This weekend was all about the feet. If you know me at all, you know that I hate feet. I don’t like them near me. I don’t want to watch you touch your feet or discuss your feet. Keep those suckers away from me, thank you.
However, I will, albeit briefly, discuss my feet. Between Saturday and Sunday I covered nearly ten miles on foot. I walked, and talked, and browsed, and brunched. I did not incur a hangover at any point. I watched Owen Wilson in action during Midnight in Paris, which I thoroughly enjoyed, then was bit by approximately one million mosquitos while sipping a refreshing white white in the east village.
I have started a new Sunday tradition of meeting my wonderful friend, Bevin, for a long walk in Central Park. Instead of stuffing my face at brunch we walk and walk some more, all the while discussing anything and everything in between. Once we are fully caffeinated and sorted out, we venture out of the park (usually about three hours later) and back out into the buzzing city, much calmer than before.