I don't spend as much money eating out, as much as I spend time. Having lived in this graceful city by the sea for more than half my life - which is a daunting proposition right there - I've got a good handle how to get the maximum amount of social interaction for the smallest amount of money.
This means, basically, that I spend less money on expensive booze (saving it up for my occasional single-malt scotch) than I do on regular beers or glasses of wine.
The occasional slice of pizza. It's all good.
I like to watch people talk. I like to listen to them move. It's a huge amount of fun to sit in a crowded room and try to follow half-a-dozen conversations at once.
There's a line in the stage version of "Amadeus" where the precocious genius Mozart floors his hidden nemesis Salieri with a description of the unbelievably complex, yet coherant first act finale of "La Nozze de Figaro" that says "I'll bet that's how God hears the world".
God can handle the world. I've got my brainfull with a dozen people. Still, I love it.
Down on Marginal Way, by Interstate 95, is a wonderful relic of a lost age of community interaction, the "Miss Portland Diner". It's a genuine Worcester Diner, dating from 1949 and it's been a fixture in that part of town for over 60 years. Check them out at www.missportlanddiner.com.
It works out that last night, after visiting with friends, I wound up taking an impromptu dinner there. It was their first Sunday evening being open and I had the whole place to myself for almost half an hour.
It was also the last hurrah for the season of the New England Boiled Dinner.
I'd actually never had one before - came close on several occasions but never seemed to manage it (rather like my record with getting married, come to think of it).
Since there was no WiFi in the place - and I'm not that sure the experience could be improved if it had it - I was left with my camera to entertain me. That and "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" on my iPad reader.
It was a good meal, filling and very healthy. I would call it comfort food if I'd grown up eating it instead of chili.
Still I felt happy to sit in such a wonderful old space, full of dark wood and polished chrome. The food was equally colorful.
So, all told, it was a quiet, tasty way to end a weekend that actually was full of miracles, from the opening of "Inuk" to sitting with a friend's year-old daughter in my lap on a bright Sunday afternoon.
Perhaps that's how God hears the world.
-- Post From My iPad
Location:Congress St,Portland,United States
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