Our mid-summer meeting in DC
clashed with a massive Microsoft convention,
meaning troublesome techies had taken over the town
literally. . .
The only available hotel was the “W”
or so the booking agent claimed. . .
I was taken aback by the hotel’s neighborhood
. . .
like the Treasury Department across the street. . .
and the uber-historic Willard next door . . .
and this other little place, just around the corner. . .
When forced into fancier digs like the W,
one doesn’t suspect the most fakery
of fake fireplaces will grace the lobby
* * *
But when it’s 90 degrees outside
and your hotel’s Stephen-Colbert fireplace is roaring –
other curiosities start to pop up
Like dubious ceiling mobiles
dangling from traditional molding
W’s decor may have been going for “edgy”
but often ended up as “schitzophrenic cheesy”
And in the “what were they thinking” department,
were the purply feathers festooning the lobby windows
really necessary? Really?
In my room, the bed had a cool candela headboard
In the bathroom, a stainless steel ladder
doubled as a towel rack.
The room’s bottled water
advised guests to keep their cool
Good advice after you
spot the hair-raising price
Boarding across from the house of legal tender
was surreal, yet oddly comforting. . .
* * *
After our meeting on Thursday,
M and I ran into the White House Farmers Market.
To cheese or not to cheese,
that was the question . . .
For Margit, it was to abscond
or not to abscond with that berry tart. . .
Shy Amish sell the red meat to the English.
White House chefs purportedly use vegetables
from Mrs. Obama’s organic garden.
However, according to Fox News,
most of those vegetables don’t always make it
into the First Family meals.
Tantalizing tart that nearly
tempted M into criminal turpitude
Ads to discombobulate waffling vegans. . .
Brazenly planted in the sweltering DC heat
the gelato samples tried to stay afloat.
Teeshirts have not given up hope
M proposed we dine at Zola,
attached to the Spy Museum.
Teeming with espionage,
Zola’s walls were lined with
pre-CIA declassified documents. . .
And the food was pretty decent too. . .
It was hard not to feel spied upon. . .
. . . in more ways than one . . .
Before heading back to her Dupont digs,
M checked out the rooftop view at W’s restaurant . . .
Penn Quarter can make you feel
like you’re mixing with movers and shakers.
Coincidentally, some time that next morning,
a freakish earthquake shook the city. . .
To my chagrin, me and a lot of late-risers
snoozed through the seismic event.
The next day, M suggested a visit to
Dumbarton House in genteel Georgetown.
It was also her crazy idea to walk there.
It’s a pleasant walk normally, but not really advisable
during Washington’s sweltering summer months.
Astounded by her fortitude,
I was determined not to wimp out first. . .
As we walked through the Embassy-rich neighborhood,
we spotted a sidewalk stand on P Street
offering hydration to DC’s prodigous pets
Unfortunately, none of those roadside drink stops catered to humanoids
It was so freaking hot we must have lost near
5 kilos of perspiration while schlepping from DC proper . . .
Not that anyone was counting . . .
An hour into our walk, and just steps from Georgetown,
Ms. M finally succumbed to the heat,
and lobbied for a pit stop at a nearby coffee shop.
Our bourgeois iced coffees just hit the spot.
Although it was fun, and no doubt a life-saving break,
we missed the last tour at Dumbarton House. . .
M had to return to New York to prepare
for a beastly trial.
The next day I promised to return to visit
Georgetown’s troika of historic homes and gardens. . .
Thanks to Jean, the best docent in all of Washington,
who conjured up the smoke and cinder as the British burned Washington,
who re-created the clatter of horses as the soldiers galloped past,
who drove me up to Tudor House so I wouldn’t pass out along the way. . .
Tudor House’s singular resident
is often caught catnapping . . .
Pan suggests Lovers Pond . . .
TO MARKET, TO MARKET
One of the oldest markets in the U.S.
and a place to feel more patriotic while
disbursing those treasury notes around. . .
For special visitors, the Market offers a little somethin’-somethin’
Everyone is so friendly
and the goods are so good
I’m constantly saying “Si” and “Oui”
to this fabulous organic market. . .
A mid-day break at Sizzlin’ Express is always excellent. . .
Even if M’s refrain of buffets = cooties still replays in my head. . .
Arriving at Whole Foods one night, I met Zoey,
Not only did people stop to comment on her beautiful coloring,
but Z had excellent manners !
The Nose Knows
When I exited Whole Foods, Zoey had vanished,
leaving this wispy, sweet-faced Greyhound in tow . . .
The little guy seemed skittish and hungry.
Or maybe I was just projecting. . .
. . .
Abe, all lit up pretty in one of those renovated call boxes. . .
Mirroring their international cousins,
plucky pigeons pick the perfect perches.
Some time you’ll just be walking down the road
and come upon a plaque or a street sign
and it’ll be something pretty amazing
. . . other times, not so much
The trees in Lafayette Park are phenomenal,
all those whorls and crags and bumps and gnarliness.
Makes you reflect on the historic happenings
during their strong and steadfast growth . . .
Sifting through the beads and baubles of Beadazzled
A fun hangout is “Afterwords”
the somewhat infamous Cafe Bookstore.
Back in more innocent times when Mr. Clinton
mistook the Oval Office for the Oral Office,
the bookshop became famous for
illegally resisting the Ken Star subpoenas. . .
Having the chance to prowl
the late-night bookshops,
peruse the tenderly-bound volumes,
well, that’s literary heaven
in this tech-tastic world.
While this title cheered me no end . . .
I did a double-take on this book about
scraggly, cranky Confederates.
How intriguing, I simply had to know what
this hairy-chinned, plaid-clad and no doubt
well-armed Rebel was doing hiding in someone’s Attic . . .
And that’s how you find yourself led
deeper and deeper into the literary world. . .
Seriously, look at the passion and drive of that kitty !
The Jackson Pollock of Paw Prints. . .
Simple is as simple does
Chocolate box saying
Irrationally anxious around high finance?
This might be a good place to start . . .