AND THIS WAS JUST SUNDAY.

It seems like every time the seasons change, it is a surprise. And while this year it seemed like winter never fully arrived (I’m not complaining), it is always a lovely treat to wake up, see the blue sky that does not look cold and realize that a puffy coat is unnecessary. Sitting outside with friends, walking around, moseying, if you will, without the rushed fear of a frostbitten nose, does make everything that is hard about New York worth it. At least for the afternoon.

This weekend, I met lovely friends for what I’ve deemed “Fry Brunch.” That is, we went to Pomme Frites, a restaurant near the East Village that serves only french fries and many dipping sauces. And cans of Diet Coke. Jenny stacked our dips Gus-Gus style as we fought valiantly for a booth. Tell me, what could be better? Then we traversed up the block and drank some wine while sitting outside. Kate planned her high school reunion on the phone while the rest of us sat there mocking her. And then we got ice cream cones. And I took a picture of mine with a dumpster behind it. I found it very New York.

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