Man!

Manny’s Cafeteria and Delicatessen
“Come into Manny’s …bulk items by the pound.” Ooooh, bulk items by the pound. Load me up. Bury me. Do me in. Two words, item and product, are such non-words that I can project my wildest dreams onto them.

While I’m at it, I’m going to project my wildest dreams onto Obama. Me and several billion others here and around the world. Our president elect has a tall pedestal under him and a tall order in front of him. He’s got bulk items by the ton. Bulk items that need attention.

The man is gonna need fuel to power his perfectly paced reasonableness. To go and go and go, breathing in and out deeply and evenly, brain synapses clicking smoothly. Apparently Obama is inclusive in his tastes. Aaah, what a breath of fresh air.

Scott Simon on NPR reported on Obama’s affection for Manny’s in Chicago where, the president-elect orders corned beef and cherry pie to go. Now there’s a stimulus package. Manny’s corned beef sandwiches are large enough to have their own electoral votes.

To read more about Obama’s frequent visits to Manny’s and the folks with whom he shares his sandwiches read Obama Foodorama.

Time Out Chicago is all over Obama’s love affair with Manny’s too. Take a peek in Where’s the Beef?

With the inauguration fast approaching and the air temperature dropping by leaps and bounds, weekend strategizing is reaching a fever pitch. With each new piece of information released on the front page of the Washington Post, the bus stop posse dissects the possibilities for maximum inaugural vibe-absorption. It’s a bad case of Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Here in Virginia we are so close and yet so far, with bridges barring our entree to the festivities. There is no going around, only over, and we ponder the bus, foot or bike pros and cons.

To further exacerbate our agony a bus stop parent brought his Swearing In tickets for show and tell this am. There was talk of knocking him down and making a run for it, but we all just dug our hands deep into our pockets, gathered round and stared at the golden sheaf bouncing sunlight off its shiny surfaces.

Us, we are gonna pack provisions and brave the herd. Bus to foot. I won’t see much other than a sea of joyous faces. My son will see less, his eye view being middle button height. So we will munch on corned beef sandwiches in Obama’s honor, shuffle and hop to keep our blood moving, bump up happily with the masses and hoof it home.

Man!