We found out about Angles Bar from one of Jesse's coworkers nearly 2 years after we moved into our apartment. She wanted to meet there for happy hour on a Friday after work. It was a joyous Friday because we found a spot on noisy 18th Street that really felt like home. They have a delicious amber bock beer (Angles Amber) that is only $2 a pint at happy hour. For a while, we were meeting there nearly every Friday night. In no time, the bartenders knew our names and would just bring over two pints whenever we would sit down at the bar. The last time we were there, I looked around, and realized that Jesse and I were probably the youngest ones in the room. For clarification, we usually hit the bar early and pass out by 10pm. The ideal evening involves food, drink, and mass exodus before all the 18th Street crowd arrives. I like to be in my small, quiet, and safe apartment before the "whordes" decend upon Adams Morgan. Luckily, our early timeframe coincides perfectly with the regulars crowd (a mixture of old and middle-age bachelors who live in the neighborhood). They are sometimes curmudgeonly (as I aspire to be), but mostly accepting and willing to bullshit with you on just about any topic.Our love affair with Angles has continued to blossom and eventually we shifted our visits to Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday for the 2 for 1 burger deals. Angles is situated above a really nice restaurant called The Little Fountain Cafe, so all of the bar food comes straight from the cafe's kitchen. Now, I love a good burger, but these are outstanding burgers - worth every penny of their $10 regular price. And the fries, oh the fries, are like heaven. Wash it all down with an Angles Amber and you're set. We seriously think twice before ordering burgers anywhere else because a) they would pale in comparison and b) it kind of feels like cheating. This past fall, Angles switched up the menu to add a really good homemade veggie burger, a smoked salmon burger, and nightly specials. In the winter, the specials included items like open face turkey sandwiches, roast beef, shepherd's pie, and the best lasagna with bolognese I have ever tasted. On our way home from Graham-uation, we were trying to figure out what to do about dinner. Then, Jesse got a twinkle in his eye and we both said in unison "beer and burgers Sunday dinner!" We hadn't had burgers in months (due to the delicious winter specials) so it was just like trying one for the first time. It was every bit as good as I remembered.We went back there again tonight to meet the same coworker for her birthday. It was delicious and fun. We waved goodbye to the bartenders, Norm and Anita, and on our 1-block walk home I remembered one of the reasons why I will really miss D.C.
Friday Date Night wasn't as successful as I had planned. It was fun, but not productive. After dinner and a couple bottles of hefeweizen, I decided that working on my Portland Love Quilt would be a lot more enjoyable than prepping myself for what might be the tightest squeeze ever. On Sunday afternoon I was feeling a little more ambitious and busted out the painters tape, laser level, box cutter, and lots of hope. I measured and taped the floor and Jesse helped out with the walls, since my arms are a lot shorter (as is my temper). We both took a few steps back and gazed at the creation that will be with us until the day we move - no kidding, the tape stays. 
Three observations:1) Eight feet is a lot taller than I imagined. 2) A 7'x7'x8' box is pretty darn small. 3) I kind of like the blue line. It brings order to the chaos.In college, my professors were always asking us to "create space" with insane things like a bottle of glue, 5 pennies, and a cardboard shoe. While in concept, it seemed like a cool idea, but in reality, uh, pennies? And I have to build my own shoe? Come on. This is Architecture 101 right? Where are the bricks? The mortar? The t-squares? Long story short, I paid my dues and made it through enough studio semesters to get a solid foundation in the principles of design, but eventually dropped out of architecture school. Instead, I pursued more concrete studies that involved actual buildings. Last night, I was telling my friend Jon about our blue tape box that morphs out of the corner and bleeds into the furniture. As a bit of background, Jon was also in my architecture program at Philadelphia Textile and actually became a real architect. I attribute his success to the fact that he was way more open to the studio critiques (which is just a nice word for esoteric bullshit) and loved things like drawing window details and memorizing electrical code. When I was describing my insane idea of fitting all of our stuff into a tiny wooden crate, Jon said that the box was like a new beginning and that we had essentially embarked on our own little installation art project. He also suggested that I check out Michael Landy, who shredded all of his belongings in 2001 (including his car) as a form of expression. Ha. Very funny, Jon. Anyway, back to me, the brilliant installation artist. I don't need to go to a museum now because I create art in my own apartment. How very abstract and forward-thinking of me. I will definitely have to put on a beret and monochromatic garb for my next post on "creating space." You know, for authenticity. (Note to self: must quickly think of concept for my space creation. Must critique something...or nothing...which is it these days?) It will be interesting to see how long we can stand the wait before we start boxing things up and shoving them in our perfect little blue box. It will also be interesting to see how many crates it really takes to get us out there!
Since I've been hating on D.C. lately, I thought it would be good to revisit some of the things that I really will miss when we leave. Last night Jesse and I took a pretty cool walk to a part of D.C. that we didn't even know existed. It's practically in our back yard, just right off of Massachusetts Avenue - a street we've walked up a dozen times or more. Usually, we never veer off the main road to see anything other than the variety of embassies and chanceries that line the way. This time wouldn't have been any different, except that I had other motives.
Lately, I've been conducting a series of mini scavenger hunts to seek out buildings that would potentially enhance the D.C. Modernism study that I'm trying to finish at work. I usually drag Jesse along, expounding the tenets of Modernism and building up how cutting edge the building was for its time, blah, blah, blah. Then (as it usually goes), we get to the intersection where the building's supposed to be, and nothing. I think he's starting to doubt my super sleuth skills (as am I). Last night we arrived at what I thought was the right address, and there was a big cleared lot with a brand new (albeit historic-looking) monstrous house plopped right on the corner. Something wasn't right, the house I'm looking for would never have been placed on a corner like that, but either way, it was a total strikeout.
The walk wasn't completely worthless though. It gave us a chance to find a spot in the city that has the largest houses I've ever seen, and has a totally different feel from the urban hustle and bustle found everywhere else. On our way back home, as we rounded the corner from Kalorama Street to Columbia Road, our apartment came into sight and Jesse said, "wow, I really love it here." It's true. We really love living in D.C., particularly in our apartment building, on our street, near so many things that we need.
Even though the houses we saw on our scavenger hunt adventure aren't technically in our neighborhood, I pretty much feel that if you can get there in a 20-minute walk or less, then it might as well be an honorary member. There are a lot of things we can access within a 20-minute walk from our apartment: our offices, 4 grocery stores, 68 Zipcars, Target, the best deli in the city, dozens of great bars and restaurants, abundant green space, 4 different Metro stops, hundreds of bus stops, need I continue? The convenience of it all is pretty great, but we love it for so many other reasons than convenience alone. This is the neighborhood where we went on our first date, and got our first apartment together. Everything about it has helped to define who we are now as adults on our own.
I'm ready for the next step and a new city, which has made it easy to highlight all of the annoying stuff about D.C. (believe me, there's a lot). But unlike our miserable stove, the city will have a special place in our memories. I want to make sure I capture as much of the good stuff as I can in the short time that we have left.
We found out about Angles Bar from one of Jesse's coworkers nearly 2 years after we moved into our apartment. She wanted to meet there for happy hour on a Friday after work. It was a joyous Friday because we found a spot on noisy 18th Street that really felt like home. They have a delicious amber bock beer (Angles Amber) that is only $2 a pint at happy hour. For a while, we were meeting there nearly every Friday night. In no time, the bartenders knew our names and would just bring over two pints whenever we would sit down at the bar. The last time we were there, I looked around, and realized that Jesse and I were probably the youngest ones in the room. For clarification, we usually hit the bar early and pass out by 10pm. The ideal evening involves food, drink, and mass exodus before all the 18th Street crowd arrives. I like to be in my small, quiet, and safe apartment before the "whordes" decend upon Adams Morgan. Luckily, our early timeframe coincides perfectly with the regulars crowd (a mixture of old and middle-age bachelors who live in the neighborhood). They are sometimes curmudgeonly (as I aspire to be), but mostly accepting and willing to bullshit with you on just about any topic.
