We were planning on capitalizing on our free Friday by going to our favorite Indian buffet place, but then we realized that it’s all the way in Inman Square. Tricky business, this “remembering you live somewhere different now.” Good thing that mental lapse paved the way for…

hint...delicious tea...

Dim Sum!! I don’t think I’ve ever had dim sum outside of San Francisco before, and other than one recent trip to a sushi place, M and I hadn’t explored Boston’s Chinatown at all. I think it’s the last neighborhood to remain untouched, which is totally bizarre given my fixation on Asian foods of all kinds.

M put me in charge of ordering, and I was really hungry, which resulted in a never-ending stream of steaming little dishes arriving at our table.  Sadder things have happened.

Obv, Yelp was our trusty guide yet again, and Winsor Dim Sum was the biz. I hope they await our imminent return (and overlook that I got distracted by the excellence of my shrimp dumplings and used the wrong end of my chopsticks to speed their delivery to my mouth. Oops).



My sexy husband, dubious about the need to photograph everything within an inch of its life.

I’ve always loved the idea of “tradition,” despite the fact that we didn’t have many in our house while growing up. [That’s what happens when you’re the child of two people schooled in two very different religious traditions–they don’t quite know what to do with their own children when it comes to “tradition” with a capital T. His involves menorahs….hers involves daily Mass…so their compromise is…I don’t know, snuggling? My parents are pretty much the best 🙂 ]

Anyway, M and I have developed a tradition of an “antipasti” plate. It sounds too simple and silly to be a tradition, but it’s actually the best thing ever.

It doesn’t particularly matter what it’s composed of…we use whatever is on hand. You dip the cheddar in the fig jam, maybe have some rosemary and sea salt almonds, tear up some proscuitto if it’s around. The point is that it’s our little late-night ritual. You can’t watch the Sopranos without fig jam. Come on now.

The Units Come to Town

The parental units, that is. M’s parents came to Boston for the first time over Columbus Day weekend, and it seems like they had a blast. They stayed at the Fairmont in the North End, which meant we got to spend more time than usual at our favorite haunts (Boston Common Coffee Company, Giacomo’s, Mike’s). We tried to take them everywhere necessary to get a real “Boston” experience, and I think we did a pretty good job.

I think my mother-in-law’s favorite part of the whole trip might have been going to Top of the Hub and seeing Boston from 54 stories up…she couldn’t get enough of the scenery. I took a few photos too. No matter how long I live here, I can’t help feeling tourist-y about the beauty of this city.

The first time we came to Boston, M was adamant that we make a trip to Top of the Hub. We sipped fancy cocktails, discovered THE cookies, and speculated about whether our futures might ever hold something as fun as living in a “city like this one.”

A few days ago, as very different people (a married couple, about to graduate from law school) we took M’s parents to this same spot.

What a difference 3 years can make. Who knows where we’ll be three years from now?

The End of An Era

M (reading excitedly from the Economist): “Did you know that Myanmar is TOTALLY punking China right now? They’re refusing to build this giant construction project, and everyone is all amazed.”
Me (distractedly looking up from a Kim Kardashian story in a fashion magazine): “Um…huh?”

Apparently we’re being “adults” now.

Pretty much sums up how I feel about that.

Other Current Most Favorite Thing.

What, you don’t think multiple things can be one’s most favorite thing at once? They totally can so, as long as you are not a student whom M is tutoring for the LSAT. Then you would get a sad face full of regret at your inexact logic skills.

But in real life you totally can have lots of favorite things, and my ardor for the pumpkin candle of holiness is untarnished by my love of this…

“This” of course being…blogging in bed. Or, really, doing anything on the computer in bed. Watching Glee is acceptable also (although I’m starting to wonder if the writers have forgotten that they have an ensemble cast in which everyone is a complete BA. Yes, I want to watch Rachel and Kurt out-diva each other for 15 minutes, but then I want to watch Fondue for Two. Because you cannot tell me that Brittany is not the best character on that show: she dances, she deadpans, and she’s been the believable emotional core of at least two relationships which spanned both genders. RANGE).

Anyway. I am coze-balls (aka cozy, but beyond that state, such that new slang must be invented) and I am connected to the outside world, and am happily amusing myself while M participates in that most tried-and-true of male bonding rituals: the friendly poker game. I am told that this is something Y chromosomers do for fun, though to me this strains the boundaries of credulity: you take a friend’s money, or he takes yours…either way someone ends up poorer 6 (zillion) hours later, and with no cocktails or fancy new boots* to show for it. Men. I also always wonder whether the dudes inviting M over for these shenanigans know that he financed our entire courtship during college by playing poker. And that I have always loved sushi and fancy drinks. And that he is a wonderful man, and gives me what I love. AKA he is really, really good at poker. But I’m pretty sure it’s a sub-par wife** move to alert people that your husband is a total wolf in sheep’s clothing,*** so I say nada. Such deception going on here. We are basically Bonnie and Clyde.

And Clyde’s parents are coming to town tomorrow**** and our apartment is messai (which is Asian-inspired mess, since we got a really pretty Japanese-y vase [as pictured in the door-sliver pic above. Yes, it’s on the dresser, next to the TV. We’re calling it NYC-shoebox chic]). Probably the person’s parents who are visiting should clean, though, right? Or at least hire a maid with their poker winnings. I thought you’d agree!

*At the very least, whoever wins should spend their loot on some fancy new boots later. But you know he won’t.

**ZOMG wife. Still weird.

***But only when it comes to Texas Hold’em. Otherwise he is a delightfully straightforward individual.

****I am very excited about this, as I am about any out of town guest, since their arrival means we must show them all around Boston. Which translates into showing them the inside of Giacomo’s. And Neptune Oyster. And….everywhere.

Another Day, Another 100,000 Sequins

So, when this girl comes to visit…

Pretty much love it when Filene's supplies our outfits for the night about an hour before lift-off.

…it’s nearly inevitable that some sort of shenanigans are going to ensue. When she came last year, we persuaded M and our friend D, who was also visiting, of the necessity of visiting Jacques, a drag show in the South End. (Honestly, they wouldn’t want this known, but…very little persuasion was needed). That glitter-fest began my official all-out LOVE of all things fabulous, and so of course a return trip was in order when she returned a few weeks ago.

But first, we displayed our domestic diva-dom…

Shrimp and sausage kabobs and caprese salad...M declared that he was overjoyed to have us as his "wife." Singular.

…and then headed out for entertainment that was decidedly less Leave it to Beaver…

A little costume inspiration, in case you're running low...

This is "Mizery" and I am in LOVE. Apparently that became abundantly clear, since the fourth time she came out and I yelled "MIZERY!" A. Bo turned to me and said with a smile, "Oh! Is she, like, your favorite?"

Basically, come back. Visit all the time. The End.



Chillin at the rooftop pool. God, I love you Lala!

I have to wait for the professional wedding pictures to come back, and for M’s parents to bring their camera so we can sort through the memory cards from Maui, but I can document (in the most skeletal way, since apparently we took next to no pictures) the second leg of our honeymoon: Austin–> Chicago–> back to Boston.

Austin was super fun and offensively hot. Lala’s parents have a condo there so they can be close to her sister and the kids, but since they’re out of the country all the time, it was just open, waiting for us to use it as a base of operations in exploring. Well, maybe it wasn’t waiting for us, specifically, but they were nice enough to let us use it.

Brunch at Perla's

We tried to explore a lot of the city, but the issue of not-having-a-car collided with the other issue of it being-over-105-every-day, and so we ended up seeking sanctuary in a lot of air-conditioned restaurants and coffee shops. Which was not at all the worst thing that ever happened, and suspiciously like the best. (See above: mimosas. After which came oysters. After which I got really really excited about coming back to Boston and going to Marliave’s happy hour).

We saw some live music at the Continental Club the first night, an amazing bluesy-country woman named Toni Something. The venue is pretty famous, and apparently Willie Nelson strolls through sometimes and casually takes the stage.The clientele was hilarious, though…we were easily the only people under 40, and among the few under 60. This made a lot more sense once we realized that our cab driver from the airport (no spring chicken himself) had been the one to recommend it as the place to be on a Tuesday night. Whatever, old people can still party (and in Austin, they most certainly do).

My personal faves in Austin (as in, if we lived there, I would be making the employees extremely uncomfortable with my perpetual presence) were G’Raj Mahal and Joe’s Coffee. La demanded (extremely sweetly) that we check out G’Raj Mahal since it’s right outside the condo and she hadn’t made it there yet. Verdict: Resounding, amazing yes, please. Tables are outside, it’s BYOB, and you can inhale curries while debating what on earth the dinosaur skeleton bike contraption on display is used for. Or, you can use that time to convince your new husband of all the reasons he should be a law professor and then open a paleo restaurant in his free time. Results pending on that one.

We also sought sanctuary from the heat at Alamo Drafthouse more than once. Ok, three times. But tell me you’ve come up with a better idea than dinner and a movie (wait for it) together. If that’s not legendary, I don’t know what is. I mean, granted, the food is pretty terrible, so the real benefit here is drinking during a movie. BUT, when that movie is Starship Troopers and you can combine Guinness, a young NPH and people pretending they would ever, ever fly on a spaceship Denise Richards is piloting, well…yes. It was as good as it sounds. (Although I did have to exit reality briefly during the brain-sucking sequences. Apparently I’m even more queasy while schwasted.)

So Austin was great, and is even greater when you can go outside, according to the 50’s-ish guy M randomly befriended in the condo library and talked to for an hour (of course). I definitely tried to approach the heat as if it were a Cross-fit challenge (“I am hot, but I will just work through that!”), but I guess that is a fail. Turns out you just get heat-stroke-y if the temperature is high enough, regardless of your mental state. Good thing there was so much fun to be had inside! (Especially the book La’s mom left in the condo, not knowing that I would try to devour it whole: Emperor of all Maladies. Even I was not woman enough to read all 400-odd pages in 5 days, though. I need to get myself to a library so I can finish it!)

Current Most Favorite Thing

…in the entire world is this candle.

Also sort of in love with the industrial Beacon Hill scene outside our bedroom window.

Or any pumpkin-spice-fall-is-here-and-fully-in-your-face scented candle. We picked this one up at Target because M was obsessed with the Bath & Body Works one my mom has had in our kitchen for the past eon. I noticed one of the trees in the Common dropping its leaves yesterday, so we decided it was “officially the first day of Fall” and lit it last night after dinner. And then we interrupted the movie we were watching approximately 1,000 times to tell each other how AMAZING our apartment smelled, “right?!?”

Fall, I am obsessed with you. You and all your scarf/pumpkin/crunchy leaf accoutrements are very much welcome here.

The Next Adventure…

And so it begins again…

Somehow all the major life events that I couldn’t picture possibly ever happening have not only sounded the trumpets of their arrival (LAW FIRM SUMMER! WEDDING DAY! HONEYMOON!) but have swished right by me and now reside in the rear view mirror of my life. I secured an offer of employment after graduation. I am a married woman. I have reclined on the sand in Maui and watched my husband snorkel around the bluest water I’ve ever seen.

And now we’ve started the third year of law school. The last year of living in Boston. The final chapter of formal schooling. This May we will graduate (and take cap and gown pictures together this time! We have none from college. This is absurd.) and move back to California, with all the school we will ever attend behind us. For some reason, this–not marriage, not a job offer–makes me feel like adulthood is waiting for us on our return home.

I can’t wait, but I am also determined to make this last year the best possible use of our “pre-adulthood” time. I’ve become obsessed with paleo food blogs and have been flexing my domestic muscles (and getting sore easily…they are weak). We moved to Beacon Hill, the best decision ever because it makes just walking to the T an adventure in East Coast charm. It also makes it an adventure called “All Your Shoes are Now Destroyed,” but that’s a negligible sacrifice at the altar of THIS YEAR. That’s how I want it to be…all caps, all adventure.