My husband says I don’t like surprises. He claims that I lack spontaneity, and that I am a control freak. Now I would like to feign horror and be offended by such preposterous claims. (Whatever happened to “if you can’t say anything nice?”) Just because he has caught me in the act of unwrapping Christmas presents when I can’t stand the suspense, or that my vacation itineraries leave little room for sleep… Should that label me as “obsessive compulsive?” Does he not value the time-honored Boy Scout motto, “Be Prepared?” So to counteract such negativity, I decided to throw caution to the wind on a recent trip to Cedar Rapids and visit somewhere not on the list of dives I had meticulously researched and mapped out (color coded and in alphabetical order). It was as if the “Just Coz Tavern” hijacked my sound judgment by coaxing me in with some…
Outside the corner bar in Allison hangs a big sign, “Coldest & Cheapest Beer.” Now who can reasonably drive by and not be lured in by such a bold claim? Certainly not the Iowa Roadie (who, truth be told, does not even drink beer). But “coldest & cheapest beer” reminded me of that scene in the movie Elf, where Will Ferrell drinks “the world’s best coffee” from some misfit little diner in NYC. And even if I don’t like beer, I love Elf. Which means that if this were one of those bizarre “six degrees of separation” situations, I was meant to stop in. (That… and the fact that my husband was thirsty and DOES like cold and cheap beer.) Accompanying my husband and me to Gronigans were friends husband T & wife M. (Quick side note: This is the couple that years ago introduced us to the concept of…
Aah…the beauty of huge snowflakes falling softly to the ground, creating a glorious white carpet, pure and splendid enough for royalty. The comfort of curling up under a heavy quilt with a good book in one hand and a cup of steaming hot cocoa in another. Gazing at this natural beauty, one can only be awestruck by the serenity of it all, and contemplate one thing…WHO TICKED OFF ELSA? Because this Norman Rockwell scene is not set in December or January, or even any month resembling winter. It is mid-April…time for flowers and birds and all things NOT winter. But instead, the Iowa Roadie is shoveling snow for the third weekend in a row and cursing Elsa, the Disney queen who magically transforms the world into ice and cold. Let me say…that trick is best saved for animated feature films. Instead of a garden tiller roaring to life outside my…
I recently came up with the crazy idea to start a blog about quirky little spots across Iowa. My goal is to travel across the state, immersing myself in all things bacon while paying homage to our great (albeit) under appreciated state. However my travels were hindered this week by “The Winter That Would Not Die” and helping at a post prom party. In retrospect, I am not sure which antagonist was more painful. Regardless, the show (or blog, in this case) must go on, provoking me to go all Julia Andrews and cite a few (or at least one) of “my favorite things” about my hometown of Hampton. I also thought it important that after last week, I showcase a destination that does not involve alcohol. So this week’s stop is a cute little boutique operated by three gals that put the American Pickers to shame. First and Second…
Renwick may not have a grocery store, a bank or a school, but for the past two years, there has been a moose on Main Street. The Blue Moose Saloon, formerly the “One More?” re-opened in September 2016, after a short shutdown and a change in ownership. Open 7 days a week, the Blue Moose is a hub of activity, and the next stop by the Iowa Roadie. Upon the advice of friends, my husband and I stopped at the Blue Moose after visiting his parents last Saturday. (Important Disclaimer: There is absolutely NO correlation between a visit with the in-laws and a visit to a small-town bar. Under no circumstances do we want to promote a misconception and possible family strife.) The Blue Moose visit was purely part of the Iowa Roadie blog project as neither of us had been there before. We did not have an address for…
I recently invited you to join me on a road trip across Iowa. Surprisingly, many of you listened (I’m used to my kids ignoring me) and clicked “follow” on my last post. So now we are traveling en masse across the state, ready to conquer all things bacon together. However before we head out, I need to clarify a few things about the journey ahead. First of all, my husband and I like to stop at dives. By “dive,” I mean a small town establishment full of local character. You know…it’s that place that everyone stops talking mid-sentence about grain prices to turn and look when you walk in. Understand that dives regularly serve one of two things: deep-fried food or homemade pie. Maybe both if you’re lucky. Most dives also serve alcohol, and so in most cases, my husband will serve as our official “beverage taster.” Second rule on…
In another life, I will live on a beach and collect seashells. In fact, after receiving a foot an a half of snow last weekend (an early April Fools prank courtesy of Mother Nature), I question why I remain in Iowa at all. I told my husband that there are other places to live that, if not more exciting, are at least warmer. In turn he pulled out the “practical” card and pointed out that we both have Jobs. We have aging parents, a daughter in college and another in high school. He also reminded me that we own an acreage that we are in the process of remodeling (minus the Chipp & Joanna Gaines efficiency and friendly banter), two dogs and a handful of farm cats. I tend to selectively overlook the price of plane tickets and hotel rooms, and instead blame the barnyard menagerie for my inability to…