November Weekend

For what seems like much of November, I was ill and then recovering, and then ill again with the curious ailment of immovable legs due to an overly challenging class at the gym, and then recovering from that. For most of this weekend, I was finally better! And this is what I did:

On Friday, B and I caught a train to Long Island to pick up a car that we would take up to Lake Oscawana for the night. We ate lunch, bought groceries, got a tad bit lost, and then headed north through Queens, the Bronx, and Westchester, until we got to Sleepy Hollow where we decided to stop to visit my favorite dream farm. Here are a few pictures:






We also saw brown cows, sheepdogs, and chickens. We saw a sign pointing towards the pig sty, but our cowardice prevented us from braving through the roaming hens socializing in the pathway. We came a bit late to the farm market and all that was left was a fennel bulb and a few heads of garlic (which I eagerly bought anyway.) We also got some cookies and a jar of peach preserves. We walked through what we could as the sun set and almost got run over by Dan Barber himself as we were admiring his cows and he was rushing down to the kitchen to prepare for dinner service.

Then we navigated our way through dark, deserted streets to the lake house:





The main den of the house, with its beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the placid lake, was a replica of a Twin Peaks set, with a cabin-like interior, southwestern and Navajo textiles abound. We drink beer and wine, and then cooked rib eye steaks with mushrooms and finger foods like devils on horseback and prosciutto roll-ups with pear, arugula, blue cheese, and garlic oil. We found a dead, headless snake floating in the water and took a brief walk to survey our surroundings. We also made a huge breakfast of pumpkin pancakes and sage-parmesan scrambled eggs. Then we drove back to the city, listening to a lot of Paul Simon, which was heavenly, especially this perfect road song: Graceland. This is my favorite part:

She comes back to tell me she's gone

As if I didn't know that
As if I didn't know my own bed
As if I'd never noticed
The way she brushed her hair from her forehead

(Well, this is actually my favorite part. Those lines are the pre-fave:)

And she said losing love
Is like a window in your heart,
Everybody sees you're blown apart,
Everybody sees the wind blow

I also attended a wild and lovely slumber party this weekend, where we stayed up til 4:30 in the morning! Can you believe it? We ate goodies, talked about boys, played games, and drank a lot of booze. Then we all slept scrunched up on two mattresses smushed together.

Sunday was also fun. Big breakfast, followed by a funny, not-so-funny movie starring sound-bite Sandra. A.O. Scott puts it best in his NY Times review: "Will you be moved? Maybe, though only in the sense that 'moved' can describe the experience of defensive player, over-powered by a blocker and left flat on his back with a possible concussion." Do I regret seeing it? Not one bit. I loved watched Sandra Bullock strut around and say silly things in a sillier accent. Then, I had Fette Sau for dinner which always puts a gold star on your night, followed by my first visit to the new neighborhood Knitting Factory, which I used to frequent as a teenager in Hollywood. We saw a funny guy named Hannibal Burress host a slew of new-ish comics doing some bits. It was funny.

And then I came home and fell right asleep. That's all folks.