Things have been pretty quiet around this blog lately. I think most of the bloggers have been off on summer adventures with their families. Me, I’ve been sequestered away with a big work deadline. But a few days ago I had a Fairfield Moment conversation that was too good not to post.

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Don’t adjust your screen. It may seem too good to be true, but this pic is for real. A restaurant patio in Fairfield where you can get a beer — and now a margarita! – with your meal.

There are days when nothing tops sitting on a patio with a drink after work, but as far as I know, no other Fairfield restaurants offered this simple pleasure until a couple months ago when Kokopelli’s opened its doors.

They’ve served beer from the start, and they’ve been waiting for their full liquor license so they could begin serving margaritas as well. They finally got their license on Tuesday; too bad the thunderstorm dampened our patio mood, or my husband and I would have been first in line.

The Kokopelli’s owners tell me their margaritas are handmade on the spot, no sitting around in a machine. They also offer some traditional Mexican alcohol-free drinks. Free chips and salsa and a full menu, too. Kokopelli’s is a sister restaurant to Petit Paris.

[Missy is a mom, wife, web content consultant, & local business owner who also blogs at Hugging the Midline.]

When it comes to summer vacations, I’m spoiled. As a kid, every summer our extended family would head up to Ontario, Canada, for a wonderfully relaxing week. Swimming, sunning, canoeing, reading, board games, my Grandma Norma’s excellent cooking. Just enjoying time together in a way I didn’t fully appreciate at the time.   

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A couple weeks ago I had a doozie of a Fairfield moment when I went for an interview at the Waldorf pre-school my son will be attending in the fall. I had talked with other Waldorf parents beforehand and knew pretty much what to expect: a lovely teacher; beautiful grounds with a garden the children help tend and bunnies to play with; a schoolroom that features natural materials, no TVs or computers or plastic toys to be found.

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When my mom was asked at Petit Paris if she wanted her Pepsi regular or €œnon-GMO,€ she turned to me to translate.

When a friend told me about her problems with her boyfriend, she cited the direction their apartment door faced as a major contributor.

Since moving to Fairfield from Des Moines, I’ve started thinking of these only-in-this-town situations as €œFairfield moments.€

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