Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Sunday at Leslie's

Leslie and Sam spent the weekend down the shore and somebody had to stop by at least once for her cat, Ellie. I had been looking forward to this all week because it makes a good excuse for either brunch or dinner in the city.  I made a dinner res and asked Amalie if she wanted to join us ... and then Saturday actually came and 1) the cold I had been fighting all week decided to be a bigger jerk than normal and 2) Ron felt really gross and couldn't tell if he had some other virus and 3) it was really frickin hot and humid and made everything so much worse than it needed to be. I cancelled all the dinner plans, but poor Ellie--down to Philly we went anyway because I knew I wouldn't make it the next day. (Don't worry, Leslie, Ron didn't touch anything and I brought Chlorox wipes anyway.)

She quickly scampers away EVERY time I go to take a picture.

I'm literally hiding behind the arm of the couch to get this.  But she doesn't stay ...

... she sneaks around the chair ...

... to home base. 

I dug out some of Ellie's toys to play with her, but after 30 minutes or so all I could think was, "Maybe I'll just take a nap ..."  but THEN some other voice in my head was like, "You came all the way down here! Go somewhere!"  It was soooo gross out though ...

I looked at Ron and said, "Want to take a short walk? I don't want to go far."  I don't know how/why he said ok, but he did and we hit the street.  We crossed through Rittenhouse Square and walked down to Spruce Street and we actually bumped into one of Ron's colleagues.  They were on their way to dinner at Parc.  I tried not to be jealous.  Anyway, I figured we would get to Broad and turn around.  A block or two before Broad, we passed this huge high rise apartment building.  The front doors to their giant atrium were open and the AC was spilling out to the sidewalk.  A whole shaded area with benches was right there, and I was going to say, "Let's just sit here and then turn around ..." when I spotted a Rita's across the street.  So instead I said, "Let's go get Rita's and then we'll stand here by the doors to eat it."

I haven't had lemon Rita's in years.  In that moment, it was literally the best thing I had ever tasted in my life.

Eating that thing made me feel like a new person--maybe it was the sugar or how cold it was, but it was the equivalent of a three hour nap.  I looked at Ron: "Wow, do you feel SO MUCH BETTER? I feel so much better! How can that be?"  I was really surprised at this result.  He was like, "No ... I still feel kinda gross.  It was good though."  Oh well.

Across the street from the atrium of that apartment building.

Don't be fooled--she put on a whole show for us, rolling around in the curtains.

Back to Rittenhouse.  I wanted to sit by the fountain and pretend I was in Rome.  A wedding party walked by--greyish blue dresses on the bridesmaids.  They looked pretty.  People called out congratulations to them.

My wedding felt like a million years ago.

I wish I had a pool.

I don't.


We came home and I tried not to lament that we missed out on a really good dinner opportunity.  Ron collapsed in bed even the sun hadn't really set yet. I worked on a baby blanket and watched Grey Gardens which made me feel a lot better about my life.  Like ... a lot better.  (The moral of that story goes like this: Just because you're related to Jackie Kennedy does not mean you automatically have a better life than other people.  In fact, it might just mean you are as crazy and hopeless as the rest of us.)

Not the best day--not the worst.