The wonders of duct tape
Last night, we went to Swirl and it was jammed one end to the other with neighbors and friends and you name it – it was like old home night with all the friendly faces back from holidays, vacations, end of this and beginning of thats and it was good to see everyone.
We then made our way to Meaux Bar for an intimate dinner to celebrate one of our many anniversaries. Of course, Debbie waited on us and we had a delicious oyster salad with a Pernod dressing that was to die for, as well as a pan fried trout with a caper butter lemon sauce – YUM YUM YUM. I love this restaurant. When T went to the bathroom, I looked around the room and there was such a wonderful eclectic mix of young, old, straight, gay, and the conversations all around me were interesting. To my right, a group of four men, two younger and two older sat listening to one of the young ones describe his family. “I always wanted to play house and my dad always wanted me to play ball. I remember asking for dolls and my father screwing up his face and turning red” – even though what he was saying was genuine and heartfelt, I felt like it was right out of the book my friends gave me called, “When I Knew” – he was a stereotype of himself.
We left to go meet friends at Clever – Jon’s new wine bar right next to his Cork & Bottle wine shop – this is a hip, San Francisco style wine bar in our very own Midcity. The bartender there makes a killer Manhattan. I was wearing my red velvet dress in homage to the people who were murdered in this city and at one point, I slid off the overly shellacked stool onto the floor so Jon duct taped me onto it.
Then we headed home and when we got here, friends were on the bayou lying on blankets and canoeing. So we joined them for a bit, and then called it a night. A lovely night.
I woke up in the morning and had to laugh about the tape marks on my velvet dress.