Spicy Sundays

It’s been ten days, but a lot has changed. We held what might be our last Spicy Sunday with Lantz, we bid goodbye to Scott Lewis, who’s Winston-Salem bound, I think as I write this. Spicy Sunday is my favorite bar tradition. It’s so hard to explain Emilio’s to people, but the regulars and employees are a family. So Sunday night was essentially a big family Pot Luck, with guys from the Lucky 13 – you can see the shop up there in on the corner, across the way – and the good people pulling the Sunday evening shift at Assante’s. I brought spicy baked tortellini with garden vegetables, Lantz brought two pork loins and Terry and Eddie brought chicken and biscuits. We started the tradition for football season, and it became something a bit more.

Late-night cigarette

These aren’t mine, but they exemplify my thoughts today. It’s been a busy and frustrating week, and I don’t feel like doing jack shit.

This credit goes to Matt with a point and shoot, no post-processing. I love these photos. They remind me of all the times I’ve pulled up to the block and parked, and always been able to wave at Chef, Miami, Chuck or Duke inside of Assante’s. Or every time I’ve driven away and someone’s outside on a smoke break.

Three Swallows

Three Swallows is the kind of place where you can lose yourself. I wandered from room to room and lost hours – what felt like centuries – of time. It’s a beautiful place full of little jade birds, antique ship wheels and gold scabbards. I’d forget myself in there, if  it were open when I was off work.