Happy the WIld Child Inspirer

The problem with getting up at 11 is that you're not really ready for lunch before about 2:30 and plenty of the places that do lunch are just winding up lunch service by then.

Not wanting to be "that" customer who shows up just as the staff is looking to close the door on lunch, I've learned to seek out the places who have no set lunch hours. And Garnett's fits the bill perfectly.

Add in the charming chef Mac who greeted me with his sly smile and "S'up, Karen?" as I headed for the counter and I know I've made the right choice for my mid-afternoon meal.

We chatted about the difficulties of being a meat-lover in vegetarian surroundings, a situation he'd recently come from.

At the counter, my server handed me a menu and I handed it back, requesting the Cobb salad. She smiled knowingly and I noticed when her shift ended, her take-out container contained the same thing. Mac's Cobb rules.

Barely into my meal, a good friend arrived, making for a terrific surprise lunch companion. She got the chicken salad sandwich and we proceeded to discuss life while chowing down.

She'd seen my post about considering match.com and wanted to put in her two cents worth, voting an enthusiastic "yea," but insisting that I give it a full six-month trial to be fair. No dipping my toe in the water and yanking it out, so to speak.

It was interesting; she mentioned how different her life is now that she gets up/goes to bed early because of her boyfriend's schedule, while my nights and mornings continue to inch later. "We've switched lives," she laughed. Boyfriend aside, I think I got the better deal schedule-wise.

She'd recently taken the Myers-Briggs personality test and informed me that she was an ENFP, coincidentally the same type I am. I first took that test back in 1995 and I had yet to know another ENFP, so I got a kick out of hearing that she was the same type, someone who lives in the world of exciting possibilities.

It's in the nature of ENFPs to want to learn more about their personality type (more so than any other type), so she'd bought the same book I had sixteen years ago. She'll soon learn that an ENFP is thought of as both an inspirer and a wild child. Reconcile those two if you can.

The two of us decided to share dessert and ordered the chocolate-pecan pie because ENFPs love life and strive to make the most out of it, even at lunch.

Not to mention we both have a wicked sweet tooth. Funny, it doesn't mention that in the personality descriptions, but I'm sure it contributes to why ENFPs are basically happy people.

There, There, Tell Me All About It

Feeling somewhat better now, thank you.

Despite the wind that was blowing so hard that I actually felt sharp things hitting my face as I walked, I hoofed it over to Garnett's to meet a girlfriend for a catch-up/feel-better session and lunch. The food was negotiable, the talking was not.

We were both surprised at how busy Garnett's was; a table barely emptied before a new party was sitting down at it. When I walked in the counter was full up and five minutes later completely empty. I scored a couple of stools before that changed again.

I won't repeat what I said when my friend came up and asked me how I was, but let's just say we dove right into it. I ordered a Cobb salad, told her what was up in my world (like she didn't already know) and she gave me her take on things.

A server I know came in and sat next to me and we laughed about a mutual friend who has a new girlfriend. He was recently boasting about having finished his Christmas shopping for her.

Turns out he bought the exact same thing for her that he bought for his last two girlfriends: a cardigan, a record and a piece of jewelry. The women can change, but the present list remains carved in stone apparently. Definitely laugh-worthy.

Jenny, my talented baker friend, and her husband came in in between baking jobs and we chatted about the hustle-bustle that's everywhere right now. I could have kissed her when she touched my shoulder and said, "You look so pretty today." Kind words, just what I needed to hear.

Another friend and her wine rep husband were next, taking a respite from having just been over on Midlothian Turnpike, which they described as a zoo. They'd tried Black Sheep (long waiting list), Harrison Street Cafe (already closed for the holidays) and then decided on Garnett's.

Until recently, they lived a few blocks from Garnett's, so it was like coming home for them. I usually only run into them at wine events, so it was an unexpected pleasure to see them and talk today.

I met one of the guys from One Ring Zero, who was down from NYC visiting his sister. I'd heard lots of good thing about him from my girlfriend and he turned out to be a most interesting guy. He had the mistaken notion that I was an acocuntant (!) so I clarified my skill set for him.

My Cobb salad had set a sort of salad trend, with the couple at the end of the bar getting the same and the girl next to me having the spinach salad. She commented that no sandwiches were allowed at the lunch counter today, which I think points to the fact that the salads at Garnett's are as good as the sandwiches. And for that triumph, credit goes to Mac the Magnificent.

And speaking of, I felt a hand running down the back of my jumper and turned to see the great Mac himself, coming by to save the day. As of next week, he'll be back at Garnett's full time, which means we'll have way more time to talk again. I love Mac's laid-back take on life (not to mention his culinary skills) and he's always giving me advice on men. Mostly to avoid them, but still.

Before leaving, my girlfriend did a wrap-up of our discussion (no Power Point, but close), making sure I took into consideration what I was dealing with. Yes, oh wise one, I get it.

Walking home, the sunny sidewalks had been replaced with shady ones, but I actually felt a little better about things. Not to be corny, but it kind of felt like I'd been embraced by caring friends, which I had, both literally and figuratively.

Onward and upward.

Double Jinx at Garnett's Cafe

I don't know if there's a cozier place than Garnett's on a rainy day. It already feels like you're having lunch in someone's snug kitchen and the rain outside just emphasizes the comfort factor.

So after working all morning, I was headed over in the downpour to meet a friend, jabber and have some lunch.

And I wasn't a bit surprised to find the place full up except for a couple of seats at the counter, one of which I slid in to. A guy at the end of the bar was reading a book. The older couple behind me were chowing down in silence.

Seated next to me was the afternoon/evening cook who'd decided to come in early and hang out until his shift began, so he was happily sketching until his turn in the kitchen. "I couldn't think of anyplace better to be on a day like this," he explained. What he said.

Once again I fell victim to their fabulous Cobb salad (every salad should have bacon, don't you think?) and my friend and I dove into our latest news. Hers was monumental and exciting at the same time. Unlike me, she is no longer available.

The funny part of that, as I told her, is that twice in recent days, I had been talking to friends (couple friends, of course) about how one by one, all my long-time available friends have been pairing up.

Which is a good thing and I'm happy for them all. But both times, I'd mentioned that I at least still had one close friend in the same boat I'm in. One person who didn't automatically have a date for everything.

"Thank you!" she laughed. "You jinxed me right into being taken!"

Now that I know I have that power, I just have to figure out how to jinx myself.

Women as Advertisements

Tonight I was the poster girl for eating out, apparently. My plans were for later, so I intended to have a leisurely dinner at Tarrant's, knowing I'd have to wait until after the pre-Wicked/Symphony crowd cleared out. I could tell by the harried looks on the staff's faces when I arrived that it had been a crazy day. Between Saturday Stroll, drunken post-Irish festival attendees and then the theater crowd, they'd already been through the wringer.

Need proof? By 7:30, Tarrant's was out of their renowned garlic knots, those yeasty rolls they make and douse in oil and garlic. I know people who go there just for those rolls. I sat at the end of the bar and made it simple by just getting a Cobb salad and while I say "just," I think their Cobb is the best in the city. The bands of bacon, red onion, avocado, tomato and bleu cheese are generous and rest on top of a varied array of mixed greens.

Moments after my salad came, a foursome entered and one of the girls immediately stepped over to me and said, "That looks amazing. What is it?" I told her and she ogled it for a while until her date grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Not even five minutes later, a group of six came in and a girl looked at me, looked at my Cobb and said, "Omigod, that looks so good. It's like you're an advertisement for this restaurant looking so content with that salad in front of you! What is it?" So if you haven't had it, it's a big, beautiful-looking salad that's perfectly delicious.

As I was winding down, local artist and noted character Nate Motely came in for coffee and pliers (don't ask) and insisted on giving me one of his drawings. We see each other a lot around town (821 especially) and he loves to talk art with me; I'm guessing that's why he gifted me with this piece out of the blue. I'll admit, it made my night.

Then it was on to Plant Zero for another night of the James River Film Fest and to see Patti Smith: Dream of Life. Shot over a decade, the film was as interesting visually as it was for its content. It began with Smith saying, "Life is an adventure of our own design, intersecting fate in a series of lucky and unlucky accidents," and went on from there to show her in concert, on the road, visiting grave sites and at readings and protests. Directed by Steven Sebring and for the most part black and white, it was a compelling look at a fascinating woman.

In an elevator scene, she comments on someone asking her what it feels like to be a rock icon. "When they say that, it makes me feel like Mount Rushmore," she wryly notes. With her androgynous face and strong bones, she'd actually be a magnificent addition to that monument.

Her 1931 Gibson guitar was a gift from Sam Shepard and she named it Beau. Naturally, it had a lot of allure to musicians and she told of how when they came over, inevitably they'd compliment the guitar. She'd ask them if they wanted to play it, of course they'd accept and begin by tuning it. "And I'd get my guitar tuned!" she said gleefully. Even the mighty Bob Dylan tuned Smith's guitar this way.

Sebring had originally been scheduled to talk after the film, but scheduling conflicts prevented it. I would have liked to have heard the discourse afterwards because it appeared that the audience members were long-time devotees of Smith and undoubtedly would have had questions and information to share with the man who filmed her for ten years.

The documentary was fascinating for me because I didn't know enough about this seminal female figure in music history. Her one-upmanship stories of her skill at peeing in unusual places endeared her to me; I've been there myself, all urge and no place to go.

I came away feeling like Smith could be an advertisement for women carving out their own path in life. I wouldn't mind being thought of in that way myself.