You guys, I had the most New York weekend with my sister Susie. I think we probably used up all of the good karma I’ve accrued over the past many years of my life, but it was worth it. We started the trip with a little wine on the roof of the Met. We found a shady spot and gabbed and enjoyed the view. On Saturday, in a coup, we secured a lovely table at Jack’s Wife Freda in Soho–I ordered avocado toast and Susie introduced me to a Pimm’s Cup. We also got ourselves into Le Bain on the roof of the Standard Hotel in the Meatpacking District. The group in front of us in line (at 2p!) got denied entranced–but they still let us in. You can’t hide natural beauty under sweat and day two hair, I guess. We people watched/gawked for a bit and then headed home to recover.

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For dinner, we ventured to the West Village and indulged in wine and cheese. And then we went to a speakeasy-esque bar that required walking through a Five Guys to find the entrance. Susie’s man-friend Nate (he was in town in for a bachelor party) met us there and we gabbed some more. On Sunday, we ventured back downtown for brunch at The Smith (where I may have thrown a hissy fit when a party of three sans reservation got seated before us but I was hangry hungry and had a reservation). We hit up the Strand before returning to the sanctity of the UWS. And then Nate and Susie left and I drowned my sorrows in When Harry Met Sally. It was just the best weekend.


As my avid readers know, the Trader Joe’s checkers and I have a love-hate relationship. That is, they love to chat and frequently say things to me that make me hate the cheerful checkout experience. Well, enjoy this little exchange from today’s trip to the grocery store.

SCENE: Wearing a black ABC News fleece, I approach Register 8. It is 11am on Monday.

Checker: Did you just get off the overnight?
Me: What?
Checker: Oh, I just thought you looked really tired so I figured you just finished an overnight shift. Are you a news producer?

The checker also told me that he used to be a news producer–but he hated the hours–as he gabbed through the entire ringing up/paying process. I had no words.

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