Friday, March 29, 2024 Mar 29, 2024
67° F Dallas, TX
Advertisement
Business

Friday Fun With ID Collection’s Jim Williamson

By Laura Kostelny |
Image

Here’s ID Collection’s Jim Williamson with more stories about this Easter travels. As promised, part two of our Southern sojourn begins now. Savannah is like a grand dame from another era. Weathered, but still quite beautiful, and hidden under a veil of moss and azaleas, this is a city of secrets—old and new.

This was my spouse’s first visit to here, and he had great expectations. I think they were maybe a little too lofty, as I have regaled him with my many stories of Savannah past. I frequently visited Savannah during college. There, I saw Bon Jovi for the first time, danced until dropping on Uncle Sam’s Boogie Boat, and been lost in the massive crowds during St. Patty’s Day only to stumble upon friends from home. All that being said, we loved the city because of its beauty and historic significance, one rooted in my family’s past since Colonial times. It also didn’t hurt that my university was located in a dry county, and Savannah was the wettest city around.

Anyway, this time around, we arrived at my brother’s home, which is located in what was once the posh country club setting of the 1960s. It was a place where up-and-coming lawyers and doctors and such once drank Tom Collins on expansive lawns and probably shagged each other’s wives. It is just a few blocks away from the water and is a great place for the next generation to renovate and make its own.

My brother was not home when we arrived, so he texted directions to go through the gate and word that he would return shortly. As we entered the gate, two dogs approached us. We should have been more cautions. Beau, the Boxer, knocked me down immediately. His lady friend, Freckles, jumped my spouse, and the spouse soon resembled Patricia Arquette in Stigmata. The pups weren’t malicious. They were just really, really, really excited to see us.

After we bandaged up, I poured the spouse a giant glass of wine to mend his hurt feelings over the ruined Lululemon outfit. We then drove a few blocks over to lovely little island, had some seafood, and then headed back for a nap in our newly decorated guest room upstairs. How do I know it was newly decorated? I’ll just say two words: Minnie Pearl. As we tried to make ourselves comfy on the queen-sized bed (of a much firmer origin that our bed at home), my spouse turned to me and said, “Now I know how Phil Spector feels in prison.”

We spent another day looking at beautiful homes and peering in to a few secret gardens. We worked up quite a thirst, so we headed for The Olde Pink House. They make a great cocktail with fresh ingredients, and they have a great reputation for food. While there, we decided to stay for dinner. But we had no reservations, so it was with great trepidation that I approached the hostess. “Does the dress code of coat and tie still apply? And can you please get us in tonight?” I asked.  I made a wide-eyed appeal (with a side glance at the spouse), meant to indicate to the hostess, “Please, oh please! Or else he ain’t going to be happy, which in turns means, I’ll be stressed.”

It didn’t work. They were booked. So we toured some more and made the drive back home where the spouse napped and I stressed about dinner plans. The spouse wanted to try all the restaurants. My brother likes to stay at home and cook. So I found myself in a bit of a quagmire. How do I make this work? I did what anyone traveling with a loved one would do: I made a reservation.  After a few calls to few places, I finally found us a table at Lecio’s, a delicious Italian place located across from what the locals call, “the crazy house.”

Upon the arrival of Easter Sunday, we expected my brother to make his famous prime rib. I had literally been dreaming of it for days. Being Easter and all, I figure we would eat at around 2 pm, but 2 pm arrived and passed without any food. I had not schedule a trip to Tybee Island because we wanted some prime rib. So I did what any normal person would do when not wanting to impose on others: I opened a bottle of Rosé. I promptly filled the spouse’s glass to the rim; and then I did it again. Two hours later I had an empty bottle and a pouting spouse, but no food. Finally, my brother asked, “So when would y’all like to eat?”  From there, we immediately decided to clear the kitchen so my brother could prepare his feast without interruption. We took a nap. (As you will note, we took a lot of naps on this trip.)

In the end, we didn’t get any prime rib. “I didn’t realize it was going to take, like, four hours to cook,” my brother explained. “I’m going to heat up the pork from the other night and do some sides from the freezer.”  I panicked. If my honey didn’t get some prime rib, things were going to get very tense very quickly. I ordered my brother to hide the packaging while I did some damage control. As I eased upstairs to break the news, I decided the let Freckles in, who then proceeded to wake the spouse with a tongue bath. Bad idea.

To make a very long story short,  I would like to thank director Ang Lee and 3-D glasses for making Easter evening a lot better. And I want to thank my brother for his Southern hospitality, even if we didn’t get that prime rib.

So there you have it. We saw, we toured, and we napped. And as we ate the chicken biscuit on the way back to Charleston, we had a few good laughs.

 

Related Articles

Image
Arts & Entertainment

Here’s Who Is Coming to Dallas This Weekend: March 28-31

It's going to be a gorgeous weekend. Pencil in some live music in between those egg hunts and brunches.
Image
Arts & Entertainment

Arlington Museum of Art Debuts Two Must-See Nature-Inspired Additions

The chill of the Arctic Circle and a futuristic digital archive mark the grand opening of the Arlington Museum of Art’s new location.
By Brett Grega
Image
Arts & Entertainment

An Award-Winning SXSW Short Gave a Dallas Filmmaker an Outlet for Her Grief

Sara Nimeh balances humor and poignancy in a coming-of-age drama inspired by her childhood memories.
By Todd Jorgenson
Advertisement