Ted and I took today off. It wasn't skipping school, per se. We planned it in advance, and both of our employers were in the know. In fact, we'd originally planned for last Monday, but Ted's cold waylaid the schedule. So we postponed.
We slept in until 8:00am, which was amazingly decadent! Had breakfast, enjoyed a little leisurely time, showered and dressed, and took a train into New York City. At Zaro's Bread Basket, we shared a delicious (and huge) salad with warm sunflower seed bread. As Rachael Ray would say, yum-o.
We took a cab to Arrojo Studio, where Ted got his hair cut. I thought this was quite adventurous of him, given his historical preference for coiffures of the SuperCuts variety. Nick was there, sporting a light pink button-down shirt and the tiniest of tiny ponytails. But Ted wasn't quite prepared to pay Nick rates for a haircut, so he simply watched him bop around the salon. I was a sideline spectator, alternating between watching Ted's proceedings, general people-watching, chatting with the staff (who are starting to know who I am now), and exchanging stories with a nice couple who traveled from Montreal so Nick could cut the woman's extremely long (hadn't been cut in years) hair.
We cabbed back to Grand Central, arriving just in time to immediately board the train home. We've since had dinner, caught up on some more TiVo, and spent time on our computers. Three guesses what I've been doing on mine. Yep. Uploading music. But now I must go to bed.
Oh! One more thing. I understand from Stacy that today is Half-Nekkid Thursday, when you're supposed to post pictures of your partially bare self.
For anyone who knows me (and even those who don't), fear not! I'm not going to get graphic. In fact, the guidelines suggest not to get too graphic. So my pendulum swings in the other direction. Here's my forearm! It doesn't get much more innocuous than that. You can see part of my dress and its sleeve, as well as the costume of the Polynesian Culture Center employee who was standing next to me at the time.
This was from my trip to Hawaii almost two years ago. I'd never really had a burning desire to go to Hawaii. I mean, it always sounded nice: I just didn't feel the inexplicable lure that so many others seemed to feel about it. But I had the opportunity to attend a conference in Honolulu, so off I went. Luckily, I had enough foresight to add a few vacation days to the end of the trip, because I basically fell in love with Hawaii as soon as I got off the plane. I mean, even the airport is partially open to the elements and has the distinct aroma of tropical flowers (once you get past the jet smell that co-mingles with it).
Honolulu is a big city, so there was noise and smog and traffic congestion. I stayed in a hotel that was one block away from Waikiki Beach, which was packed with people every time I went anywhere near it. Despite these things that sound very anti-paradise, I loved it. The flowers everywhere. The people were so nice (the spirit of Aloha). Even the dense humidity -- something I hate in New England -- was perfect on Oahu. The only things I didn't like about Hawaii were (A) the short amount of time I was there, (B) the fact that I really only saw a couple parts of one island, and (C) the length of time it takes to get there. Oh, some "basics" are pretty amazingly expensive. The two things that stand out in my memory are gas (more than $4 a gallon -- well before it was above $2.25 on the mainland) and milk (more than $6 a gallon).
I want to go back to Hawaii. Now, I understand the lure.
OK, I was going to make it to bed at a reasonable time, until I started talking about paradise. Oh well. 'Night, 'night.
Song count: 8854.
"Fragile" by Sting