Talkin'

Let’s talk winter. We got the first snow of it on Saturday while the apartment was crowded with well wishers for a one year old. In that crowd were four little ones just hittin’ the low end of double digit months. It was like having a troop of chattering monkeys scampering about, cute monkeys to be sure, but I kept expecting them to bust out roller skates and cigars.

‘Cause that’s what monkeys do, which makes me wonder where they saw it. It doesn’t really and I’m already derailed two lines in.

Party was called on account of the birthday boy wearing himself out running laps around the apartment. The gates of the baby corral were thrown wide and he was taking full advantage. So much so that the tiredness came on all out of the blue and he began spontaneously falling and half crying and sort of lamely punching the floor – which is exactly what I do when I’m tired. So with the combo of an early nap time and snow that began to come down as if cloud giants in nighties were having a pillow fight, people filed out.

I took it upon myself to get out a couple of times for walks in the falling snow. I like being out in it, not driving in it mind you, but strolling. I like that almost painful cold. I like that those flakes seem to absorb sound. I like that the snow takes the leafless, dormant trees (which honestly can get a bit depressing) and turns them into something majestic. By morning the accumulation had been turned back to water, like a really lame magic trick, and the slightly entertaining snow has been replaced by not at all entertaining driving rain and the promise of 50 mph winds.

Now, let’s talk Chez Gaudy. Fuck Disneyland, CG is the happiest place on earth. It’s a heady combination of cozy, warm, good food, phenomenal cocktails and friendliness that makes me love it always and forever. You walk by it, and if you didn’t know you would not think it’s a restaurant. It’s almost as if someone turned a good sized apartment into an eatery and it works. The food: explosive goodness with every bite. The drinks: carefully concocted and designed to get you a little fast and loose with your clothing and sense of tact. The staff: all kinds of awesome. And if you’re lucky enough to be there when Greg is, you’re in for a good night. Here’s a guy who gets off on making sure you’re having a good time in his place. He’s like a mad, roaming stand up and it feels as though he’s been your friend for years. He’s 8 kinds of inappropriate, has sat at our table to have drinks with us, and was the other night telling a story of how he was playing a drinking game which involved smacking one of the patrons. I sort of have a man crush on him.

Now, let’s talk Spinach Artichoke Parmesan dip. Has nothing to do with the others above, but I love it and how. I have had numerous conversations about filling up swimming pools with substances not meant for swimming pools (corn chips, jelly beans, Jello brand pudding), but seriously the thought of filling a swimming pool with Spinach Artichoke Parmesan dip and diving into kind of gives me a stiffy.

I’m also all hot on balsamic reduction right now. It’s time to sign off.