Yesterday’s Phillies game was a fun one. Our seats were cheap and the sky was drizzling, so we hung out in the standing-room area behind home plate.
For seven innings the Phillies had a few solid at-bats, but no runs. In the bottom of the eighth, they scored one run, which had them behind the Cincinnati Reds by one.
In the bottom of the ninth, they hit back-to-back home runs for a walk-off win. The high-fiving that commenced was insane.
P.S. “What say we settle this on the runway… Han-Solo?” ”Are you challenging me to a walk-off… Boo-Lander?”
After a lovely and leisurely sleep, we spent Sunday morning in Park Slope as the Brooklyn-ites do: with bagels and brunch.
Bagels and brunch are not the same thing, by the way – they are meant to be enjoyed separately, but within hours of each other.
Berlin Friend showed us around Prospect Park as we sipped on lattes and tried to blend in with the locals, so we talked about hipsters, Lena Dunham, and Urban Outfitters. You know you can always count on me for stereotyping.
By the way, can I just say that I hate the word “hipster”? Can I? Oh right, I can.
Let’s just acknowledge that we all have a little bit of the hipster in us, ponder what that means about good and evil and the nature of humanity, and just move on. At this point it’s just an annoying pejorative term that means a million different things to a million different people. And as a side note: please know that my love for cupcakes is pure, good, and without irony.
Oh, Brooklyn. You and your yoga for kids. You are kind of adorable, and not at all within my price range, rent-wise. But I will brunch in your neighborhood any ol’ time.
It was a moseying, rambling, food-centric weekend, which is right in my wheelhouse, as you know.
P.S. No pictures of brunch, because I have yet to take a picture of eggs that looks even remotely appetizing.
Filed under Outings, Travel
The Mets’ mascot is a man with a baseball for his head called Mr. Metropolitan. I can’t think of a better reason to go to a Mets game, and I mean that as a compliment.
The Mets game in Queens was our first order of business in the city. DH continued his tradition of not counting down to picture-making time.
There, that’s better:
So we went to see the game, but also to catch up with a friend from our Berlin days of yore. And also, cupcakes, because my life is a predictable open book.
Berlin Friend took us to Sweet Sunshine, where cupcakes are $1.75, which officially makes them the best cupcakes, because they are both reasonably priced and buttery.
Post-cupcakes we explored the East Village. I know there’s a long list of stuff we still need to do in the city, but we love New York the most when we just wander the streets and discover new neighborhoods that no one else has ever discovered before. So much uncharted territory!
The weather forecast was gloom and doom, but the day’s one torrential downpour came when we were en route to cupcakes on the subway. And when we emerged back up to ground level, everything was extra green and lush.
In the evening we took advantage of happy hour, burritos, and then Iron Man 3 (in 2D, thank you very much!). And that night we slept like really sleepy babies.
I have a father and a mother. My father had a birthday yesterday, and my mother is a mother and today is her (mothers’) day. I intended to scan and upload a super cute picture of them from back in the day, and then say something sweet about them that would make you tear up and say, “Oh, I wish they were my parents,” but I spent the weekend in New York and just got busy. Yes, this post is quickly becoming all about me, but I know my parents care about these details, because it’s their job, okay? I am a unique and endlessly fascinating snowflake to them because that’s how parenthood works, I’m pretty sure, and my parents are doing it right. I was in New York and I can tell you right now that these are the kind of details my parents appreciate.
In all seriousness, I feel so lucky to have the exact parents that I have. They are the kind of people you want on your team.
Sometimes we leave music on for Lucille when we’re out and about. You can tell she loves it by the way she burrows under her blanket and ignores us for the rest of the day. What a little prodigy.
I know some people use the term “working for the weekend” with derision.
Like you can’t be living your dreams if you work in an office for forty hours a week and look forward to your Fridays.
But I love working hard during the week and earning my weekend, and lately our weekends have been relaxed and fun.
The weather jumps between chilly and brisk, warm and muggy.
We visit flea markets; we eat brunch and buy mimosas.
We walk our local alleys and drink in the long sunlight.
Sometimes I look forward to how much I’m going to accomplish, and then I end up falling asleep on the couch while Lucille 3 keeps watch. Those weekends are good, too.