The first word of my notes for last Sunday is "water", which could mean a lot of things, but probably refers to the unheard-of occurrence of rain falling on the run, which it did. (The chutzpah!) We circled Squirrel Hill, visiting the infamous "smoking stairs" of Wendy's teen years and the recently liberated-from-vehicles stretch of Pocusset. Only slightly dripping as we trooped in for coffee, we started talking about food again.
Endorsements:
- Hypnosis
- Audiology and Speech Pathology conferences - party time!
- Return of the Duck (evidently likely)
- Weddings, past, present, and future
- The Squirrel Hill poetry writing workshop
- The word locavore
- Moro - the Cookbook
- New York Restaurants! La Vara, Blue Hill, the Green Table, and finally from PtB: The Fig & Olive. Meatpacking. That is SO the place.
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