Digesting my 35th
First, thanks to all for the birthday wishes yesterday. I’ll admit I’m not the best when it comes to posting b-day wishes for all of you, but it’s still nice to get ‘em, so thank you.
My day was a pleasant one. I made sure not to schedule any conference calls or open any cans of worms at work that might stress me out, so I basically surfed the net, posted more to LJ than I have in a year, and ate. And ate.
Lunch was at the Rotunda at Neiman Marcus, a semiannual ladies-who-lunch affair with uncommonthread. This tradition is a special one, which we do for each of our birthdays. I had the cream of potato soup and the Dungeness Crab Louie Salad, after which I was forced-FORCED, I tell you-to have dessert, a Meyer Lemon crème brulee. Yum all around.
After pissing the afternoon away on LJ, I arrived home to champagne and piles o’gifts from the beautiful love of my life, nakednsf. In amongst a whole bunch of things I absolutely HAD to have, he got me a white ceramic cake plate that made me very, very happy. It’s the little things, ya know.
And then it was 3 for 3 at our new favorite restaurant, Range: 3 trips, 3 amazing meals. I started with a goat cheese and sorrel-stuffed ravioli in a chive and lime butter sauce, which caused me to moan and writhe in ecstasy, while the petrale sole over fingerling potatoes, melted leeks and pea tendrils, all doused in a silky lemon butter, was so goddamn good Tom and I grabbed hunks of bread and wiped our plates clean. All of this delightfulness was washed down with a cocktail their bartender had just invented the last time we were there: an Evergreen. Gin and St. Germain liqueur with muddled lemon juice, sage and kumquats, shaken and strained into a martini glass. OMG. Dessert was mixed, however. Tom’s rhubarb upside-down cake was amazing, but my Meyer Lemon tart was boring and repeated on me all night. Ick.
(Side note: our intern, who is also a bartender, just told me that St. Germain and Sauvignon Blanc makes an excellent cocktail. Hmmm. I shall try it!)
We returned home to a malfunctioning TiVo which fucked up the recording of Project Runway, so we basically only saw half of it. I know who wins, which wasn’t a surprise, but fuck. Getting to the announcement is half the fun!
My day was a pleasant one. I made sure not to schedule any conference calls or open any cans of worms at work that might stress me out, so I basically surfed the net, posted more to LJ than I have in a year, and ate. And ate.
Lunch was at the Rotunda at Neiman Marcus, a semiannual ladies-who-lunch affair with uncommonthread. This tradition is a special one, which we do for each of our birthdays. I had the cream of potato soup and the Dungeness Crab Louie Salad, after which I was forced-FORCED, I tell you-to have dessert, a Meyer Lemon crème brulee. Yum all around.
After pissing the afternoon away on LJ, I arrived home to champagne and piles o’gifts from the beautiful love of my life, nakednsf. In amongst a whole bunch of things I absolutely HAD to have, he got me a white ceramic cake plate that made me very, very happy. It’s the little things, ya know.
And then it was 3 for 3 at our new favorite restaurant, Range: 3 trips, 3 amazing meals. I started with a goat cheese and sorrel-stuffed ravioli in a chive and lime butter sauce, which caused me to moan and writhe in ecstasy, while the petrale sole over fingerling potatoes, melted leeks and pea tendrils, all doused in a silky lemon butter, was so goddamn good Tom and I grabbed hunks of bread and wiped our plates clean. All of this delightfulness was washed down with a cocktail their bartender had just invented the last time we were there: an Evergreen. Gin and St. Germain liqueur with muddled lemon juice, sage and kumquats, shaken and strained into a martini glass. OMG. Dessert was mixed, however. Tom’s rhubarb upside-down cake was amazing, but my Meyer Lemon tart was boring and repeated on me all night. Ick.
(Side note: our intern, who is also a bartender, just told me that St. Germain and Sauvignon Blanc makes an excellent cocktail. Hmmm. I shall try it!)
We returned home to a malfunctioning TiVo which fucked up the recording of Project Runway, so we basically only saw half of it. I know who wins, which wasn’t a surprise, but fuck. Getting to the announcement is half the fun!