Okay for now

I'm stealing the name of this post from an excellent middle grade/YA novel by the same name.  The novel has absolutely nothing to do with the theme of this post, but I always like to plug a good book.  

Watch out, this one's a doozy.  Thanks to Ned Ryerson for that.

I haven't written on this blog in just over a year, and I have obviously fallen way off in recapping Jeeves' and my adventure in France which was (jeez) almost two years ago now.  Since that trip, we've been to Italy and Portland/Seattle/surrounding PacNW environs.  Also little trips to Chicago and Cincinnati.  I may get back to recapping the Paris trip at some point, but for the time being, I want to talk about something else.

Not sure what inspired me to start writing on this blog again, although the number of blogs I have been reading lately probably has something to do with it.  Yeah, I've been reading a lot of blogs kept by fellow infertiles lately.  But I have no desire to keep a blog solely focused on that aspect of my life.  I understand why people do it, but when I'm in the middle of a treatment cycle, I really don't want to share the details of it with others, with the exception of my acupuncturist and a close friend who has dealt with infertility (and therefore knows what all the numbers mean and all the slang and abbreviations, and knows how I feel about everything before I even have to voice it because she's already been there).  And since my miscarriage, I feel even more sure that when we eventually start treatment again, I'm not going to want to talk about it.

So here's my thought on the matter - I will periodically be posting about infertility here.  I won't always be posting about infertility.  I'll hopefully be posting again about books and articles and movies and restaurants and food (glorious food!) like I used to.   I won't be posting details about my treatment cycles, although I'll surely still post about my feelings and thoughts and what not.  For those of you who read this blog because you know me in real life and you're just following along, I promise I will try to limit the gory details.

Here is how we got here, if you don't already know:  Jeeves and I have been together for over 7 years now, we've been married for just under 2.  We both always knew we wanted kids.  I went off the pill in April 2012.  Got my first post-pill period in May 2012.  In June, I started "charting" (that means taking my temperature when I wake in the morning every day and putting it on a little chart to determine if I am ovulating and how long my luteal phase is).  Everything looked pretty good on my chart, it seemed like I was ovulating.  In July, I started using ovulation predictor kits (OPKs).  I was indeed ovulating properly.  And if you're a fellow infertile, yes, I read Taking Charge of Your Fertility cover to cover.

By early September, still not pregnant despite everything appearing fine, I started to get really nervous.  I was 34 and time seemed of the essence.  My aforementioned friend who has dealt with infertility for many years wasn't far from my mind.  I've never been one of those people who assumed I'd just get pregnant without any problems.  So I made an appointment to go to a reproductive endocrinologist (RE).  She recommended a battery of tests: general blood tests for both of us, a hysterosalpingogram (HSG) for me, a semen analysis (SA) for Jeeves, and a variety of cycle-specific tests for me (estradiol, FSH, progesterone) and anti-mullerian hormone (AMH) which can suggest if you have diminished ovarian reserve.   Long story short - every one of my tests came back just fine.  Totes normal.  I was shocked.  I was so sure if anything was wrong, it would be with me.  Jeeves's SA showed an issue - fine volume, count, motility, but very low morphology.  A follow up a month later showed the same thing.  

Our RE told us it wasn't impossible for us to get pregnant without help, but that it might not happen without assistance.  She diagnosed us as "unexplained infertility with mild male factor."  She recommended we try three cycles of intra-uterine insemination (IUI), and if that didn't work, move onto in vitro fertilization (IVF).  If you're wondering why I'm spelling everything out and linking, it's because I've found that the majority of people in my life honestly did not know the difference between IUI and IVF before I told them about it.  We were okay with this because IUI is covered by our insurance, but IVF is not.  Still, I've read several studies that indicate in women over 35 (I wasn't there yet, but close), with partners who have poor morphology, there was absolutely no benefit to IUI.  I asked our RE about this and she said she still thought it was worth a try, but no more than 3 cycles.

We decided to take a couple more months and try on our own.  Nothing happened.  Beginning of February, I did IUI #1.  Exactly 14 days after my insemination, I got my period (good old Aunt Flo, or AF to anyone who spends time on infertility boards).  I was still charting at this time and had seen my temperature dip, so I knew it was coming.  I went in for my day two baseline (for the non-IFers, when you are in treatment, you usually go in on day 2 or 3 of your cycle for a "baseline" blood test and ultrasound to make sure you don't have cysts, check your uterine lining, get blood drawn, and get your marching orders for meds).  That afternoon, while shopping for baby clothes for other friends (Super fun.  Not depressing at all.  Right.) I got a call from my clinic - I could not start my clomid (that's the medicine I take to make sure I ovulate some pretty eggs) because my pregnancy test came back positive.  "That's not possible," I told the nurse.  "I have my period - and it's not spotting, it's a real period."  Nevertheless, I would have to come back in and get my blood tested again in a few days.  I realized immediately it was probably a chemical pregnancy.  On the one hand I was sad, of course, but on the other, I thought - hey, my egg and Jeeves's sperm actually DID something!  That's a change!  Over the next two weeks, they tracked by hCG levels (aka betas).  In a normal pregnancy, your hCG doubles every 48-72 hours.  My next beta was in these parameters - could it be that this could possibly work out?  Ha ha.  No.  Two days later, it had only gone up a a few points and my RE called to tell me this was not a viable pregnancy.  Next beta then did double normally!  Could my RE be wrong?  No.  After that, they fell.  It was disappointing, but not crushing since I had always known having a full-on period, low basal temperatures, and crappy low betas was not a good thing. 

IUI #2 was just a plain old big fat negative.  Nothing to see here, folks.

IUI #3 started out disappointing - my follicles developed much more slowly than they had the previous cycle.  We got through the insemination, and I tried really hard to not feel hopeless about the whole thing.  In the meantime, I started researching IVF protocols so I would be prepared when meeting with our RE when this IUI cycle surely failed.  But something happened - my temps didn't fall like they usually do before I get my period, and I started having pregnancy symptoms.  At 12 days post IUI (12dpiui), I took a home pregnancy test (HPT) and it was positive!  Jeeves and I were so happy.  I took one every day after that, hoping it would get darker, and it did.  My first beta at 14dpiui was 118!  That's great!  Great great great!  My next beta  few days later was 476!  Beautiful!  A doubling time of 48 hours - perfect!  I should note that most clinics only require 2 beta tests and then they schedule you for an ultrasound a couple of weeks down the road.  Not mine - mine requires, like, 4 or 5.  Beta #3 was 856 - a 56 hour doubling time, so that's okay.  At this point, Jeeves and I were feeling pretty good.  I hate the beta roller coaster, but it seemed like we could maybe be happy now.

After Memorial Day weekend, I went for beta #4 and knew I was in trouble when the doctor called instead of the nurse.  My beta was 2146, which is a 95 hour doubling time.  Not so hot.  The RE was worried about a possible ectopic pregnancy (that's when the embryo implants in your fallopian tube, or anywhere else other than the uterus).  They wanted me to come in the next day, when I would be 5 weeks and 5 days pregnant (5w5d) for an ultrasound to rule out ectopic.  That day was one of the crummier days of my life.  Don't get me wrong, it's not up there with the day my mom died or the day Dad was diagnosed with cancer and had emergency bowel resection, but it was definitely crummier than most other days of my life.  Definitely crummier than when we got bedbugs.  Our RE (it's a group practice so on this day, the doctor I saw, who is very nice, was about 6 months pregnant herself.... the irony of that was not lost on me) basically was concerned that what turned out to be my corpus luteum was possibly an embryo attached to my ovary.  In my uterus, she saw a small gestational sac, but she couldn't rule out that it was just a hematoma.  So she sent me down the road for a high resolution scan at the snazzy high risk ob/gyn.  The high risk OB thought it was stupid that I was there, said it was clearly a corpus luteum, agreed that he couldn't see anything in the gestational sac, but also said it was really too early to know anything.  

Thus followed an awesome ultrasound roller coaster.  At 6w5d, after making peace with the fact that this would probably be a blighted ovum (where the embryo implants but then never really forms, thus leaving an empty sac), our RE saw a yolk sac!  Could it just be that my tilted uterus (yeah, found out I have one of those) was preventing us from seeing the bean?  Possibly!  No, dopey Megs, but it's cute how hopeful you get sometimes.  At 7w3d, our RE could see the fetal pole, but there was no heartbeat and it was measuring at only 6 weeks.  She was pretty sure this was not viable.  She sent us back to the high resolution scan people and they confirmed at 7w4d - I had what is called a missed miscarriage, which means the embryo died, but your body is too dumb to do anything about it.  I talked to my RE at length about what to do and in the end decided to have a D & C at 7w6d.  It went fine.  I'm glad I did it instead of waiting weeks for it to happen naturally.

Unfortunately, genetic testing of the product of conception (POC) was cross-contaminated with my awesome cells, and so we will never know if it was a chromosomal issue (most likely) or something else.  In the mean time, my RE is having Jeeves and me karyotyped to make sure there is nothing wonky with our chromosomes, and I am having a whole bunch of blood tests soon to make sure I don't have an immune or clotting disorder that makes me more susceptible to miscarriage (aka, a recurrent pregnancy loss, or RPL, blood panel).  

Today, just over 4 weeks since the D & C, my hCG level finally dropped down to 8, which is not quite negative (anything below 5 is negative), but means I can stop being a pin cushion at my RE's office for a couple of months until we start this bullshit over again.  

Hopefully in September, we'll try IUI again.  As you may have noticed, I have had 3 of these IUIs and my RE had said she would limit it to 3.  But since I got pregnant 2 out of those 3 times, she thinks we should stick with this rather than move onto IVF.  Works for me.

That is the story.  I have been feeling all of the feelings since then.  I know that if Jeeves and I get pregnant again, we will never get to be one of those happy pregnant couples.  We will always know that one positive home test is meaningless, that two or three good betas are meaningless.  Maybe if we get a heartbeat on an ultrasound I will feel happy, but I know too many other women who got that far and had miscarriages.  We know how the sausage gets made now, there's no turning back.  

The truth is, I am okay.  I was really sad for awhile, and really jealous of every pregnant woman I saw for several weeks.  The hardest part has been feeling like we can't move forward - we are stuck in this waiting room until my tests are done and I have a period or two.  On the other hand, I realize that having a break is probably the best thing for me.  

I had a couple of minor epiphanies about this whole situation this past week.  I was reading an article in the Times about women in Ohio who were recently freed after a decade of captivity.  They made a video to thank people for the support, and Michelle Knight said, "I will not let the situation define who I am. I will define the situation.”  My first thought was, wow, that's a great sentiment.  And it got me thinking about the labels we wear and how they define us.  My husband and I are experiencing infertility and early pregnancy loss.  But that does not define who we are.  For me, I define myself as a wife, daughter, sister, auntie, friend, ginger, New Yorker, New Jerseyan (in my heart), erstwhile litigator, hopeful librarian.  Those labels define me.  Infertile does not define me.  Does it influence how I feel and think about certain things?  Sure.  Will I remember all this stuff if we ever get pregnant?  Definitely.  Will I be honest about how hard it was for us to have a child, if we ever have children?  Absolutely.  But I am going to define this situation, not the other way around.  

The other epiphany involved my mother.  Mom died very suddenly of what we assume was a massive heart attack over seven years ago.  We were very close.  Her death was very hard on me (and did indeed define me for awhile).  At the time she died, I was 27, which is still a pretty young age to lose your mom, even though I was an adult.  I had only one other friend, Roo, whose mother was dead.  And actually, seven years later, although I do know other people in my age-group who have lost their mom, Roo remains my only actual friend who is motherless as well.  When you are in your late twenties and thirties and your mom is dead, life is different than it is for other people who still have their moms.  When my mom first died, I was jealous of other people who still had their mothers.  It passed.  Of course I still wish my mother were here, but she's not.  For better or worse, I am in that crappy exclusive club of people whose moms are dead.  And our path is different.  Lots and lots of people get pregnant with no trouble.  Lots and lots of people never have a miscarriage.  That's not my life.  And there's no use pouting about it.  My path is different.  This realization made me feel a little less angry at every pregnant woman I saw.  My friends who still have their moms?  They didn't steal my mom.  My mom isn't dead because those other moms are still alive.  And I don't want someone else's mom - I want my mom.  Likewise, those women aren't pregnant with my baby and their success is not my failure.  And I don't want their baby - I want my baby.  This doesn't mean I won't have bad, jealous moments, days or even weeks.  But I realize my path to having a child is different, and hopefully we'll have better luck next time.

Day 3 - I am NOT waiting in that line

We got up and took the Metro to the Eiffel Tower on the morning of day 3.  We pretty much knew right from the start that there was no way we were going to the top - I had read that the lines can be crazy and we didn't want to spend all day waiting.  Also, Sacre Coeur has a superior view of the city, and we had already been up there.  So.  We got to the Eiffel Tower, took a lot of photos, admired the iron work, laughed at the people waiting in the 3+ hour line, and then walked over to the Trocadero.  From there we hopped on a Metro to see L'Arc de Triomphe.

The Arc is pretty, but the best part is walking along the Champs-Élysées.  I sang the Champs song a lot.  It goes like this:


Aux Champs-Elysées
Aux Champs-Elysées
Au soleil sous la pluie
A midi ou à minuit
Il y a tout c' que vous voulez
Aux Champs-Elysées

I learned that song in middle school.  Jeeves thought I was making it up.  It's real, though, people.  There are verses and stuff but I only remember the chorus.

Anyway, then we hopped the Metro and went to a small street in Paris that has several restaurants that specialize in Brittony-style crepes and cider.  It. Was. Amazing.

We went to Cafe Josselin.  Here are our crepes and bowls of cider.

That crepe was the size of my head.  After lunch, I took a much-needed nap and Jeeves went to a wine store called Lavinia where, without me to rein him in, he goes a little wine crazy.  

Dinner that night was at L'atelier de Joel Robuchon.  I've had dinner before at the L'atelier in Las Vegas, which was exceptional, but Jeeves hadn't been to one before.  It was very good, but not as insane as I expected it to be.  I especially didn't think it deserved 2 Michelin stars.  Anyway, the highlights of the meal were a corn gazpacho with creme fraiche and caviar, and quail with truffled whipped potatoes.

So, we walk along the Champs again, and decide to hop the Metro and try to take a nighttime Seine river boat ride.  It's beautiful and we get to see the light show at the Eiffel Tower.

Day 2 Dinner: Spring

Jeeves and I love to eat, as you well know. We have learned from previous trips that it is important to research good places to eat ahead of time, and where possible, get a reservation. When we finally booked our trip to France, we started researching good restaurants that would be open while we were there (and that was a problem in and of itself - a lot of places we wanted to eat were closed for part of August). We also asked people whose foodie opinions we admire where they thought we should eat. Our wedding caterer, the amazing Yen, who has a contagious laugh and a true joie de vivre, lit up when we told her we were going to France. She had just been a few months before, and she immediately told us we had to go to Spring.

It was funny that she should mention Spring - we had both heard of it from this New York Times article. Additionally, it was mentioned in a few other things we had read. Yen said that and one other meal were by far some of the best food she has eaten in awhile, and I can assure you that Yen has exacting standard. I was intrigued - Spring's owner is a Chicago-native and is apparently devoted to cooking with seasonal local ingredients.

So, this is why having a travel agent was a brilliant move on our part - our travel agent took care of a lot of reservations for us, including Spring, which would not give us a reservation over e-mail. It all worked out in the end, thanks to our travel agent Peggy, and we had a 7pm reservation at Spring.

We were one of the earlier tables at this tiny little place, and just as the New York Times' promised, there was owner Daniel Rose standing at the front of the open kitchen bossing around his staff with seriously American accented French.

We ordered the tasting with the wine pairings, which was solely focused on French whites.

Course 1, which I weirdly do not have a picture of, was a trio of dishes - cucumber with peppercorns, Spanish ham with melon, and seaweed butter with bread. The seaweed butter was a little weird, but everything else was excellent.

Course 2: Zucchini blossom stuffed with trout and langoustine, spiced chicken jelly, salad of cucumber, squash, green beans, white beans, and herbs.

This was one of the best things I ate while in France. So subtle, yet so delicious. And the chicken jelly - oy. I wish I had some now to smear on some bread.

Course 3: Heirloom tomatoes with tuna and veal sauce.

The crazy thing about this dish was that the tomatoes were extremely smoky. It complimented the fatty tuna beautifully. Just a really nicely balanced dish, but not quite as good as the stuffed squash blossom.

Course 4: Chicken breast and leg (sous vide/roasted/pan seared) and lobster.

Another victory - and again, one of the best things I ate in France. The chicken was pure perfection - so much so that I asked if it was sous vide, and was told it was a combination of sous vide, roasting, and pan sear. Just perfect. And who doesn't love some perfectly cooked lobster.

Next up - 5 different cheeses. Sadly I did not write down the types, but I did take a picture.

Dessert was stewed blackberries, a deconstructed lemon pie, and a dark chocolate sorbet - all lovely. We were so stuffed.

Service was excellent, and the wine pairings were delicious. We had a truly memorable Alsatian riesling and a once-in-a-lifetime Georges Vernay Condrieu. After dinner, we went for a walk across the street to see the Louvre, lit up for the evening.

Then we went for a long, beautiful walk along the Seine until we reached Notre Dame illuminated. We finished the evening back near our hotel at the Cafe Montparnasse where we had a glass of wine. It was the perfect Parisian evening.

Day 2 - Where did all these people come from?

I did not sleep well the first night in Paris thanks to the incredibly rich dinner the night before. In the lead up to the wedding, I was not eating a lot thanks to stress, and what I did eat was light and healthy. So my body was definitely not used to the richness of the food. Jeeves went out and got us some pastries for breakfast from Poilane. It seems impossible to find a protein based breakfast in France, although you can get an omelette from time to time. But they don't seem as into yogurt as we are. Anyway, this is all to say that we ate a lot of pastries for breakfast while there.

Our first stop that morning was Notre Dame cathedral. It was late morning by this point, and we very briefly considered getting in line to go to the top of the cathedral until we learned the line was 2+ hours long. No thank you. So instead we settled for just going into the cathedral, which is free. And lovely. Also crowded. Very very crowded. The fact that it's so crowded and there are people snapping flash photos and yacking away takes away from the general feelings I get in churches. I'm not a religious person by any stretch, but I like the beauty and solitude of churches. I think they are a great place for meditation. While ND was beautiful, it was definitely not a place for meditation.

We walked around the cathedral and went onto the bridge behind it for a lovely view of the cathedral and the Seine.

We walked over to a smaller island in the river to see if this famous ice cream place was open. Sadly, it was one of the August closures. Le Sigh.

We thought we'd check out St. Chappelle, which many friends had recommended to us, but the line was incredibly long and I was starting the get cranky with all these tourists about. So we opted to go for what turned into a very long walk for lunch. We passed the impressive Pompidou Center, and ultimately arrived at Chez Prune, which had been recommended by a friend of Jeeves. It was certainly packed with locals, but for the most part the food was just okay. Jeeves had a pork dish and I had swordfish (I thought I was ordering steak, but it turned out it was a steak of swordfish... which is fine). We continued to walk for a bit along the canals in the neighborhood where we watched a momma duck and her babies. We both worried about one little baby who kept falling behind. I hope he's okay!

Next up, we metro to Sacre Coeur, which is high on a hill in the Montmartre neighborhood. It's a long walk up the hill to the church, which was consecrated in 1919. The place is mobbed with tourists and the area outside the church is a freaking carnival, complete with Bob Marley music blasting. But inside the church, it is quiet and there is no photography permitted. Also men cannot wear hats in doors. All of this is strictly enforced, and I found Sacre Coeur had a much more meditative quality than Notre Dame. It's really quite beautiful. And although the outside area is a bit of a shit show, it does offer an incredible view of the city. Le view:

Jeeves and I walked around Montmartre a bit, which I understand has become much more touristy in recent years. We stopped at Cafe Le Sancerre and had this lovely cheese plate for a snack.

The cheeses were a camembert, St. Nectair, bleu d'Avergne, and Cantal. Yummy. We headed back to the hotel after that, where I took a much needed nap. Dinner was to be at Spring, which I will post in a separate entry, because I have a lot to say about it and lots of food pictures.

Honeymoon in Paris

It used to be when I came back from a grand vacation that I would write a daily e-mail to Kate in which I told her everything I did on each day of the trip. It took a long time, but it was worth it. Aside from telling her everything I did, it also gave me a pretty great travel journal that I could look back on for years. Long after I forgot the name of the restaurant where I had spatzel with cheese in Berlin, I could look it up. But it's hard to do that, and when I came back from my honeymoon, I went straight back to work and school and had very little time for writing.

Kate suggested that when I had the time, I should blog about my trip and include pictures. So here goes.

We left for France on August 8th, two days after our completely amazing wedding. Of course, in typical Megs fashion, the flight was delayed. But we didn't know that till we got on the plane, taxied out to the runway and then sat on the tarmac for two hours because of technical problems. Ultimately, we deplaned and had to wait for a new plane to come. Sucky. But we arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport and flew through passport control. Seriously, the passport guy didn't even look up from the passport to see if the photo matched the person standing in front of him. We hopped in a cab and got to our hotel quickly. Our hotel, Le Littre, was in the St. Germain neighborhood, in the 6th Arrondisement. The room was quite big - much bigger than anything you'd get in New York. And we had a wonderful surprise from Jeeves' brother and sister-in-law when we arrived - champagne and strawberries!

We decided to go out for a walk to a bakery Jeeves had heard was good.

Now, this is the part where I should mention that August is a busy tourist time in Paris, but all the locals head out of town for a couple of weeks. As a result, a lot of stores and restaurants can be closed. But not Poilane! Poilane is open and with my broken high school French and some pointing, we leave with a pain chocolat and an apple tart. The apple tart was amazing. Sadly, I ate it too quickly to take a picture.

We then go to St. Germain des Pres - the oldest church in Paris (which is saying something). Then we meander through the beautiful streets to St. Sulpice. We stop at Cafe de la Mairire where we sit outside and have a glass of wine. The fountain in front of St. Sulpice is above.

We walked back to the hotel, both quite exhausted and jet lagged.

For dinner, we headed out to Chez Dumonez/Josephine - a very old and famous traditional French restaurant in our neighborhood. We had a wonderful bottle of Corbiere - wine in France is crazy cheap and amazingly delicious. I never appreciated French wine before this trip and now it's practically all I want to drink.

That was my appetizer - mushrooms stuffed with foie gras. Yummy. Jeeves had a pate de campagne - also fantastic. I then had the foie gras entree, and Jeeves had the boeuf bourguignon. My foie gras was not the best. First off, they didn't devein it, which... was... gross. Also, the sauce that came with it was so heavy, that later on in the evening I felt quite ill. Jeeves' boeuf, however, was the best I've ever had.

For dessert, we had a traditional souffle and some champagne that was complementary because there was a very long wait between our appetizer and entree. I think Jeeves and I were annoyed about it at the time, but honestly, dinner takes about 3 hours in France, so you get used to it and you stop being such a rushed American about everything.

One of the funniest things about this dinner was that there are three rooms at Chez Dumonez - the front and back rooms were all French speakers, and the middle room was all English speakers (primarily Americans) because there was only one waiter in the place who speaks English. The Americans were mortifying. I mean, every negative stereotype - these people managed to hit. My favorite was the table where the man demanded shrimp (not on the menu) and asked the waiter to "just make me some surf and turf" and then asked for a rum and diet coke. He was extremely annoyed to learn that they did not have rum. The woman at the table asked for a glass of ice and proceeded to dump it into her white wine. Yikes.

It was very cool in Paris, and we were cold walking home. But it felt great to be there. Tune in for the next post to find out what we did on August 10th!

Dinner tonight

We had such a large haul from last week's CSA share (tomatoes, green beans, swiss chard, boston lettuce, red leaf lettuce, corn, beets, pattypan squash, kale, and basil) that I was starting to stress about how I was going to use it all, especially since we will only be home for dinner a couple of nights this week.

Yesterday I made some fresh chicken stock. So tonight's dinner was lettuce soup courtesy of Serious Eats (I had made it before, and it was good, but this time it was even more delicious). Then I made some sesame green beans sauteed with a little crushed red pepper. And the "main" course was baked pattypan squash stuffed with onion, swiss chard, panko bread crumbs, and parmesan cheese. Jeeves was worried it wouldn't be enough food. That's before he realized how much fiber is in all these veggies! I am stuffed, and pleased that in one meal I managed to use so much of my CSA share.

This is LA

Jeeves and I haven't taken a vacation that was longer than a few days in awhile. Well, I shouldn't say he hasn't - he did go to India for 6 weeks, after all. But I personally have not been away for more than a few days since we went to New Orleans over New Year's 2008-2009. Sure, sure, last October I got to go to Chicago, but that was from a Tuesday night through Saturday morning. Not a long trip. I wish I could tell you that this all changed in June with a blockbuster trip to Los Angeles. But it didn't. Since I'm new to my job, I didn't feel comfortable taking a full week off of work. So, I took three days, and flew out to LA on a Wednesday morning, returning Sunday night. Jeeves, who had plenty of vacation days and needed to use them up lest he lose them, headed out on the previous Friday and went to San Francisco first to visit some old friends.

Jeeves and I have a good friend who moved to LA a couple of years ago. Jase missed his family who live in the Southwest and was tired of NYC. He loved the weather in LA and thought he would give it a try out there. A few months ago, he moved from Marina del Rey (site of the Banana Stand for all you Arrested Development fans) to northern Venice, near the border with Santa Monica. He kindly offered to let us stay at his studio which is one block from the beach. He went to stay at his girlfriend's place, which is just a mile away in Santa Monica.

I had never been to LA before, and based on what I had heard about it, I wasn't necessarily dying to see it. But lately I've had a lot of friends who have made it out there, and raved about it. Plus, we hadn't seen Jase in awhile, and missed him. Now that I have seen it, I can say that I walked away with an appreciation for the sprawling town, but I'm glad I live on the east coast.

My trip started out well - I flew out very early in the morning from JFK and on my flight, we had direct TV, so I was able to watch the US play Algeria. Apparently everyone else on the plane was watching too because when the US scored the only goal of the game, the flight erupted into cheers and applause.

I rented a car when I arrived, since LA is such a car town, and made the very short drive out to Venice. Jase's place was unbelievable - just what I imagined it would be, and you could actually see the ocean as you walked up the block to his place. I was starving, so Jeeves and I went to Lula's, a Mexican restaurant in Santa Monica, where we had some super yummy and fresh enchiladas. Jeeves and I then went for a very long walk from the the restaurant to the fishing pier down by the canals.

And this brings me to one of my first negative comments about LA - the smog. You can't tell from this picture, but there are very beautiful mountains in the distance... almost completely obscured by the famous smog. It's a shame, and it was true of almost every vista we saw, except for Malibu. It's just another issue I have with LA's car dependence.

That evening, Jase picked us up and the three of us went to Father's Office, a well-known bar and restaurant. The tap list was great, and the burgers were exceptional. Nom nom nom.

Speaking of burgers, the next day Jeeves and I went to In-N-Out for lunch. It was my first time there, and I have to say that while it was pretty damn great for a fast food burger - far, far superior to McDonald's, Wendy's or Burger King, it wasn't better than say, Shake Shack. I guess I was expecting a thicker burger, but it was skinny just like the other chains' burgers. Still very tasty. And though I did not get the burger animal style, we did get the fries animal style. Yummy.
Next up, we drove to Burbank for the Warner Bros. studio tour. I had read in my guide book that this was the best and least cheesy of the studio tours. I am a huge movie and TV fan and it seemed silly to come all the way out to LA and not see a studio. The tour was completely fantastic and I would highly recommend it to anyone. Super informative, and you just get to see a ton of cool stuff, like Heath Ledger's Joker costume from The Dark Knight, a Harry Potter museum, and the last standing set from Casablanca. There was a lot of Gilmore Girls stuff too, since that was filmed on the studio lot. That evening we had a big fancy dinner planned to thank Jase for having us, but I'll save that for another post, along with our visit to Griffiths Observatory, Mulholland Drive, Malibu, and my celebrity sighting of the trip.

The days are just packed

I realize that I am describing last weekend... hopefully next week I'll get around to describing this weekend a little sooner.

No matter how tough work is, there's always the weekend. Last week was exhausting for me as far as work was concerned. I worked late every day, and got in early. When my assignment that had to be done by Friday was finally finished at 4:45 that afternoon, I knew I would be getting out of there promptly at 5:30, and I would *not* be thinking about it again for the next two days.

Saturday Jeeves and I hopped the train out to New Jersey to visit my pops. I worry about how my dad eats, so as I usually do on my visits to Jers, I planned to cook several large batches of food for him. To that end, Jeeves and I hit the Fairway in Paramus. Fairway, you are the grocery store love-of-my-life. Sadly, the experience was a little less fun than usual because they were remodeling. It was very difficult to find just about everything and there were so many people there, I felt about ready to throw elbows. So we got out of there as quick as we could.

I then got to enjoy cooking in my dad's very nice kitchen - wiener schnitzel and meatloaf. Hey, don't look at me - that's what he asked for! He likes to take the wiener schnitzel and put some anchovies and an egg on it, thus turning it into schnitzel a la Holstein. I then cooked dinner for the three of us, left a big mess for Dad to clean, and then Jeeves and I took the train back to the city.

When we got home, we couldn't figure out what to do for the evening. Eventually we settled on Smith and Mills, a very small bar and restaurant on N. Moore Street. The place occupies a former carriage house and it is tiny. There are only about 8 seats at the bar and about 8 tables in the room. In order to sit at a table, you have to be eating, which we were too stuffed to do. But we ordered our drinks and stood about. Now, when I am in a crowded bar, restaurant, whatever, I get very competitive about snatching seats. I eye everyone with a seat and try to figure out who will be leaving first. Then I position myself right near them, and as soon as they start to move, I pounce! Frankly, it's a little stressful, especially when I get into a staring contest with someone else who is doing the same thing I am. But in the end, it worked out and we got a great seat at the bar. My Old Fashioned was not traditional - there was actually a lot of seltzer in it, and some fruit that isn't traditionally in an Old Fashioned. But it was delicious and refreshing on such a hot night. And that's the thing. I'm not so sure that Smith and Mills is air-conditioned. It got pretty sticky and uncomfortable, especially as more people poured into the tiny space. So Jeeves and I decided to move on to The Brandy Library for another libation.

But when we got to the Brandy Library, there was actually a sign on the door that said "We are at capacity." I kid you not. The host couldn't be bothered to turn people away in person? Weird. Jeeves was tempted to go in anyway, but I figured why bother with a place that doesn't want us? Especially when Ward III is so close by.

Ward III has definitely become my favorite nice cocktail bar lately. I love the set up - a few small sitting areas in the front, the long bar that runs along the wall, and then a back area filled with more proper tables. They have some funky cocktails that are their own concoction, but in my opinion, they really shine when making classic cocktails. Their Manhattan may be the best in Manhattan that I have tried, and that's saying something. But what I really love about it is the staff. The bartenders are friendly but not snobby. And the waitresses (not trying to be sexist here, but I've only ever been waited on by women at Ward III) always go out of their way to find me a table. It's not that I'm special, or a regular - it's just how they are. While the decor can sometimes make this place seem a little too cool for school, and the hipster doing the tunes selection looked like he just got off the L train, I have never felt anything but 100% welcomed when I walked in the door. And that's even when I have walked in wearing sneakers and jeans - most of the clientele is wearing decidedly nicer duds than I usually am. But it's no matter.

Anyway, we finished off our Saturday night at Ward III and that was the end to a very fun and full day.

On Sunday, it was World Cup time. We had stupidly decided to host a little get-together at the last minute. I always like having people over, but not necessarily when I haven't had time to properly clean my apartment. And what about snacks? We needed snacks! It all worked out in the end thanks to the very speedy tidying skills of Jeeves and we had a lot of fun watching with some of Jeeves' law school friends. Well, at least it was fun to have the company... the game itself was pretty dullsville until Spain finally scored a goal in extra time.

After everyone left, we headed to the John Jay School of Criminal Justice. Shockingly, it wasn't for anything lawyerly, but for a concert of the Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou. Poly-Rythmo is an afro-beat (and funk, and vodun, and soukous) band from Benin - they've been making music since the 1960s, and they have played all over Africa and in Europe, but last Sunday was the first time they played North America. They. were. amazing. Seriously, so full of joy, and I just don't know how you can hear their music and not want to dance. It was a great show.

When we finally straggled back down to Tribeca, we were both a little hungry, but still kind of bloated from all the snacks we had during the World Cup final. So we were in the mood for something light, but it being past 10, we were limited in our options. I suggested that we try The Odeon, which is super close to our apartment. We had never been there before. We both ordered BLTs, and I learned that Jeeves had never had a proper BLT before! Four and a half years together, and I still learn interesting things about my fella on a regular basis. The BLT was super - crisp bacon, thick tomatoes, fresh lettuce, served on a warm baguette. Yummy. But the best part was the awesome fingerling potato salad with grainy mustard. I want that recipe. We finished our meal by splitting a root beer float with Odeon's homemade vanilla ice cream.

It was a great weekend, and packed full of fun things. This weekend has been much quieter, and other than a few good recipes, will not warrant such a long post. I enjoy both types of weekends, the busy and the quiet. As long as they are filled with people I love and things I like to do, it's all good and it makes getting through the work week a little bit easier.

In which I am reminded that work is for suckers...

Late last year, I decided that I really, really could no longer stand to be a lawyer. I had thought about trying to get a sweet government law job, but every time I sent out my resume, there was a deafening silence. I mean, I didn't even get rejection letters. So I decided that I would get my social work license and apply to Americorps for one year of indentured servitude. While I was in the midst of that process, a good friend whom I had worked with before (who shall remain nameless in an attempt to keep us both anonymous) told me about an opening in the government agency that he worked for in New York City.

I had been planning to move in with Jeeves in January, so this seemed like something I should consider. After all, it wasn't that I was totally opposed to being a lawyer, right? It's just that I didn't want to bill my life away, wanted to leave work at 5:30 every day, wanted a significant reduction in my stress levels, right? Right? That's all true. What I had forgotten to take into account was that I actually really hate the whole ridiculous fighting over stupid stuff that comes with being a litigator. I enjoy the intellectual pursuit of an argument with friends or family. And I love research and writing. But so little of what I find enjoyable actually happens in litigation. To me, so much of litigation is bickering over dates and documents.

Anyway, I submitted my resume for the position. I got an interview, and I nailed it. I knew I was super qualified for this job, and the idea of working with/for an old friend seemed like it would be great fun. I got the job offer a few days later, and didn't hesitate to accept it. I started in the winter, and at first, things started off pretty great. I have an amazing office-mate, it was fun to work for my old friend, the work was maybe not rocket science, but interesting enough. There were things I didn't like about it, but it seemed like such a huge improvement over firm life.

In early May, The Powers That Be (as I will call my bosses from now on, or TPTB for short) instituted mandatory overtime for attorneys. We now had to work 5-10 extra hours per week. Sure, sure we got *paid* for it, but I had already left a job where I was paid generously - I don't care about the money. I want my evenings to myself. At first they said this would just be till the end of June. But now we're in July and mandatory overtime continues. Then, about six weeks ago, my old friend announced that he was transitioning from his position as our supervisor to a regular old attorney position, just like the rest of us. TPTB decided they wanted someone with more managerial experience in his position, and in any event, my poor friend was so stressed and fried from the supervisor position that he was actually relieved to be a straight up attorney again.

For the rest of us in the department, things got tough. No longer having my friend as our buffer, we had to answer (or attempt to get answers/clearance) to TPTB. Dear Reader, to say that this has been an unpleasant experience would be like saying the LOL Cats are just a little funny. On top of having to endure regular painful meetings, I have gotten the sense that The Powers That Be want to change the way this governmental unit works. In other words, instead of my sweet 9-5 gig where I have no problem running out for lunch with a friend, they'd like us to work late every night, weekends, and scarf down lunch in 5 minutes at our desk. At least, that's the only thing I can figure based on this continued mandatory overtime and the absurd, absurd amount of work that has been dumped on me and my office mate.

Right now, this job is actually worse than working at the firms I was at before, where at least my opinion was somewhat respected, and managers didn't look at me suspiciously when I assured them I have a lot of work on my plate. I am thinking that now may be the time for me to respectfully bow out of the law, having given it my best shot. But until I figure out where to next, wish me luck.

My Neighborhood

This is the view from my window in my new(ish) apartment. I've lived here over two months now, so I can't say that it's, *that* new, but whatever. Jeeves lived on the Upper East Side for 8 years (with a one year break in there when he lived in New Haven). I joined him there in January. We knew we weren't going to stay there when his lease expired in May. UES is really not nearly as cool as they make it seem on Gossip Girl. Case in point - whenever the Gossip Girl kids go out on the town, they leave the UES. And that is because the UES is boring. There's not much in the way of interesting food, the bars are pretty terrible and fratty, and there's only one subway line that runs through it. On a positive note, we were very close to the Central Park, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And by the by, we almost never went to either of those places. I don't mean to totally rag on the UES. When Jeeves and I first started dating, I kind of loved it there. And we had a great local bistro called Jacques. And on the rare occasion we could get someone to come visit us, we'd go to the Heidelberg, one of the last remnants of old Yorkville. And then there was the Two Little Red Hens Bakery. But when we wanted to go out with friends, we always left. And the other thing about the UES is how damn far it was from just about everything we wanted to do. We frequently took cabs because unless we left the apartment 45 minutes to an hour before we had to be somewhere, we'd be late.

When I moved in to the city in January, I started to notice things about the UES that I really didn't like. The grocery stores were terrible. In most areas in Manhattan you can find a Whole Foods or a Trader Joe's, and if you're very lucky - a Fairway. But not so on the UES. A super crummy D'Agostino and an okayish Food Emporium were the best we could do. Blerg. And it seemed so crowded in the subway - I later learned that the 4/5/6 line is the second most crowded subway line in the city after the L train. And every block looked the same up there - walking was so boring, and there just was no cohesive neighborhood feel. And every single store was a big chain. Where were all these independent stores I had heard about? Why was there three Duane Reades and a CVS within 2 blocks of each other? These feelings about NYC only got worse when, less than a month after I had moved in, we discovered we had bed bugs thanks to an old man in our building who likes to bring things in off the street. If you thought I was feeling a little down on the city before, man you ain't seen nothing after that nightmare. I missed Jersey so very much. But that is a story for another time. Jeeves and I decided that while you cannot run away from bed bugs, we would do everything our pest control guy said to do, and we would also start looking for a new home a little faster. After all, even if we got rid of our bugs, we knew the old man downstairs wouldn't stop bringing stuff in off the street and it would only be a matter of time before we had them again.

But where to? One place that we both loved was Tribeca, and the real estate crash suddenly made it seem like we could maybe afford it. I personally find talking about my experience with brokers and what not rather dull. So I will just say that we looked a lot in Tribeca, but the stuff we could afford that was really in the heart of the neighborhood was.... meh. One apartment was as dark as a dungeon, and another had a sad little kitchen with an electric range. We also looked at a few spots in the Village (a 6th floor walk-up that was teeny tiny, another place over a restaurant), Union Square, Gramercy Park, and NoLIta. We bother really liked NoLIta, but nothing we saw there was right for us. When we did find the "right" spot in Tribeca, they told us right before signing the lease that they technically don't allow cats, but we could probably sneak one it. No thanks.

One day after that debacle when I was feeling especially hopeless and tired (having bed bugs pretty much ruins sleep for you), Jeeves found an ad on Craigslist. A couple who had recently bought a place in Brooklyn wanted to break their lease on a lovely apartment with lots of closet space in a doorman building near Tribeca. Their landlord said they could break the lease if they found new tenants. It was actually in a building that we had looked longingly at from the street, but we had been told there were no vacancies. The apartment was everything we wanted.

Naturally because we had to complicate things, we looked at an apartment in the Dumbo neighborhood in Brooklyn. I love Dumbo - I think it's one of the prettiest neighborhoods in the entire city. And the apartment.... well, it was enormous - 1000 sq ft with beautiful sliding windows, hardwood floors, basement storage, and the most ridiculous kitchen I have seen in a New York apartment. But after a lot of soul searching, we realized Dumbo wasn't right for us, at least not now. No major grocery stores, a long walk to a pharmacy, a ten minute walk to a subway line that frequently has problems. If our goal was to live in a place where we wouldn't be out of the way, then Dumbo was not the place for us.

So, we went with the apartment on the edge of Tribeca. It's really on the edge of Tribeca, Chinatown, Civic Center, and Soho. At first I thought not being squarely in Tribeca might suck. On the contrary, it's been so great to just walk out the door and stroll to the Uniqlo in Soho, or grab a cheap dinner at Joe's in Chinatown. And we're so close to every subway! But what I am really loving about my new neighborhood (and really, I do feel like my neighborhood is Tribeca, since that is where I spend the majority of my time) is that it feels like a neighborhood. I don't know if it's the fact that the architecture is all low rise so I can still see the sky, or that I can't wait until Tribeca Citizen posts the happenings at the Community Board meeting, or that there are so many little independent stores, but also a nice big Barnes & Noble, and Whole Foods. Maybe it's that the people in the pet food store where I shop all know me. But I do know that I am enjoying my new home.

More veggies than you can shake a stick at

I moved into the city in January. It's been a bit of a transition for me. But one of the things I was most excited about when I moved in was joining a CSA. "CSA" stands for Community Supported Agriculture. Basically, a group of people get together and decide they will pay an area farmer up front for produce that the farmer will then provide through the season. Every week, you pick up your share, and the farmer provides whatever is fresh and in season that week.

When my dad got sick last year, I started to get really serious about eating more vegetables. I decided to take the Bittman challenge and not eat meat during the day at all. Unlike Bittman, who is a "Vegan before 6," the best I can do is be a "Vegetarian before 6." That part is easy. The part that is tough for me is the no dairy. I really, really like a yogurt or a yogurt smoothie in the morning. And I really, really want cheese at lunch.

Anyway, I digress. I have a friend who signed up for the Paisley Farms CSA for a winter share last year. It sounded amazing. So when they announced they would have a pick up site right near me for their summer share, I wrote out my check and eagerly waited for June 9th to role around. The first week went fine - we got radishes, green leaf lettuce, romaine lettuce, rapini, mizzuna, turnips, and maybe something else that I can't remember now. I met my site coordinator, and he told me he was going to be away on vacation for a couple of weeks, but someone would fill in for him.

This week, I dragged myself up the stairs (elevator is broken at the pick-up site, otherwise there would be no Megs slogging up 5 flights of stairs), walked over to the veggie bins, only to discover.... a single head of lettuce and one bag of dried black beans. What? Yeah. A gentleman who got there a few minutes before me was in the same boat. All the other beautiful veg were gone! No kale for me! No cucumbers!!!! The ditz who was running the show couldn't understand what had happened. But as she explained it, the list she had was for 11 people, and they had only gotten 7 of each thing. So me and my new tall friend were SOL.

I wrote a somewhat snotty e-mail to the farm, wanting to know how they intended to rectify the situation. The next day I got a phone call from the farmer, Mike. Mike assured me that there are only 7 people on the list for the site, that they had provided enough for us, PLUS two extra servings in an attempt to encourage other people at the office to sign up. His best guess was that the girl covering for our coordinator just let her office mates go nuts or something. He then offered to drop my share off at my apartment building the next day.

Today when I got home, I found three boxes waiting for me. They had sent me a double share with stuff that was different (and in my opinion, way cooler) than what I had missed at the site - fresh garlic! And two beautiful potted basil plants. And kale, radishes, romaine, red leaf lettuce, MORE dried black beans, cooking greens (I think it's tatsoi, but I'm not sure), beets(!), turnips, zucchini, and cucumbers. Amazing!

I'm going on vacation to LA next week, and Jeeves has already left on our vacation, so there's no way I can eat all this stuff myself. But I suspect that some friends and family will be very excited when I roll in with all this produce. Hooray for my CSA!

The Return

I'm trying out this writing thing again. It's been one of those weeks.

Dear friend G, who regular readers from this blog many years ago will remember, started her own blog about food. And things got tough at the new job, where I work with another old friend. And that friend said to me, "well, as someone once said, 'work is for sucker.'" I missed my blog.

I won't be able to blog at work, sadly - it's just too chaotic there. But I hope that now that I have good internet connectivity at home, I'll be able to make this a habit again.

"We're knocking down the door. You've got to let us in."

Sometimes New Yorkers enjoy snarking New Jersey... but last night even the Empire State caught Scarlet Fever.

Go Rutgers!

R-U!

Rutgers doesn't have a fight song like Notre Dame. We have a cheer:

R-U rah rah
R-U rah rah
Hoo-rah Hoo-rah
Rutgers rah
Upstream Red Team
Red Team Upstream
Rah
Rah
Rutgers Rah

I know, it's deep. And it's actually about our crew team, which we don't have anymore due to budget cuts. But it sounds pretty cool when you get a bunch of Rutgers kids doing it in unison. We have songs too, like the alma mater, but they aren't as good for a football game

My first year at Rutgers, our college football team won 2 games. We lost 60-0 to Notre Dame (Wendy's crowing still rings in my ears - though I can't imagine why she would do such a thing - us losing to Notre Dame back then was akin to a teenager beating up a granny). Well, this granny has learned jujitsu and Rutgers doesn't suck anymore. Not only does RU football not suck, we frakkin' rule! I should probably watch what I say, as I write this we are down 25-22 to Louisville. But who cares.

I find myself wishing these days to be around campus - to be a student and really experience what it's like to be at a school with spirit for its sports team. I'm sure it's infectious.

I was also reminded by old college friend Molson the other day that the Rutgers 1000 is probably having trouble getting new members (they were a group devoted to pulling RU out of Division I). A little research showed that Rutgers 1000 dissolved in 2002 because they thought that the new prez would extricate them from the Big East. Oops! Guess they were wrong. Whatever, the point of this post wasn't to talk about them anyway

It was to talk about Rutgers football! Everyone knows a solid football team brings in more alumni bucks. But for me, I loved Rutgers College and never cared about whether we sucked at sports. I'd give money to them regardless. I just hope this sudden football success brings in more dollars, and that more people take note of good old RU, on the banks of the old Rar-i-tan.

Like Jersey itself, Rutgers has for too long been overlooked and unfairly maligned. It's time for a little more pride, and if we need to kick some Cardinal ass to get it, well then so be it!

Go Rutgers!

Foodie Ideas Welcome

Two days in a row. Bananas.

I dread the coming holidays, as is expected and common, or so I am told. A kid I once know, who had lost his dad some years before, once told me that even after many holidays without his father, he still hated Thanksgiving - it just highlighted the loss that much more. I hope that won't be true for me, but for right now, I am definitely sad and nervous about the holidays.

Last year, I was stressed while hosting Thanksgiving, and as you may recall, I had a car accident on Turkey Day and declared it the "worst" Thanksgiving ever. As for Christmas, well, I just felt like it snuck up on me, which is why I did not decorate my apartment at all and bought everyone's gift at the absolute last minute.

In constrast to that, this year I already have my Christmas list nearly completed and have already started shopping. The planning soothes me.

And it soothes me that we are keeping Thanksgiving and Christmas as close to what they have been in year's past as possible. I will be hosting dinner for Turkey Day, Dad and I will spend Christmas Eve and morning together, and we will have Christmas dinner at my sister's.

This is where the problem lies. My sister and brother-in-law have decided, in their infinite wisdom, to cook.... steamed buns for Christmas dinner. Steamed buns are a soup filled dumpling that I personally like to eat at Joe's Shanghai in Chinatown. I really like steamed buns. But not for Christmas dinner. And certainly not my brother-in-law's version - he doesn't believe in using salt, oil, butter.... anything that makes food tasty.

Dad and I were terrified - what would we do? If my mom were still alive she simply would have picked up the phone, called my sister and said, "Lorien. We are not having steamed buns for Christmas dinner. You will make a ham. I will buy it for you." And that would have been the end of it. Except that Mom would have done it in a sweeter way and would have almost made it seem like it was my sister's idea.

Anyway, Dad and I have decided that we will cook what we want to eat and bring it with us. Any suggestions are welcome - whatever it is should be transportable and only require warming at my sister's.

Happy Fall, everybody.

Benny Sitting

On Friday, I played hookie because.... my job sucks! Woohoo! Seriously, it had been a long week and I was in desperate need of a mental health day. I spent a lot of time sleeping and then I went to hang out with Gena who was babysitting Baby Ben.

Something bad happens when I hang out with Ben, though - he gets wired. My own nephews find me pretty boring and have no trouble dozing off when I am around, but not Benny! Despite my serious recommendation to him that he take a nap, Ben preferred to chew on his toys and bang on his Fisher-Price drum. Like me, he didn't want to work, he just wanted to bang on these drums all day.

Eventually, Gena and I strapped Ben into his stroller and the sheer bordedom of listening to us talk about shoes and Project Runway put him right to sleep. Please note that this apparent lack of enthusiasm for our convo did not stop Ben from grabbing at the InStyle with Heidi Klum on the cover that I had brought for Gena.

Benny, I'm glad I spent a workday with you instead of researching estate tax law. And I'm glad you find me fun and interesting now - in a few more months you'll realize that I really am quite soporific and your mom will start inviting me around at bedtime again.

Chez Zoppo

On Saturday, Jeeves braved New Jersey Transit for the second time and came out to my fair state for a get-together at Mike and Gena's.

Mike and Gena's house continues to wow me every time I am there - they still have my dream kitchen. The theme of the evening was a French bistro type affair - all French wines and we brought along some French cheeses. As for the spread of food - impressive as usual. Mike concocted what he calls, "the best part of french onion soup without the soup" - toasted bread with onions and melted gruyere on top. There was also my personal favorite - steak tartar, and artichoke dip on escarole leaves, mushroom turnovers, an array of sausages and the aforementioned cheeses.

In the cheese department - the bleu cheese brought by Emma was my personal favorite - smooth and just strong enough - so good you could eat it plain. Though, I also liked the petite reblochon that I brought.

As for wine, one can always trust Mike to provide excellence and he certainly did - six different wines set out for us with the Chateauneuf du Pape Blanc Vieux Telegraphe as my favorite. He also generously shared a 1990 Sauterne with us - very delicious.

It's been awhile since a Mike and Gena wine event - it was good to be back.

Happy Halloween

I know - no posts all month. Just terrible.

Today (or at least for the next hour) is Halloween, a personal favorite in the holiday front because I like being scared (or really, the giggles I get after a good scare), love the trick-or-treaters, the costumes, the horror movies, the crisp fall weather and the caaaaandy.

I took my nephew Connor trick-or-treating - he was a ghost - and sadly, he was the only trick-or-treater on the street. Where was everybody? We also discussed the meaning of the word "nocturnal" or, as Connor calls it, "octurnal."

On the way home, I got to stop off at Anh's house and see Baby Ben dressed as a bear. To me, this is the highlight of Halloween - dressing small children up as little animals or fat pumpkins. My friend Marc has always disliked little kids - except when they are dressed up in puffy animal costumes. Precisely for the reason that it is so damn cute. As was Ben.

Hope it was a good holiday for all.

Just fabulous

I know, it's been a long time.

I saw the series finale of Sex and the City tonight. For you non-fans, it aired about 3 years ago. I watched it at Anh's apartment in Bayonne, where she lived before she moved 3 miles away from me. Liana and her sister Thea were with me. Anh made quite the spread, naturally.

Anyway, what continues to amaze me about the finale is that it still makes me cry. I have heard complaints about it from critics and fans that it was not realistic - that part of what made Sex and the City a great show was that it realistically represented the reality of the single life, with all its depressing pock marks. First off, I disagree - to me, the real point of Sex was that it was the truest representation on television of female friendships. I have told the men in my life in the past that if they really want to get female friendships, they should watch Sex and the City. Yes, it's true that like the Golden Girls, the Sex and the City women represented archetypes. However, the bonds, the arguments, the differences that these women had with each other were all true. While none of us are entirely "a Charlotte" or "a Samantha," we have all shared a bond like that of Miranda and Carrie, or we have all felt irritation with a friend like Charlotte and Carrie in the "Ring a Ding Ding" episode (a personal favorite, because it's all about expectations and the meaning of friendship... and fyi, season 4 in general might be the best of Sex - "My Motherboard, Myself," "The Real Me," "A Vogue Idea" though Season 6 does have its moments: "The Catch" and "A Woman's Right to Shoes").

But this is besides the point. Why is it okay for Big, at the end of six seasons, to tell Carrie that she is the one? Because Carrie is our friend. And we all want the best for our friends, not reality. Reality is something we save for ourselves. I am the truest recipient of that knowledge. I have, for the most part, had a terrible year - I lost my mom who was my best friend. Add to that a job I hate and the usual confusion about the direction of my life. Then I thought I might be dying. No, seriously. I had this symptom, and while it could have been nothing, it could also have meant I was dying. I found out today that I'm not dying. I am just fine. But in those two months where I wondered and had tests, I listened to my friends, in varying degrees, hope for the very best - from those who insisted it was nothing like my dad was paying them to do it (thanks, Wendy) to those who were a little more retiscent. We don't think about realism for our friends, we think about what we want for them. And after six seasons of watching poor Carrie lay it all out for us, we wanted her to find her one.

And while I'm glad Carrie finally got Big to admit that she is his one and only (and even more importantly, as he told her three best friends, "You three are the loves of her life, and a guy can only hope to come in fourth.") I must admit I miss her.

I solemnly swear

Well, folks, two years after taking and passing the New York bar exam, I finally got sworn in. It's been a long and pokey road. It couldn't be helped - I was lazy and stupid.

I had to drive up to Albany for the character and fitness interview and the swearing in. I haven't been to Albany since I was very young, but my dad used to go there a lot for work. So when I told him I had to head up there for the swearing-in, he kindly offered to join me.

We headed up Wednesday afternoon and Dad had gotten us rooms at the Crowne Plaza, which is right down the street from the Empire Plaza Convention Center (where I needed to be). For dinner, we headed down the hill of State Street to Jack's Oyster House - one of the oldest restaurants in Albany. When we got to the restaurant, Dad said, "When you told me you had to come to Albany, I have to admit my ulterior motive that it would be nice to come eat here again." Dad retired six years ago and hasn't been back since.

It was a great meal - the oysters and clams we had from the raw bar were top notch, and my Steak Diane was nicely done. Dad had the duck, which was quite disappointing, but the chocolate mousse torte dessert made up for that. The chocolate mousse was as good as Luger's, though admittedly it came with less schlag.

We headed back up the hill where I holed up in my room and watched way too much Law & Order, something I almost never do anymore.

As for today's events, the interview and the swearing in went smoothly and Dad and I were headed back to Jers by 10:30.

It was a nice bonding experience for us, I think. This month hasn't been easy for me, between work, my lack of interesting vacation, and the double whammy of Mon & Dad's anniversary and Mom's birthday. It was nice for us to take a little sojourn together, and just talk, or sometimes, sit in amiable silence.

What do the five fingers say to the face?

S'mac! Not really, they actually say "smack" but I was pleased with myself on this one, so I had to go for it.

Bruni blogged about S'mac, which is a small eatery in the East Village which specializes in macaroni and cheese, a few weeks ago. As a mac & cheese lover, I was intrigued. Luckily for me, Jeeves had just returned from his European vacation and had time for some dinner in between being a law nerd and.... being a law nerd. We had narrowed down the contenders to a variety of selections from New York mag's 101 cheap eats issue, and S'mac. I chose the winner.

And a winner it is. As I find woolgathering about food to be a suitable way to make it through a day of blah work, I perused the menu and decided the best plan of attack was for each of us to order two nosh sizes and share all of them. This way we could try four different varieties of mac & cheese.

I arrived first, and Jeeves was, per usual, late, which gave me enough time to stand outside the orange and yellow restaurant and get antsy as it filled up and there were fewer and fewer tables available. But he arrived and we got on line while I told him my idea. Jeeves is almost always amenable to a plan that allows for more food, so he agreed. We selected the all-american, gruyere, cheeseburger and cajun, and we requested breadcrumbs on all of them.

After about a five minute wait, the waitress brought us our skillets of mac and cheese. We had made a mistake in our calculations - what we had assumed were the medium-sized servings were, in fact, the small. Four nosh-sized (the smallest) provided way too much food for two people. We dug in, regardless.

As Bruni has suggested, the gruyere, which includes chunks of slab bacon, was our favorite. It was lighter than the others and the gruyere went great with the bacon. But the all-american (just your traditional mac & cheese) was not to be discounted. Bruni complained that there were no burnt edges, but I personally feel that there are many ways of making mac and cheese, and while burnt edges are tasty and that is one way of making it, Sarita's (the owner) way is pretty great too.

The cheeseburger (which Jeeves likened to The Dude from Two Boots Pizza) was absurdly heavy and kind of like a really delicious serving of hamburger helper. As for the Cajun, well, in typical Megan fashion, I couldn't eat too much of it before the jalapenos got the best of me, but mac & cheese definitely benefits from being combined with pepper jack and andouille.

I kid you not, we had to take every single one home, which actually worked out well for the splitting - I took the gruyere and the cheeseburger, and let me say - the cheeseburger was fantastic reheated. But this meal was not without its casualty - Jeeves came down with a serious case of the cheese sweats. I didn't know it was possible to get the cheese sweats, but it is and he did.

On the whole, an inexpensive and delightful experience. I'll be headed back, but I'll just get one nosh sized next time.

Thanks, Amishah

This is Amishah (and her husband, but he's not important here). Amishah likes scrapbooking, travel, flowers, photography, chocolate and dislikes broken pipes.

I don't actually know Amishah. But she's got some great photography equipment, takes some nice pics, loves flowers (me too!!!), and most importantly, just went to the Bellagio in Vegas.

Kate and I were discussing the Bellagio vs. the MGM Grand today, when Kate remarked, "I wish I could see a picture of the bathrooms." I figured with the magic of Flickr, there must be a photo of the bathrooms in these hotels somewhere. Enter Amishah, who did indeed take photos of her room and the bathroom at the Bellagio (and a nice shot of the glass ceiling in the lobby). She took a lot of other pics in Vegas too - she has several cameras and one them takes very good night shots.

Anyway, after looking at her Vegas pics, I perused her other photos and got to thinking about how interesting Flickr is and how strange it is that a stranger could look at your photos and get an idea of who you are.

Anyway, thanks for sharing your pics, Amishah. You made Kate's day. Oh, and lest you think I didn't find the MGM Grand's hotel room bathroom photo, I did - thanks to Dawn (she's Canadian).

Vegas, baby, Vegas

After years of cajoling, talking and planning, Kate and I have finally agreed to a final date for our Great Vegas Adventure. I have wanted to go for about 7 years now. My sister and I had planned on going for spring break of my first year of law school. Instead she had a baby. So no Vegas. Thus started a six month "Kate, we should go to Vegas" campaign whereby I had to convince her that Vegas was more than gambling (pretty much, warm weather and nice pools, food, booze and spas sold her). Then it was years of not having the money or the time. Then it was the wedding.

But now it is here! In April, we're going to Vegas.

The questions now is where to stay. Camp Bellagio and Camp MGM Grand both make strong arguments. Any other contenders are welcome to throw in their two cents (I must say, though, if you are a fan of Steve Wynn or the Venetian, both are more expensive than Bellagio and MGM and therefore, out of contention).

I'll keep you posted.

Money's too tight for steak

Marge: Homer, I have to go out to pick up something for dinner.
Homer: Steak?
Marge: Money's too tight for steak.
Homer: Steak?
Marge: Eh, suuure... steak.

(This quote is really only used because any time Paul or I say the word "steak" the other persons launches into this quote. Because we're losers.)

Last Thursday was Jeeves's birthday, and to welcome him to his late 20s, I took him to The Strip House. Neither of us had been before, but we had both heard great things about it, and so, were quite excited.

While getting a reservation was no problem, I was surprised to see that the restaurant was nearly full when we arrived. Regardless, we were immediately seated. If you've been to or heard about The Strip House, you already know that the decor is noteworthy. The space is small with a bar area in the front of the restaurant, and tables that run along the walls and one row of tables down the middle. I was actually surprised by how small the space was. The bar area feels trendy - not remotely steak house-ish. But just past the bar, the restaurant mellows out and while you don't feel like you are in Luger's, you definitely feel like these people will know how to cook a steak.

The walls are covered with old bordello shots for the 1920s or earlier - shots that I am sure were risque for their time. The wallpaper, the seating - it's all red, but surprisingly not overwhelming.

There were service missteps early on. Jeeves wanted a rye Manhattan and asked the waiter if the bar carried rye. He wasn't sure, but felt comfortable giving a dissertation on the difference between a rye and bourbon Manhattan, and his personal recommendations for what type of bourbon Rajeev should choose if he went with the bourbon (they did have rye, and that's what he had). I asked for a menu of wines by the glass, and was delighted to see that they had Angus "the Bull" cabernet sauvignon from Australia (2003). Mike and Gena got me into this wine at one of their tastings and it's definitely a steak-worthy red. But the waiter took forever to take our drink orders. When the waiter did bring Jeeves's Manhattan, he attempted to pour it with a flourish, but really just wound up splashing it all over Jeeves's arm.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there, because the food came promptly and at a good pace. We started off with the foie gras appetizer, which was marked as a table share. Indeed. It was an enormous piece and we couldn't finish it. It was served cold, which I wasn't expecting, and I wish the menu had been explicit about that. As it turns out, the menu says it's "foie gras torchon" but until tonight, I never knew what that meant. In fact, it means the foie gras was wrapped tightly in a towel, briefly poached, then cooled in a liquid (frequently sweet wine) for several days. Regardless, it was delicious, but very large.

For the main course, we split the porterhouse for two, medium rare, along with creamed spinach and goose-fat potatoes. The creamed spinach is cooked in a truffle oil, which my boyfriend Bruni went on a rant about this week. Regardless of what he thinks, the creamed spinach was un.believable. Rajeev went so far as to call it the "best creamed spinach in the city." The crisp goosefat potatoes were also lovely, especially because of the crispy skin in which they are baked (think chunks of potato cooked in a crispy shell), though I must say I thought they were a little too salty. And the steak? Perfect. Sure, sure, the strip was yummy and flavorful. But the filet! Oh, the filet - tender and melt-in-your-mouth, but still piquant, largely because of the peppery rub on the steak. I will most certainly dream about that filet.

Of course, we had dessert, because one needs something sweet at the end of a meal like that, and also, I had asked them to stick a birthday candle in whatever we ordered. We had the profiteroles - large and rich, and in my opinion, disappointing. But it didn't really matter - I was completely stuffed and only needed a few bites for satisfaction.

Other than the initial missteps, our service was solid (and I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the bread was also quite good). I have been asked how Strip House compares to Luger's and all I can say is that a comparison doesn't seem right. If you want steak and bacon, no frills, Luger's is where it's at. If you're up for more of a restaurant experience, with ambience, a nice wine list, and creamed spinach that simply cannot be beat, you'd have to go with Strip House. More aptly put - perhaps Luger's is where you would like to go for an outing with your poker buddies, but a gentleman friend's birthday calls for the Strip House. If you're companion happens to be both, then I suppose you can let him choose.