I flew to Fargo Monday morning. Because Joy was there and it was not 20-below, we took a walk downtown for dinner. We were told the best restaurant in downtown Fargo is Juano’s. We saw a sign that said “Monday – $1.99 Margaritas” so I was in. It was good, but hard-core Mexican food people might find it bland.
The next morning I thought I might walk the couple of blocks to the coffee shop. But it was 12 degrees. Then the flights were delayed and I spent six hours in the Fargo airport. This wouldn’t have been so bad except that the guy that ran Barnstormer – the airport restaurant – retired and took with him the recipe for his famous beer cheese soup.
That should be illegal.
Wednesday, I flew to Washington, still feeling the motion sickness from the day before. I met Holly for dinner Thursday and found this at Pentagon Row:
Dear Chicago: It seems that 52 degrees is not “too warm” to open an outdoor rink.
I managed to forget my phone at the hotel, which I discovered while waiting for the Metro to go to the airport three hours after checking out. Because I am the luckiest freaking person alive, housekeeping hadn’t gotten to the room yet and I was able to retrieve it without even making myself late.
Now I am home, exhausted but happy. I also finished trimming the Christmas trees. I am at least half ready for the holiday.