Last Wednesday, Julianna and I headed out to attend the Charlotte Symphony Business Meeting. This was our first year of membership with the Charlotte Symphony. The meeting was to be held at Blumenthal, naturally, with a reception and subsequent rehearsal of Carmina Burana.

On our way to the business meeting, we stopped at Northlake Mall (exit 18 off Hwy 77)… which is not quite “on the way,” for those unfamiliar with the greater Charlotte area. As we walked toward the mall entrance, we were met by huge crowds of people exiting the premises. We discovered from one helpful woman that there was “some kind of scare,” and firemen were clearing the complex. Our highly colored imaginations surmised a bomb threat… which lent some excitement to the affair, as potentially dangerous elements oft times do.

After hovering nearby for a quarter hour or so, we went back to Northlake and found calm normality had returned. It was after completing our errand there that Julianna began to ask philosophical questions… not about our reason for existence, but our reason for going to the Charlotte Symphony business meeting.

Charmed by the atmosphere of this lovely summer evening and our elegant surroundings, we were inspired to skip the meeting entirely and dine at an establishment promising “Cucina Italiana,” called Bravo. We lingered over a delicius dinner of crisp Caesar salads and light penne pasta tossed with feta, spinach, and sundried tomatoes.

Conversation with Julianna and I, spiced as it is with humorous reminiscences of our childhood, most times leads to merriment and jocundity; however, this occasion was thoughtfully quiet as we spoke seriously of plans for the future. Sitting outside at this lovely resturant in the strange land of far North Charlotte, it felt a thousand miles away from the business meeting at Blumenthal and even our own home.

After leaving Bravo we strolled leisurely through Borders next door, observing the new releases and laughing over comedic biographical titles. The unplanned evening ended as we drove home… returning to reality, as it were. As we say, and take pleasure in proving, Squicciarini is synonymous with spontaneity (so long as it fits into our schedule).