And I was on such a roll

I wasn't going to say anything, but I was trying to post every day in November. Sadly, I did not. So I'll write a bit about my birthday, and we'll pretend that I didn't skip a week. (If it's any consolation, I'm not really sure what I was doing last week, either.)


It was my birthday yesterday! I got lots of dark/sweet cards and thoughtful gifts I am already putting to use. Brunch! Cookbook! Apron! Socks! Nail polish! Purse! Stationery, made from some drawings I did in high school! Earrings! Thank you everybody!

John got me the fabulous hand creme I asked for and the Stephen Colbert book, a total surprise. I opened it up to find myself staring at pictures of dog scrota: my kind of book! And he has let me do some excessive clothes shopping. Also the flowers above, so beautiful...

Also a trip to see Karen in Durham. I'm leaving tomorrow, and I hope I'll come back with pretty pictures and fun stories.

À la icanhascheezburger.com

I don't know about you...

...but this is what is left over when I eat a persimmon, a snack after a three-hour painting session.



The color is all wrong, but you'll get an idea of the rate of progress as the week goes on.

Like superheroines

I love this day, every year, when I get to watch these very tired, mostly very happy folks, especially the women, surrounded by family and friends or proudly alone, draped in mylar that cannot shield onlookers from the radioactive beams of their accomplishment, making their way through a city that cheers and congratulates them.



We were on our way home from seeing Gone Baby Gone when we passed this champion. Her pedicab was stuck in traffic by Lincoln Center, but somehow I don't think the slow pace bothered her.

Grotto

Pulipo at Grotto, Saturday night.

art/craftsteak

I've had this 35" x 50" canvas prepped for several weeks, but somehow mixing 42 paint colors only took on a real urgency this afternoon when I got back from a kitty litter run to Target in Brooklyn. The 42 colors are in the wicked-cool triangluar Takashimaya bag on the floor at the base of the canvas. They are essentially the paint-by-number pots for this pattern.



John was nice enough to work late, so I actually finished all the mixing before he rolled in a little before 9pm. He had thoughtfully made our dinner reservation at craftsteak for 9:45, so there was plenty of time to clean up before we caught a taxi down to Chelsea. There was a little friction before we left, because some of us get a little crabby when we haven't eaten for eight hours.

Chhhack. Pftllb. Whrechk.

Excuse me. I had a little sarcasm caught in me throat.

I did not have my dinner caught in my throat, though, because that went down smooth. John got a beer and I got the best sidecar I have ever had. The graceful server brought piping hot little Parker House rolls and an amuse of toast points, house-made pickled veggies and a tiny cast iron terrine of chicken liver pâté, of which I ate every bite. We ordered a selection of local oysters (don't worry, not too local) and really enjoyed them.

We were very happy with our steaks, John with the T-bone and me with my hanger, though it was a good thing we had been warned by the very competent waiter that they would be served sliced, to facilitate sharing. This struck us both as a bit of a gimmick, but my real worry was that the temperature of the steak would be compromised. (I like a hot steak.) We shouldn't have worried: the steaks could have been a bit warmer, but they were nevertheless faultlessyly tasty. The sides of onion rings and roasted Jerusalem artichokes were awesome. We were too full for dessert or cheese, but the coffee was great, and carrot cake petit fours hit the spot.

Tables around us received small baked goods to take away, but we did not. Pourquoi? Perhaps an unspoken spending requirement, but more likely just our pastry curse in action. For some reason, we tend to get overlooked when free muffins are being handed out. For reals.

Hope yours was a good one

(Ours had enchiladas, and a pre-Daily Show run to nasty Gristedes for brownie mix. 'Nuff said.)

The D'Ag downstairs in our building posted the contestants in the annual Halloween coloring contest in their front window.

This kid, I'm a little worried about.



This one, prolly gonna be just fine.



Gotta love those eyebrows.