It’s Not My Home, But Dang I Love New York

One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.   —Tom Wolfe

Times Square

After six days in New York City, I’m back home. Or at least, my body is home. I fear my heart is somewhere on 5th Avenue, in the vicinity of Bryant Park.

If you’re in the area, could you keep a lookout for it? Oh and while you’re at it, could you stop at that one sandwich shop – you know the one I mean, right? – and get me a smoked salmon roll? I’ll pay you back.

Thanks.

These are a few general thoughts I had about our trip. Details will come later: Continue reading “It’s Not My Home, But Dang I Love New York”

A Dream on Divorce & Overcooked Chicken

Man holding bouquet of flowersYesterday was the anniversary of when Husband proposed to me.

You’ll note that had he waited a week, he could have proposed to me on Valentine’s Day. The fact that he did not worked to his advantage.

I like to think he knew that had he waited until Valentine’s Day to propose, I would have rolled my eyes and said, “Really? So this is how it’s going to be?”

Anyway, I bring this up now because about a week ago, I had the oddest dream where Husband said he wanted a divorce because I overcooked the chicken. Continue reading “A Dream on Divorce & Overcooked Chicken”

Food, Glorious Food, and the Time I Couldn’t Eat, Part 2

In case you missed Part 1 of this story, start here.

All right, where did I leave off? Oh, yes — I’m on the kitchen floor, having an emotional breakdown over not being able to eat eggs, which I didn’t like anyway.

You know, I’ve always viewed myself as a fairly intelligent person, with refined tastes and more than an average amount of self-control.

hash brownsBut then one day I’m half starved — no, make that fully starved — and there are some leftover hash browns sitting on the kitchen counter. Daughter bought them at Dunkin’ Donuts.

You know the ones, right? The greasy little rounds in a small brown bag, that maybe if you bought them first thing in the morning are fine, but this was midday.

I picked one up, held it to my nose and inhaled deeply. Aaaahhhh … oh, if only … well, maybe a little bite? Just a nibble? — it couldn’t hurt, right? Just a little? Continue reading “Food, Glorious Food, and the Time I Couldn’t Eat, Part 2”

Food, Glorious Food, and the Time I Couldn’t Eat

sound.jpgDo any of you listen to podcasts? I didn’t until recently and wow, I had no idea what I was missing.

My current obsession is Radiolab, from WNYC. If you enjoy learning, just for the sheer joy of learning, check them out.

foodRecently I listened to their episode on the gut. They interviewed Jon Reiner, a James Beard award-winning food writer who wrote The Man Who Couldn’t Eat. In the interview, he recounted the time he was being fed intravenously.

As I was listening, as he described the time he plunged his hands into a chocolate cake because if he couldn’t eat it, he was darn well going to find a way to experience it, I thought, “Holy crap! THIS IS ME!” Continue reading “Food, Glorious Food, and the Time I Couldn’t Eat”