Monday March 11 – Sunday, March 17
The Week In St. Patricks: Cincinnati isn’t a big Irish town, but we are kindred spirits with the Irish regarding beer. There’s a parade every year the success of which is solely dependent on the weather – decent this year. Of course the bars know a money-making opportunity when they see it. Even ye olde Mexican restaurant gets into the act. I’m happy to note I’ve aged out of green beer, but I haven’t aged out of Jameson, Smithwick’s, Guinness, or, the occasional monstrosity of a green cocktail.
One other note, I don’t own a lick of kelly green colored clothing. Every year I promise myself I’m going to ‘suit up’ for St. Patrick’s Day and every year I fail. Let this suffice as my reminder to try harder for 2020.
The Week in Fish Fry, non-Church: I love a good piece of fried fish and Lent in Cincinnati provides loads of opportunities. Many of the Catholic Churches offer fish fries which are terrific, especially if you like a hot church common area, teaming with screaming kids, eating mediocre fish and mac and cheese off of paper plates. Granted, some of the churches serve beer, which is both welcome and necessary.
I’ve graduated to restaurant fish specials. This week I got the very delicious Friday Fish Fry from The Pony OTR. I could have used less fries, but the fries here are so good.
The Week in My Favorite Murder: This week I started listening to the My Favorite Murder Podcast and it just so happens the hosts Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark were in town on Saturday. Here’s the story of how I came to be a Murderino
For months, my co-workers have been riding me to listen to My Favorite Murder with a zeal I think surpassing event the ubiquitous, “What do you mean you don’t watch Game of Thrones.” They were relentless. Finally, I’m like: “Fine. I will listen your fucking podcast.”
A couple days later I started listening to episode #162 (Gator!) and two minutes in I’m like: “Why haven’t I been listening to this?”
Fast forward 5 days. Literally. I got a text from a buddy visiting from Columbus, coming into Cincinnati to see MFM and she wants to know a good pre-show place to eat. I tell her to go to the “working man’s” Mexican Restaurant a block from the theater and not the fancy Mexican restaurant next to the theater. (Side note: Cincinnati is not as flush with Mexican restaurants as that previous sentence would have you believe.) I told them I’d drop in to have a drink and send them on their way.
As they were getting ready to head to the show, they said I should go see if there was a ticket available. Let me back up for a second. I live a few blocks away from the restaurant/theater, so when they texted I just rolled out of my apartment. I was wearing a sweatshirt over a t-shirt. I was not wearing a bra. I was unshowered. All of this went through my head as I said: “Sure. Let’s see what happens.”
What happened was I walked into a jam-packed theater. Even though I knew this was a sold-out show, I was surprised by how busy the lobby was. I made my way to the ticket area where no one was looking to offload tickets. I poked my head into the ticket window, and in a great show of ignorance asked in my high pitched I-Think-I-May-Be-In-The-Wrong-Place voice: “Is this for My Favorite Murder?” It was. It hit me how popular this whole MFM thing really was. I asked if there were tickets left. She said “one.” So, I bought it — Row H on the floor in the very center. Like angels were waiting for me to become a true fan.
I found a theater full of enthusiasm and love. I left as a Murderino with a daunting 161 episodes left in my queue.