R & R & R, and Cupcakes

Today’s installment is brought to you by the Old 97’s.

Fellow intern architect Michael and I have a standing “complain about being an intern architect” lunch every week or so.   Michael has good taste in music.  He promised me I would love the Old 97’s, and I promised him he would love Yarn, so yesterday we did a trade.

I was feeling pretty wrung out yesterday.  This is really the only thing that got me to the end of the work week:

Thank you, giant peppermint latte.

But latte notwithstanding, I came home yesterday and crawled into bed at 5 p.m.  I bailed on a party.  I bailed on a concert.  There was a two-hour span last night during which I think I was vertical on the couch.  I don’t remember any of it.  Apparently I watched a Spanish soap opera.  I don’t speak Spanish. I crawled back into bed at 9, and slept soundly until 8 a.m. this morning.

And then I woke up feeling better, and I went on a field trip.  I had some to-dos on my list.  Old 97’s went into the CD player.  I pulled into the Durham farmer’s market somewhere around “I’ve got my wife, the other women, and whiskey killing me. Well the first two make it so that I see red; the third one makes it so I can’t see.”  And I got out of the car laughing, and went in search of Daisy Cakes.

I have a thing for airstream trailers, and a thing for cupcakes, and I want to throw my arms around the people who decided to bring these two things together.

I had the Pink Lemonade for breakfast, under my orange umbrella.

I stopped to admire the bike rack, and appreciate the guy playing the guitar in the rain.

I bought an “orange sherbet” cantaloupe.  I bought a zillion little tomatoes.  The Italian ice guy offered me a free sample, and gave me a bucket of mango ice, which I sampled in the car.  It was great.

I took a picture of the new shelter in progress, designed and built by architecture students from NCSU.   It’s a gorgeous thing.   Can’t wait until it’s done, so I can go sit there on Saturdays and eat more cupcakes.  Way to represent, y’all.

I discovered at this point that my $20 ballet flats were not waterproof.  Back into the car, with a plan to head on to Pittsboro and Siler City.

The skies opened, the roads flooded, and twice I had to pull over and let the storm subside.  I did not mind a bit.  Old 97’s.  As the first deluge hit, this was playing:

“I sidled up beside her, settled down, and shouted, ‘Hi there, My name’s Stewart Ransom Miller, I’m a serial ladykiller.’  She said, ‘I’m already dead,’ that’s exactly what she said. So we tripped the light fantastic, we was both made of elastic…”  and on and on.

And I played it three times in a row.  I bypassed the strolling in Pittsboro, due to the flooded sidewalk and flooded shoes.  But I had a second breakfast at this place in Siler City:

It’s kind of legendary.  It’s also kind of chaotic and cramped in there, and watching the burgers get made in shifts of ten is pretty entertaining.  It was worth the drive.

I cruised along through Bynum and along the Haw River to a song that can only be described as voodoo swing music:

“Why don’t you come over and see my four-leaf clover?  Who’m I trying to kid, I’m not the kind of guy you’d go for… I got a four leaf clover, but I ain’t got no hope of getting you.”

Took the long way home through Chapel Hill, and was just coming down Wade Avenue as “The Color of a Lonely Heart is Blue” hit.  By the end of the big circle around the Triangle with my stack of cd’s, I felt pretty great.  Turns out I just needed some sleep, and a little excursion.  Rest. Relaxation. Rainy Saturday. And a cupcake.

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One Response to R & R & R, and Cupcakes

  1. Pingback: Old 97′s | Carolina Gypsy

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