Sigh.  It's not easy to come back from sun and fun filled weekend in Kismet.  Especially when you've only got one final week (albeit a short one) to go at your current job before a two week vacation.  Despite a nasty cough and a case of laryngitis (also an unfortunate high school nickname), the weekend was great.  Pictures from this weekend and last weekend are here.

Why?  Because last night, I got to hang out with Rick Field of Rick's Picks and his dog Lefty and help him make pickled ramps in his Brooklyn apartment.  Afterwards, we went for sushi (because what's better after making pickled ramps?).  Full story to come on Gothamist Food.

Other than that it has been a busy week.  Sith on Sunday night right after the beach, much-belated dinner with my good friend Beth, from high school, on Monday, the Moth on Tuesday, and tonight is a trip to Bar Sasa with Erika and Jeremy.  Then it's back to the beach!

Break out your swine band-aids, because it's that time of year again.  Last week, walking around the city, I saw women everywhere, leaning against buildings and lampposts or just sitting at their desks applying band-aids to the war wounds caused by the onset of spring, or more specifically, the inclusion of summer shoes into our wardrobes.  Why do we do this?  Every year, we go through a period of pain, blisters, moleskin, neosporin and bandages, and for what?  Cute shoes.  I am one of the least "girly" girls I know, but even some of my flip-flops mangle my feet for a few wearings before I get used to them again.  Despite the pain, we press on, until our tender feet, having hibernated for the winter under fuzzy socks, toughen up again -- a price they must pay to get a little sunshine.

(Believe it or not, those are my shoes.  Yes, I know they're pink.  No, I haven't lost my mind.)

Especially the foodies. [via Kottke]

Thanks to everyone who came to help celebrate last night -- any celebration that ends up at Pearl Oyster Bar is a good one, in my book.  I returned home to find that the Neighborhoodie t-shirt I ordered had arrived.  It looks good, but the lettering looks a little wrinkly and bumpy around the bosom.  I might have to exchange it and have them re-do the lettering without the stitching to see if that'll help it conform to my, um, form.  I'm off to the beach this weekend, despite what looks like a drizzly start.  Looking forward to getting away nonetheless.  Have a good one!

Thankfully the court had the sense to throw this case out. Talk about your frivolous litigation. Sheesh. Court Rules Woman Isn't Liable for Injuring Boyfriend During Sex.

I had a great time performing at WYSIWYG last night, and I'm looking forward to seeing it on video when it's up, so I can get the audience perspective.  Thanks to Mom and everyone else who made it out to the show.  For those of you who couldn't make it, here's the story I read about my rather innocuous run-in with the law (I am a lawyer after all -- how bad could it be?):

    I was much cooler in high school than I am now.  Hard to believe, right?  You look at me now, and I blend into the crowd, just another thirty-something semi-professional, somewhat mainstream, but back in 1985, I was sooo much cooler.  In fact, I was at a party recently where there were several relics from my past floating around.  Someone introduced me to a young woman, who, upon hearing my name said – oh my god, I thought I recognized you.  You were one of the cool girls in high school.  I so looked up to you.  She was in 8th grade when I was a senior – I had no clue who she was, but it boosted the hell out of my ego that night, that’s for sure.

    So yeah, I was one of the cool girls, and I fancied myself a bit of a wild child – I had short spiky hair, streaked every now and again with a strip of blond across my forehead, I wore short black miniskirts, ripped white t-shirts, and doc martens.  Yeah, I was a bad ass -- or at least I thought I was.  I was always trying to push the envelope.  Not much of a challenge in my little suburban town of Pelham NY, where merely being a girl without an aqua-net shellacked wall of bangs was considered radical. 

I might write about something interesting again, like the scrumptious meal I had Saturday night at Stone Park Cafe with my dad, my brother, my sister and her boyfriend, Tom.  Or the Montecastelli wine tasting event at Hearth I went to on my day off yesterday.  Or I might even take some more pictures and post them up here (if you're really jonesing, you can see some on flickr).  But right now, it's all about WYSIWYG.  Come see me TONIGHT in "I Fought the Law and the Law Won"  at 7:30 at P.S. 122, 150 First Ave at E. 9th Street.  Tickets are $7, and it'll be fun!  At least come to make fun of how petrified I am.

UPDATE:  We were Gawked!

I got the job.  Details to come.  Yay!

The waiting is the hardest part.  Thank you all for your luck and good thoughts yesterday.  I'll keep you posted.  But in the meantime, I'll tell you about the rest of yesterday, as there was some good food involved.  Since I happened to be on the East Side, I stopped by Pampano's taqueria on the way back to work.  I had read good things about it, and it most definitely lived up to it's reputation.  I had one pulled pork and one fish taco, some chips and salsa, and a refreshing melon aqua fresca.  I can't wait to go back next time I'm over there! 

Last night, I had the pleasure of getting a taste of Tempo in Brooklyn.  My two favorites that I tasted were the duck pastilla roll with a tasty Moroccan barbecue glaze and the Time Out NY-award-winning bucatini with Sicilian pistachio pesto.  I'm looking forward to going back sometime soon.  Finally, I met up with Bill, Sarah, and their friend Mug over at the the Tea Lounge on Union Street to see Charlie Hunter.  Randee, who had brought me to check out Tempo, and her husband had stopped home in between to get their dog, Vegas, and when I came outside to meet him, I brought my glass of shiraz along with me, placing it on the bench next to me.  That bench was apparently sloped at quite a steep angle for what should have been a flat surface, and down toppled my glass of wine, onto the unsuspecting Vegas.  Does red wine stain dogs?

I'm confident about all the other pieces of the equation, but a little extra luck and good wishes certainly can do nothing but help.  I promise to fill you in later.