Sweet Honey in the Rock

You know those colds that just hit you suddenly--one second you're fine and the next you feel like absolute shit? Yeah . . . I have one of those. I was fine until about 3 o'clock today and then BAM! So more than anything I wanted to go home and crawl into bed. Wasn't possible though because I had to meet my grandmother for dinner and a show.

Yesterday, when I was feeling fine, I'd chosen a Chinese food place. About the last kind of food I want when I'm sick. So it's fortunate that the place turned out to be quite good. The food was arguably a bit on the bland side but I'm pretty much the queen of bland food so that's fine with me. Anyway, what I liked was that the food was not greasy or oily. And the asparagus I had with my meal actually had some crunch to it still. Very nice.

Anyway, we were going to see Sweet Honey in the Rock at Carnegie Hall. If you're not familiar with them, and I certainly wasn't, they're an African American female a cappella group. They basically sing spirituals, hymns, gospel, jazz, and blues. I'm sure I've mentioned before that I'm not in any way religious. And my tolerance for most religious things is . . . limited, let's say. My tolerance for religious music like gospels, hymns, and spirituals on the other hand, is nigh endless. So that stuff was fine.

Less fine was the mother earth, light in the soul, just being good and kind to each other will bring about world peace stuff. I don't do well with that sort of tripe at all, particularly when I've got a sinus headache and my nose is running like a faucet. Still, the music was very lovely, they're incredibly talented women, and it was a nice evening out.

Breakfast and Waitress

So today was day two of the hanging-with-the-grandparents thing. They were supposed to call me around 9 this morning and tell me where to meet them for brunch. So of course they call at 8:30 and want me to meet them by quarter to 10 up by their apartment. Now, in my world, if I have to be in a restaurant before 10 on a Saturday morning, that's breakfast not brunch. Don't get me wrong, I was awake because the cats are convinced they're going to die a horrible death if they don't eat by 7:30, but I was not prepared to leave my apartment.

Anyway, we ate at this place that they love and I am utterly indifferent to with a french name and a rather generic appearance. The owner also has a Mexican place next door. Apparently he figured that his employees were all Mexican so hey, why not? I had waffles with strawberries, blackberries, bananas, whipped cream, and strawberry sauce, so I was happy even if the waffle itself was slightly mushy.

Then off to see Waitress at the movie theater in Union Square. It's a nice little movie and Keri Russel is adorable. I never watched Felicity (no really, I've never seen one single episode) but I assume that most people knew this already. All I knew was that she once got a very controversial haircut that I really didn't think looked that bad. I also loved Cheryl Hines in the movie. And the fact that it wasn't a romance. It was actually, for all it had a happy ending, quite bittersweet.

Ben & Jack's

My great-uncle and his wife are in town this weekend. They're certainly not my favorite family members but they are very nice so while I never have any particular wish to see them, it's always nice when it happens. Those kind of family members. They live in an overly tidy condo in a gated community in San Jose with a balcony overlooking a golf course. It's terribly far from the life I would want, all cut off like that.

A couple years ago, when my sister and I drove around the country, we stayed with them for a few days. We'd just come from Yosemite and hadn't showered in five days. And so we walked, filthy and bedraggled, into this house with white walls and white carpets which was just utterly spotless. Anyway, the first thing we did was wash our faces and shower because we felt as though we couldn't touch or sit on anything until we did that. And we'd been washing our faces in campground sinks and such, but apparently that was rather less thorough than we hoped because we actually left face-shaped marks of dirt on their (white, of course) towels. And then we both showered (I think I got to go first--victory!) and had to rinse the dirt out of the tub. It was simultaneously disgusting and incredibly satisfying. Although, we'd thought we were a bit tan and it turned out we were just that dirty. This is neither here nor there, but I suppose it gives you an idea of what they're like (and what my sister and I are like).

Right. So. When they come into town I go out to dinner with them, my grandparents who live a 15 minute walk from my apartment (it's my grandfather's brother), generally my step-grandmother's parents who are in their 90s and quite frail, and her sister-in-law who always wears gigantic pearls. The first year I lived in New York we went to this place called March (which has since closed and reopened in the same location as Nish) which served tiny little courses. At minimum you would get a three course meal for about $70. The food was great, I'm sure, and the service was fantastic, but it wasn't the place for a group with fussy eaters and as a result the meal was not a particular success. So since then we've pretty much stuck to steakhouses and Italian.

Ben & Jack's is the former and that's where we went last night. It's a good place to go when out with the elderly and near-deaf because you can get a private room even for a fairly small party. And in keeping with the steakhouse norm, they give you so much food that you end up with at least one extra meal. I never eat at steakhouses when left to my own devices--in part because I can't afford it and in part because it's not my favorite food by any means--so I can't compare one to another. It was good; the waiters were not as polite as they ought to be. Granted, they could fan him with palms and my grandmother's father would probably still be displeased with the service (a result of age, I think) but I can't say I was impressed. And then of course there's dessert. The end result of all this was that was that I ended up uncomfortably full and with half a filet mignon in the fridge for dinner today.

Beautiful night though. Went out and sat out on the balcony with the cat until quite late.

Prelude to a Kiss

My cousin and her fiancée were in town briefly so I went out last night with them and my grandmother, who is very excited at the prospect of adding a new granddaughter to the family. Narrowly avoiding eating at Applebees (because there's seriously no reason to eat there when you live in New York) we had a very nice dinner. She wanted me to choose the restaurant which I wasn't really prepared to do. I don't really know the Bway/Times Square area that well so I can't pick restaurants off the top of my head. The only place I could think of was Saigon 48--which is very good, and very cheap should you be in the area--but I couldn't remember its location. I'd forgotten the 48 bit of the name. We ended up eating at West Bank Cafe which was just expensive enough that I wouldn't have suggested it myself for fear of imposing. My grandmother would never say no, so I try not to put her in a position where she might. It was great though--particularly the desserts--so I'm very glad we went there instead of Applebees.

I knew nothing about Prelude to a Kiss and hadn't really had a particular interest in seeing it, although I also wasn't disinterested. It's kind of Freaky Friday except the body switchers aren't related and one of them doesn't immediately want to switch back. Anyway, it's decidedly mediocre and I imagine that there are two reasons it's been popular: a) It stars the guy who played Frasier Crane's father b) it's got a happy ending which the old ladies around us seemed to appreciate quite a bit.

Less appreciative, was the forty-something year old man sitting behind us. At one point the young and fairly freaked-out groom kisses Frasier's Daddy who is really his wife in another body. He loves his wife and it makes total sense for him to do this in the context of the play. Furthermore, it's not exactly the kind of kiss that leads to people jumping into bed sans clothing and getting down to business. But clearly these things didn't matter much to forty-something who said, "Ewww," so loudly that half the theater must have heard him. Seriously? What are you, seven? Grow up. Probably some tourist from Omaha. I certainly hope so anyway.