The presence

I felt the presence of my Aunt Carrie this past Friday. She stepped in to show me how it is done. Friday night was the beginning of my art sale/open house extravaganza. I had thought it was going to be much like an Apartment Open House. People walk in, sign in. look around, buy or don’t and leave. An hour and a half in, no one showed up. I am thinking its a no-go. Too cold out. But then my buzzer rings and my DC transplant friend shows up with his new roommate, a Huguenot with a flair for German curse words and French art history. He leaves and returns with a bottle of wine. Riverdale’s greatest married couple appear, leave for a moment and return with yet more wine and some cheese. Next thing I know my spot is filled with people. The new wine store by my house delivers and we take full advantage of the courtesy. More people arrive. Food from Rice and Chennai Garden arrives. I put on some Brazilian music and then some Fela.

The party’s fate is sealed as being one of my best ever with what transpired next: DC mentions this collection of short stories by Annie Proulx (also contains Brokeback Mountain) that he is reading and that I should grab a copy. He stops and asks, “do you mind if I read you some?”. While we are discussing literature. Others are coordinating a trip to DR to go kite surfing. Still others are discussing the joys of going to the gym and then completing the evening with margaritas and nachos (gym optional).

The perfect modern speakeasy experience.

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~ by Cybel Martin on December 5, 2005.

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