stirring

Ok, so, Martin is home. For anyone who doesn't know, Martin is my gorgeous, brilliant, funny, and sexy Scottish boyfriend, who was just away in Scotland for three weeks. I have a pretty short attention span though and three weeks was just enough time to leave me utterly confused and lonely and a bit forgetful about what I was waiting for. I'm a complete idiot like that. But when he came through the door Friday morning, I remembered.

And the gift of Alexander McQueen perfume from Duty Free didn't hurt either.

So, after being apart for three weeks, what is the first thing Martin and I did? What any sensible couple would do...we went out to eat. M. and I are big foodies and we had to go see our friends' show that evening, so upon finding ourselves in the crappiest part of midtown, we went to this Italian restaurant where I used to waitress. That is, until they figured out that I didn't know how to open a bottle of wine and I got canned... The food was much better than I remember...I mean, spending a summer seeing meals pushed around on plates by food runners' hands, re-using bread from table to table, and flirting aimlessly with a married executive chefreally tainted the place for me. But we had a great meal there. Really lovely beef carpaccio, and then some tasty pasta dishes. It was great, but we had to run out of there really quickly since it had taken us AN HOUR to get there...Lincoln Tunnel traffic. If you live in New Jersey, you shouldn't be allowed to come into the city at all. Upon signing a lease, we take away your car keys. Get to know public transportation please.

After the little sketch shows we saw at chashama, we went to the Upper West Side in a sad attempt to have dessert at Cafe Lalo. Ok, I have never liked this place. It'sall Eurotrash and hype, but for some reason, Martin really loves it. (Dear God! Is my boyfriend Eurotrash and I don't know it?) The line was out onto the street, and even Martin had to concede that is was ridiculous, so we went around the corner to Good Enough to Eat. M had pecan pie, I had homemade ice cream, we went home pretty satisfied.

Yesterday was a lazy day too, with brunch at 107 West, and then a nap. We got this kickin' feather mattress and bed cover and pillows before Martin left and we finally put them on the bed yesterday afternoon, turning our humble Ikea piece into the softest fluffiest bed you've ever seen. I fell asleep in twenty seconds, as I am famous for (at school, watching theater, on the train), and had the best nap of my life. When I got up, we went downtown and ate at Sumile, which I have wanted to try since it opened. We had these amazing oysters, eel hand rolls, Japanese snapper, and this amazing buttery salmon with crispy duck salad. It was so good. The dishes are all really tiny, but so filling. He had some sort of hazelnut thing for dessert, I had a waffle with bay leaf ice cream...such a great meal.

But not such a great meal when I got home an hour later and threw it all up. Splayed out on the bathroom floor, watching my meal swirl around in the toilet, I wondered what went wrong? Martin didn't get sick at all, so I don't know if it was last night's meal. Maybe a combination of all the food I ate ALL WEEKEND LONG combined with the fact that in Martin's absence I haven't eaten much more than an apple and a sandwich every day. All I can assume is that my system went into shock. So much food! So much good food! Bleeeeeah!

I'm not sure what the lesson to be learned is here. Moderation? Something like that. But who has time for lessons? We're running late for brunch....