Now Hear This

Everyone needed my ear today.

First came the message, "We need to talk," which we tried doing, although we really didn't need to.

You can only rehash certain subjects so many times.

Next came, "Do you need a dinner date for tonight?" which I did so we met at Lemaire.

It was Discovery wine night when they practically give away bottles for $15, so he ordered a California chardonnay and I went with an interesting-sounding blend.

M. Chapoutier Cotes du Luberon La Ciboise Blanc, a blend of Grenache Blanc, Vermentino, Ugni Blanc and Roussanne, delivered lemon and pear up front and a nice acidity on the finish and a desire to know more about Ugni Blanc (which turned out to be nothing more than Trebbianio according to a certain someone's smart phone).

Although we started out at the bar, we soon moved to a window banquette, the better to watch the street theater and the entirety of the back room, which was full to capacity.

Deal-makers ignored everybody else, businessmen checked out every PYT who walked in and pairs of women dotted the bar, talking non-stop.

Entertaining as it was, I'd have been happy to sit outside since I've yet to do so, but my dinner date was having none of it.

Seems he's yet another man looking forward to warm weather going away while I'm lamenting its gradual but inevitable exit.

We started with Virginia cheese and charcuterie plates garnished with the sweetest of strawberries as he told me about all the drama going on with his job.

Stories like his make me grateful to be self-employed.

Like me, he's a big fan of eating out so we compared recent restaurant meals and who's been impressing us with which dishes and who seems rather static.

Nothing like a dinner date who wants to discuss food.

I kept it simple for dinner, a hearts of romaine salad with shrimp, more than enough after all that meat and cheese.

That and it left more room for dark chocolate terrine with mint cream and candied cashews, which we sort of shared, although he ate far less of it than I did.

It's a good thing I wasn't born back when women only ate a few bites on dinner dates in order to appear more feminine.

Call me new-fangled, but I count on my dresses to convey femininity, not my appetite.

The banquette was comfy enough that we lingered for hours sipping wine and chatting about our found similarities - living in Dupont Circle, a disdain for nightwear, a lot of dancing in our past- before noticing the time.

I don't have to be up early, but he does, so we wound things down and said goodnight.

There was still plenty of time for me to catch some music, so I drove to Balliceaux to find it.

The Low Branches were just finishing their first song, so I took a seat on the steps (okay, partially on a guy's feet, but he was on his phone so what did he care?) to watch their set.

I love hearing Christina sing Dolly Parton's "Jolene," especially with the fleshed out sound provided by Josh's bass and Blasco's drumming.

The also did a new song, one Matt called beautiful and Christina warned they hadn't played much yet.

Matt was right on this one.

They closed with a haunting song Christina sang in Turkish and it was over too soon.

During the break, I heard about the Fall Line Fest, which I'd missed by being at the beach.

One of the best moments came when I saw a friend, someone I recently learned I now have barely any degrees of separation from, and we just grinned at each other, unsure how to begin the discussion of what we now know.

We managed and it was pretty funny, but both of us are still adjusting.

The music resumed with ...and The Wiremen, a quartet of guitar, drums, violin and trumpet with occasional bass.

With a singer who warbles like Bryan Ferry (and was as often off-mic as on), Paul Watson's soulful trumpet playing (which I've been following for years since a long-ago show at Ghostprint Gallery), interesting drumming (brushes, yes, but the handles also used on the rims of the drums) and a violinist making the most of the instrument's potential (when he wasn't playing the bass and laying down grooves), the atmospheric set kept the crowd engaged in the soundcsapes they were creating.

Which is to say, that I never moved from the staircase where I had a straight shot of these four terrific musicians making music that spanned genres.

Before the last song, the singer said, "That bag is full of CDs and you can take one and pay what you will. That's the end of my sales pitch. Any more and I'm a minister."

No, thank you.

Heathen that I am, that's one thing my ears have absolutely no interest in hearing.