“That’s Marceline,” I say, mid sip, not even trying to hide my enthusiasm. Our waitress smiles and nods, proudly displaying the small Adventure Time tattoo on her forearm. I muse about Adventure Time for a moment, by far, one of my favorite shows, while trying to detect whether or not the red wine I’m drinking…
During my review of Joule Coffee, I talked about this look that my friend Nikki has. I’ve come to recognize it, over the past 10+ years as her- “Really, Missy?” look. I’ve seen it a few times. There was the time that I dyed my hair black in college, the time I eloped in Vegas,…
The waitress hands me a spork. “What’s that for?” Nikki asks. “Oh, it’s for the grits,” I explain, placing it carefully next to my knife. “But I’m not using it. I think sporks and spoons are disgusting.” Nikki sighs, with a hint of amusement, and says: “Of course you do.”
It’s a Thursday. I’m sitting in the window of Sitti, an incredible Lebanese restaurant in downtown Raleigh. Despite icy rain, and a congested commute home from Durham, I somehow beat my dinner companion, arriving at 6:30 on the dot. When she arrives, I’m already sipping a dry red, an incredible Argentinian Malbec.