Sunny with a chance of Spritz
Morningside Heights to Cobble Hill
Make hay while the sun still shines…My mother spoke in proverbs, philosophical ideas compressed into tiny meaningful cliches. Anyway, this one stuck has always with me so, when it’s sunny and above freezing in February, I feel the need to make hay in the form of mileage, outdoors, and vitamin D. A run north, a walk to Brooklyn.
Deer Two Ways
Yes, that’s a real live deer on 110th Street, the first one I have every seen in the city and yes, that’s a plastic deer strapped to a magnificent lemon yellow Porsche 911. Hide your hydrangeas.
Invited by an old friend, and inspired by The New York Times really cool photo time line of the evolution of Williamsburg, A Slideshow of a Neighborhood I walked over the Brooklyn Bridge to walk and talk. True to someone’s political promise - whom I do not remember - the vendors have been cleared. Word has it that theater district pedicabs are to follow. Eric Botcher said that and I believe him.
We meandered, talked books, the creative process, and the real way to make a champagne cocktail. Completely delightful. It made me think back to a grouchy NYTimes opinion piece published a few months ago, (and why this is considered a Times-worthy opinion I cannot imagine) called No, I Don't Want to Go for a Walk with You.
“A new form of social tyranny has broken out. Opposition to it seems churlish and unsporting. Refusal risks offense. Other than actual or feigned injury, or bad weather, there is truly no escape. I am speaking of the invitation that seems to arrive with ever increasing frequency from acquaintances, new friends and colleagues: Do you want to take a walk with me? My answer is, in almost every case, no. I would not like to take a walk with you.”
Well I would. Every single time. Is it me or is the NYTimes getting more and more click-baity?
We ended up at Henry Public. No spritzes but a good G & T!
Henry Public Tequila and somethin’
Nite Nite
The first time I met with sleep being a purchasable commodity was 21 years ago when a West Village mom, asking why I looked so broke-down tired (as I strolled a baby and a big dog from coffee bar to coffee bar), shook her head and told me that I clearly hand’t hired the right sleep consultant. There was no question in her mind that I’d hired A sleep consultant - but I just hadn’t hired the right one. Little did I know that it was just the beginning. From motherhood to menopause, sleep solutions are being sold to women and boy, they seem to be buying. And yet, everyone I know is still exhausted. Graydon Carter’s Airmail hits peak sleep with "Are the Rich Sleeping Better?" The answer is maybe…
When I factor in the cost and uneven effectiveness of all these sleep solutions - apps, vitamin drips, magnesium, HRT, elixirs, gummies, etcetera - I feel pretty pleased with my choice to defy my demographic and go natural. My oura ring sleep score (I do love a wearable) tells me that exercise and the great outdoors are bankable and free as the air. The words of Scott Galloway (PROFG) ring in my ears: Sometimes the lemon isn’t worth the squeeze. Instead of proverbs, I’ve got corporate jargon. It kinda works.
Schwarma Supremacy
Spice Brothers, a little Middle Eastern schwarma shop on St. Marks where everyone seems to speak French almost feels more Marais than East Village. Is schwarma a Super Bowl a thing? It is now.
REREADABLE
Capote and his Swans have made me CRAVE Jacqueline Susann! When Truman flips open his little pill box and instructs a distraught Babe Paley to go for a walk in the valley…it sends me! I’m rereading and rewatching - Patty Duke is cringe-tastic!
Purchasable commodity -- my head went to hiring a sitter so I could sleep -- not a consultant! HA. Or perhaps you hire both full time help and the consultant like Babe Paley would have! I just guess being a parent lends itself to sleepless nights whether as an infant or teen!