all in one

On Friday X got an e-mail from a D.C. liquor store - some now near legendary joynt that provided the Singleton for Christmas - about a new release Spanish wine that Charles Parker rated a gazillion. She just happened to open her e-mail between 10:00am and 10:09am and decided to plop down an order for 2 bottles at $16.99. Done deal, hands dusted. We swung by after work to pick up her two bottles where upon she was treated as some legend who'd mastered wine greatness. Apparently, only 50 cases were delivered to the greater D.C. area and this shop managed 49 of them. Wth a limit of six bottles per customer, only 98 D.C-area customers tapped out the 588 bottles - well, 47 with 6 each, X with 2, and one person who called and could only get four, and now doubt wondered who the hell would call on release day to only buy two? If you're getting in during the nine-minute selling period you'd surely buy six. I'm sure the talk around the nation's capital wine circles over the weekend involved determining just who busted up the six pack. Along with that discussion, they must have awoken a bit hungover, because we were. Breca packs a 15% alcohol content and it certainly knocked us around (during our rousing new geography game). It is very, very good.

This is a picture of one of the two matching handmade mugs I've gathered from an Eastern Market artist. I keep one at work, one that I've been using for coffee for about a year - everyone (most) know this is my mug; I have it at meetings nearly every morning. Anyway, about three weeks ago it went missing, and I quickly sorted that I must have left it on someone's desk whilst walking about pontificaing, as I'm wont to do. Well, nothing. After a number of weeks with no one saying, "Hey, Pontiff, you left you mug on my desk," or (walking to my desk an hour later) "Here's your mug old man. I hope you don't leave your kids alone in strange places." Finally, last Monday one of my closer confederates says this to me, "Hey, I think your mug, the blue-and-white one, is on Beasley's desk. I think he's keeping pens and pencils in it." What the fuck? I remember going to Beasley's desk for something a few weeks back - a rare event - and the bell finally rings that I did leave my mug on or near his desk. Most likely with at least a quarter cup of coffee still in it. Let's break down this scenario a little more: you've discovered and unknown coffee cup on your desk. Hmm. Said cup is pretty distinctive in styling; you aren't looking at a styrofoam cup, or anything that looks as 'distinctive' as this:

I guess if it did look like that you might think something other than "this clearly belongs to someone", take it to the kitchen, rinse it out, and leave it in the drainer. Nope, not happening here. You have a handmade mug left on your desk, including some coffee undrinked, and you decide this: I'll just rinse this bitch out, give it a dry, and put my pens and pencils in it. Bingo. This is akin to seeing some kid wandering across your lawn, grabbing him, giving him a shower, and having him settle into your family. Look at my mug. How could you not figure that it belonged to someone? I'll never know. I did see him in the hall after data was received and nicely said, "Beasley, I hear my mug is on your desk holding your pens and pencils." To which he replied, "The ceramic blue one? I'll get my stuff out of it and bring it to your desk." Fade to black.

This is the final install of the cat door/vaporlock. As you see, it has space for a plant, a candle, and the cats' stockings come Christmas. For you non-local folk, the hand-built box has two doors: the one you see, and one on the opposite end, outside access. The cats can't have both doors open at the same time so the cold air (or heat in the summer) doesn't much affect our weather bill. (Yes, there's carpet inside the vaporlock - seriously?). There's the carpeted platform inside, a painted platform outside. Lemon figured it out in about half a day; Pumpkin took some coaxing and a few days of thought. All is fine now.

no no starbuck

L. brought to our attention last night that she needed to be introduced to coffee. Can a parent dream?

After a quarter of often falling asleep in her first mod class, Political Theory, she decided it best to begin an early path to addiction. We thought about it over dinner and discussed some other possibilities: going to bed earlier (she's often up past 11), a bit more of a morning meal (she eats small in the AM), or possibly a snack upon arrival at school (she does walk about 1.5 miles in the morning). All seemed reasonable options in place of caffeine. Then again, X did came up with the idea of a cappuccino with loads of frothy milk - made by stove top each morning as she nibbled on her toast. Not a bad plan; caffeine and some protein. Tonight we went through the process of getting out the moka pot, running the checklist and prepping for day one. You know what? One sip and she says, "I think I'll just go to bed earlier."

Learning.

i order the large cup of coffee

Well, maybe I’m settled in after nearly three months at the new job. Plus, I’m out of school for a quarter so I’ll have all my evening free until after the New Year (I only have one quarter left, but they aren’t offering two of the last three classes I need so I’m in holding for a bit). I am working a brunch on Saturdays and Sundays (at least until about Thanksgiving) so sleeping in and weekend days are a bit garbled up.

Apparently there’s a coffee mug in the house that X doesn’t care to use. It’s one she brought home not long ago, and it mirrors any number of big, bulky,’ bust-a-head’ open mugs that we’ve gathered over the years. The funny thing is that about a week ago I found the mug stored in a cupboard above the microwave (there’s nothing up there but rarely used dry goods) when I was grabbing some pasta. I figured that Henry has put it up there while fulfilling his duty as dishwasher emptier – even though that made no real sense – so I took it down and used it a day or two later for coffee. I hadn’t realized it had gone missing again until Monday night when I went to the cloth napkin drawer at dinner, and there it was tucked away with the linen. What the hell? Now I knew that Henry was crazy: the napkin drawer on the other side of the kitchen? I put it on the counter as I headed back to the table and it was then that X pointed out, in a threateningly/meek manner, that she didn’t like that mug and didn’t want any coffee in it…ever. So, instead of simply saying that she didn’t like the mug – and we didn’t get into any detail in that area because I was laughing too hard – she was attempting to hide it “where I wouldn’t find it.” This is reminiscent of her pointing out a few years back that she didn’t care for shitake mushrooms (after three years of my using them), and last month where she said she didn’t want hummus ever again. I caught me a good one.

what? in florida?

There’s a coffee place in Arlington, Murky, that we used to frequent often but they’ve closed the doors on that enterprise and moved to D.C. to start a new joint. At one time there were two Murkys (Murkies?) – one in D.C. and one in Arlington. The move ends the franchise name but the owner will have the new place, Wrecking Ball, up-and-running in D.C. soon enough. What’s interesting about the tale is the follow-on business at the old Murky locale: a coffee shop. One of the reasons Murky is moving, per the owner, is because the funkadelic two-story place they occupy was sold last year and the new rent has become untenable. The folks talking over the new beanery own and operate a place called the Liberty Tavern which is a restaurant bar about 200 feet down the road. The building in located right across the street from the George Mason University School of Law and just blocks from thousands of young, urban professionals who live in the Clarendon district and Ballston area and do very little beyond drink coffee and display their MacBooks. What I don’t get is this: Murky was always full. They made the best coffee east of Reno (Bibo), they had free wireless, the vibe was cool, and all the kids dropped lots of cash. In fact, I don’t even know where the nearest Starbucks was to Murky – it was a challenge too great for even them to unseat. Back to the full part; if the owner decided that rent was too steep for him to stay open then what makes the Liberty folks think they can swing it? Apparently, they want to overhaul the entire building and go from there – something that’s beyond my comprehension. Sure, they may well be able to keep the Murky customers coming back but there isn’t any room for real growth of custom in that building so how are they planning on making it work after an investment (refurbish) that might run up near $100K? Not only that, no matter how good the Liberty Tavern folks are, the coffee won’t be as good. I’ll wager that Starbucks or Caribou are already plotting a move into or near that very corner in Clarendon. I’ll also wager that the new place won’t make it more than a year; mark my words. Business people, I just don’t get them sometimes.

X put out this phrase last night while trying to explain why she’d be an excellent buyer for a woman’s clothing store, “I am very average at many things.” I’ll have her forward the CV if required.

Love to all,

t

splish splash

We managed to complete our jaunt to east central Virginia with little problem. The drive is about 3 ½ - 4 hours without stops and once you get far enough east the scenery turns quite lovely as you skirt and then climb into the Alleghenies.

The Jefferson Pools in Warm Springs, Virginia are one of those rare finds you encounter when traveling the world. As I was floating in the waters I was trying to sort out why they haven’t become one of those hateful, overrun, over managed and overpopulated venues. As I was thinking so deeply, and floating about on the floaty noodles, I ended up taking a little nap; that’s how hard I was thinking. Even though they’re owned by the Homestead resort just up the road in Hot Springs you’d never know ownership falls under that massive, and apparently highly overrated, golf and resort club. Maybe in the spring, summer, and fall it’s more crowded than on a nice, clear, cold weekend in late January but we may never know since I’d rather be there when it’s cold. After checking in at our Inn (The Inn at Grist Mill) on Saturday afternoon we popped over for an hour’s soak before they lock up that sheds at 5pm. The layout is made up of two octagonal wooden shacks that provide cover over the men’s and women’s baths – both baths are simply pools of hot springs (a perfect 98°) over and the creek bed. The sheds include dressing rooms and a platform that encircles (enoctagons?) the waters. There are no luxuries beyond the amazing waters and provided towels: no heat, no curtains, and no nice robes. You come in wearing your duds, strip down to what God gave you, pop in the water, soak, hop out, dry off (quickly), get dressed and move along – an hour seems to fly by. In January, when it’s about 25 degrees outside, the drying and dressing is the final revitalization; there’s nothing quite as shocking as drying, shivering, and trying to get the warm clothes on as quickly as possible. On Sundays from noon to 1pm they allow the guys and dolls to intermingle…with swimsuits. We learned on Sunday that the women’s bath is only 4’10” deep and the men’s is 6’8” (of course, we each knew our own shack depths from the previous day; we just didn’t know the other’s). The Eleven, as expected of tall people worldwide, chose the men’s bath and subsequently had the place to ourselves for the whole hour before driving back to the NoVa. Once you get over your initial trepidation upon entering the shacks o’er the magma for the first time, they’re unbelievably relaxing.

Our room at the Inn was perfectly designed for our needs. The queen bed was outfitted with very nice cotton sheets, the fireplace was stocked with wood, and they deliver a breakfast basket in the morning. The basket idea is ingenious: you give them a ring to let them know you’re up, choose coffee or tea, and they pop over in five minutes flat with the goods. The basket includes a thermos of coffee, scones, butter and jams, cups, cream, sugar, and orange juice. All you do is sit around watching the TLC network and nibbling at your breakfast and sipping coffee. We had dinner on Saturday night the Inn’s restaurant which was all of 50 feet from our building – makes the arrival timing for dinner pretty simple. The food was probably about a B- on my grading scale but we were limited to either trout or salmon; they seem to have a much broader selection of meat and poultry. Considering that the restaurant’s greatest attraction is proximity it fulfilled its task. Of course, if you don’t eat at the restaurant you’re limited to a choice of no other place that we came across in the small village. I’d imagine you could drive some country roads to the nearest towns and find grub but who’s really interested in that?

Our one misadventure occurred as we pulled off I-81 for a quick stop for coffee in Harrisonburg, VA. As we were pulling into a parking place and disembarking at the Starbucks (hey, we were only looking for convenience!) we noticed we were going to end up behind a group of about 15 high-schoolers who’d just piled out of a tour van of some ilk. The last think you want in your life – ever – is to be behind 15 high-schoolers in any situation that requires decision making, let alone in a Starbucks. As they stood in a sort of line nattering at each other about coffee I realized I’d need to take evasive action to keep my sanity. All I wanted was a short cappuccino and a venti misto. As I sidestepped the amoeba-like coffee horde and swooped toward an open register I heard this conversation between the barista attempting to be helpful and the first high-schooler in line:

Barista: So, what kind of flavors to you like?
Confused Kid: Uh, I don’t know.
Barista: Do you like coffee?
Confused Kid: Uh, I don’t know.

This was not going to go smoothly at all. In my defense, it seemed the kind-hearted barista had taken on the mission of handling all orders from the vanload of youths so I didn’t feel too bad. As we escaped moments later with our coffee in hand the entire situation had deteriorated to the sound of…

Barista: Well, what do you like?
Confused Kid: I like lunch.

Love to all.

t

slapshot

Friedman nails it today in words better than I could manage. Since I believe the only way forward for American auto companies is to undertake a serious overhaul – this would have been a grand idea for them to latch onto way back when – this op-ed finally blasts the big, bright light across just how horrible an idea this cash injection/loan is unless the industry provides the necessary mea culpa. Buying typewriters and record albums, that’s brilliant.

The Caps are back in D.C. tonight to take on the Bruins at Verizon Center. My pal Buzz has once again managed to show up for “work” during a Capitals home stand – suspicious? Just so you know, and I know you’re interested , NHL teams carry 23 players on their active roster and as of this morning the Caps have eight of the opening-day players out with injury – and they’ve been out for mostly 12-14 games. The fact that they’ve cobbled together a team made up of one-third minor leaguers recalled from Hershey, and remained in first place, is quite a feat. Hopefully, everyone’s back by the New Year and they can get on a roll through the spring.

One more NYTimes piece today – an art/coffee love affair story. Blueberry bagels…genius.

I also don’t think it’s a good day for you, Mr. Governor, when you have Patrick Fitzgerald all in your business. Having Patrick Fitzgerald showing up to “ask around” is like having Christiane Amanpour show up to do “some reporting” from your village. “What is Christiane Amanpour doing here?”

Love to all

t

theatre and a coffee after?

“1536: WICKET - Panesar c De Villiers b Morkel 0, Eng 186-9
Here's the good news: Jimmy's still at the wicket. Here's the bad news: Monty isn't. He fences at a short one and spoons an easy looper straight down AB's throat at third slip. A line of lads dressed as Thora Hird in Last of the Summer Wine slump in their plastic seats.” – Tom Fordyce at the BBC text / reporting center.

Today is the first day of the second England v South Africa Test at Headingley. The 186-9 total isn’t exactly what you’d like to post in a first innings. England may be trying to speed things up a bit in order to bowl while the pitch is apparently favoring the bowlers – we’ll see.

The 61 is going to the theatre tonight to see Man of La Mancha at the Keegan near DuPont Circle. The Keegan is a smallish venue that does theatre more along my tastes than do the massive, and expensive, high-end venues. The acting and directing are fantastic but some of the big money theatre mentality is long forgotten. They also seem to be a somewhat Irish-woven company of beer drinkers and songsters. I love the Keegan.

Here’s the list of items we managed to corral during our Wednesday night visit to Sur La Table: a sifter, 9” tart pan with removable bottom, portable/travelable cutting ‘boards’, two jars of sand (don’t ask, I can’t explain), a reusable gold drip coffee filter, and a single cup drip coffee rest on-top-of-your-cup maker holder thing. The last item was the cause for our trip but it inevitably turned to more than just the mystery of the world of single cup coffee makers. Speaking of coffee makers, we now have in our house: the single cup maker, a French press, the Eva Solo, a Mokka cappuccino maker, and some frozen instant. I think we’ve got all the bases covered – and we don’t even drink that much coffee. Have I told you yet that I’m horribly intrigued by a vacuum coffee maker? More on that at a later date.

I just found this coffeeblogbattle while searching the D.C. area for a local coffee bean roaster. Murky Coffee in Arlington, right near our old place, is my second favorite coffeehouse ever (the first being Bibo in Reno). This tussle is why we can look at life and laugh like hyenas. Here’s the blog written by the customer, the open letters from the owner of Murky, and the WaPo story that came after the explosion in the coffeeblogosphere. It’s hilarity on every level. I cannot get over the closing of the owner’s letter on July 14th, “I’ll punch you in your dick.” That is highly quotable.

Friday.

coffee, crows, and comics

The weather was a blanket of fog and the setting in of a sleety, snowy mix on Friday so I decided to take the Ballston-place skyways from the Metro to the Mall. As one might expect, there are many a Starbucks about the commuter center of Ballston. What I realized as I entered building number one is that a man had just left that Starbucks and was heading back up to his office in building number two, the National Science Foundation (NSF) - which is across the first skyway. I immediately wondered what the difference in travel might be from the NSF to this, the first Starbucks and the second Starbucks across the second skyway in the mall. I backtracked to the door and began a pace count: 127 paces from coffee to the NSF door. At that point I started over and stopped, mid-crosswalk when I hit my second 127 paces. It ends up that unless you jaywalk and sneak through some bushes it's an extra 94 paces to the further Starbucks. I plan further research because I suspect there's a backdoor out of the NSF that might lead to some sciencers actually using the further (but closer...) Starbucks. I don't even like Starbucks, if you're getting that impression, it's all merely a crazy man with his iPod thinking too much.

Here's you're biannual (or semi-annual) Old Crow Medicine Show video link. This is from last summer when they performed on Austin City Limits - you get a wonderful version of Wagon Wheel with good camera work and no crazy crowd screaming over the lyrics.

I stumbled into a part of D.C. this morning that I hadn't been through with any extensive walking before - it's a revitalization in progress area around 14th St. NW and S St. A few of the anchors in the area are the Black Cat music club, Arena Stage, and Cafe Saint-Ex. A number of boutique shops and other locally-owned businesses are beginning to populate that three or four block stretch of 14th St. I had headed down to find a comic book shop, Big Monkey Comics, so I could buy some more graphic novels or comics for G. He seems to be pretty happy reading fantasy and adventure stories and graphic novels are a great way to keep everyone's interest. The guy manning the till knew just what I was looking for - most of the novels are marketed to a much older audience - and we spoke at length about the popularity of genre. It was exactly the kind of customer service you hope for but rarely encounter.

I came home after a stop at Eastern Market only to find that Corey had taken the WonderTwins to a jewelry shop. I've no idea exactly what he might have been thinking; maybe there was a frying pan to the head or a trail of bacon. How would one get roped into that mission? I also brought home two bunches of mint because X has purchased an old crazy silver tea set and wants to make Moroccan mint tea. When I told her I'd nabbed some mint she clapped her hands like a baby seal but suddenly stopped,"We'll need gunpowder green tea to do it right," she said. My thoughts exactly...


t

return of the king

18 January 2008
Riverwalk, Reno, Nevada

Another trip back in time this week; another chance to see how Northern Nevada is doing in my absence. I'll give the quick rundown on my old river rabbit trail:

La Bussola - they've reopened back downtown after almost a year in a very small space elsewhere. The old landlords quadrupled the rent and they bailed out in 2006. They are now about 50 feet across from the old shop (which is still vacant) and in the same building where they live. Great news for them. They are hosting a 300+ soiree this evening to celebrate the launch of a new gay Website that will be hosted, and specific to, the Reno crowd. I may swing by...
Dharma Books - They're still going strong on the river and have closed the second location. Cheron is suppose to be in Tucson finishing her novel but she's still sitting behind the desk doing books as I type. I love the place.
Bibo Coffee - Still the best brew in town and opening a second location closer to the river.
Pneumatic Diner - Two evening meals this week and still great; still on my 'best of' list.

For those worried about the housing market I've got a little input on the leading indicator market in NNevada: there were 400 homes listed for sale in Fernley during December and 11 sold. It's ugly. The Sacramento median price for homes dropped 20% from December 2006 to December 2007. I thought my earlier predication of 2010 for the nation was frightening but I'll stick with it based on what I'm seeing out here.

Speaking of economics, what's the bruhaha with "immediate relief" to the American people? Remember the days when 'they' said Americans aren't saving money and are failing to plan for the future? 'member? Our spending culture, of which I am a proud member, was setting us up for some Monday when the money would be gone. Now we've got Bernanke and Bush contemplating a $800 to $1600 per family/person package that "gets money in the hands of Americans"....for what? They say it's so they can spend it and get the economy back on track. I'm no economist but I think this might be the stupidest thing I've ever heard - give us money so we can spend it. That's the plan for temporary relief? Yikes.

The Nevada caucus is tomorrow in the AM so candidates and politicos are swarming the city. They all look a little crazed.

I saw an Oregon license plate this morning in the hotel parking lot that was something that states now provide for owners to use as an indicator of person's love or support. This one was "Salmon". Nothing more. Just the word "Salmon" and a subdued picture of a salmon - I don't know if it was a coho or king but it was definitely a salmon. Since there was no other indication of intent - save the salmon, eat the salmon, catch-and-release the salmon - I've no idea of the context. I know that here in Nevada they have "support Nevada Arts", "Keep Tahoe Blue", the standard "University of Nevada", and myriad others, but I've not seen something so ethereal as "Salmon".

I'm thinking of a movie this afternoon - Juno is playing right nearby but There Will Be Blood is also opening here this evening. Any input is appreciated.

I'll be back home tomorrow evening.

Love to all.

t.

a boy and his cup

The boys were piled into the car Saturday morning and driven out to Maryland. The first stop was to pick-up Sue who’d invited everyone on a visit to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. This isn’t about the aquarium. I decided to stop at Murky Coffee in Clarendon for a cup of brain juice. We all have little lessons we learn in life and then promptly forget (is that a lesson? is it learned?). This lesson will be called the “white shirt and to-go coffee cup”. The four leading indicators for this little nugget of misery are the following: a too full cup of coffee, the cup seam-to-lid hole location, a belief in ‘spill proof’ drinking silos, and being in a car en route to somewhere other than a short errand – someplace like an aquarium 60 miles away. Two of the four were clearly in play (belief and miles) so klaxons should have been sounding in my little head…yet, the human mind refuses to suspend belief or even contemplate that a spill proof cup might not be spill proof. I was almost in the red before I even got up a head of steam. My large house brew was too full before I sidled over to the milksugarcinnamonmagic bar but I still managed to get just enough milk and sugar into my paper cup so that a meniscus formed on top – that’s three indicators for you playing at home. I grab a sippy lip, slap that baby on top (very carefully), and click down over a steaming, overfilled cup of Panama Boquete Hacienda La Esmeralda Especial. I’m out the door before you know it, skipping to the car, singing some Roger Miller, and imagining myself a smart boy. We pull out of the parking lot, squirm around a corner, and start the drive up a lovely boulevard north of Clarendon. I’ve got some music playing, the windows are down, the breezes are blowing, the boys are doing games in the backseat, and my coffee is calling my name. Ah…a nice sip of quality coffee from my perfectly mixed cup. Why does my chest feel hot? Funny. Another sip of my coffee. Why do my legs feel hot? Dammit. I’m censoring that response. My trust has been violated. The spill proof cup, with the perfectly aligned cup seam, steam, overfilled liquid, and sippy hole configuration, has done me in again. I pull over on the leafy damn boulevard (it’s not so lovely now) and pull out a bottle of water and some napkins to clean my clothing. The quick-ish response does prevent me from driving home to change clothes but I’m absolutely infuriated for the next ten miles. This one will stick with me for at least a week – I won’t be fooled, don’t even try. No guarantees after October because there’s clearly a pattern: the other dozen times this has happened in my life haven’t remained as strong warnings in my head, Hell, I can’t even remember to duck when walking through our apartment in order to avoid smashing my head on the monkey-bar that’s installed in the dining room doorway. A little hot coffee isn’t any big deal, right? Whack. Ouch!

T.

you don't say

I'm gobsmacked by this tidbit of wisdom. I wonder exactly what type of company masthead takes this long to realize what has been so blatantly obvious for years. Starbucks? Lost its soul? Whaaaat? These are all the same reaons I swore off the 'Buck years ago, this guy just riddle it out? On his own? Their coffee had become mediocre on most days and just plain undrinkable on others. The omnipresence and in my face mentality irritated me, I found the crowds useless, and the prices were outrageous. Let me expand on outrageous part; the prices are comparable to other coffee places but the product isn't...and the artistry (that screams of my arrogance, doesn't it?) is long gone with those automatic machines doing the work. I don't even know why they have barristas anymore; isn't technology available that would let me walk in, push a button that says "grande latte", and it magically appears at the end of the counter? The whole yelling of my order to the knob working the buttons is just silly. In my search for greater coffee I can only offer two options these days: Bebo Coffee in Reno, Nevada (a bit out yonder) and Murky Coffee here in Arlington. At Murky they actually make the coffee, watch the water temperature and end it all with a lovely swirl of steamed milk on top. It may take a little longer but you get to enjoy the process, and man, it's fantastic coffee. They make the joe like they would if they stopped over by my house on a Sunday morning and conjured up a brew for my smoking hot girlfriend (oops). That little bit of care and personality makes a much better cup of dohack.

Speaking of Murky, and Arlington, and Clarendon, I was driving out to Olsson's Books and Whole Foods yesterday afternoon and it came upon my brain on the way home that the drive out on Clarendon Blvd. and back on Wilson is a video game of sorts. The best parallel I can think of is Frogger - that game where you jumped your little frog across highway lanes full of fast moving cars. The drive from here to there requires dedication to the cause; primarily, you've got to stay in the right lane come hell or high water. If you think for even a second that getting over in the left lane further out than 200 feet before your turn is a good idea - you've lost. You need to know the tricks, like this little nugget: When approaching Whole Foods you might find yourself swerving to the left lane, momentarily!, to avoid the fauxorganic hippies loading Crate and Barrel kitsch into the Land Rover; but you must get back to right lane before you come upon the Whole Foods parking lot entrance mosh-pit. (Is there a Whole Foods anywhere in the world that has decent parking?) Of course, just as you're moving back to the right lane you encounter the caravan of VW Bugs that suddenly stop, dashboard daisies flying into their windscreesns, while they ponder the great Buddhist debate of whether or not the Bug wants to enter the parking garage that's on the right side of the street. Keep your wits! Then it's all the way down towards Olsson's you go (staying right) until that moment of ectasy when Wilson and Clarendon meet and you whip a u-turn across traffic and slide into one of the three street-side parking spaces. You don't even want to know about the trip home. You can't handle it.

Starbucks lost its soul? Gobsmacked.

Love.

T