so, i had a birthday. i turned 30. i'm all kinds of whatever about it. in fact, i've been telling people i'm 30 for months now thinking that saying 29 seems a wee bit clingy to my 20's, which i'm certainly not! me and 20 of my nearest and dearest all took a train out to tarrytown (a train i almost missed because the subways were so completely fucked) and were all treated like royalty at blue hill at stone barns. a private lobby overlooking the gardens where they brought us bellinis and whatever other drinks we wanted and then all these yummy passed canapes. sesame seed crusted baby zucchini, tomato burgers, tomato foam things on tart shells that sound crazy but were INSANELY GOOD, and high class tater tots with pickle slices, polenta tarts, a few more tomato things ('tis the season). we sat down to a gorgeous tomato salad with ricotta and peaches. moved onto pork something (this is where the afternoon starts to get hazy because i'm drinking too much). david gave a lovely speech about how delightful i am. i cried (again, probably, with the alcohol). i gave a rambling speech about being so lucky and grateful for such awesome people in my life. and also that i was thankful for pork. dessert was some gorgeous cake with berries. we moved to the bar and drank some more. blaise maybe stole a tomato off a table. and an egg, which was presented to me as a present, which i presently dropped on the train platform. (grrr, alcohol.) oh, and then, THEN we thought it was a great idea to go to the frying pan and drink a lot of beer.
i know my friends had a good time because one spent all night throwing up, another forgot she'd had sex with her boyfriend that night (she apologized about passing out before sex and he was all, "what do you mean? we had sex" HA).
saturday was the jazz age lawn party at governors island. bill cunningham took a bunch of photos of us but i'd DIE, just absolutely be DEAD if any of them ran in the nytimes. we are here taking a candid shot!
i wrote something for esquire. seriously, try that bloody mary. it's off the hook.