December 15, 2006
It has been a long week. My normal routine has my alarm bleeping at 4:40 to catch the 5:16 train to be at the gym at 6:30. This is my every work day routine. So, I kind of like to be in bed by no later than 10 at night. If I cannot be in bed because I have some obligation or another, I tend not to cut myself any slack on the next morning side of the equation. I just tough it out.
Tuesday, I was taken out by my old college room mate. It was in celebration of my birthday past. We dined at Cafe Boulud. It was yummy -- wild mushroom soup, venison, a chesnut mousse Mont Blanc -- all washed down with a very nice Mersault. We dined a bit on the early side so we could make the 8:00 lecture at the Metropolitan Museum of Art where the architect Richard Meier was speaking about his career, illustrating his talk with slides, of course. He was very good, very interesting and very patient with the uniformly insipid and vapid questions that followed. All in all, a wonderful evening, the kind of evening you kind of take for granted in New York City sometimes. I managed to catch the 9:37 train home and was in bed by 11:30. The baby, teething, was up seven times before the alarm went off.
Wednesday was tired. The whole day. I was supposed to have dinner with a very good client that night but I am happy to say that he cancelled. I arrived home normal time to find the Boy Child happily expressing surprise at my unexpected arrival.
BC: Pappa! You're home! I thought you were out for dinner tonight?Me: Well, I was supposed to be but it was cancelled.
BC: Did you call your friend and tell him, 'Fawget about it! I want to go home and see my chillwen!'?
Me: Almost exactly like that, sweetheart. Almost exactly.
But Thursday, last night, was going to be the bear of all nights. I am on the boards of two organizations. Both had their parties last night. Same night. The first one I made sure to be at early because the Club serves, for the Member Christmas Party, all the end of bin yummy wines. I drank five glasses in about an hour -- a Fronsac (a red Bordeaux) and four white Burgundy's (2 chassagne montrachet and 2 pouligny montrachet). White Burgundy is sunshine made liquid. The Viking Bride joined me in time for one or two glasses.
Then we beat feet up to the Harvard Club to attend the other party. I chose not to drink any of their wine. Typical party Chardonnay. I mean, can you blame a guy? To go from liquid sunshine to sucking on an oak barrel? But we only stayed for a bit because we had to join our friend who kindly included us in his invitation to join him and 10 others for a private dinner party following the Christmas party. He took us all to DB Bistro Moderne. Yes, if you are keeping count, that means Daniel Boulud fed me dinner this week as often as I will have eaten at home. My friend gave us lovely wines -- more mersault and a Barolo. I ate way too well -- the house smoked salmon, the DB Burger Royale (that would be a burger made from sirloin and "filled with braised short ribs, foie gras, black truffle" and "layered with shaved black truffle"), and the milk chocolate mousse. Dinner was lively and entertaining and went on a bit long.
How long?
We missed the 11:22 train home. We ended up taking a car.
I bet you are still wondering about the popping sound I led this post off with; assuming you are still reading.
The popping noise came when my bon vivant friend leaned across the table and asked: "Don't you think we should have a bottle of Champagne with dessert?"
*POP* The candle exploded when I agreed with him. Just blew up.
I turned the bedside light out at 1:05.
The alarm went off at 4:40 and I made my tired way to the gym where I did make the full workout.
I just think, maybe, I left everything out on the gym floor. Because that candle? It is not giving off any more light today.
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