Four perfect places to spend a Sunday…
It begins with a deliciously lazy sleep-in on a warm, blue-sky November Sunday morning. The stretch and yawn of a slow wake up with no agenda planned, no obligations to dread. Just a blissful day to do whatever you like. Or nothing at all. Or everything.
1. A hike in Shawnee Mission Park.
Well, not really a hike, but a pleasant walk along the shady trails in the burnt-orange and brown autumn-adorned woods. Nyx, the old lady German Shepherd, trots leash-free and happy. She knows the route well, snuffling scents and greeting dog-friends, disinterested in the box turtle resting in our path and ignoring the white pop of a deer tail cutting through nearby brush.
On a warmer day, she would have a swim-game of fetch, loping back and forth from the doggie beach into the lake to retrieve her beloved orange lacrosse ball. But today, she’s content to lead the way as her people chatter along behind her.
2. Bar K near Berkley Park.
Nyx is enjoying herself so much, why not cruise over to Bar K near Berkley Park to continue the lazy, no-agenda day. It’s the perfect place for a canine-addict like me to crack open a cool, fruity adult seltzer, grab a snack, snag a seat at one of the ample picnic tables and get a pooch fix. No need to be a dog-parent to appreciate this genius dog-bar-park combo.
It’s a doggie delight for the eyes and the soul to behold, as pups of all shapes, sizes, ages and states of goofiness romp, race and play. They’re all good boys and good girls, but bark-tenders stroll to keep peace in the land and poop in its place.
It’s inexpensive entertainment for sure, like window shopping. And it’s simply impossible not to swoon when a sweet-breathed, ginger-colored doodley baby dog—all legs and wiggle—makes literal puppy eyes at me and begs for lovies. Impossible not to grin at the brindled old brute who acts tough and aloof—but leans in heavy for more scritches under his collar. Impossible to be angry in a place like this.
3. Knucklehead’s Sunday Jam.
It’s still early afternoon, and this is Dave’s idea. And a good one. This, he warns to manage my expectations, could be really good or a bust. You never know from week to week.
It’s good. Really good. The gritty place is packed. Lines of Harleys rim the poll-barn and patio—the original saloon that makes up the Knucklehead’s compound. It’s a pleasant day, and everyone wants to be out—plus, it’s free. The drinks are cheap and as seats fill up, everyone becomes fast friends in the decidedly not-young crowd.
Anyone can sign up on the white board for a slot to show off a couple songs: Full bands of old friends who anticipate well one another’s musical tendencies, slick licks and cool riffs. Duos who nervously test the waters at the mic—timidly at first, but with their confidence warming as the crowd’s applause and appreciative whoops encourage them. Individuals who plug in ad-hoc, conjuring amazing sounds out of seemingly nothing—like magic. Like they’ve been playing together for years instead of a few minutes. Teenagers who dumbfound us by wailing and slaying a Black Crowes cover. How do they even know that song? Strangers no one has ever heard of. Local legends people have specifically come to hear.
This place is dangerous. I could stay all day to catch whatever act is next. And, like I said, the drinks are cheap.
But… we’re hungry.
4. Ponak’s. ( aka Ponak’s Mexican Kitchen)
Ponak’s is exactly the place to go if you need a solid taco and want to continue a trajectory that teeters on the verge of making bad decisions. It’s exactly the place not to go if you need to actually do something later besides nap in a recliner.
It’s unfussy. And friendly. And wonderful. Always bright, buzzing comfortably with people and clatter. You go in and feel like you’re just supposed to be there.
The food is consistently simple and tasty. The margaritas are consistently lethal and sneaky. They go down easy between bites of chips-and-salsa. Ideas formulate, and pretty soon plans are set in motion. (I’ve known of a few tattoos that originated at Ponak’s. But to be fair, they ended up being super nice tattoos.)
But no more plans for today. Today’s no-plan plans are done. It’s time to rest. Today, a perfect margarita and a perfect taco (well, two tacos… and maybe it was two margaritas) will cap a perfect Fall Sunday in Kansas City.
