Tonight was one for the books. Dinner and drinks on Eataly's rooftop (who knew?!), and more red wine than I think I've ever consumed in one sitting. Emily and Greg, my two sweet married friends in town from LA, were there, along with their two sweet friends from the other LA-- Louisiana. Rounded out with a sassy Latina from the upper west side (I never did catch her name), and we had a party.
Lots of wine, salumi, cheese with honey, fried shiitake mushrooms, pretzel bread so hot the steam burned our fingers when we passed it to break off crunchy hunks, all consumed quickly and with vigor as the tenor of our conversation rose. We talked over each other, laughing and shouting, moving wine glasses and carafes, stacking plates and passing bread.
Greg is from Indiana, and he sat next to me as he talked animatedly about his upcoming film projects and asked with his sweet Midwestern twang about my job and life and church. It should be noted that Greg gives one of the top three hugs I've ever received in my life, and I can blissfully report that I was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of more of these than I could count over the course of the evening. As we all drank our wine, we talked about politics and fiscal policy (the two Louisiana boys are investment managers, a fact easily and wholly tempered by their southern-ness I discovered) and Full House and whether this was clover or orange blossom honey. If we were ever to glance up in contemplation or ecstasy, the Empire State building gleamed overhead in full view, so close it felt touchable.
This was how I spent my Saturday night. One of the boys bought our dinner. All of it. From the wine to the pretzel bread to the awful salad the waiter recommended I get. The other bought our gelato downstairs, and listened rapturously as I told him my Dustin Hoffman story. (He earned it.)
It's nights like these that make me so happy to be young and fun and living in the greatest city in the world. So happy that this is the exciting world I get to live in and enjoy and call my own.
I'm so happy that today, this is my life.
Greg is from Indiana, and he sat next to me as he talked animatedly about his upcoming film projects and asked with his sweet Midwestern twang about my job and life and church. It should be noted that Greg gives one of the top three hugs I've ever received in my life, and I can blissfully report that I was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of more of these than I could count over the course of the evening. As we all drank our wine, we talked about politics and fiscal policy (the two Louisiana boys are investment managers, a fact easily and wholly tempered by their southern-ness I discovered) and Full House and whether this was clover or orange blossom honey. If we were ever to glance up in contemplation or ecstasy, the Empire State building gleamed overhead in full view, so close it felt touchable.
This was how I spent my Saturday night. One of the boys bought our dinner. All of it. From the wine to the pretzel bread to the awful salad the waiter recommended I get. The other bought our gelato downstairs, and listened rapturously as I told him my Dustin Hoffman story. (He earned it.)
It's nights like these that make me so happy to be young and fun and living in the greatest city in the world. So happy that this is the exciting world I get to live in and enjoy and call my own.
I'm so happy that today, this is my life.
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