New York/Brooklyn, NY - 12/16
We drank so much wine at the most ridiculous lunch at Babbo. A petit rouge, slow strings in a cascade of "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," and a blur of travel plans to Singapore, Deutschland, and Princeton, New Jersey. We lost track of daylight and rated our favorite dishes as all of them. And with dessert, while Cindy and Cat had cappucinos, I drank a small nocino ("From California," our server smiled as she poured, meaning every word).
After dark, I met Jean, Victoria, and Suzanne at Romans. We talked of freedom, old white men, acupuncture, how to be in touch with your body, how to restart, and how to reprogram. Oppenheimer Analysis played over the dining room and I was very happy. I drank their sour special--gin, hazelnut, honey, salt, etc--and asked for a recommendation. He poured Plymouth, Lillet, and Salers (which I'd never tried before) in a highball filled with ice. It was cold, bright, and faintly smoky. I escaped again.
In the stairwell the next day, Cindy said how relieved she thought I'd feel when the week was over. "You've been carrying a weight for months now.”