Living the Life, er, Dream

Best kind of day to hang around and goof off: a rainy day like today.

In fact, I could have happily stayed home after my walk, but of course I didn't.

No, I went back to see "Spring Awakening" for the second time. And once again, I saw it from a stage seat.

And the best reason to see it a mere three weeks after I last saw it?

I mean, besides the five dollar ticket?

To sit on the opposite side of the stage from last time and notice things I hadn't when I was experiencing the story for the first time.

Like how when the boys in the cast are onstage singing "The Bitch of Living" I could see some of the girls in the cast just offstage dancing with abandon.

From my new vantage point, I could see the band, too, like when the guitarist switched from an electric to an acoustic guitar in full view of me.

Or when I could see the music director, her back to the band and facing the cast onstage, keeping tempo enthusiastically during "Totally F**ked."

But probably the best reason for sitting on the left side of the stage was the up close and personal view of the hilarious masturbation scene.

I'll tell you what, it's moments like that that make lifelong theater fans.

By the time the matinee let out, we were overdue to eat so we headed to Lunch.

It was an ideal time: after the lunch crowd and before the dinner crowd.

Even better, their happy hour runs every day of the week, so our Martin Codax Albarino was a mere $3.50 a glass.

Hello hay and honeysuckle on the cheap.

The River City Smokehouse and the Fay (house made chicken salad on multi-grain) preceded the very berry pound cake with mixed berries and whipped cream.

Best part of the meal: the pulled pork with coleslaw on a bun.

Our soundtrack was pure '60s Motown ("Baby Love," "Ain't No Woman") and while it was suggested I dance, I didn't.

I did, however, compliment our server on her beautiful breasts and she thanked me, saying, "That means so much more coming from a woman instead of a man. Like a woman telling you how good your make-up looks."

Actually her make-up looked great, too, but I didn't want to push my luck.

The best reason to finish up at Gallery 5 for the Commonwealth of Notions show was to benefit WRIR and Gallery 5.

WRIR DJ Shannon Cleary had assembled a stellar cast of bands for our philanthropic dollar.

Best reason to get to a show on time: so you don't miss anything you'd love to have heard.

I missed Snowy Owls' set and they not only played a new song but covered a White Laces song.

Damn, I could have smacked myself for missing out on those.

Best substitute for what I missed: catching the end of White Laces' incredibly tight set from the ticket desk.

Best surround sound set: Colloquial Orchestra's dynamic smorgasbord of eight musicians placed around the room and following the lead of the amazingly talented Dave Watkins on electric dulcitar.

The 27-minute improvised piece featured some of my favorite people, including Adam of Marionette, Matt of Snowy Owls and PJ, a guy who changes from mild-mannered photographer to a beast of a guitar god when he has an instrument in his hand.

Also of note was Brandon, who entered the fray late in the game, setting up a drum and taking over percussion duties impressively a bit after the set had begun.

Best act to overcome technical difficulties: Swordplay.

Isaac's rapping over vinyl is always a testament to his lyrical skills, but tonight he had so much snap, crackle and pop that he finally gave up using the mic and just sang a capella.

Later he told me that he felt like the sound problems were smacking him in the face, fighting him even.

To his credit, he fought back and won.

Best instinctive crowd direction: when the Low Branches' Christina opened her mouth to sing, what sounded like a half dozen people immediately shushed the crowd.

And they stayed quiet for the most part, even (or especially) when she covered the Boss.

For that matter, her comment, "We're the Low Branches and we're living the life. Er, dream. This is why we don't do stage talk," had the crowd, and even fellow bandmate Matt, cracking up.

Best multi-tasking by one musician in three bands: Matt, who played in Snowy Owls, Colloquial Orchestra and The Low Branches.

I don't know how my favorite fuzz-master even had time to do a shot of whiskey.

Best way to get a crowd dancing: having Bermuda Triangles play on the floor in front of the stage.

Their tribal drumming and wailing sax sound immediately got everyone moving and eventually there was full-on dancing going on as people lost their inhibitions and let the music take them away.

Best seamless transition: during Bermuda Triangles' last song, the final band, Canary, oh, Canary, took the stage.

Drummer Mark jumped into the drumming fray, playing along with  the Triangles  while CoC's guitarist and bass player held their instruments but stayed silent.

After Triangles' last note, they were thanked and Canary, oh, Canary began their set.

Theirs are some of my favorite bass lines.

Later in their set, guitarist Micheal announced, "Mark has broken his snare. Any drummer out there have a spare he can borrow?"

Not surprisingly, the show went on given the number of instruments in the room.

It was exceeded only by the number of musicians in the room.

Which made Gallery 5 the best possible place to spend my Saturday night.

And, just for the record, the light rain falling when I left made for the best possible walk home.

Broad Street al Fresco

I'm not ashamed to say that I got adopted at a tasting.

It had been months since I'd last gone to one of the Empress's Tuesday tastings and I definitely picked the right one to climb back on board.

Given the recent weeks' heat and humidity, the Empress had put their tastings on hiatus.

With today's beautiful weather, they'd bought red umbrellas, set out the blue glasses and opened up their new patio to the tasting crowd.

I arrived to a mostly full patio, but stopped to chat with Chef Carly before choosing a two-top and only occupying one seat.

Did you really think I could scrounge up a date?
Well, I hope you'd give me first shot.
Why? You're taken!
Yea, but I have a car and I still drive by the lots.


But I was lucky; before the tasting even got underway, the three women at the next table kindly invited me to join them for the evening's entertainment.

I'd heard one of them mention a beagle, so I knew they couldn't be all bad.

Like the other Tuesday tastings I'd attended at the Empress, this one showcased stellar wines and the most interesting food with a ridiculous price tag of $20.

We started with 2008 Inspiracion Pampano Rueda, a blend of Verdedjo and Viura paired with  a golden honeydew and white peach gazpacho.

The wine's acidity was pucker-worthy until we tasted it after the soup, at which point all the sharp edges smoothed out.

The ginger notes in the lovely gazpacho echoed the same in the wine.

Enjoying our first course, it was hard not to appreciate the lovely evening and the light breeze as we savored our food and wine al fresco.

My new friends were far from all bad; in fact, they were all theater people so I'd seen a lot of the productions they'd worked on.

I could actually participate in the conversation about recent plays. Score!

Our next course involved Martin Codax 2010 Albarino Rias Baixas, a peachy and citrusy wine that paired beautifully with a scallop ceviche with pear chips.

Stop the world, everybody needs to taste pear chips before they die.

Midway through our meal, one of the group asked me flat out if I was "I could go on and on."  A second woman seconded her thought.

How does this happen? How do people know? I never cease to be amazed when this happens.

We got a big buildup from owner Melissa about the next wine, a 2008 Las Rocas Garnacha, for its gorgeous nose and sumptuous long finish.

Melissa didn't lie. This wine did not even need food to appreciate how well crafted it was, but a dish of pink peppercorn and Thai basil frozen cream with raspberry coulis elicited sounds of satisfaction from the entire table.

While the concept of a savory ice cream may not be everyone's expectation for a pre-meat course, this combination of pepper and basil was to die for.

Several people asked the chef when this creamy delight would appear on the menu, but an answer wasn't immediately forthcoming.

And it was as pretty as it was delicious.

Our final wine course was the older woman to the previous wine's pretty young thing.

The 2008 Las Rocas Vinas Viejas Garnacha came from 80-year old vines versus 30-year old vines.

And while the last one had been wonderful, this one had a depth and structure that told you it had been around long enough to get the hang of things.

It was downright elegant.

Carly paired it with smoked filet Mignon with roasted cherries which matched the cherry flavor in the wine note for note.

As we savored our last course, the conversation turned to dating, ineffectual co-workers and the trials and tribulations of excessive use of Foursquare.

Not an issue for me. I will never be mayor of anywhere.

I found a kindred wine soul in one of the women (who runs 17 miles a day) who happily agreed to share a glass of the final magnificent wine with me.

It was impossible to let something so good go by at that point in the evening. Chances are, that's not a wine they'll be pouring again by the glass.

So we sat on the patio as it gradually cleared out, chatting and sipping as the traffic on Broad Street lessened.

If you're going to be adopted, expressive, hand-gesturing, well-spoken theater types are the way to go.

I may never be an actress, but I hope I have enough depth and structure and that I've been around long enough that I can stand in as one of their friends.

Actually, I'm shooting for downright elegant.

Postcard From the Edge

Current read: "The House of Mondavi" by Julia Flynn Siler/2007
Best song randomly heard: "Love Your Way" by Psychedelic Furs/1982

My guests have left and what am I to do with myself?

Well, being the responsible sort on occasion, I first sat down and wrote out an assignment.

And then suddenly remembering that I am on vacation, I did an about face and did what I could to make myself attractive enough to go out and face the world. At the beach, it doesn't take much.

The rain had just begun, along with an occasional flash of lightening and approaching thunder.

So I could stay in the cottage alone to watch Mother Nature's display or risk going out in the serious weather and see what happened.

Guess which way I went.

A little over half a mile away, the crowd at Ocean Boulevard welcomed me in. Many people were just finishing up dinner when I arrived, but a stool was found for me and I immediately had company.

After ordering some Martin Codax Albarino (hay and honeysuckle, yum), I found a bar stool and was pulled into conversation with a group from Cleveland. Yes, as in Ohio, but I maintained an open mind.

The two guys who started talking to me turned out to be far more interesting than I could have hoped for. One was a gym teacher and the other designed and built sports fields.

Sports fields, I asked? Yes, like baseball, football and even volleyball courts were what he designed. He'd even written three books on the subject of turf grass management for university classes.

As I learned, there's even a degree available in that subject. No more Future Farmers of America, these guys have degrees in sports turf management. We're talking at places like Ole Miss and VA Tech.

And while I can be impressed with an unusual career choice, I was bowled over to learn that my new friend was also a member of Left End, a hard rock band that once opened for the Eagles.

He told me of '70s gigs where they played for 20,000 people. He told me  of being part of the local bands featured at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

As these Ohioans drank beer, I moved on to Hullabaloo Old Vine Zinfandel, rich, peppery and almost 15%. Go ahead, judge me.

I met a guy from Dallas who tried to convince me that I liked Dallas, but after multiple visits, I know better.

We did discuss how frggin' flat it is and I had to offer props to the Nasher. Beyond that, he might as well have been speaking Swahili for all I believed him. But he tried hard.

The beginnings of a storm had morphed into a full-on weather event with  a major lightening hit in the back parking lot (the Left End guitarist and I witnessed a direct hit that resembled a fire ball and caused the bar's register to cease working). No one was going anywhere.

As the mood became more festive (the hail! the rain! the wind!), people who had ceased drinking took it up once more. Me, I just moved on to more of the same.

I somehow became designated the resident expert on where to eat, drink and sightsee on the Outer Banks, so I provided opinions on whatever was asked of me. The Ohioans began to act like I was some sort of oracle.

Eventually, the rain slackened and it seemed possible to head home.

About that time a Delaware resident sat down next to me and began posing all kinds of questions. I must look far more knowledgeable than I actually am.

We chatted for a while before I decided that I needed to get home, not because I had guests (I don't) but because I'd had enough of strangers and was curious to see if I'd heard from any friends or loved ones.

And because all good beach nights end up with wine on the back porch staring at (and listening to) the ocean.

 Sometimes I have good company and sometimes, like tonight, I wish for it. I must  need a new guest.

Takers?