Yesterday was the day that the drive is usually blocked at the home office hovel, blocked by over-eager pastry purchasers who, in their holiday frenzies, park just wherever. Had a fire engine blocking it at one point and beep-beeped and had firemen waving merrily. I was rushing out to the big U for an assignment and their really big red truck needed to move in a jiff.
Went to Michele's b-day soiree last night and gave her a remarkable bowl that looked like it had been fashioned from Pucci fabric.
Tonight is the ICP at Hallwalls and Kennedy and I have created a late-night feast for all ten of them, plus their manager, et al and et al.
Saw them in Amherst, Mass. a little over a year ago and enjoyed them v. much.
Only worry is that the easy-bake oven will not bake the lamb leg portions in the amount of time that it should, about 2.5 hours.
There are enough prepped courses before the main to keep everyone from resorting to cannibalism at table.
Dreaming of a convection oven, all that forced air shaving off baking times.
Finished the mammoth piece for the Shiney Happy Mag yesterday, a triumph.
Of course I chose to write about divergent and farflung places and spent many hours driving before note-taking, shooting, writing.
But that is done. Now for the lamb legs. And the rest of it.
Off to points beyond, the concert, the final push of the feast.
Tomorrow the pagan-christian hybrid holiday that really is a jumble of both - eggs, lambs, resurrections, lilies, jelly eggs, mysterious crypts, peeps, pig meat.

Hybrid Love.

Tomorrow night is what Yours Truly has dubbed Summit Meeting - gatherings with Polly/Liz/Cheryl and the designated joint is a Middling City Scene Newbie, a place with pretensions but nicely designed.
We decided there were too many weeks that'd go by and we would not connect so now these Summit Meetings, as Martha says, A good thing.
Drove out to the big U's Confusement Centre, a.k.a. Ellicott Complex, to not only get my fair share of daily confusion, but to enjoy the sight of meandering ducks.
One seasonally-thematic thing is that the Middling City is enjoying a new trad, a Dyngus Day parade from the B'Way Market to the Central Terminal. Thinking that paraders and maskers and marauders and revelers should probably dress like pussy willows (whilst also brandishing same) or as Polish sausages. Or maybe butter lambs.
Will be again, as is tradition, at the Lownies's Ukrainian Easter brunch and, as is also trad, will lop head off the butter lamb.
hot tip: the butter lamb features two peppercorn eyes, lopping head off yields a spicey, buttery spread for whatever one has designated a spreadee on the table.
Spring and itchy eyes are in the air, as is the scent of earth warming.
The crocii and daffodils are unleashing their magic and coming up next are the most beloved spring arrivistes of all - the hyacinths.
Ahhh, the hyacinths.


Pepper-eyed Love.

+
this just in.
Literal Harold, who You may recall collects hotel/resort/motel soaps, received his package from YT bearing same. He, safe to say, is t.h.r.i.l.l.e.d.
And You should note, all of Yous, that the 13th is, bien sur, the hap-slappy anniversary of the premier and Perfect blogpost of epinw - b-day of Sam.
Please do send gifts of all shapes and sizes to me. At once, for timely delivery.
I thank You in advance.
And also I proclaim that it is truly uly spring.
I have evidentiary allergies.

This is one images Yours Truly is especially happy with from the latest nuptials socially documented in early March, and, desite the big chill in the air, the couple agreed to pose outdoors at Glen Falls with Nature all nude.

Yesterday was the book clubbing and, as is our wont, there was some discussion of the book at hand (Fear of Flying, that early feminist book all concerned about liberation, and therapy), but more about life in general over several goblets of thematic beverages. Next book is Tristram Shandy, a college fav, and just ordered a new copy as mine from college was severely yellowed and annotated by my 18-year old hand. Along with some plans for t-shirt designs and ruminations that were so ... heavy in my undergraduate mind.
Soon or now is the year anniversary of the death of Mr. Ganey and then that of Mrs. Ganey. What a sad time that was, good to see the fam, but tragic when she passed one month after his. Same funeral home, same room, same cast of characters.

Celebrated the birth of my mother yesterday at a middling restaurant on Hertel Avenue. As I said to the parents, it seemed a bit dishevelled at the edges but the food was passable.
The lag of the jets (3 in total) has passed, thankfully, no more operating on 3 cylinders.

Onwards to edits galore.

Love galore.