A new year

I started off the new decade with a run in the morning.  Then later I went out for lunch at a nearby pizzeria.

I ordered a draft and a Greek Pie pizza.  It arrived with plenty for anyone and everyone to eat.

The pie was a delicious combination of homemade pizza sauce, sliced tomatoes, feta cheese, olives, onion and spinach and I had soon enjoyed some slices.  Leaving some leftover fare behind as a talisman for my next visit for lunch, I paid the bill and left.

One of my now-fully mature sons has a birthday later this month.  See you there then, son (hahaha)?

Summer's gone

Summer's almost gone.  On my run yesterday I passed by the local high school just as school was letting out and I watched all the students walking down the street excitedly talking amongst themselves, catching up after the long, hot summer.  Wistfully I thought about the long holiday weekend just past, about how the passage of Labor Day signifies the traditional end of summer and return to school for students, and how I had lunch at noon on Labor Day at the Lost Dog Pizzeria as is my won't on holidays.

On that Monday several days ago, I took a seat at a table by the window where I could see people entering and leaving the restaurant.  After I ordered an Italian Pie and a draft, I walked around the restaurant to see if I recognized anybody in the establishment beyond the wait staff but I did not.

The pizza pie arrived, a savory medley of ham, pepperoni, onion and genoa salami in a savory tomato pizza sauce.  Over the next half hour, I consumed two of the eight pieces of pizza and drank half my draft, left the rest as a talisman for the future, paid my fare and departed.  I hadn't seen anyone I thought I might know during that time.

Summer's almost gone.  Former family is gone.

New Year's Day

The New Year got off to a pleasant start as I enjoyed lunch at my favorite gourmet pizzeria.  It wasn't crowded when I was seated at noon, although business picked up noticeably during the hour I was there, and I walked around to see if there was anybody I knew there but I didn't recognize anybody.

I was seated at a window table overlooking the front door.  I like to watch the comings and goings of patrons as I dine alone at the restaurant.

I ordered a Founders Bastard Brew which arrived, thanks to my favorite waiter Henry, with a frothy head and it contained a strong inclination towards bourbon, having been aged in bourbon barrels, and sweet hints of caramel and molasses within its full body, although with a wicked price for its delightful taste as it contained 11% alcohol content.  Despite its short 9 ounce size, that meant only one for the meal.

The pizza was a delight to behold, smell, savor and consume.  The Italian Pie was made up of marinara sauce, prosciutto ham, genoa sausage and onions, and there was plenty left over at the end of the meal as it was more than I could comfortably eat of this delicious pie.

At the end of the hour I paid and left, having enjoyed a quiet lunch.  One of my sons has a birthday later this month but I won't be in town then, although I'll be here for the next holiday for sure and also for the next two following birthdays of my other sons, after which, all of them having attained the age of thirty by then, I'll discontinue this lunchtime rapprochement routine of mine if still unsuccessful and wish them all the luck and fortune their adult characters and familial behavior deserve going forward in their lives.

Columbus Day 2018

The Columbus Day holiday has a changing identity.  My neighbors are from Bolivia and they hate the holiday, as they blame Columbus for the destruction of the indigenous original culture of the Americas.  My sister in Columbu, Ohio, says that much of the city doesn't celebrate it and the city is considering removing the statue of Christopher Columbus at city hall.

Because it was a holiday, I went to my local gourmet pizzeria at noon for lunch.  It was crowded already, with no available tables, but I carefully looked through the entire restaurant for anyone I knew, or that might be of the right demographic of a male in his late twenties or early thirties, and no such prospects appeared unfortunately.  I was of course looking to see if any of my kids had come to start getting on with the rest of our lives after a decade and a half of total silence following the divorce, when, as young and malleable children, due to an aggressive and  naked case of classic Parental Alienation Syndrome, they took the side of their mother, who has every attribute of her mother, covert narcissism and extreme self-centeredness and selfishness.

I took a seat at the bar, where I could watch everyone entering the door, but after no service  for about fifteen minutes, due to the busyness at the business, I left.  I went to the grocery store, bought my favorite rising crust frozen pizza and an oil can of a beer, and thirty minutes later enjoyed a lunch of a 3-meat pizza and a beer.

It was delicious and enjoyable, far superior to dining with the empty chair at the restaurant, as I have on most holidays for coming up on a score of years.  I am sorry for each of those three young men (and the one wife I know about), as I can't conceive persons acting thusly, easily and freely casting a parent and entire families (my family) out in this short life with hardly an inward glance.  Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?  Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times times seven.  Matthew 18:21-22.

Happy Fourth, yeah

It cut me to the quick.  An email message sent by me a couple of days ago detailing the sad particulars of a service for a member of the greater family was responded to by a closer member of my family with an unhinged rant about what an, ahem, ass I am and, by the way, he pointedly asked, How are my kids?

I ignored the threatening aspects of the screed, although I am no fool and have taken precautions already, but the reference to my three kids, who, because of the divorce, haven't communicated with me for years, really hurt.  I don't think about them every day and I have mostly moved on past them after all this time, but this roll-out by a family member of his best version of nuclear hurt in response to this humdrum familial contact has shocked and depressed me greatly.

Today being the July Fourth holiday, I went to my well-known, well-publicized favorite restaurant at noon for lunch on a holiday and hoped that one or more of my children would come to share the meal with me so we could get started on living out the first day of the rest of our lives in contact.  It didn't happen of course, because PAS is an insidious, invidious form of cruelty inflicted on the other parent by a parent who will use tender children in the advancement of her own preening, overweening ego despite the well-documented permanent harm it does to the minor children.

Reality is very precise.  Et tu, Brutus?

Groovin' on a Sunday afternoon

Easter Sunday was a wonderful day.  It started in the morning as I went for my long run of 5K for the new week.

At noon I went to the Long Dog Cafe for lunch, my usual spot for a holiday lunch.  The fare was Dog Collars (onion rings) and the Greek Pizza Pie.

I was joined by a friend with whom I was going to view the Cherry Blossoms in the District after lunch.  I wished her a Happy Passover and she wished me a Happy Easter and made the pointed observation in a playful dig at my cultural myopia that pizza, being made from leavened dough, thus was unsuitable for her consumption during the religious holiday.

It being Sunday, we found free parking on Haines Point and walked to the Tidal Basin from there.  The beautiful Cherry Blossom trees ringing the circular tidal pond were given to the United States by Japan in 1912 in a gesture of friendship.

The blossoms were blooming, a wonderful explosion of muted pink and soft off-white petals.  Ducks glided around the Tidal Basin, oblivious to the hectic pedestrian tumult on the pathway above the retaining banks.

The splash of colors went on and on, all the way around the Tidal Basin.  The day, though overcast, was temperate and made the stroll very pleasant despite the crowds on the confined walkways.

After about four miles of walking and viewing, we made our way back to our car and noted that the District had left a Welcome note to visitors and residents alike on a long row of illegally parked cars in the form of $50 tickets, with the notation "tow requested" marked on them, in its ever-increasing venal quest for revenue through the proliferating use of parking restrictions and speed, red light and stop sign cameras.  Hey, we're glad you're here!

The day was ended on a flavorful note as we enjoyed homemade ice cream at a local confectionary shop.  The cherry blossom blooms are still at peak so visitors should get here soon to view them in their full glory, but be sure to study the parking signs when you park.

The news business

And in local news...I ran into Nicholas Benton, the publisher of the Falls Church News-Press, in a restaurant while he was waiting for his take-out order to be completed. I walked up to him and asked, "How's the Fake News business going?"

Since he didn't know me, he had no idea how to take this remark, which was meant to be a droll conversation opener. His is a great small town newspaper. 

I asked him if he remembered my oldest son who once worked or volunteered at his shop years ago, by either his former name Jimmy Lamberton or his current name Jim Rogers. He didn't, and I didn't tell him that I hadn't seen the young man (not so young now, he's over 30) in a decade and we moved on into discussing the Washington Post and the two Timeses, New York and Los Angeles, three great newspapers.

Hey, oldest son of mine (and my two other sons as well, and Laura too), I'll be at the usual place at noon on Prez's Day. I hope to see any or all of you then. ;-)

Columbus day

it was a tranquil Columbus Day in Westover.  The weather was 80 degrees and sticky by noontime, when I had a Polynesian Pizza at the Lost Dog Cafe.

The Lost Dog was crowded and I watched many more people stream in for lunch.  It's at the west end of the Westover market area, but there's a new anchor point at the east end of the strip, the Italian Store.

It was packed with people ordering pizza or gourmet deli sandwiches, shopping for pasta or canned sauces or sitting at the multiple eating perches or tables to enjoy the store's fare.  It was like an Arlington happening inside this former 7-11 store.

This block-long commercial venue has its old standby mid block, Ayers Hardware Store, but has new aspirants for most successful venture such as the aforementioned Lost Dog and Italian Store, plus the Westover Beer Garden and Market with its local bands and the Sunday Farmer's market with its fresh produce and products.  It's a gem of a tiny commercial center, with a school, library, post office, drug store, hamburger place and an ice cream shop right there too.

Labor Day 2017

Labor Day 2017 was a beautiful day, heralding the end of summer.  The weather was nice, but the news was and has been disastrous.

Are we going to nuclear war in Korea?  According to our leading luminary, "We'll see."

A noontime meal of pizza took my mind off the endless cycle of news we've had since January 20th.  There's the latest news cycle featuring the current weather devastation stories that Harvey has struck and Irma is coming, but fortunately climate change is merely a Chinese hoax, and the news today about the Dreamer's program ending, negatively impacting immigration, so I wonder where the labor is going to come from that's going to restore Houston and surrounding coastal communities to habitability.

On November 8th last year, I spent an 18-hour day down in Newport News poll-watching to facilitate and ensure a fair election.  I didn't figure, however, on a laser-focused and successful Russian interference in our electoral process and now as our late summer ends with ominous clouds on our horizon, I remember waking up at 3 a.m. on November 9th to a blaring TV with the announcer intoning that Donald Trump is our new president, and I can now recognize that my immediate and incredulous foreboding at that moment was justified, because I believe now that from that moment forward nothing is ever going to be the same again.

A boot and a crown

So the Dog Days of Summer arrived.  I'm in a boot now, because of an achilles strain I incurred while running (the doctor said, "If the boot doesn't work, I'll refer you to the surgeon.") so I'm just sitting around getting fat.

I went in to the District once to have lunch with my past and hopefully future running buddy, since I'm currently incapacitated and haven't run in months.  The Fourth of July arrived, and at noon I went to the Lost Dog Cafe for lunch.

Nobody I recognized came in.  But how would I know what my children would look like anyway, since I have never laid eyes on any of them even once when they were of majority age.

After lunch with the empty chair, I strolled around outside while I called a sibling, and a friend.  Then since I was hot, I purchased a refrigerated Snicker's Bar from the drugstore and while chewing on that semi-hard nougat mass, I pulled out a crown, one put in just two years ago.

Memorial Day

I heard the rumble of thunder as thousands of motorcycles approached the capital on Saturday and I knew that it was Memorial Day weekend.  Rolling Thunder was rolling into town from all points west.

Early on Sunday morning I went to an overlook and viewed hundreds of motorcyclists rolling into the District from their overnight perches nearby, preparatory to rolling up and down Pennsylvania Avenue all day in honor of the KIAs in our endless wars and in hope of reclaiming our hundreds of MIAs.  It rolls by the Vietnam Wall which embodies the true cost of our nearly incessant conflicts.

There are members of my family who sacrificed for all of us in some of the wars, my father (the Pacific War), uncle Harry (Pacific War), Uncle Bill (Pacific War), Uncle Bob (Mediterranean War), Grandfather (North Atlantic in WWI) and brother (Beirut).  Fortunately they all returned intact, at least physically.

On Memorial Day at noon I went for lunch at my usual spot.  The food was good, the beer was delicious, and the company was nonexistent.

Maybe Father's Day.  ;-)

Another fine lunch

When I was retired last year, my friends at my former workplace gave me a great send-off by giving me a gift card for my favorite pizzeria.  A gift that keeps giving, I had lunch there on Easter Sunday, using some of the credit.

I perambulated around the restaurant before my pizza arrived but I didn't recognize anyone there.  But there are people I know that I haven't seen nor heard from in ten years so who knows if I'd recognize them now.

I enjoyed my pie when it arrived, the Italian Pie, a meat-stuffed pizza replete with ham and Genoa salami.  Relishing it, I had my fill and left behind a symbolic slice and a swallow of beer.

Having kids like mine, plus an in-law in the mix now, is also a gift that keeps giving.  Maybe Memorial Day, eh, JJD&L?