Monday Moxie
The belles of Belltown -- the four of us that all work in that downtown neighborhood -- met up tonight to investigate the open house at Moxie, a new restaurant in lower Queen Anne. The promise of free wine was fulfilled, but they were not yet serving from their menu, so after a nibbling some cheese and emptying our glasses, we moved across the street for dinner at Racha. We talked Civil War re-enactments, the LaBrea Tar Pits, China Meiville, Carol Berg, Dan Simmons, the negative appeal of sequels and series, reverse-discrimination by gamers (okay, well, I brought that one up because in my social group -- both online and nonline -- I sometimes feel marginalized), and sacred parking spaces in Los Angeles. We *almost* didn't talk about LJ. Dinner, my first at Racha, was delicious. We shared (squee!) Flower Cups, spring rolls, and satay, Pad Thai, Ginger Garden, and Summer Fire. And brown rice, on a 3 to 1 vote. I would tell you what was in each of them, but since this is Thai food, I find the "assortment of vegetables and mushrooms in a tasty sauce" description unable to convey what exactly we ate. The prettiness of the names will have to be your indication of the yumminess of the dishes.
llynecat shared the pineapply-goodness of her One Night in Bangkok with spazzychic, ironymaiden, and me while we conspired to paint the toenails of someone who would be happy to know that he will remain nameless in this post and planned the possibilities of sushi celebrations to come. We also quoted lyrics from the song, but not enough to get annoying.
We parted ways to each catch our buses. Waiting at the stop near the Market for my connection was entertaining as always, traffic drama, interesting people walking past, itchy people waiting and standing too closely. Misha, once dubbed "Scary Man" (his smile will chill you), was on the bus home.
I fear that I might be forgetting how to drive. An ambulance blazed by, sirens shrieking and lights flashing, and for about three seconds I wondered why cars were pulling over.
So far, so good. I remember feath being happy about writing 300 words a day regularly. Regularly is a word with a shape that I like.
Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth.
Write like nobody's reading.
I did the "Dear Santa" meme and came up naughty for all my LJ versions.
llynecat shared the pineapply-goodness of her One Night in Bangkok with spazzychic, ironymaiden, and me while we conspired to paint the toenails of someone who would be happy to know that he will remain nameless in this post and planned the possibilities of sushi celebrations to come. We also quoted lyrics from the song, but not enough to get annoying.
We parted ways to each catch our buses. Waiting at the stop near the Market for my connection was entertaining as always, traffic drama, interesting people walking past, itchy people waiting and standing too closely. Misha, once dubbed "Scary Man" (his smile will chill you), was on the bus home.
I fear that I might be forgetting how to drive. An ambulance blazed by, sirens shrieking and lights flashing, and for about three seconds I wondered why cars were pulling over.
So far, so good. I remember feath being happy about writing 300 words a day regularly. Regularly is a word with a shape that I like.
Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth.
Write like nobody's reading.
I did the "Dear Santa" meme and came up naughty for all my LJ versions.