Sassy Radish

I have started to write early in the mornings in hopes of getting into a habit of writing. That said, in the spirit of disclosure, today is the first such morning and I’ve squandered almost all of it. I say that I’ll start writing in the mornings quite often, but rarely do I actually follow through. I do it sporadically, but Anne Lamott encourages us to get into the habit, and that’s where I fall short – the habit.

I was supposed to wake up at 5:30 and now it’s 6:19 and in eleven minutes Andrew’s alarm will go off. It’ll sound like aliens are invading our apartment. He’ll let it go for a minute or two before turning it off and then another alarm, this time it will sound like someone is practicing playing scales, will go off again. He’ll finally, slowly, deliberately, get out of bed around 6:45 and shuffle into the living room. Forrest will greet him loudly, meowing indignantly. I think what he’s trying to say is, “I’ve been up for hours, why haven’t you gotten up yet? Man up!” And since Forrest doesn’t speak English (or human for that matter) I guess we’ll never know.

Continue reading on writing every day and nora ephron.

I almost titled this post, Reader I Married Him, in a nod to my favorite novel, Jane Eyre, but then I remembered that I read that somewhere somewhat recently and it wasn’t in a book. Finally, it donned on me that Luisa used that line on her blog.

On our invitation, we expressly told our guests to bring their dancing shoes. It said, “Feast and merriment to follow. Bring your dancing shoes.” And so it was. Feast and merriment followed, though, technically, merriment started well before dancing. It was a famous night.

Up above is my favorite picture from the wedding. I love it for a multitude of reasons, but not the least of which is that it looks like I’m wearing fairy wings. It’s merely a detail of the tent we’re under, but that’s pretty much how I felt all night – floating and glowy. That gigantic grin I have is how I feel about Andrew every day.

Continue reading feast and merriment to follow.

Most of my friends go out every day to buy their coffee. They complain of tiny kitchens and not enough counter space to house a coffee maker, and maybe even a grinder (if you’re one of those virtuous souls and have the deepest respect for the beans.) It’s too much, they say, the effort for a decent cup of coffee is too great. Easier to just walk across the street to your nearest cafe (and New York has no shortage of those, including the ubiquitous Starbucks) and have a trained barista make you a coffee, an espresso, a latte, an Americano, a cortado whatever your heart desires.

And it’s true: Our New York kitchens are smaller than most people’s bathrooms, or even, to be more precise, half of their bathrooms. And yet a lot of us, dealt this paltry hand, still make breakfasts, and lunches, and dinners. We throw parties and we host brunches. We ask a group of friends to come together and then pass the h’ors d’oeuvres around. And somehow everything and everyone fits, and even though we complain of our lack of space, we cannot seem to quit the city. We want to go, and yet we don’t budge. And even the most kitchen obsessed in us, will make even go as far as make bagels at home, but we’ll go out for coffee.

Continue reading cold brewed iced coffee.

Summers are for Arnold Palmers. And despite the fact that I have little appreciation for all things golf-related (I hope my father-in-law forgives me!), I have a fondness for a certain Mr. Arnold Palmer and for the legacy he has left behind. His signature drink, half iced tea-half lemonade, is my preferred summer concoction.

At our wedding, which is ten (10!) days away, we are serving his and her signature cocktails. We went with the Bee’s Knees for Andrew’s drink. He’s a gin guy and the cocktail is a lovely way to highlight both: gin and the start of summer. It’s lemony, it’s uplifting, and even gin-haters like to drink Bee’s Knees!

Continue reading bourbon arnold palmer.