Saturday, February 25, 2012

A Beautiful Day, Promises to be a Beautiful Evening

Mid-60s yesterday, below freezing today. Brian, the produce guy at Newport Market, ebulliently commented this morning, saying, gotta love this town.

I woke up at 6:30 to five inches of snow. Now the sun is blazing in a clear sky, snowmelt is dripping from the eves, there is a possibility of Mykonos Martinis in my future (more about this later), our friend Michael Hill* has returned to his home at Sweeney Pond (Alsea, Ore.) after his annual migration to winter in Cali's Central Valley; Mrs Elliott and I had a very good meal last night at Bend's Zydeco Kitchen with the always-entertaining Bruce** and Mrs. Miller; I'm drinking my first glass of wine (Chateau de Campuget [$8]); Mrs Elliott is out doing fused-glass things at her shop, The Glass Guild; and we have Chicken Piccata*** on the menu tonight.

We'll cook this together. I always like cooking with Mrs Elliott--she's just swell.

Tonight's fragrance: Grey Flannel by Geofrey Beene.

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* Comment, Michael!

** Bruce routed me at a chess game at The Wine & Beer Shop and Tasting Bar earlier in the evening. He'll pay for this! (Shakes fist at the skies.)

*** Over a pint of ale at Good Life (see: Bend's west side) a couple days ago, a fellow who knows me more from my blog than from Real Life told me that from reading my blog some might think that I are some kind of epicure. To clarify: though I have assorted and diverse pretensions, I am just a boy from the suburbs. I love cooking, I have dined in fine restaurants from Tokyo and Hong Kong, to Paris and Vienna. . . but, let's face it, I'll eat anything. I have a weakness for Jack In The Crack Box tacos, and there isn't a donut alive I've ever turned my nose up at. At which I've ever turned my nose up. Who the hell said you can't end a sentence with a preposition? Meet me outside.

2 comments:

  1. "Brian, the produce guy at Newport Market, ebulliently commented this morning, saying, gotta love this town."

    You know, that expression also can be employed in an ironic sense. "gotta love: A way of expressing your liking/preference for something, sometimes sarcastically." -- Urban Dictionary

    Holly Gerdin Hamilton employs it that way at the conclusion of her delightful song, "Stuck in the Middle of Bend."

    ReplyDelete
  2. "Who the hell said you can't end a sentence with a preposition?"

    It's an archaic, school-marmish rule that, if strictly followed, produces awkward, almost unreadable constructions, viz.:

    "Ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which I simply will not put." -- Winston Churchill

    ReplyDelete

 
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