After a lovely dinner at Zebu, a Brazilian eatery, B.L. Ochman and I took Benny on a lovely long walk, in a place BL doesn’t get to go at night without a big strong man like me, and we decided to record the moment.

For sure, reducing the amount of paint used on 24,773,757,785 cans-per-year is an awesome financial and environment step; however, just look at these two monotone cans with their raised designs! I would take up Coke-drinking just to encourage big-business to forgo lowest-common-denominator design and go for something elegant.

Mind you, Coca-Cola‘s iconic red and white can and bottle are already at the pinnacle of design and simplicity, so what am I on about? Via Gizmodo.

While I had a lovely dinner of Mediterranean mezza, great service, and charming company, I will never go back to Neyla Mediterranean Grill because of something small and easily preventable.

I arrived for dinner early.  There was no valet and I scored a space right in front of Neyla at a meter.  I just happened to not have any quarters but that was OK because I had a twenty-dollar bill.

No worries, right?

Well, thank goodness for the lovely lady at Papyrus because I was told that Neyla did not trade in change or coin currently.

Like I said, when I parked outside and didn’t have any quarters for the meter I went in and asked for Quarters.

I asked the hostess for change and she said they didn’t have any. I asked for the manager and she led me to what looked like the owner.

I asked the owner for some quarters for some dollars and he said that his entire restaurant did not have any change or quarters at all and that he could give me dollar bill change for my $20 bill but physically did not have any change at all in the entire restaurant.

Is that even possible?  Or, was the staff bullshitting me?  Are there really restaurants who do not maintain a till or a draw with any change or quarters whatsoever?

Back to the young lady at Papyrus at the corner of N and Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown, I really have to thank her!  She’s new there and she was lovely.  I asked her name but forgot it.

When the manager at Neyla told me there were physically no quarters in their entire restaurant I left the restaurant and headed across the street to the store on the corner and told the woman working there there that I would be happy to buy something there but what I really needed was quarters for the meter

She told me not to buy anything and asked me how many quarters I needed — she told me I didn’t need to buy anything at all and was happy to help me out!

God bless her!

I will surely make sure I make a special trip for all of my stationary and printing and wrapping paper and blank journals and even any fancy fountain pens and gifts I might need from Papyrus in general and the 1300 Wisconsin Avenue Papyrus in particular!

History was made on September 29, 2002, when Miss Nicole acted as peacemaker between ‘the old boyfriend’ and ‘the new boyfriend’ at a pot-luck gathering fabricated to be a comfortable and soothing ‘Meeting of the Boys.’

Not her old boyfriend and new boyfriend, but rather, Nicole acted as intermediary and peacemaker between her housemate, Mr. Chris, and the current boyfriend of Miss Michelle, the handsome, charming and worldly Mr. Teddy.

We have entered into a period of détente. Inside sources report that Michelle is much relieved. Teddy-the-New and Chris-the-Old got on fine, although C-t-O was strangely mellow and low-key. Sources believe that it was his was of offering an olive branch, the integration of tribes being his highest priority.

Most of the posse was convened, including Miss Kate, Miss Joanne, Mr. Sherif, Mr. Steve, Miss Cheryl, and Miss Megan. Mr. Chris was noticeably relieved when the beautiful and elegant Dr. Wendy, Mr. Chris’ honored guest, arrived at nine.

Welcome to the posse, Mr. Teddy and Miss Michelle! We are damned glad to have you!

Image via Wikipedia

This is my favorite ode to Kathryn Medland. She is an inspired poet and I want to make that clear. And so, in admiration of her art, I wrote about her.

You Sit to Write

You simmer before the page,
Ruminate about a tree,
In November, on a cold bench,
And ratchet a pen
Between your fingers.

Words crunch through
The gravel at your feet and dapple
Upon the page in cursive,
Evoking the spires of trees.

At your desk, pressed against
A clammy pane of glass, a mirror,
You strain to perceive differently
But words retreat; the page is still

Clean in your room at midnight;
But you need to write down
Your crashing thoughts,
And then comes day
And the Muse neither visits your pen
Nor your paper.

©1994 chris abraham