I just arrived at the grocery store from mailing sold items from my online vintage shop at the post office. I swung there to buy some butter and dairy when Jay called me and told me that he had just left the office.
5:22 p.m., and it was still bright outside when he got in on Monday. So we decided to go somewhere for drinks—maybe in downtown.
"To the beer house!!!"
He took me to hang out at Olde Mother Brewing Co.—a brewery in the downtown located across a fire station.
He got me a strawberry margarita, and I didn't remember what he had.
Thankfully, the place wasn't mobbed, unlike on Fridays and weekends.
There's a Backsplash Burger inside this place. There, "She's My Cherry Burger" is my favorite. I am salivating just thinking about it.
FYI, back in my youth, a beer house was a dimly lit, low-end, somewhat shady drinking place where men paid women to sing, dance, or sit on their laps.
I'm not sure if they still use that term to signify something other than what it literally means, but I use the term "beer house" to refer to a brewery.
