Woke up to New York City's first snow. Flurries everywhere - finally, the season has turned. And so has my mood. After a busy weekend catching up with people I've been neglecting, I feel renewed and more like myself. Reconnecting with friends and family and having a trip to look forward to has helped me break through a rather protracted funk - and has emphasized that it's essential to always have something lovely planned, even if it's modest. Thank you all for your words of encouragement - you have been so kind. And to Sasha: "Thank you for your champagne... I drank it and I was gayer."
Fauxhawk broke out the special fire retardant wood sold at the deli at extortionate prices - the whole apartment smelled like smoked sausage as the logs sizzled disappointingly in the fireplace. We're contemplating ordering a quarter of a cord of wood from a nice Amish person with a pack mule that can handle five flights of stairs.
I've been cooking up a storm lately, mostly from How to Roast a Lamb, a cookbook that offers a subtle twist on Greek cuisine without being too cute. We've had wonderful and inspired avgolemono soup, butterflied and stuffed lamb, herbed meatballs, and a few very tasty salads. Winter is about cooking for me - and also about overindulging. We have to be careful to rein it in or we'll pop before New Year's is upon us.
My niece Noodle had her eighth birthday this weekend. She wanted jeggings. I found this vaguely depressing, mostly because I hate that word and knew I would be forced to say it over and over again as I scoured my neighborhood for jean leggings.
"Excuse me, do you have JEGGINGS?"
"Why no, we don't have JEGGINGS."
"Do you know where I can find JEGGINGS?"
"Try XYZ - they might have JEGGINGS."
Repeat about 450 times until I finally found a source and bought them, grudgingly. Just hearing her squeal "JEGGINGZZZZZZZZ!" made it all worthwhile.
Photo credit: Lost track. If it's yours, let me know.