Sweet Blog o' Mine

Overheard

at the 53rd Street subway stop:  "Queens-bound E train now approaching the station."  Pause.  (same voice, singing) "To find I'm king of the hill . . . top of the heap."  Pause.  "It's up to you, New York, Neeeeeeeeeew, Yooooooooork!"

Smiles all around.

Real Men Do Yoga

I don't ordinarily blog about work -- it could have negative repercussions.  But today, I'm making an exception.  A portion of the floor on which I work at the new job is under construction, and I am fortunate enough to have the construction less than 50 yards away from my office.  The gaping hole that will eventually become the hallway leading to a shiny new section of offices is currently blocked off by a plastic tarp and some duct tape, which means that not only can I hear pounding, drilling, sawing and hammering, but every single conversation the construction workers have.  Now, I've never seen these guys, but I imagine them to be fairly large, muscular or somewhat hearty guys, and many of them have fairly thick New York accents.  So the other day, they were talking about their workout routines.  "Yeah.  You should lose some weight"  "Well, I already dropped 45 pounds"  "Yeah, but you should lose some more."  "Well, I go to the gym.  My wife's got me going to a kickboxing class."  "That's good, but you should do yoga."  "Yoga?"  "Yeah -- I been doin' it for a year now.  Check out how flexible I am."  Pause. "Wow -- that's from yoga?"  "Yeah, yeah.  It's good stuff.  You need to be all flexible."  "Yeah."   The images in my head were hysterical.

A quick recap of the past few days -- dinner Saturday night with Chip at Una Pizza Napoletana (which always kicks ass) followed by drinks at Blue Ribbon Bakery to visit Jim at his place of business (I told him he could visit me at my place of business anytime, but it might not be as much fun).  We were met there by the Lovely Miss Katie, Elisa, and others, and we capped off the night at the Stoned Crow -- a great neighborhood dive.  Sunday I finally spent some quality time with Erika as we walked through Central Park, talked about life, the universe, and everything, then visited Michelle to see the new arrival.  Sunday night I was almost ready for bed when I received a text message from Augie asking me to join him at Otto for a toast in honor of his and Lauren's one year wedding anniversary.  How could I say no?  Monday I saw Matty Z in his debut poetry reading (which was great, by the way), and tonight I joined my Mom and Joe at TONY's Eat Out '05 (the photos are here -- not one of my better batches).  Off to bed before an early morning meeting.  Despite my best intentions to slow things down to 33 1/3, the gerbil wheel keeps on spinning at 45.

In My Dreams

I've always said that accessories make the look.  Take, for example, my Greenwich Village townhouse and matching Vespa.

Nothin' Gonna Break My Stride*

Somehow the rest of the week absolutely flew by.  Work has been super-busy, which is great, but my hours are creeping later and later.  Had dinner with some of the beach house ladies at Mercadito Grove Wednesday night, and yesterday was a whirlwind -- an offsite meeting for a chunk of the day, running around the firm introducing myself to new associates, a party for Pro Bono Net, honoring our past director and co-founder Michael as he moves on to a new adventure and celebrating the new beginning with Mark at the helm, a brief stop at the Eater launch party at Bungalow 8 (the first, and likely the last time I'll ever set foot in Bungalow 8), then catching up with Sara over tacos at La Esquina.  In the middle of it all I ran into my friend Andrew from law school -- he and Michelle just had a new addition to the family, so please join me in wishing them all the best -- mazel tov!  Tonight is dinner family-style as I check out my sister's new digs uptown.  I'm very ready for the weekend, when hopefully I'll have a tiny bit of downtime.  Whew.

* Anyone know the artist for this one?  I didn't until I looked it up . . .

Who Knew?

That I liked John Fogerty so much?
That Jimmy Buffet sings "Son of a Son of a Sailor," which to this day reminds me of a long lost love?
That Bill Clinton makes me swoon as much now as he did when I got to shake his hand 6 years ago?
That Ed Bradley knows all the words to "Margaritaville" and plays a mean tambourine?
That Cyndi Lauper still kicks some serious ass?
That I would enjoy hearing Dave Matthews sing Neil Young?
That seeing Simon and Garfunkel singing "Bridge over Troubled Water" live gives me goosebumps?
That Bette Midler has the balls to tell it like it is?
That I would be lucky enough not only to attend from the Big Apple to the Big Easy as a guest of my firm, who was a corporate sponsor, but to enjoy the show from the floor of MSG?

Somewhat blurry pictures to come, if they're actually worth posting -- I still have to sort through them.

Fall Ahead

I spent my last "official" weekend out in Kismet this past weekend.  I was actually happy that the house was quieter than usual -- a perfect pace to wind down and truly enjoy every ray of sun, each grain of sand, and the welcoming waves mellowed by the presence of the full moon.  I couldn't have asked for a better conclusion to a great summer.  I won't even get into the food, except to say that the fried turkey and deep fried oreos were even better this time around than they were Memorial Day weekend (having the proper equipment helps).  I didn't take many pictures, and certainly couldn't capture the gorgeous red moon that was so huge and perfectly illuminated that it looked like part of a stage set, but a few pictures are up on flickr for your enjoyment.

I'm now starting to gear up for fall -- shopping for warmer clothes, welcoming the incoming class of associates at work, and generally feeling like I should go out and buy school supplies, even though I totally don't need them.  As I mentioned, I truly want to slow down a bit this fall and take more time for myself, as I feel somewhat overloaded, but this week is already lining up to be a doozy.  My one mandatory staying-in night was just displaced by the Katrina benefit concert, and then I'm booked solid with social engagements for the rest of the week.  I'm looking forward to all of them, but between work, writing, and my social calendar, there is no real down time.  That said, I'm off to read some Harry Potter and go to sleep so I can get an early start in the morning.

PS -- for those of you who haven't been getting your email updates, I think it's fixed now.  Bloglet never tells me when there's a problem . . .

From New Orleans to Brooklyn

So it turns out that the high school student who relocated to Brooklyn from New Orleans and who was featured in this New Yorker article is in my brother's class (he's a teacher).  The word in the legal services/pro bono community is that there are roughly 500 evacuees in New York so far, and that number may increase soon. 

Dating Yourself

Friends often tell tell me I date a lot, which I think is weird and not entirely accurate.  I suppose it depends on your definition of the word "date."  I was at a barbecue this weekend (hosted by Stephen to celebrate Joanna's birthday) and was comparing my dating history this past year with a friend's.  She was recalling how, for her, this past spring was a dry spell.  "I dated myself," she said.  She then went on to make jokes about how she always called when she said she would, and that it was all fine and good until she cheated on herself, but I started to think a bit about the times when the dates aren't there -- when there's nobody in the bullpen™* and the most important person in your life is, well, you.  I started to realize that, so far this year, I have been running myself ragged, and now that the circumstances are what they are, it might not be a bad idea to date myself -- to give myself that extra special care that I need, be it in the form of extra sleep, a weekly Pilates class, healthy eating, and/or enough down time to avoid being in a constant state of stress.  So at the moment, I'm dating myself, and damn it -- I'm one hot date.

As for the rest of my weekend, Friday night I finally got to enjoy a meal at Gusto -- looking forward to going back soon.  The Lovely Miss Katie, her college roommate and I shared the frito misto de pesce which included small softshell crabs, a grilled focaccia with figs and prociutto, artichoke ravioli in a sinful butter sauce, and polpettini -- petite meatballs in a hearty tomato sauce.  Dessert was a light and tart lemon panna cotta and, strangely enough, I can't remember the second dessert -- except that it was good.  How very unlike me.  After Saturday's barbecue (where Doug and Leora stopped by for a bit), I headed to Jenn & Carolyn's for a party and enjoyed yet another Brooklyn backyard.  Very jealous of that, I tell ya.  Ended up at 'inoteca quite late with Roopa and Anj, which made Sunday a bit mellow.  Thanks to the Brooklyners for their hospitality and to all others for the great company.

*trademarked by the Lovely Miss Katie, who is her own date this week at a yoga retreat.

The Good News

is that I got up early, worked out, folded last night's laundry and made a very healthy egg white frittata with spinach, mushrooms and onions to take to work for breakfast.  The bad news -- I have no time for a decent post.  More to come on the weekend and thoughts on "dating yourself."

During the Past 24 Hours . . .

I noticed that my reviews of Cubana Café and Fuleen Seafood are finally up on NY Metro.
I introduced myself to Mario Batali after using Otto as my surrogate living room for 2+ years.
I gawked at Jake Gyllenhaal while he hung out in my "living room."
I spoke to the Executive Director of New Orleans Legal Assistance, whose staff is 75% homeless and yet they are still trying to figure out how to meet the legal needs of their constituents.
I saw the Tribute in Light --  between that and the meetings I've attended about the legal community's response to Hurricane Katrina, I'm having major déjà vu.
I might have lost half my "business casual" wardrobe to the drycleaners.
I was given a pink rose corsage by my doorman when I came home this evening.

Just another day in my life.