lovely

All weekend, I haven't been able to stop saying things are "lovely."

How was A Prairie Home Companion out at Wolftrap on Saturday?

It was lovely, thank you. Garrison Keillor was a little more bawdy than usual, and did the usual litany of locale-appropriate jokes, in this case politically themed. They had the same lovely gospel singer I saw last Thanksgiving in East Lansing. She's in the film version, which by all accounts is a lovely adaptation. Kristi and I had a fantastic picnic with strawberries, Pinot Grigio, a baguette from Firehook and Brie and a (lovely) cheese with lemon rinds from the cheesemonger in Eastern Market. It charms me to no end that I am on a first-name basis with my cheesemonger. It's such a delightful combination of small town America and Urban Fantasy.

How was it running into J, a dear friend from MIDDLE SCHOOL who you haven't seen since New Year's 2003?

Completely unexpected and lovely! He is such thoroughly good people. He happened to be having dinner outside Lebanese Taverna, where I went with the Urban Family for dinner on Friday night, and we had dinner together tonight. He hasn't changed much from when we were hippie teenagers together in The People's Republic of Ann Arbor, and talking with him tonight was a clear indication of, for better or worse, how much I've changed in the last six years. However that has been, I hope we stay in close touch as long as he's in DC. J is the only person I know here who is completely without guile. Tonight at dinner he asked me in all sincerity,

"EJ, so how do people pick one another up?"

No ego or shame involved, he genuinely thought I had a simple answer to this hideously complex question. Coming from anyone else, I would assume that such a question was loaded with sarcasm or double (triple?) entedres. From J, it was a simple matter of practicality-- he had a very basic question about this very basic yet often-taken for granted process, and wanted to ask someone he trusted what her idea of it was. I found it charming and, yes, lovely.

And, for the record, I told him to get to a non-threatening setting, pick someone pleasant-looking and start a non-controversial conversation. Perhaps I should begin practicing what I preach.

And how was Adams Morgan, where you had this Memorial Day dinner with your old friend?

So apparently, Adams Morgan is really quite lovely when not flooded with pizza crusts and the be-popped collar souls who discard them every Saturday night. Particularly on a warm, hazy night where attractive young people are flooding the cafes, still lightly toasted from a three-day weekend and glowing from the start of summer. "Do we really have to go to work tomorrow?" says the guy sitting across from us.

Yes, friend. But at least we have months of lovely memories to be made.

And I would use another adjectives, if only things would stop being so damn lovely.