Rants and Ramblings: random commentary about culture, media, politics, technology and whatnot.

daydream believer

The weather today has been so beautiful that it seems almost criminal not to be outside enjoying it. Work won out over sunshine during the day, but tonight I decided to go out for a walk and enjoy the warm air.

I live in Alexandria, in the “up-and-coming” neighborhood of Del Ray, whose “main drag,” Mount Vernon Avenue, is a center not only of commerce but of community as well.

I’ve toyed with the idea of moving out to Arlington or Falls Church once my lease is up, so as to be closer to work, but I really like this neighborhood and the feeling of community I get from it. I like that I can walk places — to the grocery store, or to the gym, or to the myriad restaurants on Mt. Vernon Ave. I like that I can hear people chatting on their back porches on comfortable nights, and that, from my apartment, I can hear the plink of aluminum baseball bats from the park down the street. It’s an older neighborhood — most of the houses have been around for decades — and, despite being up-and-coming, there’s been no overpriced gentrification or Starbucks invasion. It feels real.

On a tip from Emily, I walked down to the Dreamery to try out their frozen custard flavor of the day: Mexican Chocolate Chip. The Dreamery, like St. Elmo’s Coffee Pub next door, is a neighborhood gathering place, where locals of all ages drop by not just to get dessert, but to linger and chat. (This isn’t an accident. The owners of both venues make a conscious effort to foster this kind of “third place” atmosphere.)

As I stood in line, I watched couples and families make their orders and sit at the myriad chairs and benches, enjoying their desserts and enjoying their time together. The good-natured shopkeeper bantered with many of them, knowing the regulars by name. Custard cone in hand, I stepped over to an empty table, where a pile of jigsaw pieces beckoned to be assembled. I resolved to complete at least the border by the time I left.

My custard was long-finished and the puzzle frame only half-complete when a bespectacled 7-year-old with curly blonde hair plopped down in front of me, eyeing me with curiosity as she savored her vanilla cone. I felt a flash of annoyance at the disruption to my alone-in-a-crowd solitude, but, as she grinned and introduced herself, I decided just to roll with it and see where the conversation would take me. Within a few minutes, she’d told me her name, where she lived and the name of her twin sister’s crush. I was impressed at her youthful gregariousness, and was almost disappointed when, about ten minutes later, her sister beckoned her outside to go home.

Alone again, I focused my concentration anew on the puzzle. I heard a woman behind me feed quarters into the silent jukebox, until the familiar plinky piano of a Monkees’ song chimed over the shop’s sound system. The group she was with clapped a bit in recognition, a new conversation topic thus sparked. The hopeful song sparked a brief spurt of productivity on my part as well, and for a moment all the puzzle joins seemed clearly apparent, allowing me to hurriedly assemble the rest of the border.

My goal accomplished and the song fading into another selection, I stood up from the table and left the store, leaving the puzzle as a diversion or conversation starter for the next group or solitary visitor.