I was a little worried about what I would write about today (until I got the e-mail from the American Pie Council…) simply because I wasn’t sure if a food topic would come my way and I feel like I’ve kind of dropped the blog-ball as of late and now I have nothing but time on my hands to write my little heart out…so there’s sort of an obligation to put something up here…and that makes me a little nervous.
I’ve heard a lot about the Richard Serra exhibit at MoMA, so I decided to check that out while I had the time. (There was a discount for Top of the Rock, so I ended up doing that, too. Shh – don’t tell anyone.) And then I sort of found myself wandering around Rockefeller Plaza when I came upon a baking-themed window display at Anthropologie. (Then I breathed a certain sigh of relief as I could at least blog about that if nothing better came along…) This also, I suppose, makes a good tie-in to an earlier entry about Midwestern states…as I remember one of my cousins in Wisconsin was super-excited about getting an Anthropologie at the local mall once upon a time…there used to be a time when I, too, thought they had the greatest skirts ever (they really are nice), but they’re just kind of prohibitively expensive. (Interestingly enough, that’s the same phrase my old roommate’s on-again, off-again boyfriend used to describe many of the smaller grocery stores in our neighborhood.)
Anthropologie is also big on letters and whenever I’m there I have an urge to stock up on L’s as if this somehow affirms my independence in a very Mary Tyler Moore-sort of way. (One of my colleagues told me to throw something in the air a la Mary when I left my office building on Friday. Turns out that *wasn’t* the last time I would be there though…on Saturday, I met a friend for a late lunch before the Mets game. We had lots o’ time to kill so we stayed for a drink or two. We obviously used the facilities there before we headed out to Shea Stadium…but by the time we got to 42nd Street, we both had to go so badly…and I had a brilliant thought: the security guy still knows me…and I know the code to the bathroom door on the 12th floor…so we popped in, did our thing, and popped out again…I still didn’t have a hat to throw though).
When I saw the window display, I had a whole monologue in my head about stuff I could write about here and ended up jotting down some of those ideas on a scrap of paper. It made me feel very writerly indeed.