Reunited in Georgetown

BWmF

Walls

(un)events by the river.

Worn brick and ivy in Georgetown.

Rosslyn at night.

In moments held too long, the Key Bridge shares its luminescent inconsistencies.

A hint of color among the grey

Last Tuesday, like much of April, was undistinguished with lifeless, grey skies and continuous showers. My partner in crime, BWmF, having just returned from a long trip to the Pacific Northwest, said we should skip our early week ritual of happy hour at Pizzeria Paradiso, thus sparing ourselves and our denim, a good soak. Better weather will come.

I looked skyward at 5 o'clock and was greeted by the sun, now happily shining amidst thin patches of cumulus. A gentle breeze replaced the seemingly ceaseless rain from the hours prior, but the cool, wet air remained, beckoning my favorite jacket, a bright green Patagonia shell with six years of loyal service.

Invigorated by the sunlight, clouds, and reunion with a month-absent friend over good beer, I rushed onto the Metro with a third mutual friend, DF.

Color among the grey.

I love colored trench coats.

Back in Georgetown.

Returning to Pizzeria Paradiso in Georgetown after a month-long absence felt like coming home. I've always sought to establish a familiarity with certain restaurants, BWmF and my licenses going unchecked suggests we've accomplished just that. We skipped pizza as almost every beer selected for the week at "hops" in its description. After progressing from IPA to Imperial, to Black IPA, I led the way to the waterfront, camera in hand.

Forgot a tripod.

Rosslyn and the Key Bridge

A little "Sumpin' Sumpin'", a Celebration, and some phenomenal pizza

It was 1997. Ages ago, I know. I was in 3rd grade and one afternoon my mother told me she quit.


My childhood thus far had been marked by endless, but thoughtful (so I'm told) questions. I was a precocious little guy, thirsty for information on anything and everything. My mother did her best to oblige, but as with anyone, eventually ran out of answers. When she closed up shop, instead of expressing abject annoyance, she candidly explained to me the inherent futility of asking her esoteric questions.


Several days later I came home from school to find a number of boxes on the floor of my bedroom containing the World Book Encyclopedia. Today, I've had as many as forty-four tabs running in a single Google Chrome window. Such behavior is undoubtedly the evolution of a similar habit, my fanned, multi-volume approach to encyclopedia browsing I utilized on my bedroom floor.


I recently realized, over superlative beers and pizza with a close friend, not only my comfort with intensive research, but my proclivity for doing so. No matter what the subject, I've always sought to deeply immerse myself in hobbies. Knowledge, and more importantly the process of seeking and attaining it for myself, is a value on which I pride myself; however, over the past few years it's been substance vs. experience and I'm starting to wonder if my recent frustration is rooted in finally acknowledging the source of my preference for the sustainable/repeatable (material) over the ephemeral/unique (empirical).


On a lighter note- good beer and pizza are two things that possess both qualities- ephemeral and repeatable. Pizzeria Paradiso, in Georgetown (Dupont and Arlington have restaurants as well), is home to a great happy hour for their draughts and some of the best Neapolitan-style pizza I've ever eaten. The crust perfectly balances the light, flakey crispiness, characteristic of such pizzas, but still manages a chewy interior. My favorite is a modified "Atomica" with tomatoes, salami, pancetta (instead of black olives), red pepper flakes, and a healthy serving of gooey, perfectly melted fresh mozzarella.

The Atomica via D70S, old Nikon 50mm F/1.4, shot wide-open. My photography needs work, but shooting at F/1.4 is nice in low-lit restaurants.

I'm a hop-fiend. While BWmF enjoyed his Lagunitas Sumpin' Sumpin' Ale, I contemplated the curiously sweet and citrusy Founder's Celebration IPA.