Wet leaves on Congress Street, as I was walking home yesterday, in wet white flipflops, my red- painted toes looking exceptionally clean under the rolled-up cuffs of my corduroys. I was so happy to see these "helicopters" - you know: they go round and round and round as they fall -from a maple, lying with fallen leaves in a tree pit. The heat had been broken bigtime with massive rain, and fall arrived within hours.
Will I wear the summer dresses again?
To celebrate I made a small martini, wishing Vince were there to share it with me...The Grey Goose was viscous from the freezer, the little Sicilian olives quite hot (chiles in the curing brine). I think what I really like about martinis is the vodka-slippery olives...Maybe the next time I'm out I'll order it, as usual: Grey Goose, up, bone dry, fifteen olives, please. The martini is in a Woodstock glass. I have a thing for glasses...
Being too drenched to shop for supplies I played with what was at hand. I stuffed tomatoes with couscous and falafel dust, after first sauteing finely chopped onion and garlic, adding the former...I then put some pomegranate juice, quel shock, in the bottom of the pan that then went into a 400' oven for an hour. YUM!
...and watched The Avengers, circa 1967. Not as good as '66 - I prefer the black 'n whites to this VERY Technicolor, but still just so odd and unapologetic that I love them.
And skipped through today, taking delivery of a deposit cheque which signals Go!Go!Go! on the big SoHo project. Which means me and my big mouth must design what we casually suggested was possible. But that kicks off on Monday, and before that I must design Molly's rooftop garden so that we have pretty pictures to show the camera on Tuesday. Tonight I feast on chicken a la moutarde, because I did not have a lapin...I don't know what it's like, it's still cooking.
And I cracked the bottle of Pernod...
And now I must write to TomCat, who wants to know about Estorbo. Hm. Where does one begin?
(...ad the begeeneen', you stupeed Wooman...)