A Walk on a Winter's Day

There's snow and then there's snow.

Today's white stuff - several inches on the ground when I finally got out of bed, the enormous flakes that suddenly dropped from the sky mid-afternoon, the delicate snow shower that fell while the sun was shining after that - was unlike any snow day in my rather long memory.

So while I attempted a walk, it soon became apparent that between the cars splashing slush on me and the wind chill factor cutting through four layers, it was going to be an abbreviated walk.

Okay, fine, I will spend the day inside working and admiring the snow from the warmth of my living room. Until about 7 p.m., that is, when cabin fever demanded that I leave the apartment and find mankind.

The closest place open was Max's on Broad, so I rounded up a Jackson Ward neighbor and we sloshed over. Almost every bar stool was taken except for the two waiting for us.

The bartender recognized me from my local vegetarian emporium and his first question was, "Did you go to Live at Ipanema last night?"

I brought him up to speed on last night's show since he hadn't worked it before moving on to wining and dining.

With glasses of a Cotes de Gascogne and a lively European cafe station playing such gems as a French version of "Cheek to Cheek" and "Italiano Mambo," it was easy to forget about the bad weather outside.

The music reached its apogee with a French-accented woman singing "Love Will Tear Us Apart," possibly a high point in unlikely cover songs.

A favorite actor who waits tables there came over to say hello and we compared notes on what plays we'd seen lately. When he heard about my upcoming plans to see "Tartuffe," rife with whip smart and lightening speed dialog, he proclaimed, "Oh, but you, you'll have no problem keeping up, that's for sure."

It's nice to be thought of as quick on the uptake.

For dinner, my friend went hearty with a beef burgundy but I stayed simple with a salami, brie and fennel melt sandwich with a side of apple and fennel slaw.

I liked everything about the sandwich- its crusty roll, abundance of toothsome salami and oozing cheese - but the wan and out of season tomato slices were a waste of time and I quickly discarded them.

In season, people, let's serve what's in season, shall we?

Just as we were finishing, another neighbor came in, like us looking for an escape from his house. Everyone claims to love a snow day, but some of us really don't want to be trapped at home for too long.

He was eager to show off pictures of his new puppy, but I was more interested in images of the paintings he's been working on lately.

I own one of his pieces and while he'd shared some tidbits about the inspiration for the large scale work when he'd given it to me, tonight he confessed that the central theme of it was "the one that got away."

He said that if I went home and looked in the upper corner of the painting, I'd even see her name and, sure enough, I looked when I got home and there it is, buried among dabs of paint.

Personally, I find a romance in him having created this enormous painting for a woman who will never see it...or know that she was the one that got away.

I am nothing if not a romantic at heart.

We left the painter to his phone and pictures of his puppy, heading to Bellytimber for music and Guggenheim Malbec.

Our waitress was only 19, so she brought the bottle of wine to us already open, but boasted that it was okay for her to pour for us, which made no sense. What a tangled web the VA ABC weaves for us and the underage set.

Playing tonight were The English Majors, a math rock band (get it?), and Chris Brockaw, a former member of Coedine and on his way to open for Bob Mould.

The show had originally been scheduled for my neighborhood record store, Steady Sounds, but the weather had prevented them from opening today.

The English Majors were minus a major tonight but played a short set anyway, with guitarist PJ saying about the closer, "This next song is a cover. Listen for the melody," before doing a cover of the timeless "California Dreamin."

I'll admit, Bellytimber is not a big favorite of mine and the non-stop procession of overly drunk guys coming through the door all night didn't help change that much.

Some guys all but veered into the wall as they came through the glass-paned door, also challenging for those already seeing double and triple.

But the company was good, friends had been playing music and on a snowy night, you have to allow for cabin fever drunks wandering in off the streets.

Introducing himself as from Seattle, Chris Brokaw and his fuzz pedals were up against a bunch of drunks shouting at each other, but his quiet resolve to play his brooding music won out, at least for those of us up front and listening.

He began with a couple of songs from "Gambler's Ecstacy" before moving through his catalog of dark lyrics and catchy guitar, even including the century old American folk song, "Stagger Lee."

It was a shame that so few people made it out to hear him tonight because he was seriously talented and singing densely beautiful songs.

And to think I could have been at home making hot chocolate in my pajamas instead.

Wait, I don't have pajamas. No, I made the right choice.