We are in Asheville which is, if possible, cooler than it was last time I was here. Not cool in the temperature sense as it is quite warm but cool in the sense that it's just charming as motherfucking hell and there are awesome hipster people everywhere and we went to one of the gozillian restaurants for lunch, a sort of Rasta joint and got salads and pasta with jerked tofu and vegetables and it was all fresh and delicious and we got completely filled up and it cost less than our hipster/cool delicious breakfast in Athens cost us this morning.
The Downtown Hipster™ apartment we're staying in which Lis and I stayed in two years ago, is simply delightful.
View from the front porch. And what you can't see is the Greenwise Grocery Store right across the street where a guy is playing some sort of harpy, drummy instrument out front and all of the people in the story are gorgeous and braided and tattooed and giant-earringed and booted and transcendent and glowy and healthy.
Of course a jar of pickled okra costs $13 but I bet that's some damn good pickled okra, organic and everything.
Difference between traveling with Lis and with Mr. Moon:
If I asked Lis is she wanted to go to the Greenwise with me she would have probably said, "Try and stop me," whereas when I asked Mr. Moon he said, "No."
To give him credit, he was half asleep and he did go with me but it's a bit awkward to shop with him because pickled okra costs $13 and so forth and he's not even aware of how much regular food in a regular grocery store costs and is looking for bargains and well, honey, we're on vacation.
Anyway, la-di-dah and I'm not freaking out about a damn thing and August is just as cute as he could be and he claps his hands and he'll sometimes lean in for a kiss if you ask him for a kiss and he can blow kisses, although not on demand, and he shakes his head, no-no-no, and grins his little gap-toothy grin and loves his grandpa's beard and his grandmother's jewelry and he still loves his mama like the earth loves the sky, like the bee loves the blossom, and he's beautiful. Of course.
As is his mama.
So here we are and we've bought cheese and crackers and we have fruit and bread and cheese and coffee and Vergil and Jessie and the boy are walking over to join us. I'm still full from lunch, to be honest, but we'll have a fancy drink and figure out our dining plans and I am so lucky and so grateful to be here in Asheville, N. C. which is so damn pretty it makes you want to live here and learn to be a hipster, albeit an aging hipster, with all the music and food and yards full of flowers and herbs and weeping willows and vegetables and tomatoes like you've never seen in your life.
We should all enjoy such a place now and then. I believe I will make a tomato pie tomorrow.