Last night was S' birthday and so J and Z and H and I took her out to Tomato Cocina Latina for dinner. Which was totally excellent. I had heard good things about Cocina Latina and they are justified. it used to be Tomato, which I also heard good things about but also terrible things and anyway I figured upscale Italian in what looks like it might just have been an old Howard Johnsons on Patton Avenue wouldn't work out, so I never went there. Then it changed into Cocina Latina. The sign, rakishly tilted in what one hopes was a design decision or possibly it used to be a Blockbuster from back in the day when they had tilted signs, still says Tomato but it says Cocina Latina under it, so, since I am not up on the current or recent past Asheville restaurant gossip (mental note - spend more time with C; he knows all of it) it's kind of confusing. And there's still a Leonardo and a tasteful rendition of the Bridge of Sighs nicely drawn on the walls, so, you know, go figure. But anyway, the food is amazing and affordable. Perhaps I shouldn't publicize this - do not raise your prices or lower the quality of your incredible, incredible Argentinean style steaks, please, oh Tomato Cocina Latina! - but seriously, it was one of the best meals I've had in way too long. Also, S had a good time, as did we all.
S had put a ridiculously low price level - $1.99 - on birthday gifts so I cheated by making things. I made the pillow pictured here and I am proud as hell of myself, since I left work yesterday, went straight over to Foam and Fabric, my favorite place, bought some fake leopard fur and black upholstery fringe braid stuff and a round foam pillow shape, came home and whoa, totally made an amazing designeresque pillow in an hour and twenty minutes without barely even breaking the sewing machine. I had to go to Kerr Drug and get a needle and thread towards the end, too, when the machine decided that it had had Enough and wanted to return to thinner, more manageable sewing and so I had to finish the pillow by hand. It rocks if I do say so myself.
As a bonus I got myself a big old hunk of orangey long haired fake fur that looks like someone skinned a shaggier muppet. I meant only to put it into the clothing bin in my closet that Django has taken to sleeping in (I am lazy. I have several large plastic bin things in my closet that hold, respectively, T-shirts, giant flannel shirts, pajama pants & long underwear shirts and black sweaters) thereby freeing my flannel shirts up from dog hair and general dog glump, but when I brought it in young M immediately wrapped it around himself and I was struck by the idea of turning it into the worlds most repulsive vest. So, with a pair of scissors, I did just that and I tell you, for the first time in my life I have my Halloween costume all ready some seven months early. I feel like Martha Stewart, or, well, like Martha Stewart might feel if she ever considered putting on a giant piece of orange fake fur with two armholes cut into it and going out drinking on Halloween as Wogga the Cave Girl. Which I totally am because, really, the exchange for the fact that I don't make as much money as Martha Stewart is that I get to have way more fun and do stuff of which she would never, ever dream.
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