It's so easy to justify a milkshake when it's 101 degrees outside.
So when I got asked to lunch, my thoughts went immediately to the nearest source for a long, tall glass of ice cream and that would be The Village.
The place was packed and since I'm not a Village regular, I don't know if that's typical for a Saturday or a result of overheated people (like me) trying to escape the heat.
We took the two-top by the ladies room and got a witty server in return.
My chocolate shake got ordered first and when she brought it, I asked for a second straw so my companion and I could share.
Pushing it into the frozen contents of the glass, she announced, "Now you're going steady!"
What? No steady ring, no puka shell necklace, no nothing? Clearly going steady doesn't mean what it used to.
She insisted we order onion rings with our BLT and Reuben because the Food Network had raved about them in years gone by.
Back then they'd noted that the batter used PBR and Richbrau, but obviously there have been some modifications since Richbrau went under.
That said, they were better than average onion rings and neither of us was able to finish them.
While slugging the shake and eating the rings, we were visited by one of my walking regulars, totally out of context there.
He wiggled his eyebrows and made a face behind my lunch companion's back, apparently not used to seeing me in a social situation.
Looking at my mondo BLT and onion rings, he noted, "I'd like to see how all that food is going to fit in your little body."
He should have come back fifteen minutes later.
After gorging ourselves (because let's face it, having a milkshake with a meal is like having dessert throughout), we went to my favorite neighborhood record store, Steady Sounds, who'd bragged on Facebook that their store was a cool 73 degrees.
Count me in.
Today was the first in a four-date series called "Summer Sounds at Steady" and featured two performers for our afternoon's pleasure.
Producer/DJ Ohbliv (he of the very smooth mustache) got things started, twisting nobs and calling forth samples, all the while smiling and dancing in place.
After a while, White Laces' guitarist Alex French's solo project, Flossed in Paradise, took over, layering sounds from guitars, drum machines and synthesizers with his effects-laden voice for a sound I instantly fell in love with.
As recently as last night, I had described a favorite sound of mine as reverb-laden with unintelligible lyrics, affectionately known to those who know my taste as "music from a cave."
And ta-da! Here i was getting exactly that in post-punk style four feet from my sweaty, smiling face.
For the next hour and a half, the two traded off the spotlight, (mostly) seamlessly segueing from one set of long, musical-looking fingers to the other.
If there was a better way to spend a hot Saturday afternoon than with a milkshake and Flossed in Paradise, I couldn't tell you what it was.
And two straws do not mean you're going steady.
What is this, the malt shop era?