1. started at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue; I woke up with Beyonce/JayZ in my head, and a familiar-but-unwelcome creeping desire for more lucrative life-decisions in my heart, and if that reredos doesn’t cure such things, nothing will.
2. The Strand and some new-to-me volumes. Last time I was here, I formed a buzzfeed quiz in my mind: “At which NYC landmark are you most likely to run into an ex?” This was mine.
3. Rainy day hat. Living the dream of every girl born in the 80’s; Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?
It was there that I sat and tried to read, and then tried to write, and then, finally decided/realized that the bit of puff pastry I’d eaten under the guise of hospitality at dinner last night, and the bite of pork bun I’d had at lunch today (Momofuku–along with John Krasinski & Emily Blunt, NBD–below) were not a joke. That is to say, gluten is not a joke. The energy, clarity of mind, and as my dear sweet brother will attest, evenness-of-temper which a gluten-free diet has afforded me were derailed by even just a few bites of wheaty goodness. I think the experiment isn’t going to end soon…
(see there, in the corner? that’s Emily, turned toward us; and John is clearly telling her something very dramatic and important turned the other way.)