Rufus stops in daily here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse; he is somewhere around my age – that is, to say, “He’ll never see 60 again.” He’s a professor on sabbatical and likes to bring his laptop into the PBC to use our Wi-Fi and have the facts at hand when a question [...]
The Leaning Cow
Our musings . . . Our emoos
The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse
The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse is a real place - each person just perceives it a bit different from another. Or maybe a lot different, for all that I know. I'd say it would be a stretch to see it as modern, sleek nightclub, but I guess if you got a group of those folks lost out here in these parts, they could enjoy themselves sitting and talking and digging down in the soda pop cooler. The stove that we put wood in for heat - not the cooking kind - might take them aback, but it's a pretty fine thing on a cool morning come dawn or a cold winter day. Most of us agree the floor is pretty much narrow hardwood, although we've got some big, wide and thick planks in a couple of areas. We've got a counter and stools and tables and chairs and I wouldn't say too many things match. Got a couple or big real rag rugs and a couple of fake Persian, threadbare they are. There's an aroma in the place, a mixture of woodsmoke and your favorite fragrance. Some swear it's citrus and sage, others insist it's macintosh and peach and every now and then we all agree it's the scent of rhubarb cooking down to a sauce. We've got Friday, our dog, who used to live in meadow in Vermont until he died and came here. I guess technically he's a dog-angel - but we don't get technical here. FRIDAY: