My birthday was pretty nice. Work was bad for several reasons (one of which? The stupid birthday committee completely forgot my birthday, and I did NOT receive the expected card filled with generic well-wishes!) but I was in good spirits and didn't really mind. That evening I went to dinner at Lovely Hula Hands, which was... well, lovely. I took some photos for you! As usual, they are of D- quality, but I did the best I could:
This is the appetizer, "House-made mozzerella with a grilled peach, green bean and hazelnut salad." (Not pictured: "Rosemary focaccia with arbequina olive oil.") You'll notice that I've taken one bite, after which I decided it needed to be photographed so I could look at it every day and taste it in my mind. OH, MAN. I think I want to start making my own cheese.
This here is the main course, "Grilled Oregon albacore tuna with yukon gold potatoes, aioli and a green bean, saffron onion and tomato ragout." Like the appetizer, it was also quite edible.
I can't even look at this photo without wanting to cry. This, of course, is "Chocolate pave cake with espresso cream and salted almonds," and its good buddy, "Pistachio ice cream with strawberries and an ossi dei morti cookie." We spent a lot of time scraping our plates clean. For cocktails, I had a cold milk punch (milk, irish whiskey, sugar, nutmeg) and a kir (cava and Chambord). Um. Yum!
Afterwards, we went up to the Bye and Bye (my most favorite of all bars) where a table of my friends rowdily lead the bar in singing "Happy Birthday" to me (uh, twice). Hey, it was nice! I'd been feeling sickly all week, so I was pretty low-key -- in bed by midnight, I think -- but luckily others stepped up to the plate and celebrated for me:
What a pal!
On Saturday, I took myself on a full-day birthday date. I got up early and went to the farmer's market. Afterwards, I wandered over to Powell's, where I bought some dumb magazines and a book of Robert Hass's poetry criticism, which I've been meaning to pick up for awhile and which was on mega-sale! As if that weren't enough, the cashier turned out to be a huge Robert Hass fan and started gushing about "Praise," which was basically a dream come true for me.
Then I took myself out to breakfast at Kenny & Zuke's, where I loitered over gossip magazines, french toast, and a mimosa. While I was sitting there, a naked bike parade rolled by, which created a hilarious Woody Allen-esque commotion with the Jewish tourists sitting next to me ("Why aren't they wearing pants?! They don't have pants!" "Ma, you're yelling! Just don't look." "Well, I still don't see why they don't wear pants."). Afterwards, I went shopping and spent a foolish amount of money on dresses. Ah, to be young and stupid!
Then I walked around and did some other stuff, came home and did more stuff, sat on the balcony and read my book, drank ginger ale and ate a small melon. Leftover pizza, crude drawings with the colored pencils my mom sent me. Went to bed with a smile on my face. Over and out!
Then I took myself out to breakfast at Kenny & Zuke's, where I loitered over gossip magazines, french toast, and a mimosa. While I was sitting there, a naked bike parade rolled by, which created a hilarious Woody Allen-esque commotion with the Jewish tourists sitting next to me ("Why aren't they wearing pants?! They don't have pants!" "Ma, you're yelling! Just don't look." "Well, I still don't see why they don't wear pants."). Afterwards, I went shopping and spent a foolish amount of money on dresses. Ah, to be young and stupid!
Then I walked around and did some other stuff, came home and did more stuff, sat on the balcony and read my book, drank ginger ale and ate a small melon. Leftover pizza, crude drawings with the colored pencils my mom sent me. Went to bed with a smile on my face. Over and out!
2 comments:
Sounds like a great birthday! 27 was a very good year.....
not pictured: crude colored-pencil drawings. (?!!)
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