kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Love Is In the Air... Love is in the air� At least in the Catskills it is. Valentines day was sweet. C. went the extra mile and delivered a dozen roses in person to my office. Now all my co-workers think I have the sweetest boyfriend in the world. No one believed me when I said that I just liked to make out with floral delivery boys. Thursday night we went to dinner at Tappo. Aside from the fact that I may never be able to look at another glass of red wine again it was lovely. This weekend C. took me to a Bed and Breakfast to celebrate our one year (yikes) anniversary, The Bittersweet in Rhinebeck New York. We ate at incredible restaurants, wandered around Woodstock, took lots of naps and cuddled a lot in a big antique bed so high off the ground you needed a step stool to get into it. Heaven! Every morning we woke up to Edith�s (the B&B�s owners) big country breakfasts, and at night we went o sleep to the sound of the fireplace crackling and the wind blowing outside. So cozy. C. was beyond impressed by my fireplace skills. I was so proud when I could use things like �damper� and �open the flu� and �I can�t believe how dry this wood is�� in my conversation. Ah yes, you can take the gal out of the country, but you can�t take the country out of the gal. It was so nice to get out of the city for the weekend. C. started to wonder aloud what it would be like to get a place in the country and �get away from it all�. I quickly assured him that it would be like hell on earth and that we would both die of boredom. Nice to visit, fun to fantasize about an easier, pleasant life, especially when we�ve both felt pretty beat up by New York lately. But the reality and the fantasy don�t jibe. C. thinks we�d meander around our big house decorated with antiques, we�d throw big dinner parties and serve arugala salad with goat cheese, pears and toasted walnuts, and when we went to the grocery store or to pick up our mail you�d hug the checkout girl or the postmaster because �people are just so friendly here�. Believe me, I quickly set him straight. In a small town, even if you hug the postmaster when s/he gives you the mail, ten seconds later, the minute you walk out the door the same cuddly postal worker is telling your neighbor that you ordered sex toys through the mail and that you are probably having relationships problems which in all likelihood stem from your weight gain or the bad haircut you just got. No thanks. At least in New York they tell you right to your face what they think of you (often loudly, on a subway platform with spittle spewing forth from their mouth into your face). Back to reality tomorrow�the world of subway commutes, five inch heels, watching what you eat, obligatory gym visits, �to do� lists and all that other fun stuff. I am going to try and keep some of the calm and sense of satisfaction that I experienced this weekend with me. It will probably last around five minutes, until tomorrow morning when someone runs into me on the subway and I spill hot coffee all over myself while trying to balance my bag and my Page Six section of the Post. Sigh. La di da. La di da. 5:53 p.m. - 2002-02-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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