Sing Single Girl

It doesn't take much to find a simple way to savor the end of the weekend.

When you walk into Avalon twenty minutes after it opens on a Sunday, it's a safe bet that there will already be some regulars in place.

And the bartender who's been there forever will greet me like a regular even though my frequency there is slight compared to an actual regular.

It helps that I am meeting a true regular, someone whose default after-work bar is Avalon.

Because he has already chosen a brown drink, I do the same, sidestepping wine to order Hornitos and we proceed to cover as much conversational territory as possible in the short time we have.

We talk about my Scottish friend wanting me to come visit and the charm/inevitability of livestock on the roads when you drive in Scotland.

I know it's true because it's happened to me.

Because I know it will crack him up, I tell him my recent oyster story and he tells me that only I could take a walk on a shell bar in the river and have a guy approach me.

I'm quite sure I'm not the only one.

After our limited time together, I head out to collect a willing music lover and spend the evening at Commercial Taphouse listening to a couple of my favorite local performers.

Songbird Allison Self has Grant Hunnicutt of River City Band playing with her tonight and his mandolin and voice are a terrific addition to her big voice.

With a Ploughman's platter of cheeses, pickles,bread, tomato and lettuce to sustain us, we sit in the back most booth because it's the only one free when we walk in.

There's something quite civilized about listening to old bluegrass and Americana, stuff like Carter Family tunes, a favorite of Allison's, and "Single Girl, Married Girl" on a Sunday night.

The crowd was even mostly paying attention, which was appreciated given how good the two sounded in the small restaurant.

It wasn't an earth-shattering kind of evening, but everyone at my table seemed to be having a great time.

But then, we're regulars at having a good time wherever we end up.

Celebrating Someone Else

What's the best way to say happy  birthday to another Gemini?

I have no idea, but here's my strategy. I walked up to the Belvidere at Broad with a quick stop at the Rite-Aid.

There, a neighbor I know grabbed me, reminded me that we hadn't had lunch for  a year (I fear she's correct) and insisted that we meet up soon. Okay, I'm not getting out enough.

At the Belvidere at Broad, I immediately ran into a wine friend from Secco, who called me out for being in my own neighborhood.

After taking a seat at the bar, yet another neighbor with whom I'd worked the census, came over and  reminded me that it had been too long.

Since losing the beagle, clearly I am not out and about on the streets of Jackson Ward enough. This needs to be corrected.

Starting with the Gatao  vino verdhe, I moved on to the ahi tuna tacos while trying to discern the source of the  music being played. Finally, I gave up and asked what was playing.

"Elton Jon," the bartender blithely responded. Duh. What station were we listening to, I questioned, asking what I really wanted to know.

A bar sitter gave the right response. "You mean, not what is this crazy rock and roll music?" Right.

"Classic Vinyl," she responded, explaining the Led Zeppelin, Kinks. Beatles, the Band and Derek and the Dominoes soundtrack that was assaulting my ears.

Sigh. Really?

But the vino verdhe was good, the tacos superb and the music to be tolerated, so I soldiered on. Even a classic rock hater like me can appreciate the heroin-fueled passion of a song like "Layla."

When 9:00 rolled around, I excused myself to go to a friend's birthday soiree at Ballcieaux.

There, the crowd was gathering for the Chris Pureka show (he/she's gender-neutral) while we gathered for Kevin's birthday celebration.

I met a handsome theater critic who gave me great conversation about  RVA's theater scene past and present.

Best of all, he's newly arrived from Chicago, so his opinion is that of a come-here, always my favorite. I may have a guaranteed theater date from here on out.

I met an interior decorator who expressed interest in getting his hand on my 1876 apartment (slowly, friend, slowly). Coffee blogger was there as well as Style's new calendar editor (your work is cut out for you, friend).

I drank Hornitas to add to the festivities (and because the bartender Sean automatically poured it).

When the birthday boy was presented with an unexpected shot of tequila, I coached him on proper methodology. Gin and tonic is not a proper tequila back,

My birthday card summed up my philosophy: Work less, play more. He laughed but acknowledged the truth of it

I could only say that to another Gemini. As he would know, life is too short.