I really do enjoy writing anything about foie gras on Gothamist because it gets the commenters all up in a tizzy.  My favorite quote from one of them on yesterday's post: "It could be made from the hearts of a 1,000 little kittens and I would still think it was dee-lish-ous!"

I barely took any pictures in Paris.  Perhaps it's because I already have so many from prior trips, but I think it's more because I spent a great deal of time walking around to and from the Jardin de Luxembourg, where I went running (sans camera).  But -- enjoy the pictures I took. 

Congrats to Tom, who has become the third guy I've dated to get engaged and/or married in less than a year of dating someone.  Now we just get to wait and see about the rest of the insta-family cycle.

Bonjour!  I'm back from Paris and am up in Maine, doing the Thanksgiving thing.  Will have a full report shortly, but pics will have to wait until I'm back home (although I didn't take as many as one might imagine).  Have a great Thanksgiving!

I'm off to Paris for the weekend.  I just love saying that -- actually it's longer than a weekend, but I'll be back stateside for Thanksgiving.  There may be some blogging à Paris, but I'm not sure yet.  Ideally I'll be too busy galavanting around or relaxing to hit an internet cafe. 

I'm hoping my French comes flooding back once I hit Charles de Gaulle, but we'll see.  As long as I can find my way around town and around a menu, I'm sure I'll be fine.  Eating suggestions are welcome, although at this point I might have more than I can squeeze in!  Suggestions on where to linger over a glass of red wine and write in my journal are also appreciated.  À bientôt!

Your heart always races a bit when you approach your apartment building and see several cop cars and even one cop truck parked outside.  That is, until you ask a few questions and discover the reason they're there is because a racoon is stuck up in a tree next to your door.  Sadly, it was too dark for a cameraphone picture (didn't have my camera on me) -- he looked so cute just clinging onto the branch.  I'm sure he was thinking something like, "great, now what the hell do I do?"  I wonder where he came from?

* Still one of my all-time favorite Beatles songs.  Not sure why.

So I spent a portion of this past weekend apartment hunting.  Not for me (at least not yet), but for my friend Jimmy.  He has found two apartments and is facing the classic New York dilemma:  a gorgeous apartment in a neighborhood he is unsure about, and a small apartment that needs some work in an amazing neighborhood.  Having been a renter for my entire life in New York (and even before that), it's so hard for me to walk into an apartment and imagine what it could be with an architect and a construction loan rather than look at what it is.  So, as much as I love my neighborhood (where the smaller apartment is), the other apartment was much more appealing to me, even though I was unfamiliar with the neighborhood.  It didn't help that one apartment was a two bedroom with a private roofdeck and the other was a one bedroom, five-story walk-up.  But I understand his agonizing.  I love living in the Village, and the neighborhood is important, especially when you live by yourself.  I do love the nights when I hang out by myself at home, but I like to have the option of going down the street for a meal or a drink by myself, or meeting up with friends in the neighborhood without much planning.

Next summer I will begin the apartment hunting process for myself, and I have to admit that I'm excited but scared.  I really didn't think I'd be going through this process by myself -- I imagined buying a home with someone.  I'm slowly getting over that part, but I'm still a bit overwhelmed by the notion that if I don't like a kitchen, or a particular wall, that I can actually change it.  Lord knows if I bought the apartment I'm currently in, the first thing I'd do is knock a big hole in the wall between the kitchen and the living room so I don't feel isolated when I'm entertaining.  And don't even get me started about leaving the neighborhood I've lived in for the past twelve years.  I know it'll happen (and I've certainly considered it for a while) but that doesn't mean I'm not sad about it in many ways.

Any tips from first-time apartment buyers out there?

And, on an unrelated note, welcome back, Arielle -- I missed the hell out of you!

I will at some point, I swear, but right now I'm so very tired and have to write a Gothamist post about the Chocolate Show before heading to sleep.  Will you ever forgive me?

and then there's karaoke with a group of pro bono folks with some of the top law firms in the nation.  Good stuff, and hopefully the start of a trend!  Sorry for the slow posting this week; will catch up this weekend.  For a glimpse at one of my nights this week, visit Gothamist.

You want him to gasp because you look so fabulous.  You want to tell him all about your new boyfriend, your promotion at work, and the incredible vacation you just took.  You want to have a perfect hair day, gleaming white teeth, and be dressed in your most comfortable yet naturally sexy outfit that highlights your assets (a.k.a. cleavage).

You don't want to be dressed in your somewhat frumpy work clothes, which don't do much more than hang there and make you look sort of professional, yet boring.  You don't want to have a nose that's still slightly red and chapped from blowing it all weekend.  You don't want to be fighting with the new bangs you got last week that still don't want to sit properly on your forehead.  And you certainly don't want to feel more bloated than you've felt in months from PMS and a four-day lapse at the gym due to aforementioned plague.  Sigh.