John did remark that they don’t give you anything with your baked potato. Not even butter. Guess you have to ask for it. [↩]

The other day, I happened to be frolicking near the court house, and on my way back home I decided to stop at the Virginia Beach Farmer’s Market. No one was there (okay, so maybe this was a month ago when it was still freezing out…sheesh, who’s keeping track?). It was literally a ghost town. But The Country Butcher Shop was open, so I decided to step in and have a look.

The two guys behind the extensive meat counter said Hi. I said Hi. I said This is my first time here. The owner said Me too.

The deli counter stood immediately in front of me, and I needed a sandwich, so I asked what was good. They helped me pick out some pastrami, honey ham, and roasted chicken. I threw in some provolone and muenster cheese to feed my frightful cheese addiction. The counter-guys (as I call them in my head…I never did catch their names) were hilarious. I don’t think they realized how much they were cracking me up.

For one thing, they kept interrupting each other to tell me all of the great things about their deli meat¹. Not in an annoying, sales-pitchy way. In a friendly, inspired way. I was convinced that their enthusiasm came from being a new company. Every nuance in their tone and body language spoke of a sincere love of meat.

I was surprised to discover that The Country Butcher Shop has actually been in the owner’s family for over a quarter of a century. The owner told me that they used to be over at Hilltop, but they moved to the Farmer’s Market over a decade ago.

I also had to laugh at all of the pamphlets, papers, and brochures they piled in my weakling arms. I am now a veritable expert on meat just from listening to these two guys talk and reading all of the information they gave me. But the meat…ahh, it was so good. The sandwiches I made with that meat rivaled the sandwiches I make with whatever meat they use at The Fresh Market (whose Italian roast beef is still my number one favorite meat on this earth)².

I grabbed a couple of pounds of hamburger meat while I was there (because after all, it is a butcher shop). The hamburger was really fresh and beautiful, but it went bad quickly compared to the meat you get at the supermarket³. That’s probably a good sign of a lack of preservatives. My verdict: I will be going back, despite (or perhaps because of) the riveting quote at the bottom of their business card.

1. I now know that they carry Thumann’s deli meats provided by a New Jersey-based company that hates gluten, filler, and MSG. In their meats, at least. [↩]
2. By the way, the owner said he’d have no problem ordering me some Italian roast beef, but that he thinks their regular version is beyond phenomenal. We shall see. [↩]
3. After three days, it was completely brown. [↩]