Upon Discovering the Famous Bartender in a New Place September 26, 2010
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The less-experienced bartender at our end admits defeat; the famous bartender easily fills this one. The resulting Vespers taste slightly different. “Orange bitters?” Tim asks. John confirms; it makes up for the reformulation of the Lillet. “Sean Connery is my favorite Bond,” he tells us. I agree wholeheartedly.
The Best Thing September 25, 2010
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The best thing about the high-school reunion is my best friend, bunking with her for three days, the two of us alone together in a way we haven’t been in more than two decades, before houses and children and chores. We eat ice cream. We gossip. It’s sweet.
Feather September 24, 2010
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Looking up into the black black sky, I see a white white feather spiraling toward me, heading for the city sidewalk, so I move to catch it, like a leaf, and miss, and it floats into Tim’s outstretched hands. He offers it to me, and I keep it.
Ribollita September 23, 2010
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We wander in after drinks, hungry for ribollita, the reboiled soup for which the restaurant is named. That is all we want, really, just the ribollita, the steamy, comforting bowl of it. We can get it here, or in Italy. We have never seen another person order it.
Boys (Thirty Years Later) September 22, 2010
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The one with the irresistible smile, the one with those enchanting eyes, the one with the big . . . brain, plus others too perfect to ever speak to—here they are, talking to me, some maybe for the very first time, and, mostly, I still get why I liked them.
Some Things I Ate During Three Days in Maryland September 19, 2010
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Three scoops of Hoffman’s coconut chocolate chip ice cream, one scoop of Hoffman’s peach ice cream, Maryland crab soup, Maryland crab eggs Benedict, crab balls, pizza with lump crab meat and Old Bay seasoning, eggs over easy with greasy sides (to combat side effects of late nights [twice]).
The Worst Thing September 15, 2010
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The worst thing about leaving is the packing (which I hate disproportionately to the actual task), unless I am traveling alone, and then the worst thing about leaving is the leaving, so I slip a love note on the pillow before I sigh and head out the door.
Knock September 14, 2010
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If you drop by unannounced, please knock decisively, something like shave and a haircut, something more than a generic knock knock knock, which will only make me freeze like a hunted game bird and attempt quick camouflage, certain that you’re a Jehovah’s Witness or my knocks-every-day annoying neighbor.
Snake (II) September 13, 2010
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on our way I nearly stepped on him, but didn’t, then Sue and I sat down upstream aways and the three of us sunned alongside each other for awhile until the snake slithered across to the other side, the water so low that he very nearly wasn’t swimming.
Snake (I) September 12, 2010
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Saturday Sue and I went to sit a spell by a different part of the stream, that sunny patch of bank over there, because these days the sun isn’t hitting the swimming hole in the late afternoon, and a large garter snake had the exact same notion and
Route 153 