What a treat. And "treat" is a modest word for our 3 evenings in New York City. Showered. Grafted into unconditional family-love. Blessed. (We have been friends with Marco for 13 years and have celebrated his many accomplishments alongside his parents...and now, a b-day in his new town, Manhattan)
We arrived Thursday evening (after a sweet drop off of Robby to g-ma's and g-pa's) and headed with Corrine and Marco to "Five Napkin Burger" on 84th and Broadway....just a stone's throw away from M's apartment.
Woke up for a jog in Central Park. Drizzling but still lovely views of the park. The four of us were our own team in matching sweatsuits. Then a homemade savory brunch (scrambled eggs with goat cheese and shittake mushrooms) and we're off to the Metropolitan Museum of Art! I just love Degas. Something fluid about him, rich, unhindered, a bent toward the feminine everyday. I did my senior thesis on his life crossing paths with Mary Cassat and Kate Chopin and I have thought about him ever since.
(I stared at this one for a while. Real up-close. Ah.)
Then to a tapas restaurant for dinner. Finished at M's favorite little dive-bar-juke box joint: Jimmy's Corner. Time Squareish. A great conversation or three. (Rob is going to be designing some ads for Time Square! Scoped it out...)
Woke up to a sweet brunch: french toast with marscarpone cheese, bananas, cherries and mimosas. Yum. Off to my first Broadway show ever: In the Heights. I danced, cried, laughed, practiced my spanish and swayed with the cast and crew for 2.5 hours. (All the while hoping I might be discovered...you think?) And it was a gift. For crying out loud. Truly.
Grand finale: Babbo. Yikes. Mario Batali as owner. Never, ever have I had melt-in-your-mouth pasta like that. And 5 courses....followed by 5 desserts. What??? Yep.
We toasted to Marco throughout the evening, wishing him health, love, longevity, elephants. It was magical and refreshing. I told stories of a Germany I have never known (on behalf of my husband and his ridiculous near- Mrs. Robinson experiences). We recalled how my husband had cat-like reflexes to pull open a subway door to save the life of a woman with her arm caught - the speed and heroism in him like his father. We spoke of how each marriage or relationship came to be. Of hallways in a cheap European hotel that narrowed the further north you got - feeling like Alice in Wonderland.
The time sounds fantastical. I've only written a slice of it, good people. And did I mention there was rain? Never mind you.
(trying not to shop...at the Met. 18th century couch. Would be lovely against my peacock blue wall. And works with my Real Simple "D" decor)
Corrine and I: lots of laughs, a Sephora moment, a heart to heart jog
Happy Birthday, dear Marco. May you get to ride an elephant this 32nd year of your life. (No pressure....just a water-drunken toast)