Powerless

I shouldn’t complain, I know that. This weekend’s stormy weather delayed the 35W bridge search, took down trees, and disrupted plenty of Xcel Energy workers’ personal time. But I, along with about 100,000 others, was without power from the middle of Friday night until late Sunday morning (some are still waiting). It turns out I don’t do so well without air conditioning, refrigerated dairy products, or my flat iron. My husband, on the other hand, could’ve cared less. This was the ultimate excuse to wear his headlamp and eat every meal out. I threw my hands in the air and my hair in a dirty pony-tail, and joined him.

We had lunch at Good Day Cafe and I am still swooning. This is EXACTLY the sort of eatery that Saint Louis Park needed – gourmet salads, fresh sandwiches, soup, baked goods, etc. – all in surroundings more reminiscent of San Francisco than the 394 strip. That night, after showering at the gym, we enjoyed cocktails at a friend’s backyard wedding reception then hit the Bulldog for Hoegaarden and burgers. I love the Belgian beer list and warehouse space, but am beginning to wane on the food. It’s always a bit rich, but not in a flavorful way. If I want a good burger, I go to Lurcat or 112 Eatery.

Despite our Good Day experience, Greg refused to deviate from our Sunday morning ritual of the WSJ and brunch at Lucia’s (I can’t get enough of her coffee, frittatas, or Baby Buddah cinnamon muffins). By then I had embraced our weekend of roughing it: I pulled out my vintage Bon Jovi t-shirt, skipped the make-up, and rocked my mall bangs with pride.

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