Shoulder to shoulder

Wednesday was the 100^th anniversary of the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution. That was the one that granted women the national vote.

This was a major milestone on the journey to making real the ideals of the Declaration of Independence, that all humans are created equal. Generations of women fought, suffered indignities and died—literally—for the right to vote. We still have miles and miles to go, but we should still honor them.

So today, my Friday earworm is the anthem of the women’s suffrage movement, “The March of the Women”, with lyrics written by Dame Edyth Smythe in 1910. Crank up the volume and thank them.

Summer colors

The restaurants around Lake Anne Plaza, where I had brunch on Sunday, use big planters of flowers to rope off their outdoor seating areas. And there were some glorious hibiscuses among them.

I know hibiscus isn’t particularly unusual, but they certainly are glorious in their presentation of color, so I’m sharing with you.

Futureworld

We’ve been getting right much rain here in the environs of the District They Call Columbia, so I suppose it’s not surprising that mushrooms are, er, mushrooming.

These little dots are fetal ‘shrooms, I’d suppose:

And then there are all of these:

I kind of view them as the post-apocalyptic rulers of the planet. Along with mosquitos.

Picante

The work environment has changed for most of us since March. All those freakin’ meetings are now all those freakin’ conference calls, frequently with video to spice things up.

Even without video, there are…comment dit on…moments.

Sometimes it’s the dog barking at someone at the door. Sometimes it’s your tea kettle going off. Most often it’s kids related. Several times in just the past week, one or another of my colleagues has had to veer off from the Important Business Topic at Hand to deal with a young-un’s query. Or to adjudicate a sibling spat. It’s just the way things are.

Yesterday morning was definitely a Zoom moment for someone.

Let me say up front that I was not on the call in question. And—sadly for everyone who did not star in it—it was not recorded. But those who witnessed it were still cracking up at close of business. I do not know who the person was, except that she was apparently not a company employee—one of the vendors who’s helping with our launch. Things were progressing on the IBTaH when suddenly this cut through the discussion:

“No. Do not touch your penis after holding a jalapeño. Go talk to your dad.”

(I'm not entirely sure of the second sentence, because everyone who told the story was laughing too hard to be fully understood.)

I think she instantly realized she had not been on mute. I hope to God she was not on video, because the one saving grace of this incident would be the knowledge that people would not be able to recognize her if they ever met her in person.

And—let me just say: kudos to Mom for calling it a penis and not a pee-pee.

Gratitude Monday: Brunch à Montmartre

Following on the joyous success of having an in-house yoga lesson and lunch with my instructor (16 days ago, so past the incubation period as currently understood), I had brunch yesterday with a friend.

We used to do this with some regularity, and then covid19. In the past month or so, we’d cautiously discussed where we might have our Saturday/Sunday breakfast, but we weren’t ready to eat indoors, and the places I’ve seen with outdoor dining are heavily deuces, which means we’d essentially be talking straight into each other’s faces.

Then I remembered Café Montmartre, a French-Viet bistro at Lake Anne. Lake Anne Center is the oldest in the People’s Republic and it’s one of two that’s allowed to have restaurants that aren’t part of chains. Café M’s food is wonderful and its outside dining space has always been larger than its inside, so I knew we’d be okay. And we were.

For two wonderful hours, we ate pain perdu, eggs Benedict, flan and tarte aux fruits, and we talked and laughed and talked and laughed some more. I realized this was the first restaurant meal I’ve had since February (when I was at RSAC), and I’d missed it and my friend so much.

I know that the old “normal” is not coming back. But whatever new normal emerges just has to include meals with friends at family-run eateries with the entertainment of families passing by on a weekend morning. (It better include hugs, at some point, too.) I am so grateful that I got to have that once again.