June 21, 2003

  • Just kicking back, waiting for my honey to arrive, and enjoying the finer things about being home, like being super clean, super organized, and being pampered with premium eats.   I know I'm really home when I wake up to the heady scent of real coffee, French roast coffee just ground from shiny black fresh beans, still warm in the bag from the roaster, brewed full strength--none of that noxious toilet water (Daddy:  "That's a sin!  That's no class!  I send you to college and you forget how to make coffee?!!") we get by on down South.  The only thing missing is the buzz; Mom likes decaf.   Home also means the best restaurant food money can buy.   Not just at daddy's restaurant; he has to constantly check out the competition, so he sends Mom to eat out here and there.  Today's assignment was a new cafe in Union Square, the same area where I had one of the best breakfasts in my life, Joe's Special on a garlic crouton with a side of freshly squeezed pink grapefruit juice.   Daddy heard a rumor they make their own mascarpone there (too), in which to fill their delicious strawberry crepes.   We had to procure one in a doggie bag so he could see for himself.  Right now it's sitting like a corsage in a plastic box in the fridge in the butler's pantry, beckoning, but I'm trying to be good.  I'm up in my bright airy room, sucking on one of Elva's nonpareil almonds, working on my window shades instead.   I bragged to my roomies how I've been able to make my own designer shades since age ten, and they called me on it as my contribution to our redecorated dive.   We picked out the fabric together before I left.  If only I can get the sides straight, woot.


    Oh, the wedding was fun.   Everybody got really drunk and fell over.