Then this guy comes into the restaurant, very likely homeless or perhaps just eccentric. He’s wearing a black trench coat and flip flops, he has sort of wild hair and a beard. He’s not homeless wild, exactly, but something’s off. Particularly since I was wearing a strappy sundress and sweating my booty off and this fellow is wearing a trenchcoat. He was followed in by 20 Spanish tourists. The guy’s trenchcoat had a weird bulge, big one in the back, that was distinctly shotgun in shape.
We had a total DC panic attack at our table.
The drama of the tree struck by lightning continues to unfold. Yesterday by late afternoon, the citizens of G Street NE came to the conclusion that the city wasn’t going to produce a team of workers anytime soon (to clean up the huge fallen half tree), so they went to work on it themselves, first chainsawing the fallen half from the part still standing, then cutting the fallen branches into manageable chunks that could be lugged to the side of the street.
You see, there’s a New Guy on the scene and he really digs me. And i think i really dig him back. But here’s the situation thus far: we initially “met” through Friendster (aack! yes. the Way To Meet People that dare not speak it’s name) about a month or 2 ago and slowly started to get to know each other through a weekly e-mail exchange. Very cas. Nothing pressing. But fun banter and he was(is) quite persistent.
Cocorican has a two-for-one post. The first is a note about the “utter disappointment” with the turnout for the New York Times reporter, Judy Miller, who is in jail for refusing to disclose a source. …after skipping out of work at lunch and heading over, i was met with a wall of heat (“feels like 102 degrees” the news said) instead of a wall of impassioned bodies. totally unfortunate… And then there’s the shoe shopping part of the post. … now i’m known on the fifth floor as the lady with the great shoes. i can live with that …