Dec 2

So, I need to catch you up on my week here on the Seacoast. Get comfy.  Grab a cup of coffee and an afghan. Or, if you're at Starbucks on WL's west side, more likely you can grab a Korean.   :  ) (shout out to Mary! Say hello to Damien and Marshall and possibly Anastasia and the overly chatty origami woman.)

So, last year, when I "discovered" Portsmouth, I stopped people on the street to survey them about the town.  One congenial person I talked with is a retired school teacher from Boston ( how can I write Baaahston so it sounds like how those natives pronounce it? does that do it?). She seemed pretty much a hipster and in the know and we talked for about ten minutes. I had stopped her in front of her destination:  The Pressroom. She often walked down from her home for dinner or drinks and live music (which they offer every night, and twice a day on weekends.)  I imagined she'd have this big group of lively, gently argumentative and supportive friends waiting for her inside. I thought, please, please ask me to go in there with you!  because I wanted to check it out without looking like even more of a stalker and it'd be awkward to walk in solo right behind her and maybe not find a seat right away and be standing around like a fish out of water (or, given where I am, maybe a lobster without a shell)  while all her friends shout out her name (which is Diane, btw.)  Whew. But you know what I mean, right? But she didn't and I had other people to accost so that was that.

Aaaaanway, I decided I'd get there eventually. I sought it out my first night back here and it is as comfortable as I imagined it to be, even as a solo, and although the bartender did not shout out my name, nor has even asked for it, as he set down my club soda he did say, softly but distinctly,  "Cheers."