Dining Out in the Age of the Coronavirus

Dining out seems to be one of the things lost in this year-that-wasn't, thanks to the coronavirus, but I've made do by turning my front porch into a dining area.  A friend frequently comes over since she lives in an apartment in the city and doesn't have access to any outdoor seating by her unit and we sit at the Little Tykes table I've set up on my porch along with two plastic chairs.

We sit six feet away from each other, take off our masks and eat the fare we've carried out from nearby restaurants, pizza--bagels--frothy cold soup concocted like a smoothie.  We throw bread pieces into the yard and draw birds in to gobble up the dough balls for our amusement.

My friend has downloaded an app (Merlin) on her phone that tells us what the bird likely is when she uploads a picture of it--the app has identified house sparrows, northern mockingbirds, cardinals and bluejays.  The last two we didn't need help identifying.

I sit in the same dining area twice a month and have a FaceTime lunch with a friend and former colleague from work--he lives in Florida currently--and eat egg salad sandwiches I make and drink a beer or two as we recount out twenty-five years of work together.  We haven't forgotten a single one of those good times in the past.