(a) after hoofing it with our luggage from our hotel at Lexington Avenue at 49th Street to the High-line Cafe, we found the staff to be top notch, the decor cute, but the food crap (although Gojira was quite content with our crap scraps);
(b) the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theater is extraordinarily tiny compared to my conception of it (the exterior is, at least);
(c) the Empire Diner satiated my need for a decent cup of coffee (fancy cappuccino, actually); and
(d) despite their strong encouragement to order a plain cheese pizza, I was pleased with the mushroom and onion slice I got from NY Pizza Suprema (right across the street from Penn Station) ... even if my fellow Amtrak commuters were not.
The mini-vacation was great and we returned to great fanfare and enthusiasm when we got home (diaper needed changing! fish bowl needed cleaning! someone needs a nap!).
Since then, we've been back in the groove of things. The latest updates are that ZP is enrolled to begin preschool starting August 24th and he is very excited about it; ZP has finally gotten off the paci (not easy on any of us but after a week, we seem to be in calm waters once again); AP is getting heavier and faster and cleverer lately and loves to start her day by reciting the few words she knows: "flower! baby! daddy!"; TP has successfully caught at least four mice but, alas, none by stomperation and there is still at least one rogue mouse out there; I am going to the gym regularly but have already put a freeze on my account for the month of Ramadan.
I just got back from getting my eyes checked and everything is A-okay. There is always some trepidation associated with these visits (more so than the gum-gouging dentists or privacy-scoffing obgyns) because my mother has retinitis pigmentosa which is a genetic eye condition that, thankfully, neither my sister nor I have inherited. Although I like my opthalmologist well enough, he has this irritating manner of using the Socratic Method in our conversations:
Doc: "Well, it looks like your vision has not changed in the last three years. Do you know what that means?"
Me: "Ummm ... that's good?"
Doc: "Yes! It also means that you would make a good candidate for ... "
Me: " ... "
Doc: "Laser surgery!"
Me: "Ah, okay. Great."
Doc: "Have you ever considered it?"
Me: "Sure, but it's not high on my list of things to do. If I win the lottery, maybe. But otherwise, I don't think I'll do it now."
Doc: "If you ever did decide to do it, the first thing you would do would be ...?"
Me: "Do some research on it?"
Doc: "Yeah, but how would you know which doctor to go to?"
Me: "Ummm ... the internets?"
Doc: "Well, yeah, but what would you look for?"
Me: "I'd just research various services and providers."
Doc: "But how would you know which is best?"
Me: "I'd look at the user reviews."
Doc: "But what exactly would you look for?"
Me: "I'd look to see if someone said "this doctor totally butchered me and now I'm blind" and I'd take note."
Doc: (a little taken aback) "Uh, yes. But where else might you get a recommendation?"
Me: (finally getting it) "You, of course."
He then went on to explain that he'd be happy to work with whomever I chose but if I chose someone he knew was not trustworthy, he'd bow out. It irked me so much because (a) he was wasting my time because I already said I wasn't interested in it right now and (b) the Q and A game was so annoying! I had enough of the Socratic Method in law school; I certainly didn't have the patience for it at an eye exam. I wanted to say, "just spit it out already so I can go!" but, instead, I politely listened and played along until I was finally allowed to leave. I treated myself to an iced mocha at Illy's as a reward and as a defense against the humid mid 90s that accosted me after I flew out of the office. Worth it.