May 13, 2012 § 1 Comment
When I look back in six months and wonder how I gained so much pregnancy weight, this post will come in handy. Miami in May was the result of quite a few new lbs.
We stayed on the bay side this trip, away from the hustle, bustle and bars of Ocean Drive. We were rewarded with gorgeous sunsets like this, which Scott enjoyed in person and I enjoyed in this photograph because the bed was soooooo comfy.
The best meal we had on this trip was at Yardbird Southern Table, which (as you might guess from the name) is dedicated to Southern staples like chicken and waffles, grits, collard greens, that sort of gorgeous food.
The delicious, amazing macaroni and cheese at Yardbird. I fell in love not just with this dish, but with the whole restaurant, where our server didn’t blink an eye when I asked for a big glass of milk to drink with my dessert. (We shared a communal table with two beefy guys, who gave each other raised eyebrows when my dinner turned out to be mac and cheese followed by s’mores pie and milk for dessert. It was all I could do to not shout, “Are either of you growing a human?”)
The BLT at Yardbird; fried green tomatoes, pork belly, homemade pimento cheese. Scott ate this, and reported that it was delicious. The fetus and I report that it was “suspicious.” (I’m sure it was delicious. Pretty much everything looks/smells suspicious to me right now, except Pop-Tarts.) Interestingly, Yardbird is the creation of a ‘Top Chef,” which we did not know at the time, but maybe we cool it on the TV chef stalking, huh?
Pizza is also reliably delicious, especially this — the Montecarlo Star Pizza from Giotto. Those edges were filled with ricotta and pepperoni. It was difficult to only eat one of these, and not go back here for lunch every day of the trip.
The weather was reliably gorgeous. Sunny, in the 80s, no humidity, with a thunderstorm every day around 4 p.m., except for our last day there, when it rained all afternoon, so we went to see ‘Avengers’, during which I ate too much popcorn combined with a Tylenol, resulting in a stomach ache and some tears.
Normally we take cabs to and from the airport, but this trip, we drove and parked in economy just so we could pop into Georgetown for Sprinkles Cupcakes before we went home-home. For the record, Friday is the best day to stop by Sprinkles, as both Chai Latte (the blue dot) and Lemon (the flowers) are available. Also present are Red Velvet and Salty Caramel (the best short-term flavor, ever). These have made for excellent breakfast treats throughout Mother’s Day weekend.
February 7, 2010 § 4 Comments
But I just bought this:
And I can’t wait to wear them somewhere hot and steamy and to have the vaguest of tans. And, yes, my current wardrobe hankerings are all inspired by this lady:
April 26, 2009 § Leave a comment
However, on our last night in town, at approximately 1:30 a.m., I decided it was a perfect time to take a dip in Hotel Victor’s pool. Scott took my photo. We then had a glass of wine on the patio of our room (which opened out to the pool) and we left the camera outside.
The next morning, it was gone, no sign of it at the front desk, not a peep about it in response to our ad on Craigslist, nada.
I am slightly bitter, slightly trying not to dwell.
There were some great photos.
There was one of Scott and me at the Delano, at an outside patio where we huddled during a sudden, unexpected downpour on our first night there. Later in the night, there are photos of us in the pitch-black dark of the Delano lobby – power in the entire hotel was out, the bartender told us, for the first time in 11 years. And could he comp us a drink, because he had to calculate our tab and charge our credit card by hand, and that was going to take a bit longer?
There were photos of two cats, of course, who we met while walking just off Lincoln Mall Road; they were actually not very cute cats, and I won’t miss those photos very much (one was sleeping on a patio table, another was mewing angrily at me), but I will miss the one from later that day, the one where we tried to make serious faces in the hotel room mirror before we went out to dinner, but just ended up laughing at ourselves.
The photos I will miss the most of all are from our third and fourth days there – ones of Scott on the beach, and later, ones of Scott posing underwater in the swimming pool at Hotel Albion, which has portholes where peeping Merediths can take snapshots. In one of those, he’s underwater, pointing at the camera, and in another he’s flexing; and later on there is a photo of him kneeling in front of a Ferrari Enzo, like he’s on the cover of some ridiculous rap album (that whole series had so much Facebook-profile-photo potential that will sadly go unfulfilled). There were photos of the chorizo, pepper and goat cheese omelette I ate for breakfast at the Tides (so damn good), photos of us beneath the Hotel Victor sign (so damn touristy), photos of topless European women sunbathing on the beach (just kidding, those are etched forever in my brain … and not in a good way). The camera I can live without, the photos I’ll probably be bummed about forever.
On the bright side, though, losing the camera forced us to fetch scraps of paper and pen, and remember our trip a different way. We sat at the Tides for a second morning and, day-by-day, jotted down our favorite moments of the trip. In the end, we don’t have any photos except this crappy cell phone one, but, I guess, in the end, I can live with that.
(As long as whoever made off with our camera gets herpes.)
April 29, 2008 § 2 Comments
Scott and I were watching one of the prep races leading up to the Derby several weeks ago, and the anchors got to talking about Winning Colors, a filly (one of three, and that’s her, above wearing the eight) who won the race back in 1988.
I turned to Scott and said, “I remember watching that race.”
The anchors went on to say that that race was 20 years ago, and that Winning Colors had passed away in February 2008. This led me to two conclusions:
1. I have outlived Winning Colors.
2. I am old enough to remember something that happened TWENTY YEARS AGO.
Neither of these things, as far as I’m concerned, are minor.
Perhaps most major of all, and I’m not really sure I’ve really written about this here yet, is that this year, Scott and I are going to the Kentucky Derby.
We splurged on fancy grandstand seats (you didn’t honestly think I was an infield type of gal, did you?), and when the broker we bought them from noticed that they didn’t actually get those seats we’d purchased, they gave us better seats, in the first row of the grandstand.
It’s hard to explain exactly what this means to me — mostly because I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it, and I think there’s a reason for that: I’ve been watching the Derby on TV for more than 20 years. I can’t quite imagine what it’s going to be like to be there, in person, but I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. (And, for the record, I’m backing Colonel John.)
Also, I’m making a prediction. There’s no clear frontrunner in the Derby field this year, but next year … it’s going to be a horse named Nicanor. Just you wait.
(If he looks familiar, it’s probably because he’s a full brother to Barbaro. Yes, that Barbaro.)
April 19, 2008 § 1 Comment
Scott and I spent a little less than a week in San Francisco in mid-April, visiting very, very good friends we haven’t seen since our wedding day, Tracey and Nick. Before we left on April 9, I’d been working without a day off since March 24, so we (I) needed some downtime, some funtime, some goodtimes — the kind you only get with friends who you can fart around*, or at least talk about farting around.
My one request for the visit was: Let’s go to a Giants game! This was my fourth time in SanFran, and I’d gone to zero games (yes, I know — I live in DC, and I don’t plan on going to a game at Nationals Park, um, ever). But you really can’t deny the beauty of the stadium, which I cannot remember the name of. It isn’t Candlestick anymore, and it can’t be just Giants Stadium, so I shall call it the Yahoo Center, which can’t be far off, because Yahoo ads infiltrate the place just as AOL ads cover the MCI/Verizon/Whatsit Center here in DC. Like I said, it’s pretty, though it is a stadium built for ants, apparently:
After the game, we miraculously had energy for some clubbing, which meant stopping by the Comet Club. The last time I’d visited, we’d had a rather drunken, sweaty dance club time at the CC. Turns out, it’s not super busy on weeknights, but there was still some drunken dancing. (To a Rihanna song, in particular, ‘SOS,’ I think, and when the song stopped abruptly, I believe one of our party shouted, “PLEASE, don’t stop the music!”) Visual proof:
Not too long later, some of the lightweights among us passed out. Others debated how many calories were in McDonalds cheeseburgers.
The next day, we headed to Napa/Sonoma for a tour through wine country, another thing I’ve never fully experienced before. For some reason, I’ve always been a little dismissive of day trips and wine tours. I have done a complete reversal there. I heart wine tours. I heart five dollars for a few sips of a few different wines. I think my favorite of the day was the Blackstone Winery, where we bought a few bottles of wine, probably because the tastings were choose-your-own-vino-adventure. The funny part is, we found Blackstone wines at our local Trader Joes when we got home … for about $10 less a pop. (Yes, Tracey, we got shrunked.) Regardless, we took a break to snack at a pretty picnic area outside some castle-like winery, where filming was in place for a show on one of the home/garden networks, which we got in the way of once or twice.
That night, we crashed in a little cabin on the Russian River in Sonoma. The deck was built around huge redwood trees, and we could see the river from the windows (along with naked ladies making their way upstream for some reason we couldn’t figure out). It will someday be the setting for The River House, the sequel to The Lake House, because everything about it was sweet and clever and adorable.
When we got back into San Fran proper the next day, I’m not going to lie to you — there were hangovers and upset stomachs. (They were mine.) We took it slow. A little bit of shopping, a small lunch, and a lot of bocce in the Golden Gate/Marina Park. Scott took this one during lunch, because he was thrilled to be able to get everyone in the photo. I had no idea it was being taken; that look on my face is “Oh my Beer, I hope I don’t puke/poop myself RIGHT HERE.”
After bocce, it was our last night in town — we had an early flight the next day, so we played it low-key, just hitting up a few bars in Tracey and Nick’s neighborhood that we liked on previous trips. This photo is what 95 percent of Scott’s vacation snaps look like:
The other five percent are just photos of his balls, and you have to go to an entirely different kind of Web site to see those.
*I don’t think we’d really farted around each other before. We’re now on a new level, one that also includes peeing with the door open.
**I’m sorry these photos are so small. It was my first time using Picasa. Picasa is stupid.