My old friend M came up to spend the weekend with me. He lives in Charleston now - like me, or rather like me in the past, he seems to go back and forth between Baltimore and Charleston a lot. In fact, he's why I started going back and forth between Baltimore and Charleston back in the day (and that is a lengthy story, a story with many chapters, in fact a whole book, damn) until of course I gave up the I-95 corridor and came on up the mountain. We had a great time.
It had been about 10 years since we'd seen or even spoken with each other and 20 years since we spent any amount of significant time together and yet somehow it was great; those horrible awkward pauses where you're not sure what to talk about except possibly some more goofy memories of someone with whom you've both long since lost touch never, somehow, happened. We just talked - and talked and talked and had a great weekend. We ate, too, and drank beer and coffee and wandered around and played with the dogs and figured out how to open up the thingie that the oil goes into in my underground oil tank.
Having people up from out of town is always good for getting you to do the turista stuff you never ordinarily do: we drove way south on the parkway and hiked up to a fire tower I know and took 276 down past Cradle of Forestry and stopped at Looking Glass Falls and went to brunch at Sunny Point and at the Morning Glory in Black Mountain and had dinner at Burgermeister and did the Studio Stroll in the River District and, of course, had a couple of beers with my friend J at Broadways last night. It was a good weekend, all in all, I mean a really good weekend and I'm tired - but happy.
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