If there’s one thing I do well, it’s meeting people and making attempts to keep them in my life. Many people I know are astounded by, well, the sheer number of people I know. Recently, two separate friends were telling me how, for various reasons, they wanted to expand their social circles. "I can help." I offered. I’m no Yenta — I’m not offering romantic matchups or anything — but I know so many great, fun, interesting people that the least I can do is share the wealth. I truly enjoy bringing my friends who don’t already know each other together, particularly over a good meal, like I did last night at Scottadito. Scott, a good friend from college, organized a small dinner and suggested that we invite others along. So in addition to Jay, Doug, Mike and Alexis, part of the Tufts crowd, I invited Katie and Kim from the beach house, and Gabe, one of my friends looking to meet new people. Add a tasty three course Italian meal with wine pairings (for the ridiculously low price of $45!), and voila! I’m already figuring out ways to weave these two a little deeper into my social fabric. Anyone else out there looking for a little social shake-up?
v. 2.0
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Time to Hit the Beach
Yes, I know the weather is crummy, so it doesn’t necessarily seem like the best time to head out to Fire Island, but I decided to come out anyway, just to get out of the city and go somewhere quiet. All part of the grand plan to slow down this fall. There are only a few of us out here, which makes it all the more relaxing. I had intended to bring out my camera — the SLR that uses film (how very antiquated, I know) — but completely forgot to bring it. Oh well.
Okay — back to the relaxation.
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Tidbits
Gotta love having friends who know how to make you laugh out loud. I got an email from Rob yesterday about our dinner with Augie and Lauren at the Fatty Crab: "i ate too much last night. now i feel like this python." (For those of you too lazy to click the link, the headline is "Python Explodes After Trying to Swallow Six-Foot Alligator Whole.")
You start to worry about getting old when you decide to walk home from work (just to see how long it takes — 50 minutes), and you notice that the music playing from the sound system outside of the Marriott is the Cure’s "Just Like Heaven." I guess, to some people, it would be considered "oldies." Sigh.
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From the Ashes of Chickenbone Cafe
I only went to Chickenbone Cafe once before it met its early demise, but thoroughly enjoyed it. My only other exposure ot the genius of Zak Pelaccio has been tastings at various food events — I haven’t yet made it to 5 Ninth. But here’s my advice to you: Go to the Fatty Crab, and bring friends. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Head straight for the slow roasted pork ribs, the chili crab, the Lo Si Fun noodles with chinese sausage and mushrooms, and the sweet roti for dessert. You’ll be glad you did, I promise. -
Not So Hot
The pattern continues: run myself ragged, catch the plague, rinse, and repeat. I started to feel a little crummy on Thursday night, but went to bed early. After a successful inagural pro bono breakfast for the new associates bright and early Friday morning, I made it until mid-afternoon, when the nose-blowing became too disgusting for the office, and the chills began. I picked up key provisions on the way home (Chinese noodle soup, Puffs with lotion, Airborne, and three DVD’s worth of Six Feet Under), and took to the couch. Thankfully, I still had Jenn’s copy of the new Harry Potter to keep me company as well. I made it out briefly Saturday for my first Pilates session, and wandered through the farmers market (where I took the picture above), but retreated back to the couch and dozed on and off for the rest of the day. I did manage to make it out to dinner at ‘inoteca with Matt, Romy, and the Lovely Miss Katie, followed by a drink at Otto with Rob, Luke and Nic. Sunday was a bit better, but I’m definitely not up to full speed yet.
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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.
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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.
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In My Dreams
I’ve always said that accessories make the look. Take, for example, my Greenwich Village townhouse and matching Vespa.
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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 . . .
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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.