First Door To Open

Hi, Bloomingdale.

Just this moment: thoughts to realizations to anxious complications of potential unrealized, to more thoughts to maybe action to fumbling forward to errors abounding to identifying the problem to reifying the solution. Doors do two things, the transition between these two actions is a process-experience; perhaps we are the same person standing in the in-swing as we are standing in the out-swing. A pair of sandals that I purchased in Taormina some time ago has lately and often-ly found its way onto my feet; interesting how I've changed none and changed all, since/because of/from then. A hallway is its own contained allegory.

Summertime, that corridor between spring and fall, is, to me, not entirely long enough. Yes, I totally love that movie, you know, that one. While DC is no tropical paradise, the Mid-Atlantic region does certainly produce a beautiful bounty all its own, worthy of more than a singular celebration: kale! tat soi! endive! striata squash! G A R L I C S C A P E S, yo. Summer solstice time, it shall soon be right here. (Did I mention fresh, sour cherries, and a lamb shoulder, to boot?!)

On Friday, June 22nd at 8 pm, sharp(!), I'm opening the door. So, who is stepping in for dinner?

Guiseppe. In full,

summer-suit attire.