Yesterday, a trip to Charlottesville for a friend's (post-)baby shower. No games, thank god, and instead of showering her with gifts, we each shared a story of motherhood or childhood. It was low-key and lovely; a lot more engaging than watching an expectant mother unwrap onesie after onesie. Afterwards, a welcome antidote to all the domesticity--meeting Jessica at Michael's Bistro for a round of Arrogant Bastard ale, on draft. Michael's has been open since my undergrad days; I remember convincing the manager to buy ads in each issue of 3.7 magazine. The Thai chicken curry with basmati rice is still delicious.
Over the weekend...galleys! I got galleys! The luxury of my Thanksgiving holiday will be proofing.
I hardly ever read the New York Times. In in my phantom Sunday, the ideal I'm working toward, a time to read the paper (seated at a big table, over coffee and orange juice) comes just after the Farmer's Market, and before turning up the music and cleaning. I did skim it online this morning, only to discover that they covered Moira's wedding. Moira, the States miss you.
Though I continue to plot my trip to Austria--aided by Jessica's memories of a lovely flat and good music--I also wouldn't mind making a trip to Prince Edward Island, home to Anne of Green Gables and oysters you can scoop from the ocean yourself. From the NYT Travel Section: "These oysters were shockingly creamy, spectacularly briny...They filled out their shells the way Jayne Mansfield filled out a dress." Come on, who can resist that?There are so many things to be done today, and I can't seem to grab a hold of any of them. Trying to break through a round of insomania last night--a rare thing for me--I got bored and decided to eat raw peppers around 2 AM. I quickly discovered which ones were sweet and which were truly hot (there was some swishing of water, devouring of water crackers, and frantic toothbrushing that followed).
Should have taken my contacts out BEFORE that experiment.
1 comment:
this post makes my mouth water.
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