Between 7pm and when I went to bed last night, four different people asked me for directions. Very strange.
Posts from September 2006
There's no way I could have forgotten them since somebody took eighty gazillion pictures of them with my camera. Then again, I was sort of obsessed with the prizewinning produce myself. The pictures from Maine are up, including a bunch from the Common Ground Country Fair, an annual event hosted by the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association. Between that and reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, I convinced myself to get a winter share in a CSA so I can eat local farm-produced veggies and meat all winter. And I will do my best never to eat corn-fed beef again. Eeeew.
Of Gourmet's top 50 restaurants in the U.S., I've only eaten at four (and only two in New York): Per Se, Babbo, Fore Street, and Herbsaint. Guess I have some work to do . . .
You know the pace of your everyday life is a little hectic when you spend the majority of a weekend in Maine sleeping. Well, to be fair, it was a combination of sleeping, eating, and napping, with a few other things thrown in for good measure. And, of course, once I got home last night, I slept like crap, so now I'm back to my normal, sleep-deprived state. Sigh.
Since our previously scheduled trip to Maine was thwarted by a grand conspiracy between Mother Nature, Orbitz, and Continental Airlines, The Lovely Miss Katie and I are heading up tonight for the weekend (assuming all goes well). We hope to sleep late, eat lobster, go running, eat lobster, and, if weather permits, swim and kayak in the lake. And eat more lobster. Have a great weekend, all!
Last night I had the opportunity to dine with two kids, age 2 and 4. Maggie, the two year old, isn't talking yet, but was extremely expressive and interactive regardless. At one point, she kept me entertaining her with a game involving her passing her mom's cell phone to me and insisting that I have a conversation on it, and then taking it back and pretending to take my picture with it. Max, the four year old, wouldn't talk to me at first (I tend to have that effect on men), but after sizing me up, he determined that I was okay to talk to and proceeded to regale me with stories, jokes, and, in an attempt to mimic his Uncle Jimmy, magic tricks involving pretending to put a crayon in his ear and pull it out of his nose (said uncle also convinced him to put crayons in each of his nostrils, much to his mother's dismay). He also asked me dozens of questions, performed a demonstration of pseudo-martial arts involving two butter knives, insisted that his root beer tasted better when the paper wrapper from the straw was soaking in it, and took a bite of a crayon (hopefully not one of the ones that was formerly in his nostril) and declared that it tasted like wax. During the course of dinner, I'm not really certain that either child ended up eating all that much, but the table looked like a hurricane hit it.
After dinner, I was supposed to help my friend Elisabeth finish up a bottle of wine, but I had to beg off. I was exhausted, in large part from my pint-sized dinner companions. I came to a few conclusions: First, I definitely want kids someday, if at all possible. Second, I definitely am not ready for them anytime soon. I am sure I'll be a great mom someday, but boy, do I need to rest up first. Not to mention that it might be helpful to have a husband around to help out.
Is it really possible that summer's over? Sigh. Despite the torrential rain and violent thunderstorm on Friday night, the weekend turned out to be a gorgeous one. We witnessed a wedding on the beach, Chip made rack of lamb and key lime pie, we laughed our asses off, and I had one hell of a great beach nap. Had to linger until the "death boat" this morning, just to squeeze out every last minute. Enjoy the last batch of pictures.
Although it's always hard to ease back into work after a vacation, it's a little easier when you get to move into a new, bigger office with a window. Even with the dreary weather, it's still nice to look out Northward over the city.
Despite my best intentions to lay low this week (well, I did stay in and watch Transamerica Wednesday night), I think I went out almost every night: Monday was dinner with Jimmy and his friend (and fellow foodie) Michelle up on his roofdeck, looking out at the Tribute in Light, Tuesday I had dinner with John B., who was craving the testa at Otto (I passed), and last night was dinner with Kirsten and The Lovely Miss Katie, followed by drinks with Roopa. This weekend, I'm off to the beach -- my last weekend of the season. Sniffle.
I'm not sure what was going on when I took the day off on Monday. I spent my day recovering from jetlag and doing errands like shopping at the Greenmarket and getting my pedals put back on my bike (which felt light as a feather as compared to the bike I rode last week). While I was out and about, unshowered and in gym shorts, I got two compliments. One: "nice legs!" Given that I'm 5'1", I generally don't get compliments on my legs -- I'd imagine those are more often reserved for those with, well, longer legs -- but I'll take it. The second: "nice toes." Okay. I'll admit, my toes aren't bad, but on Monday, I was walking around in my ugly (but incredibly comfy) Rockport sandals -- hardly the sexy footwear that might illicit compliments, even from foot fetishists. But, hey -- I'll take that one too.
Well, I made it back safely from an amazing week in Galicia. I've posted the pictures up quick and dirty, and will spend some time later today cleaning them up (like giving them labels so you know what the hell you're looking at). I had a great time, ate my fill of shellfish and jamon, and drank copious quantities of alvarinho. I biked long and hard (particularly the first day, which was hilly and hot as hell, plus an additional day where I did an extra hill loop), saw some gorgeous scenery, and had the pleasure of some great company -- thanks again to Bing, Martín, Joey, Yael, and particularly our fearless coordinator, Carlos, for making the trip so outstanding. More details to come.