Springy sunshine on a Saturday morning...and the hater-ade is on tap!

Life is so good. My darling husband, gone off to the nether regions of the world for the last six days (a/k/a Toronto, Ontario), has returned to our dusty and haphazardly maintained abode and is sleeping sweetly on the couch. And yet the dog is napping next to me! Hah! The cat is asleep on the dining room table and meanwhile, no one is sleeping in the chichi dog bed purchased only last week.

By 1pm this afternoon, I had already gotten a lovely 75 minute prenatal massage at Bliss in Soho, bought myself some new goodies from Sephora and maternity wear from - le gasp - The Gap, and visited a bag that I thought I wanted at Banana Republic. Sadly, upon seeing the bag in real life, it was immediately obvious that it was Just Not On. The thing is significantly larger than my torso (yes - even pregnant)! But otherwise, a lovely morning, and when Josh got in we took a little stroll down Second Avenue and had brunch at our favorite French restaurant. Hence the napping, bien sur.

Nerds love Saturdays. Now you know. Why? Well, the Saturday Times, of course! Already two gems and I haven't even worked my way through the Style section yet. The first article just pulled at my heartstrings, and yes, you know me so well, it's about food. Farmer's markets in San Francisco, to be precise...it's like this Sharon Otterman woman has a direct window into my soul. *sigh* And she's whispering, "Leave your fugly and frigid East Coast life...come frolic in the Ferry Building, where the Acme sourdough loaves are always fresh and the Cowgirl Creamery is just a few steps away...You could just stop in on your way back to your palatial abode in Sausalito..." *whimper* I would pick up my life and move to San Francisco for the food alone in an instant. Ocean schmocean. People who wax rhapsodic about French food have never been to California, simple as that. Culinary Philistines, really.

The other article is just funny because it's a little window into my future. Park Slope: Where is the Love? is a delightful reminder that while I may have narrowly missed the one way ticket into the suburbs of New Jersey, I am still "twee"! A cliche! Have husband...dog...soon baby...off to Park Slope we go come September when the lease our current Upper East Side pad is up. By way of background, Park Slope is an increasingly ridiculous little neighborhood in Brooklyn of all places that has, in recent years, become the place to be for yuppies and their designer dogs and overscheduled offspring. It's hilarious because, as the article points out...this is Brooklyn. A couple of years ago no one would even come to a party at your house if you lived in Brooklyn. When you hail a cab to go there you still have to be half apologetic when you tell the driver your destination. Personally, I've been there about 10 times in two years, mostly for court appearances.

Park Slope in particular is achingly fashionable and correspondingly expensive. The type of apartment that we'll need will cost about $3500 a month (really, a total bargain, compared to any desirable neighborhood in Manhattan...but still!). But despite my best laid plans the outcome is inevitable. We are a stereotype. And painfully uncool.