And now, a little bit of fiction. Enjoy.
My partner Linda and I are throwing a housewarming party on the 18th. (You remember Linda, right? The tall brunette who insisted you get the French goat cheese… She may be pushy, but the woman knows her cheese.) You have to come. We are so excited about moving in together and the new place. I’ll admit; I’m also a bit nervous.
We got a bar-goon on a three-bedroom place just north of Rhode Island Avenue. The previous owners were in a rush to move (to Atlanta of all places), so we wound up with an extra bedroom for a song. The decorating is coming along, except Linda can’t find room in our living room or her heart for the tapestry you and I got from that woman’s booth in New Hope. She thinks it’s ‘pedestrian’ and the burgundy is ‘depressing.’ I think she’s projecting.
I hope I haven’t typecast Linda as a pushy, inflexible hag. She’s much worse than that! In seriousness, she’s the most enriching, beautiful, and challenging woman I’ve ever known. And she was right about that goat cheese.
The sad news, of course, is that the new place is no longer within walking distance of a Whole Foods. I know. I’m coping as best I can.
Proactively, I signed up for a canning class and will probably install shelving units in the kitchen (at the party, I’ll show you where I plan to put them). I’m also buying stock in pectin and urge you to do the same.
Linda and I also submitted our application for a CSA in Northern Virginia, but to be honest, it sounds like a drag. Most of their crops are root vegetables. I’ll spend half my weekend researching beet recipes and the other half scrubbing the stains off my hands like I’m Lady goddamn MacBeth.
Sure, we’ll grow our own herbs, lettuce, and summer vegetables in the backyard (Yes, we have one! It’s marvelous!), but that won’t be very helpful from late October until June. And until I can replicate the conditions for growing almonds, I’ll be forced to don my top hat and rub elbows with that monocle-wearing peanut man. And develop a tolerance for salt.
There’s a somewhat exciting ethnic mart where we can buy limes and avocados, but from what I’ve seen, it’s hit or miss. Not to be insensitive, but I wouldn’t let Linda shop there alone.
You know what else really blanches my kale, Mike? I’m going to have to buy a microwave. If you see me with a Lean Cuisine, it’s time for a spiritual intervention.
And yet, there is a part of me that will be glad to finally be rid of the judgmental eyes of the food intelligentsia and the vegan mafia. Linda and I have started calling this move ‘Our Return to Simplicity.’ Cute, right?
Last Sunday, we even spent the afternoon clipping coupons. It was quaint and rather nostalgic. Plus, did you know that chicken only costs $2.50 a pound in these grocery stores? And chop meat (I’m eating red meat again, don’t hate me) was on sale for less than a dollar a pound. For that price, I can learn to appreciate a little gristle.
Michael, it’s been too long. I really want to show you the new place and the new neighborhood. I think you’ll really appreciate its afflicted personality. Please do let me know if you’re in town and I’ll send the details for the party, including the new address. No gifts please. How much stemware does one couple need?
P.S. – Linda and I are also in the process of rescuing a greyhound. We’re going to name him Chomsky. I hope you’re not allergic. Wish us luck!