washwords

So yesterday, after work, I decided to just take the green line home to stop at Ben’s and pay my respects for their 50th anniversary Ben’s Chili Bowl Celebrates Fifty Years With Three Free Events This Week! « Capital Spice.

Granted, it was a beautiful summer night, I’m a bit emotional (even for me), in love, and generally happy and seeing the good in the world.

But the scene there made me teary. A happy teary. Because the scene there was just so nice. Really truly nice. The nice that’s not an insult.

[Photo on flickr by "Jim Darling"Ben's Chili Bowl 50th Anniversary on Flickr]

Whether it was the rocking music, “We’ve got the funk….” the diverse line streaming down the sunny U street, the cheery smiles, the infamous sign: “Who eats free at Ben’s? Bill Cosby. And NO ONE else,” I was moved. Moved to tears. The man in front of me said “I’ve been here since waaaay back in the day.” I told him I hadn’t been but I love the stories. I love that they survived doing what they do - the simplicity of half smokes and chili - and doing it well for 50 years.

I love that they made it, that they kept on keeping on through the painful days, the ugly days in our history and DC’s history. I love that they love what they do, and have stood for justice and freedom and equality without preaching, without anger or vitriol or indignation (even when they had a right to!).

I love the half smokes and that my friend took me there as a must-see when I first was single in the city, newly divorced, hurting and lost and new to everything again. And Ben’s was home, my new home. And now as I prepare to leave the city in a few months, it is comforting to me to know that things will remain the same. Here’s to you Ben’s - I hope to be there for your 100th!

Oops, I did it again.

So, last night at my coop board meeting, I asked an innocent question related to of our house rules and our rights and responsibilities as owners. No biggie, totally normal and within the realm of reasonable happenings at a coop board meeting. Right? Right.

Except…. the question I asked was “So, what are the rules about subletting again, as in, can we?” and this is a building of 300 people, 300 people who I went through the grueling coop conversion process with; 300 people who include several friends, one ex-bf and his newlywed wife, also a friend; 300 people who I argued with and against on message boards and meetings over several years.
So, the meeting was barely over when…
“So…. what’s going on?”
“Where are you going? Why are you leaving?”
“What’s happening!!!???”

The truth is that my boyfriend and I have been talking, t a l k i n g, about the future. A future where we might be together… more… permanently. Given that he has dogs and other suburban responsibilities, my beeaaaautttious coop is out for us, so…

I hadn’t realized asking would mean I’d now opened myself to investigation, congratulations, advice and even this gem “So… you’re not sure it would be permanent. Subletting not selling?” I think that friend was kidding. I think.

Lesson learned. Even when you’re anonymous, you’re not. Even when you’re You in Real Life, there are things folks don’t know about you. Till you tell them. Publicly. Oops

Tags: identity, outing, out, living together, talking, future, relationships, moving in together, suburbs, city, coop, rules, coop rules, regulations, oops I did it again

John Kass’s free “Get out of SATC card” for men in the Chicago Tribune reminded me of my many, many, many rants on this show. (And yes, John, I’m a young(ish) female reader.)

As a woman, and a woman who sure watched some of the episodes, had a chuckle or two, I too can see the insipidness of this show. Another thing, it’s about the LEAST feminist female-empowering thing on the planet.
I could write a book (some have I’m sure) but among my SATC gripes… the last episode! Seriously! are you bonkers? here’s what it told me and other young women…

Carrie: I love love love the city, the city will be my man! Writing will be my love!

Carrie (five minutes later): Eh, screw my writing career, I’m moving to Paris to be a ballet dancer’s wife.

Carrie (another five minutes later): What?? Leave my life? no way. Grrrrl power. I’m going back to nyc where I belong! The city is my love

Carrie (yet ANOTHER five minutes later): What? Big getting out of a limo. Carry me away Prince Charming! Yayayaya. I don’t have to be a writer or pretend the city is my love anymore. I’ve gotta man. see ya bee-atches!

Hmmph. To me, this is a little like the feeling I had when showing up on “35 and single by choice” (or something like that’s) website to be greeted with “Surprise! This web site has taken a turn! I’m pregnant with twins, married, and quit my job! Yay!”

Stay tuned. Next week (just to drive up traffic) I plan to riff on the five million (or so) kids’ books that are better than Harry Potter. Yep, prepare your angry lashbacks now!

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