Yesterday, Rachel went back to school ("Hi, playground! I haven't played with you in two weeks!" she said cheerfully as she swung on her crutches past the playground) and Rachel Jones left very early in the morning for editing at Voice of America, so I had the house largely to myself (and I had a rare Monday off). I did two interviews for the magazine story I'm working on, set up a bunch more interviews for later this week, went swimming (I need to swim if I don't want my body to curl up into a little gnome-like figure because I edit 7 1/2 hours a day and the desk is not ergonomically correct for me), came home, worked some more and then hopped the train to meet Rachel in Northwest D.C. for dinner at the house of a colleague of hers from VOA.
The house was lovely -- its style reminded me of the insides of the Craftsman houses I miss so much in Portland -- and the couple was charming. Rachel's colleague, John, used to be at NPR and has worked a long time in public radio (he's 60), and even knew a former colleague of Drew's from the Seattle Times, David Postman. John's wife, Satha, is a federal public defender and successfully defended the guy accused of killing Chandra Levy. The food was excellent and low-cal; swordfish, pasta with spinach, a creamy soup and a cauliflower mash. I had brought a pinot noir from Erath Winery, one of my favorites in Oregon, and we had quite a lot to drink (two glasses for me). Then, for dessert, they brought out dark chocolate and raspberry liquer, chambord, which was OUT OF THIS WORLD. I hadn't wanted to go out, but Drew insisted, and we ended up having a great time.
It's evenings like those -- a school night, although it could just as easily have been a weekend -- that remind me how different my life is from when we lived in Oregon. And how mostly grateful I am for that.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment