I stepped in dog poop.

I slipped on a patch of icy-slippery-slush.

I inhaled powdered sugar while eating a piece of lemon cake, which made me cough pretty hard and shoot a piece of lemon cake across the table...

...during a meeting.

I poked myself in the eye with my mascara wand.

I forgot to order the beef tenderloin.

I leaned over too far when putting on my boots and took a header over the chair.

And you? How was your day?

So did I tell you I had the flu the day before we left on vacation?
Not that it really matters, or that it's a story really even worth telling.

But I did. Bad. Because that's just how my life goes. And it serves me right to insist on celebrating and early Christmas with our friends who's 3 children had just recovered from the very same flu. "Oh they are fine. I want them to open their gifts. We won't stay long."

As we say at The Restaurant - no good deed goes unpunished.

Anyway.

I shot up in bed exactly 24 hours before our flight was due to taxi down the runway, and I made haste to the bathroom where I had the unfortunate experience of tossing my cookies for a good solid 15 minutes. Which I know is really gross. And I know it really is too much information. But if I learned nothing else in Kindergarten it was the art of sharing.

So yeah - the cookie tossing. It happened pretty aggressively all day long - it was like a scene from the exorcist in my house. The Poor Husband was scrambling to stay out of my way and make sure I had open receptacles at the ready. And he did nice things like get me 7-Up and Gatorade. And Imodium. Because - you know - I needed that too.

All I could think about was my vacation to The Big City, and all I could think about was the Trick our staff was going to pull off in my absence. I had to make phone calls; whiney, wimpy phone calls leaving instructions and recipes and schedules. And I had to pack.

At 3:00 in the afternoon I finally called The Doctor and begged for something - anything - to stop the madness. I had a plane to catch, and I had no desire to toss any more cookies as we taxied down the runway.

And I didn't, thank God. But I had a close call over North Dakota when the small child next to me on the plane picked his nose with such vengeance I was convinced he would be brain damaged by the time we crossed over the Central Time zone.

And they say vacations are good for a person.

And the reason I felt the need to share that information is because right now, exactly a month later I have a cold. A nice little infection making my eyes bulge and making my voice sound like a Jazz singer in a smoky honky-tonk somewhere in the Bayou.

So I am a little - cranky. But not bad cranky. I would say it's more of a state of indifference - unable to care much.

So I stayed out of the kitchen and away from the customers and did a little office work. And on my way out a couple was just getting up from Table 3, and I asked, "How was everything tonight?" I even smiled, a big swollen sinused smile.

He shot me a glare and said "Well you sure as Hell didn't hear me damn complain did you?"

And he wasn't joking.

Normally I would have smiled and thanked them for coming to try and hurry on the awkward moment. But instead I shrugged my shoulders and, "Well I am glad you have no complaints but I am sorry the food wasn't good enough to stop you from being a cranky old bastard."

He stood for a minute in shock, and then he threw his head back and laughed. He patted me on the back, which I think maybe dislodged part of my lung, and thanked me for a wonderful meal.

And you know, I guess now that I think of it I am not so much in a state of indifference as I am just a congested and weary smartass.

Life comes at you fast; fierce and without warning. It's like running across the living room carpet to reach for the phone on a cold winter morning, and nearly being dropped by the electrical shock you get when picking up the receiver. And then when you get off the phone and head to change out of your workout clothes you get shocked again and trip over your the boot that didn't quite make it into the closet last night and get a fat lip.

Fast - like that.

The last couple of weeks have been blazing, this week being the worst, actually. I feel like I am walking around with a bullseye on my forehead taunting everyone in my path to take their best shot.

And people - you all have great aim. What's a girl gotta do to catch a break? I've been nicer. I don't sigh and roll my eyes at the people who cut me off at The Grocery Store. I laughed when the little boy standing in line with his mother at the bank threw up on my shoe. I even went to - gulp - Costco with a spring in my step on a desperate run for a wedge of Parmesan.

And the thing is, I love a New Year. Because a New Year comes with such great promise - change - rebirth.

And I look forward to January at The Restaurant because it is a time of transition - tweaking the menus, raising prices, doing a little light remodel here and there. And no one complains, everyone expect the change. And life goes on as it should. It's different, and the difference is embraced.

But some things - well - they never change.

Because one day you get called out of the kitchen to be blasted by a patron who thinks your salads are way too big, and that you are single-handedly responsible for the obesity pandemic. Apparently our generous portions are a grotesque display of American greed, and completely irresponsible in our enablement of people's expanding waistlines.

And you know - even after being informed of an infraction worthy of UN invervention, I still smiled. And I simply said, "So I guess no dessert for you, then?"

Put the arrows back in the quiver, people. I need a break.

I've learned not to walk close to the curb in NYC on a rainy day. Cars go fast. Trucks go fast. Big mud puddles splash like the log ride at Busch Gardens. But I've also learned that when you're standing there dripping wet and people stop to stare and laugh - it's ok. Maybe they needed the laugh. Even if it is your family - the bastards.

I've learned that no matter how much brushing and flossing I do the Evil Doers at the dentist office will still shred your gums with sharp tools and tell you that you don't seem to be brushing and flossing enough. And seriously - where is Dental Hygenist School - Torture Town? Of course my gums are bleeding - how about I ram yours with repeatedly a fish hook? I bet yours will bleed to.

I've learned that one day in Boston is not enough. (Oh - did I tell you I went to Boston for a day? We power tripped it during our stay in NYC and had a fabulous day.) What a gorgeous city that is - and what gorgeous friends I have there.

I've learned that no matter how many times I told my friend not to wear his Boston Red Sox jacket in NY, it will take an angry mob on 7th Avenue for him to listen.

I've learned that some people just don't understand, no matter how many times I tell them, that when fish smells like fish - it's bad. So Very Bad.

I've learned that no matter how many times I try to take a picture -it will just be nostrils or feet.

I've learned that no matter how much I think I can sing, others will not agree.

I've learned that no matter how many times I tell my friends that Reservations Are Your Friend, they will still roll their eyes when they tell me they had to wait a long time for a table at the restauraunt they took their family to - ALL 10 OF THEM.

I've learned that no matter how much I want to be a Rockette - I need to make peace with the fact that the ship has sailed - and, you know, my butt is too big. And I am old. And clumsy. And can't dance.

Whatever.

I've learned that no matter how many times I try to tell Brides that I can't do a well done prime rib - they won't get it until you serve them a piece and they equate it to charcoal briquettes. Yeah. I KNOW.

That's all for now.

I love it when people get argumentative - as if challenging us when we say, "Sorry - you will have to wait" will magically make an empty table appear out of the sky.

"Oh, really. How long is this wait?"

"Not too long, about 20 minutes."

"Well there is no way we can be seated sooner?"

"No I am sorry."

"So if I demanded to be seated immediately you couldn't find a table?"

Well when you put it that way - yes. Yes of course you can be seated immediately. Just let me go ahead and shove Old Lady Tompkins out of her chair and rip the fork out of Mr. Tompkin's hand. Give us a second or two to wipe up the mess and you can sit right down. Or if you prefer we can go out back to The Magic Tree and plick a fresh table off the branches.

So. Over. It.

It has taken me a while to find that balance again - the balance of work, sleep, blogging, and the incessant whining about wanting to be back on vacation.

I am starting to annoy myself, even.

What has not taken a while is getting back in the swing of things at The Restaurant and realizing what a crazy bunch of loons roam this earth on the daily basis. And people warned me - oh they warned me - they said I'd never seen crazy like NYC Crazy. Well, I am here to tell you, I missed all the NYC Crazy. Or perhaps that person who told me I would fit in just fine there was right - because I saw nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, people seemed... ordinary.

The only thing out of sorts I witnessed was a near International Incident at the Starbuck's on the corner of 56th and 6th. A non-english speaking Frenchman took a coffee that did not belong to him. And a very English speaking man from Brooklyn nearly lost his religion over losing his Latte'. There were words, there were F-Bombs, and there were threats of beatdowns on the street corner. I gotta be honest, I wanted to step in and say, "Have you tried the coffee here? Because it's so not worth it..."

But I digress...

The other night a couple came in with their son who looked to be about 8 years old. When their server asked to take their order The Mother ordered for herself, and shortly before she finished The Father started tapping his fork on the table. *Tap Tap Tap*. The Mother sighed and said, "I wasn't finished yet.." And he just kept tapping at her. She picked up the menu again and ordered for The Father, and for The Son. When she was done ordering The Father started with the tapping again. "I told you I wanted fish, not steak. And I told you not to order him a small portion. Make him eat an adult meal." And he just kept tapping his fork.

At first The Server thought the fork tapping was his way of communicating, as if some sort of mute disease had overcome him and left him at the mercy of pronged utensils. But when he spoke she realized the tapping was just his way of being... well... an ass.

He continue tapping his fork until The Mother put her hand down over the fork. She looked to her server and said, "The order is fine, thank you." And then glared back at The Father.

And throughout the evening every time he was ready to speak, he started tapping that fork.

I certainly don't pretent to be a psychologist with an insider's information on the psyche of those around me. But I know for certain if that fork were to be tapped at me repeatedly, it would find it's way up someone's nose.

I knew I wanted to be in Mid-Town for the simple fact that this was our first visit and I wanted to be in the center of it all. I stumbled upon our hotel through an internet search and ended up going for it.

We stayed at The Blakely Hotel on W. 55th Street, and when we go back we will stay there again. It was fabulous.

The Blakely is quiet and unassuming hotel nestled in the middle of the block. It was the perfect location for our walking adventures, and it was the perfect fit for what we needed. The beds were comfy, the bathroom was awesome, and the staff was fabulous.

The hotel did offer breakfast each morning, but like I stated in the previous post we found our own. So I can't comment on the quality of the food there. It smelled good, if that's any indication. And we had a wonderful time with the other guests who came from Scotland, England, Australia, and Ireland. Which seemed appropriate for the style of the hotel - a bit on the English side.

It's a cozy hotel, perfect for a quiet retreat at the end of a crazy day.

If you find yourself staying there my only suggestion would be that you be sure hang your "do not disturb" sign on the door. Housekeeping starts knocking at 7:00 a.m. and it can be a rude awakening after a late night in the city. They were gracious, though, and it only took a couple times for The Husband to answer the door rubbing his eyes saying, "Uh... maybe later?" before they learned our routine.

And typical of any hotel in this day and age, a late night post-cocktail binge from the Mini Bar will cost you about $5687.97 (The Husband likes his snack mix...)

It's crazy. I've never lived there, and this was my first trip there, but I miss New York. I am actually homesick for it.

As you can imagine I've been bombarded since I returned home, and I have barely had a chance to catch my breath. And while I am sure it is typical of returning from any vacation, I've been a little on the depressed side.

I really love that city. All of it. And I am trying to go through each day so I can give you the run down of all we did. My favorite part of it all was - everything. The decorations, the people, the food, the vibe of the city. From the handsome cab ride through Central Park, to the crazy long lines waiting to take the ferry to The Statue of Liberty it was all fabulous. Wall Street, Madison Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman (oy - Bergdorf's...), New Year's Eve on the fringe of Times Square, standing in the plaza for The Today Show - all very touristy, all very wonderful.

Upon landing we were a little behind the 8-Ball so our concierge made reservations at The Red Eye Grill. Food was great - nothing beyond belief - but a great meal and a great way to start our visit.

Our first morning we set out to find something for breakfast and stubmled upon D&S Marketplace on W. 56th. What an awesome find that was. It became our morning ritual, and when we walked in the door on Day 2 the guys behind the counter remebered our order from the day before. They were fabulous, and our breakfast bagels could not be beat. It was sad on our last day there - we were sorry to say good-bye. Some of our crew picked up lunch there another day and raved about the selections they had available.

We did the proverbial trip to Carnegie Deli, opting for take-out after a long day of hot-footing it all over town. It was as I expected - over the top and crazy.

Another dinner was had at Angelo's on W. 57th - everythig was delish, and the atmosphere was lively and fun.

Another night was a quick late-night meal at an obscure diner I cannot remember the name of. Nothing spectacular - but a nice waffle at 10:00 p.m. really can't be beat no matter where you are.

Sunday Brunch was at Sarabeth's on Central Park South. We had an awesome array of food, our server was wonderful and the place was packed making me glad I had reservations in place before we left home.

There is so much more to tell, and so many little moments that make me laugh outloud as I am driving in my car. And there is so much more we want to see - and we cannot wait to get back there as soon as possible.

I 'heart' New York.

What a fabulous city.

What a fabulous trip.

What a fabulous mountain of laundry to be done.

*sigh*