About Widow

Large Handbag Collector. Obscenely Expensive Shoe & Handbag Lover. Blonde. Redhead. Brunette. Breastfeeder. Pug-fox terrier belly scratcher. Drunken Break Dancer. Bartender of the stars. Semi Conscious Writer. Earth loving. Tori Amos Listening. Loud Mouth. Chef Loving Lady...

The Greenhouse Tavern stakes it’s claim in Cleveland

 

I am besides myself with anticipation.  Today the Chef & the entire Greenhouse team passed the health inspection.  The last inspection.  Now we go to liquor and then we are in mutha fucking business!!!!!!!!

I want to write today because so many things have been happening and I want to share them with everyone, but I can’t right now.  The Chef came home early because the shit storm is about to hit and days off will be far & few between in these upcoming months.  Gotta get me some lovin’ while I still can.

Tonight we will be finalizing the grand opening festivities and I will of course share them with you all as soon as I know.  Yippee!!!

Thanks for reading, and emailing, and just being an awesome part of this crazy fantastic adventure that we call our life. A million kisses to you all.  

****On another note Happy (belated) Birthday to the most badass chef’s widow I know,  Liz Symon.  Many many birthday wishes!!!  Just think in couple weeks I may actually get to buy you a glass of birthday wine at the tavern~

I knew the moment I walked down this soda street I had to post.  Is this really necessary?  Do we really need 5 rows of soda pop in our grocery stores?  And how many fucking flavors of Diet Riet can one possibly need?   America.  THIS IS WHY YOU’RE FAT.

This post was inspired by the best & most vile food blog ever, This is Why You’re Fat.

When I heard that this children’s classic would become a movie, my first thought was way to ruin another one Hollywood. However after watching (and almost crying) this trailer I think it may be one of the good ones. Keeping my fingers crossed.

By these cherubs.  What do we think my little Louisiana could possibly be thinking at that very second?

My Heart

I am a nervous wreck right now.  Tomorrow I go to work.  Tomorrow I leave my children with a girl named Sam.  She’s a nice girl.  She’s everything I wasn’t in college.  A student.  A cheerleader.  A sorority girl.  She is smart and thoughtful and played with my children as though she’d known them for years.

I’m a mess.  I have cleaned my house from top to bottom today in nervous anticipation of what a college girl will think of my home.  I have hugged, squeezed, and practically made out with my children today.  Each second.  Of every minute.  

I am drinking wine now.  And I am reflecting.  I am making myself  guilty with each sip.  I made a choice when I found out I was having the boy.  And I stuck with it.  I chose to stay home.  I chose to be his mother.  I nurtured him.  I watched him grow.  I influenced him.  I taught him words.  I love you.  Mommy you’re my best friend.  We lived our lives together and created new lives each day.  And then she came along.  My girl, my biggie, my blue eyed love.  The choice was still mine.  I would be with them both.  I would breathe each breath alongside theirs and I would have no regrets.  I would stand by their sides each day, every day.  I never liked working that much anyways.

And then I realized that I was working.  Everyday.  While they were at home.  While they were awake.  The TV became my go to.  And I realized it wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t fair to what I had promised them as their mother with my choice to stay home.  But I couldn’t change it.  The chef needed more and more help and my writing become somewhat of a reality. Something had to change.

I had to physically go to work.

Tomorrow I go to work.  I become a part of my husband’s dream.  And I will cry.  Hell, I am crying right now.  I will cry for him.  I will cry for them.  Shit I will cry for myself.

I am scared shitless and I feel like backing out.  But I can’t.  I made a choice to stay at home with them.  And this will enable me to.  Going to work part time at our family’s restaurant will allow me to devote all of my time (not at work) to my children.  My babies.  My life.  My loves.

The cold black thing in my chest has melted….

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