Chris is in town and we've been doing the sort of things you do when someone's in town. Hey, look at that tall building. Dig this place, it has something to do with immigrants. Well I'll be, New York has a lot of concrete and eateries, don't it? It's been a gas!
Saturday night we went to Claire's place in Yonkers for the final Ferg Cottage get together. There was much frivolity and flip cupping. As well as dancing and mock chandelier swinging. I couldn't wait 'til that inevitable moment in every get together when "Like A Prayer" comes on the stereo and women are inexorably drawn to the dance floor, removing their shoes, setting down their clutches and shaking their double-X tushes. Amelia said that me running into the kitchen and bellowing, "Do you have 'Like a Prayer' on you iPod?" wasn't taken on face for the genuine anthropological interest that it was, but rather mistaken for the behavior of a man with a certain proclivity for the fellas. Goodbye 17%, hello 18%! Buggery is the order of the day.
Claire has assembled quite the assortment of friends up at Sarah Lawrence. And the lot of them (the cream of the crop, at least) have signed on for another year of East Coast toil and trouble, so the shmooze is likely to continue until 2007. Add to that the imminent migration of Chris, the relative proximity of Josh and Aurora and the summer stint of Lady Turner and you have a recipe for continued, albeit temporary, hobnobbing and pleasantness. And that ain't half bad.