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Reservations for Dining in Midtown Sacramento for Friday Night
Elizabeth Weintraub in Midtown, Sacramento
The only time I ever watch trashy daytime TV is when I’m getting a manicure over at Galaxy Nails in Land Park. Can’t help it. It’s right there in front of you, and I admit to getting sucked in to view some of the most ridiculous stuff I’ve ever witnessed in my life. Don’t get me started on Dr. Oz, either. The show yesterday was Steve Harvey promoting crowdsourcing dating, and some woman who claimed to have her life booked out 4 months in advance, which means she has no time to date.
I cannot in a million years imagine booking my schedule so heavily that I couldn’t turn around for 4 months without bumping into my next appointment. That seems insane. But that’s how people are today. As I drove past Crocker Elementary School on Riverside, a person could not help but notice the number of parents standing on the sidewalk and meandering about the grounds with their children.
No comparison to my past — just saying if my parents had come to my grade school to pick me up, that would have been because President Eisenhower had just blown up the world and we were in the middle of a nuclear holocaust.
You can’t even get a dinner reservation on a Friday night at a decent restaurant in Midtown Sacramento if you suddenly decide on a whim, like I generally do, that an evening out dining would be a spectacular way to spend some quality time with your husband. It’s difficult to go dining in Midtown because most of the top spots require dinner reservations a week in advance. Now, one can go to Ella Dining Room and Bar and sit at the bar without a reservation or dine outside, but it’s too cold outside.
Through Open Table, I was lucky to snatch a reservation at the Waterboy. Every other restaurant I desired for dining in Midtown was booked solid through my preferred dining hours, and by all rights, Waterboy should have been as well. It was a fluke.
I remember the old adage about living in California: the only place where people stand in line at midnight at 7-11.
Still, I wouldn’t trade living in California and selling Sacramento real estate for anything. Well, maybe a house on the ocean in Maui — when I make my next $5 million.
The Downside of a Sacramento Real Estate Year-End Celebration
Based on Trendgraphix reports, it looks as though there is only one agent out of the 1,000 or so agents at Lyon Real Estate who sold more homes in 2013 than this Sacramento real estate agent, and that agent works primarily in another county in the Foothills of Sacramento. This is what I do when I come back from my winter vacation — clean up my 2013 records and begin 2014, fresh, on the ground and running. I also look at my big fat belly and wonder how it got that way and why it’s in my way.
Almost 3 whole chickens have crept their way into my body while I lay sleeping, dreaming of carrots and celery. I was soooo good on vacation. While I watched my husband enjoy cheesy omelets for breakfast, I spooned nonfat yogurt with berries into my face. There was no “bacon fest” like one can enjoy in January at Ella Dining Room and Bar. Even for lunch I was somewhat restrained: salads and soups. We walked and explored Key West. At night I pounded on my computer to respond to all the emails I received about Sacramento real estate. That 10-finger action alone burned many calories, I’m certain.
Most of the dinner menus in the Florida Keys involved some sort of shellfish or seafood, generally grilled. OK, there was breeeaaaaad and the teensiest bit of butter. A few desserts. All right, maybe a dessert almost every night. A cocktail, maybe. A glass or two of wine. Perhaps a 20-year tawny after dinner. But it was a minuscule glass of tawny, barely two ounces. I really detest having to face the fact that when you live long enough to cross the 60-year mark, you’ve got to watch what you shove into your face.
I did — I watched the magnificent gastronomic creations with great delight. Night after night. Never took my eyes off the fabulous displays of culinary genius placed in my view and with both hands shoved into my pie hole. Snatched a few French fries off my husband’s plate, too. I even hauled carry-out containers back to our hotel and left the lobster-cheesy-macaroni in the mini bar to rot.
The beginning was so innocent. I started out by leaving half of my food on my plate. Yeah, that’s a good plan. By the end of our vacation, I couldn’t pass by a gelato sign without stopping inside for a taste and a two-scoop treat. I hang my head in shame. Now I must pay the price for such gluttony. Maybe I will wear a cardboard box to my Sacramento real estate office meeting, with a hole cut in the top for my head to poke through.
Or, maybe I will just get back on the elliptical and resume a sensible diet. My clients don’t care if I gain 10 pounds or lose 10 pounds as long as I get the job done.
Gordon Lightfoot and The Dive Bar
The mermaid at The Dive Bar
The guy I felt sorry for last night was the poor valet dude at Ella Dining Room and Bar who, unknown to Myrl and me, had been waiting for an hour and a half for us to hightail our tipsy selves back to get our car. It was a miscommunication thing. I knew that we could leave the car with the valet at Ella while we scurried over to the Gordon Lightfoot concert at The Crest Theatre, because people do it all the time. Valet dude even asked us when the show ended, but we didn’t necessarily ask him when the restaurant closes.
We didn’t know we had a curfew. I’m telling you so if you go downtown Sacramento to dine at Ella and leave your car with the valet while you scamper off to some show at The Crest or some other mischief, that you make it a point to find out when you need to be back. Of course, Myrl and I, we could have walked back to my house, because the time distance on foot between my home in Land Park and the Crest Theatre is about 45 minutes. But somebody from Rocklin would probably have to hail a cab, and good luck with that in downtown Sacramento.
Myrl Jeffcoat and Elizabeth Weintraub at Macy’s
I decided yesterday not to take any appointments with my real estate clients for the rest of the afternoon because my friend, Myrl Jeffcoat, had agreed to a Chanel makeup session with me at Macy’s, dinner at Ella and then off to see Gordon Lightfoot. Myrl also sells real estate in Sacramento but that’s not what we talk about when we get together. An agent in my Lyon office talked us into the Chanel event, because I don’t care how old a woman gets, if she had fun with makeup as a teenager, it doesn’t really go out of style just because you’re an old goat. And I suppose that’s what keeps Chanel in business.
Myrl Jeffcoat at Ella Dining Room
After we finished our makeup, isn’t Myrl beautiful? we were immediately famished. Two Drunken Arnold Palmers we ordered at Ella, not really certain what was in the cocktail, but it was refreshing, and gingery. Yum. We don’t even play golf. Started off with a plate of succulent sea scallops, which melted in our mouths. Myrl chose the artichoke soup with bacon cream. How can you go wrong with bacon cream? You can’t. We finished with chilled lobster and dashed off to the show.
Gordon Lightfoot is older than dirt but he obviously enjoys putting on a show, and we felt honored to have snagged seats in the front. Nobody’s vocal chords seem to survive the aging process, so people who expected Gordon Lightfoot to sound like his old records might have been disappointed, but I was happy just to see him vertical. Not that I’ve ever seen him horizontal, mind you.
Gordon Lightfoot at The Crest Theatre
During the show, we chatted with guys in our row. When I asked Myrl if she had ever gone to a high school reunion, one of the guys perked up and said, “Yeah, but when I went to my 40th, there was nothing but old people there.” He stole my line. I had a strong urge to say, “You know, buddy, you’re no spring chicken yourself,” but I kept my lips zipped only because he couldn’t hear me. Then, later, while we were walking across the train tracks to the The Dive Bar, we realized those guys zipped backstage the minute the show was over. We could have been partying with the band, but no, we missed that opportunity! Darn, darn, darn.
Although, it’s hard to picture Gordon Lightfoot partying away, but if he did have an after-show get-together with all of his bandmates and buddies, well, we blew our big chance. What the hey. I am past 60, and Myrl is a grandmother, 9 years older than me. We giggled on over to The Dive Bar for a gin and tonic and to shoot photos of the mermaid. If you haven’t been to The Dive Bar, you’ve really got to go downtown Sacramento if for nothing else but to see the mermaid. The end of this story is we didn’t get arrested, we got our car back, and we made it home safely. The 3 ingredients for a great evening in downtown Sacramento!
