Say It Ain't So

Ever since I've been a Yankees fan (not rabid, but... always there) I've liked and admired Joe Torre as a coach and a man. He radiates a quiet goodness that perfectly counters his melancholy resignedness. Which I guess is a good word for this week, as he essentially resigned, refusing to accept what he termed an insulting offer of compensation for his time and talent. I can only hope he read the more than 100 haikus (!) posted about him the Times' Joe Torre Haiku Contest.

Go Joe, live long, your
hangdog visage will linger
with me a long time

No words

Took my wonderful neighbor Ann to dinner at Market Table, new on Carmine Street for a nice dinner and a sort of tribute to Petey, who died on Friday. I know... shocking, sad. I'm not sure how he died but it was nearly exactly the same way MeMe died (suddent spasm, dead in an instant). And yes, if you didn't know, I'm talking about my cat(s). Petey was a good guy, the quintessential tabby cat and just a darn fine specimen: loving, cool, mellow, happy. I'd post a picture (again) but I'm too sad to look for one. And pissed off that I had to pay $85 for have him cremated (wtf?). Living in the Village is insanely expensive.

Anyway, dinner with 82-year old Ann (who takes/took care of Petey, and MeMe and now O. Henry when I'm out of town) was lovely. I can recommend the swordfish highly (ate every last scrap) with fresh off the cob corn and avocado/frisee salad) and probably the crabcake, which Ann devoured and then took home the bun with the lettuce and tomato tucked inside). Nice place (we got the last unreserved table) but too much space wasted with a weird selection of things I can't imagine anyone would want to spontaneously buy.

Other weekend highlights included a successful trip to Housing Works and a bad epidemiological thriller that made me want to do some detective work to find out who/what killed Pete. First stop: the exterminator who looks like Alec Baldwin (O. Hen had some fleas) and then possibly Purina.....

Update: there were no fleas. O. Henry just had a mild ear infection.

Cocktails and Kite Running

J. and I traipsed all about Manhattan this weekend, starting with an attempt to get to Ellis Island on Friday. I had taken the day off and figured it'd be a breeze. The line at Battery Park, however, threaded past the Indian Museum and seemed unmoving so we gave up and decided to treat ourselves to a drink at the Ritz Carlton's outdoor deck. Which was closed (dumb, since it was about 85 degrees out).

So, tired from walking from Franklin Street over to the River and down past the Holocaust Museum and around the bend to the southern tip of the island, we jumped in a Downtown Connection free shuttle in hopes it would deliver us to DSW near Vesey Street for some shoe shopping. No luck there. We rode with two enormous other people the wrong way (east) and then up the east side to the end of the line at the South Street Seaport. Then we took the subway to Union Square where J. found some wonderful boots at DSW and I forgot to buy a cat-scratcher at Petco. We had a delightful lunch (sushi and Pinot Grigio at Blue Water Grill) and drifted home to nap time.

We recovered sufficiently to spend the night out bar-hopping with C., after dinner and people-watching at Bistro Les Amis (how fitting) on Spring Street. C. amazed me yet again with his effortless generosity and endlessly entertaining antics.

Saturday night found us at the Directors Guild screening room watching a New Yorker Festival sneak preview of The Kite Runner, followed by a conversation (for the audience, not just J. and me, unfortunately) with Khaled Hosseini, the author of the book, Marc Forster (Monster's Ball), the film’s director, and New Yorker writer Jon Lee Anderson. I was stunned to hear that the movie's premier has been pushed back indefinitely out of grave concern for the safety of the two boys from Afghanistan who were the film stars. They are still in the country, which again is growing more violent. Heartbreaking -- both that and the actual movie, which was well done and well received. The film's lead actor showed up as well and spoke briefly and eloquently -- a striking and highly intelligent Egyptian man (he learned the language of the film -- which I can't recall -- in a single month).