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February 2007
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April 2007

Posts from March 2007



To me, the most terrifying thing about "It's Not You, It's Your Apartment" is not that the stuffed bear that sits on my bed could possibly be destroying my dating life (although I really don't think it has had any impact whatsoever) -- it's the fact that this man writes dating advice for for a living.  Yet another reason I'm convinced that online dating is not ultimately for me.

And on that note, I'm off to Tuscany tomorrow night for a week, so odds are I won't be posting.  Have a great week!

The Big 200

Just had my last swim class tonight (at least for level 1).  We did a time trial for 200 yards, which is twice as long as we had ever done and I did it in 4:02, which was actually quite good based on my earlier 100 yard times.  I'm convinced that it was due to my altitude training in Denver . . .

That Mountain Air

I've been very good about exercising here in Denver.  I swam laps one day, and have hit the treadmill for the past two days (granted I've been eating out every night, so it's probably a wash, but that's another story).  The 45 minutes of swimming took a lot out of me, but I wasn't too surprised about that -- I'm still at the very beginning of building up any sort of endurance -- but my first day on the treadmill, I could barely handle the interval workout I normally do at home.  I ordinarily spend 45 minutes on the treadmill, adjusting the speed and incline quite a bit, and my workout includes several rounds of sprints alternated with jogging to recover.  After my first sprint on the hotel treadmill, I had to slow down to a walk to recover.  I couldn't figure out what was going on -- maybe I was dehydrated, maybe I was tired, or maybe it was the second martini I had had with dinner the night before?  Then, over dinner last night, someone mentioned the altitude, and how she had been warned to stay hydrated.  Another mentioned that she was told not to exercise at all because she might have trouble with the altitude.  Aha!  Mystery solved.

The Morning After


I ate thirty-three different things last night and I am still dreaming of perfect sushi, delectable grilled toro and freshly shaved black truffles . . . full rundown to come.  Many, many, many thanks to David for the opportunity and to Matt for being my date for the evening. 

Catching Up



Let's see -- just a little catching up since my last post.  I had a few relatively quiet nights this week, believe it or not.  Not too many, though.  Friday night, The Lovely Miss Katie and I tried out the new Blue Ribbon Bar -- definitely one to add to the regular rotation, although not too often, as it was pretty easy to go overboard, both on the delicious food and the wine flights (see the foie gras torchon above as evidence).  Saturday morning, after a workout, I met Dad at Chinatown Brasserie for some delicious dim sum, including my favorites, the shrimp dumplings with pea shoots, pictured above (love the eyes).  Sure, it's more expensive than Chinatown dim sum joints, but it's really worth it.  More pics of all the tastiness on flickr.

After some laundry and errands, I met up with Hugh for a drink -- it's hard to believe although we've "known" each other electronically for years, we've never actually met in person!  He was even sweet enough to draw me a cartoon on the back of my Gothamist card (thanks, Hugh!).  I did some cooking Saturday night and eventually fell asleep on the couch.  I suppose I was exhausted -- I slept for about 11 hours.

Today was Brooklyn day -- birthday brunch for Doug followed by a walk with Bill and dinner at Katie's.  In line with several of my other Brooklyn jaunts, I ran into someone I knew when I stopped in at Big Nose, Fully Body to buy some wine.  And now, I've tidied up my apartment and am going to hit the sack early so I can work out first thing before work.

I Hear Ya

I think she's on to something: "I started online dating at age 35, hoping to meet a few suitors in my new city. But all I met were frantic older men who were more concerned with the state of my womb than with wooing me."  Note to men over the age of 50: you are not appropriate dating material for me.  Period.

An Open Apology to My Father

As I was spending time in my homeland, I recalled the days when my dad and I lived on Capitol Hill.  It was just the two of us for a while, and every day he'd pick me up from day care on the way home from work.  We'd walk home down (I think) Pennsylvania Avenue, and we'd pass McDonald's and Roy Rogers on the way.  I would very often plead with my dad to take me to one or the other on the way home -- I wasn't a foodie from birth, folks -- and sometimes he would cave in.  At Roy Rogers, I loved the fact that the large fries came in a holster, even though I wasn't ever allowed to get anything other than the small.  At McDonalds, I usually got a cheeseburger, but there was always a bit of an issue.  McDonalds, at least back then, adorned their burgers with ketchup, mustard, onions and pickles.  I, at that time, absolutely hated mustard and pickles.  Dad experimented a few times, scraping off the offending condiments, but I was too picky, and swore I could taste pickles and mustard even after they were gone.  So Dad would have to special order my cheeseburgers, without mustard and pickles, completely defeating the point of the "fast food" experience. 

Over the past five to ten years, I have learned to like many of the foods I never did as a kid (except for goat cheese, which I still don't really care for), including pickles and mustard.  So, Dad, I just wanted to apologize for the wasted time you spent waiting for my custom-made cheeseburgers.  I can't give you the time back, but the next time you want a burger, it's on me -- with whatever condiments you choose.