Fred and Gari's

If you're walking to the Skyline on 7th and Vine, you'll walk directly past the real taste of Cincinnati -- and no, it's not chili.

Fred and Gari's, located at 629 Vine, is a carryout-only lunch spot that offers a creative take on the soup, salad, sandwich lunch. Nestled between a parking garage a juice shop, Fred and Gari's is easy to overlook, but a quick taste of their zesty (and I mean zesty!) crab salad or their tomato bisque will have you back for more.

For less than $10, you can get a 1/2 sandwich a small soup, which is more than enough food for a midday meal -- especially when you opt for the jalepeno cornbread instead of crackers with your soup. And while I haven't been able to bring myself to abandon the crab salad on wheat and tomato bisque, my lunch buddies have been more adventurous. From what I can tell, each menu option goes beyond what you would expect from a traditional carryout meal, and includes distinct and vivid flavors, spices and colors. It's also clear that most of what's on the menu is made in-house. The breads are thick, soft and nutty, and even better, the meat is quality and isn't filled with water.

Did I mention the cookies? Because they're to-die-for. Big, crumbly cookies in whatever flavor Fred (or is it Gari?) decides to whip up. It's impossible to go wrong with the chocolate chip. The little shop also is known for their pies, which I have not tried, but can imagine impulse buying after a stressful client meeting.

While there is no seating inside Fred and Gari's, the shop is just a few short blocks from Fountain Square. It's worth the trip to chit chat with the proprietors, pick up a fabulous meal, then enjoy the square now that the weather has broken a bit. It's possible you'll bump into me there, since I've definitely found my new favorite lunch spot.

Magical, operatic and fabulous.

The Cincinnati arts scene delivers yet again.

Earlier this year, my office Social Committee put me in charge of our office ArtsWave campaign, an annual fundraising effort to support the arts in Cincinnati. Apparently, most of the major organizations -- as well as generous residents -- in Cincinnati participate to fund the theatre initiatives, symphony, opera, art museums, etc., so they can live to entertain another year. Seeing as how I'm new to the city, and new to the Social Committee, I don't think I was the best fit for the job, but I did my best and we raised a nice sum for the campaign.

As a little bonus, ArtsWave generously donated tickets to a few shows and galleries, which I used as promotional tools for the campaign. I was a little jealous as I raffled off tickets to Mozart's The Magic Flute, because I was desperate to go. One of my fabulous colleagues knew this, and after he won, graciously offered the tickets to me for my hard work on the campaign, and because he knows I love opera. Of course, I accepted!

I decided to take Jess with me so we could have an early celebration of our Cincinnati one-year anniversaries, and the evening couldn't have been any better, mostly because the opera was phenomenal.

This was my second trip to Music Hall, the first being for Idina Menzel, and it is still as breathtaking as I remembered. It's impossible to not feel transported as you take in the ornate crystal chandeliers and incredible, colorful painting on the walls. It's a beautiful place, and clearly loved by the people of Cincinnati -- because this is a city that loves the arts.

There weren't many open seats on this opening night, and I was surprised and glad to see a fair number of families with children attending the event. The Cincinnati Opera had advertised the show with the tagline: "Make it your first opera," and it's safe to say people took it to heart.

The Magic Flute is a fantastical story with looming sets, colorful costumes, funny characters and Lion King-esque props, so it's no surprise that even the kids made it through the three-hour show. The cast even threw in a couple odes to Cincinnati, if you will, in shockingly un-cheesy and funny references to Skyline and goetta.

Although The Magic Flute's run was short, it was a perfect introduction to the Cincinnati Opera. They're already promoting next season's lineup, which includes Porgy & Bess, La Traviata and Gianni Schicchi. I've already started saving my pennies to spring for season tickets, and am even considering joining the Young Professionals group sponsored by the opera (I know, my nerd factor just keeps on growing). Cincinnati's art scene is one to be admired, and I'm excited to see what's coming next.

British invasion of Cincinnati.

Even almost a whole day after Sir Paul McCartney took his last bow at Great American Ball Park, I'm still high from the singing, dancing and adrenaline of seeing a show with more than 40,000 of my neighbors.

First, GABP deserves an great deal of credit for pulling of the largest show the venue has ever hosted. With relatively reasonable lines at the concessions and bathrooms (I say reasonable because I doubt they're any longer at a ball game), and no wait to get in or out of the stadium, on top of stellar sound, video and lighting -- the night was a great success, and I hope it means they'll be bringing more big-name bands to Cincinnati in the future.

But back to the real star of the night.

McCartney is a performer in the truest sense of the word. It's difficult to imagine him looking any more natural than he does when he's strumming his guitar in front of thousands of people -- until he pulls a few fans on stage for quick introductions and hugs all around. Not only were his song choices, which alternated from Beatles to Wings every song or two, spot on, his between-song banter was more intimate than you'd expect from someone who's been doing this for well over 50 years. It was easy to get the sense that McCartney enjoyed milking each moment and each story, since Cincinnati was the last stop on his eight-city -- and possibly final -- tour.

Well, that's what people are calling the On the Run tour anyway -- his last. But watching him crank out song after song for three straight hours, it's clear he's still got "it," and I could imagine him doing 2,000 more shows before he tires out. And if he were to plan it, people would come, because it's obvious by last night's crowd -- which ranged in age from small children to the geriatric crowd -- the the Beatles' music still endures, and that we all have fond memories involving at least one of their albums.

While "Hey Jude" and "Get Back" were high points for me, so were his recollections of Jimi Hendrix playing Sgt. Pepper's at his own concert just days after it was released (then playing Jimi's "Foxy" and selections from Sgt. Pepper's on the guitar he played while recording that album in the 60s); playing the ukulele with George; lamenting not telling John how much he loved him; and writing "Blackbird."

It's cliche, but McCartney is a living legend. A giant left from a time of melodic rock'n'roll that could get anyone to get up and dance. There aren't many of his peers left -- all of his stories were about friends who have passed -- which made seeing him even more incredible.

I wracked my brain last night, trying to remember every concert I've been to and whether I've been to one more profound than McCartney's, and I don't think I have. The best shows are the ones where the performer is as into the concert as the crowd is, when artists play the songs the way we remember then, and when they come back for encore after encore. McCartney did all that, and I doubt what I saw last night will be surpassed any time soon.

A quarter of a century has come and gone.

I can't believe it! I'm 25. Twenty five. Two-five. 25. No matter how many times I say it or which way I write it, it still feels weird. 25.

At the same time, I guess I've started to resemble what I think a 25-year-old looks like. Let me explain.

When I turned 24, I didn't feel 24. Since my mom married at 24, I'd always assumed I'd follow the same trend. When it became clear that I was setting my own curve, I got panicky. I felt like all the plans I'd made and all the chances I'd taken had been for nothing, and that I was more lost at 24 than I was at 18. Little did I know, that my 24th year would be one of my most fulfilling. Not only is this the first year I've lived completely independently (that is, totally off of my parents' payroll), this is the year I started to build my life on my own terms -- without the pressures of friends, family, school, sorority, etc.

I came to Cincinnati with one objective: successfully keep a job for more than six months. Well, I did that; and most surprising, I actually like my job more today than I did on my first day of work. Growing into a productive employee, though, has been a cake walk compared to the personal challenges that come along with moving to a new city where I knew no one. Even that, though, is a challenge I've overcome.

I realized yesterday afternoon as I lounged with my two new roommates in our new living room (wearing just my swimsuit and big straw hat because, well, that's what I like to wear in the summertime, and I'm not self-conscious around them), that for the first time in my whole life, the relationships I'm building are ones that I've created on my own terms. My friends are ladies I've met through work, apartments and bowling leagues, and our relationships are completely organic -- meaning we didn't have mutual friends or ex-boyfriends or histories to provide our foundations. Rather, we met; we chatted; we went out; we swapped stories; we became friends. It's been nice.

There is one change coming up this month, though, and it's -- drum roll please -- another move! I know, I know, haven't I had enough? The answer is "yes," yet I'm typing this post as a break from packing. By the end of July, I'll officially be a resident of Covington, Kentucky. You read that right, Kentucky. If you'd asked me even four months ago what state I would NEVER live in, Kentucky would have been my answer; but the reality is, I like the area a lot, it's actually closer to work than my Cincinnati apartment is, and I'll have two roommates to help keep my living expenses lower than they've been in years. All of these are pretty positive things, especially when I consider having my car and student loans paid off in less than two years, as well as the start of a very nice down payment for the house I plan on buying myself for my 30th birthday :)

Yes, friends, I think this is going to be a good year. And if not? Well, if I've learned anything since my 24th birthday, it's that I can bob and weave with the best of 'em -- so bring it on.

Six months.

Well, six months and a few days, that is. I just got home from a delicious dinner at La Poste with Jess...my first friend in Cincinnati. She moved here the same week I did last summer, and decided last week that we owed ourselves a celebratory dinner for making it six months in the Queen City -- and I'm never one to pass up a celebration.

I got to thinking as we parted ways this evening after a tasty, savory, wine-filled three courses (well, at least my meal was all that -- right, Jess?) about how much changes in six months. Half a year. 180 days. 12 paychecks.

I've already reminisced enough about my many moves and my first, cautious steps into Big Kid life...but I haven't given Cincinnati its due. So here goes...

Aside from the unpleasantness of renting an apartment from a peeping tom and my unfortunate run-in with one of Cincinnati's most disagreeable finest last week, life here has been pretty good.

I'll admit, at first, things were not-so-great. I spent my first month here wandering around by myself. Trying to find the "sights," trying to find a friend, trying to keep cool in the 95-degree heat. When people asked, I pretended like it wasn't so bad, like I didn't hate it and like I wasn't spending every day from 6 p.m. to 8 a.m. alone, bored and awake in my apartment. I Googled nearby lakes one weekend, hoping to find a little reminder of home, and instead wound up 40 minutes from the city at a dammed up river with water as warm as the air. I even signed up for eHarmony to get me out of the house and around people again.

I'll never forget the night I woke with a start (for the second time), to turn and see my bedroom door move and footsteps retreat from my line of sight. I turned on every light in my apartment, flipped on the T.V., played my radio and barricaded myself into my guest room. Contemplating driving back to Michigan, giving up, starting over -- again -- I sat there isolated and terrified. Life couldn't always be like this, right? The next day, I placed a call to Kimmer, who gallantly arrived mere hours later to start packing up my apartment and move me somewhere new.

It was a few weeks after that -- about six weeks into my time in Cinci -- that I met Jess. Luckily for me, she's a Democrat (maybe the only other one in the city), she enjoys hiking and listens to my long-winded versions of boring, non-interesting events. It's been nice that we get together a couple times a week to play trivia, have dinner or catch a movie. It's comforting, really, and the consistency is something I've been lacking since leaving Mount Pleasant.

I think making that first friend, that first connection, is what made me feel like I was going to be okay here. Since meeting Jess, I've made a few more friends. A couple from work, one from my building, and my newest one is from my bowling league. It takes time, I know. But if there's one thing I've learned during my adventures in the Big Kid World, it's patience.

Cincinnati is starting to feel like home now. I mean, Ohio will never be as wonderful as Michigan; Cincinnati will never be as exciting as Chicago; but it's my experiences in those other places that have made me determined to succeed here. I know what I need to do to make myself happy and to make myself a part of this city. I don't know how long I'll stay or if we'll always be on such good terms, but for now, we're alright. We're learning about each other. We're growing together. It'll leave it's mark on me...and don't you worry, I'll definitely return the favor.

The Obligatory Out-With-The-Old, In-With-The-New Post.

What a year, what a decade (+1).

In 2000, I brought in the millennium with great family friends and a bathtub full of water, just in case the world did end and we needed some survival tool. I was 14 and started high school that August, and my life was pretty limited to learning to drive, singing and boys.

I never imagined that as the new decade unfurled, I would end up in Europe three times; the winner of Karaoke Idol on Serenade of the Seas; a Leadership Advancement Scholar at Central Michigan University; a sister in Alpha Chi Omega; a press secretary on a congressional campaign; a nanny; a newspaper reporter; a corporate communications analyst; and a resident of Chicago, Big Rapids and Cincinnati. The first 10 (well, technically 11) years of the 21st Century have been a whirlwind, to say the least.

Last night, as I thought about saying 'goodbye' to 2010 and starting a new life in 2011, I realized that for all the life changes I went through from 2000-2010, the majority of them were crammed into one short year -- the 365 days of 2010.

I started 2010 sick and babysitting for some extra cash. Team Hamos was heading into the last month of campaigning, and I was miserable. Still living in Chicago, I missed the carefree days of nannying and having fun with my city friends. The days moved tortuously slow that month, but once February hit, and we lost, things sped up again and I was just along for the ride.

As spring broke in March, I got a break in my career, as well. I segued from politics to reporting, in what I thought was a very smart move. I left city life, public transit and Sunday Fundays to move to Chippewa Lake, Michigan...population: my neighbors and me, for a grand total of three.

We'll fast forward through that summer because, well, not much happened.

As my reporting career unraveled as quickly as it began, I was back on the search for my new path. I fell back into familiar territory when a job offer with the Michigan House of Representatives fell into my lap, but something about that didn't feel right, so Cincinnati and corporate-bound I was.

It took two moves to get settled in Cincy, making 2010 my "Year of Four Addresses."  However, here I am settled on Montgomery Road, and things aren't so bad.

Last year was so scattered for me, it was difficult for me to make a resolution as I move into the new year. My hope, though, is that 2011 is a little less tumultuous than 2010 revealed itself to be; but that this next phase will be as interesting, exciting and dynamic as the last one was.

I guess we'll have to wait and see. Here's to the ride, though, and may yours be as wonderful and adventure-filled as mine.