I'm going upstate this weekend, to a woodsy B&B where the innkeepers are also chefs. The room has its own fireplace. The bath is a hot tub. Going to colder climes is pretty much the opposite of my vacation philosophy, but that sounds like a damn good time to me. Added to that, a farmer's market, an old-books bookstore, a diner in a barn, and plenty of local wines.
I'm coming to realize that this year didn't fly by as much as I'd thought. Looking back, each season was eventful, and so far fall has allowed me to savor it nicely.
In winter '09-'10 there was my last Fashion Week, in March there was Jamaica, in May and October there was Rochester. There was Boston in June, Montauk and Chicago in August, and a new job in September.
There was heartbreak at the end of summer too, which for all the pain it brought, promises strength on the other side of it. It has to.
There was my first wedding, a second Senior Ball, and my return to the Queens Public Library.
My finances have never been so sound and my hair hasn't been this long in years.
I got a Mac.
In my life as a foodie, two Restaurant Weeks and a Wild Game Festival, molecular gastronomy at its finest, a favorite restaurant found, and my first steps as a (world class master) chef. There were bugs, live and cooked, and a cameo in the New York Times.
I daresay I could sleep away this winter. But I won't.