Lisa and I have made it a practice to escape to our Eden at least once a year. Based in Rancho Mirage, the domicile we retreat to has been a haven for relaxation and rejuvenation. A proverbial "Fortress of Solitude" as the comic book geek in me would say.
One major component of our trips to this oasis is Babe's. Not quite the strip club or adult fetish store your instincts are pulling you towards, rather it's the local BBQ restaurant that just happens to be walking distance from our house.
Part smoked meat goodness, part delightfully sloppy sides and part (and most importantly) awesome ales on tap, this place is always guaranteed to add nearly 10 lbs to my svelte frame while we are here. And although we arrived yesterday afternoon, the smell of pulled pork is wafting up the hill (against the current of the breeze) calling to me, pulling at me like those cartoon tendrils that pick you up and float you right to your doom. I can't wait anymore, tonight Lisa and I eat, drink and laugh like royalty, stuffing our faces with shredded smoked meats and clanking out goblets together while bursting with guttural laughs as all our cares have been abandoned in the Bay Area.
Yeah, it's good to be on vacation. Screw you exercise, I'll schedule something with you next week.
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