say blossom too many times and you start to wonder if it's a word.

Last night my friend Justine took me to Blossom, an organic vegan restaurant located on Columbus Avenue between 82nd and 83rd street. Did I mention I'm from Texas and that I love meat? Well...I'd go back again and again because they have the meanest cookie dough milkshake a girl could ever hope to have. And it's made from soy. So you feel healthy even when you finish and you're barely breathing because you didn't come up--not even once--for air. 

Justine attracts men like it's her job. I have another friend like this, Victoria. It's hard to go out with either of these girls because when I'm with them, I know the men sure as heck aren't lookin' at me. So last night every waiter in the restaurant nuzzled up close to our table. After one got a bit too close (yes girls, you're right close talkers are right up there with heavy breathers and noisy eaters) she looked at me and quietly said, he's odd. Yeah, he's odd, I agreed. Later in the evening she made some comment about how he was kind of attractive. I cocked my head and gave her my best look of bewilderment. 

Why did you say he was hot, then? she asked. 

What, I didn't say he was hot. 

Yes you did. Earlier, you said he was hot.

Replay in my mind. Stop tape. Brain clicks in.

I said he was odd.

Oh, I thought you said he was hot. 

And I thought you said he was odd.

There you have it. She said hot. I said odd. And we both heard what we wanted to.

I laughed and laughed. 

Maybe that's why she's dating like three guys and I'm...

not.

I love coming full circle. I love new beginnings.

I remember sitting in the school cafeteria during the Summer of 2004. We had all just arrived. Fresh faces, bright eyes, and endless expectations. I sat across from Erica and I knew immediately that I liked her. She was kind and intelligent--truly lovely. She asked me if I had a boyfriend and I had come to New York dating a guy who already lived there, so I replied yes. And she went on to tell me about her boyfriend, Chris. 

I remember sitting in Arte around the Corner in the fall of 2007. I sat across from Erica. Celebrating both of our birthdays we drank biodynamic wine and talked about boys and sex and school and love and the rest of our lives. I had long since moved on from my first New York City boyfriend, but Erica was still with Chris. 

Chris would surprise Erica at school, waiting outside when we finished at eleven. He would come see the shows and sit on the end of the row (easy access to leave in case he got to nervous). He would cry with us and laugh with us. And he loved her all the while. And so we (Erica's friends) loved him for that.

He proposed last March, just before our graduation. I squealed like they do in the movies when Erica held up her hand. 

And so they were married in City Hall this Friday. Erica wore her mother's wedding dress. And the figurines atop her cake originally belonged to her grandmother. Everything was steeped in history, a rich tradition. The restaurant where they held their reception, Five Front just under the Brooklyn Bridge, was the same place they had their first date. I can only imagine what it was like for Chris as he sat across from Erica that first time. And for Erica, sitting across from the man she would one day call her husband. 

I can't wait for countless more meals, more glasses of biodynamic (giggle, giggle) wine, where I get to sit across from the two of them and watch their love--their marriage--grow and flourish.

I love organic cake in the shape of male genitalia.

And the celebration of impending nuptials.

Erica, a very dear and beautiful classmate from Juilliard, is getting married next Friday to her long time love (and Peter Parker lookalike). 

I love weddings. I love everything about them. That's the hopeless romantic in me--I can't think of anything more beautiful than two people standing in front of their friends and family and having the courage to say, this is the person I want--the person I promise--to spend the rest of my life with. 

I'll be sure to post pictures following next week's celebration. 

Oh yes, February is the month of love indeed. 

And February keeps rollin' on. (aka speaking of things I love...)

This is my friend Angela...

Today is her birthday, and so there is no better time to say that I love her. Wholeheartedly, I do. She came into my life as a temporary roommate and quickly nestled her way into the folds of my heart. Girls' Nights. American Idol parties. An open ear--always. And a tremendous talent.

Walt Whitman said, "I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don't believe I deserved my friends."

I don't know what I did to deserve Angela, but I sure am humbled to call her my friend.

Mmmmmm.

When you're feeling low, there's nothing like a brunch with the girls to lift the spirits. 

Oh and the ushering in of a new president. That's okay too. 

But both together, at the same time. Hot diggity. 

PS: I so liked A Cup of Jo's New Year's resolution (to dress more like a French woman) that I wore my stripes with pride today (even if they aren't slimming)!