Things I Want

I want...to go to Kewpie Lunch in Racine Wisconsin. World Peace would, I suppose, be an acceptable substitute.

"Hamburger, pickle on top, makes your heart go flippety-flop."

What to Serve?

I should be working but am consumed with anxiety since my friend Mike is coming over for dinner and I don't know what to make and I hate not knowing what to make. If worse comes to worse I'll do one of my standard menus:

A butterflied chicken "smothering" red potatoes and onions, rosemary, garlic, all roasted high

Arugula Salad

Fruit Crostata (just the one from Barefoot Contessa At Home, maybe with prune plums)

...but that feels dull. Plus, whither starters???

The Couple Who Blogs Together...

Slim has started a blog. A highly idiosyncratic and personal financial blog, which is long overdue, even if his first six name choices were taken by people who posted once in 2002.

Parents Met!

After much long and painful debate, I decided upon a cotton frock in Moroccan blue and met my boyfriend's parents. Well, that's a bit misleading; I'd in fact met his mother briefly early on but obviously things are far more weighted now.

The day (which I'd taken off from the store) dawned hazy and humid. We chartered a Northsider and picked the folks up from some relative's pied a terre in the East 30s, then hightailed it to Barney Greengrass, which struck me, in its Jewishness, brusqueness and iconic UWS Woody Allen-ness generally as a suitably exotic jumping-off point.

Of course I was odd; "he's been loved by many a worse woman" and many, many bits of trivia about my family's comprehensive history of mental illness may have issued from my lips. No matter; it was well. From there (eggs and novie, OJ coffee, toasted bagels - I recc'd, also defined "bialy") we walked the Reservoir, hit the Turner show at the Met, took the obligatory rooftop picture, headed up to Sabarsky for strudel and Wiener Melange, perused the Schieles, went back to the pad so his mom could change shoes, met my parents downtown at the West Village trattoria recc'd by Chowhound in response to my query (the whole day was very by committee), dined amicably, went to the White Horse (next door) to watch the USC game (blowout) and parted ways on mutually satisfied terms. All glibness aside, my feelings about the whole thing, philosophically and otherwise, transcend relief into real happiness.

What else...? Well, there's the possibility of legit employment, never a bad thing in an economy that I'm told is precarious. I have launched into my fall look - Early 80's Harlequin Romance Heroine Pre-Makeover, crossed with Kewpie Librarian - in earnest. Obviously this incorporates the glasses chain. Need to take a really comprehensive look at what I have with my inspiration folder in front of me. Vanity, vanity, all etc.

(Slim's friend Jim, an aesthete, has hit town. Last night they came around so I whipped up a tomato pie and some bacon. I attempted to acquaint him with the self-perpetuating Barbie Dream House that is The Scene, but since I'm not in The Scene I saved him some time be sending along that essay Jessica Roy did on The Scene that got picked up by The Scene.)

GK4 Former Fiance

...just had a birthday. Yes, he was somewhat wicked. I gave him A Time For Great Silence, Patrick Leigh Fermor's travelogue about monasteries. That's us. Creepy, no?

Found

I have scored a quite amazing 50s cashmere cardigan. Normally I avoid all those sorts of borderline-campy of things as I think they can be a bit obvious and costumey - shortcut-vintage. But this one was too good to pass up: it's kind of pale lime and appliqued with a velvet bull on the hem and a velvet bear near the neckline; the bear is in the process of posting a ticker-tape of stocks! I can't wait to post a picture of it!

On My Shelf

I finished The Dud Avocado and, while I found it entertaining and there were several funny, keen obersvations that I dog-eared, I didn't love it. In fact, I loathed the narrator. I know she's supposed to be a callow flibberdigibit, but I found that there was an unconscious entitlement and lack of self-awareness to the author's tone that I found most unappealing. (Sure she's a privileged character, but see: Holden Caulfield.) Then too, there were several devolutions into farce which I found gratuitous and unwelcome.

Now I'm reading The Fox in the Attic by Richard Hughes and while I'm enjoying it, I'm braced for the appearance of Hitler a as a character (as threatened by the blurb) since I particularly dislike historical figures just popping up in fictional narratives. Sort of the same way I feel about fake governments, really.