Poolesville is a tiny little town, and we like it that way.  There is an age-old sense of community here; it has not been assimilated into the urban sprawl culture.  It’s not quite Mayberry, but we wouldn’t mind it so much if it was.

We only have a few restaurants here in Poolesville.  For a sit down meal, there is but a handful of choices, one of which is a chinese-sushi-bistro, which if you think about it, mixes enough non-mixable culinary cultures to confuse a person.  (Is ‘Bistro’ French or Italian? Isn’t sushi Japanese? The only thing it’s missing is pizza.)

There is a bar in this particular restaurant, and it is either manned by a guy name Burt or wo-manned by a lady named Lisa.  Alarmingly, a few of the times My Captain has taken me there for dinner and a drink, Burt has served me into oblivion.  And as I believe in earlier posts we have established that I’m no waif…