This evening involved a dozen eggs.
Most of them were hard-boiled. Two went into a recipe.
As a single person there's something gratuitous about buying a dozen eggs, because unless you do something like hard boil them, how can you possibly expect to consume that many eggs before they go bad?
The spare two went into a recipe for cupcakes. Mmmmm…. cupcakes. When I left the last gig and started at this gig I brought along some things I'd learned about magazines, and also plenty of things I'd learned about how to celebrate birthdays at the office. The best way: Make cupcakes. My last boss, Stephanie, was a baking whiz and secretly a happy homemaker, and she would do the stuff from scratch. I do from mix. Nobody notices. And, since we only have five editorial people, this is not too much of a challenge.
But the one whose birthday is Monday (when I won't be in, good yom tov y'all) has decided he doesn't want a celebration. Really, really doesn't want us doing anything. Well, just because he's a party-pooper (in the best possible, literal, sense) shouldn't deprive the rest of us of some 4pm chocolate. The good news is, he's a major Red Sox fan. So we decided that rather than birthday cakes, these would be baseball cakes. I had some leftover mix, and decided to make one big layer for him to take home to the gal and kid.
Happy birthday, Paul, even if you don't want to own it.
In an unrelated note, I went to see "The Departed" Tuesday night (which led to that late night) as one of the perks of the gig, since it was the premiere. The movie is the best I've seen all year — by the time the lead title ran, about 10-15 minutes in, I was already enthralled, mouth open. There is something so satisfying about being in the hands of a master, someone who really knows what he's doing. Scorcese does. That said, when he introduced the film inside the theater, I couldn't help but think he's turning into an Italian Woody Allen — a small man, with horn-rimmed glasses, a little stooped over, very nebbishy. And, a genius.
The big thrills of the night — aside from the film — were having seats in the row in front of Larry Mullen, Bono and The Edge. And when I was in the main lobby getting popcorn, Billy Joel and his child bride were also heading towards their seats — and stopped for a moment to greet Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson (both looking iconic and weathered, simultaneously, much like the city we're in). Lou embraced Billy and gave him a peck on the cheek; Katie (the child bride) introduced herself to him with a handshake: "Hi, I'm Katie." Billy then offered his hand to Laurie, and somewhat tongue-in-cheek, said, "Hi, I'm Billy."
Indeed. Yes, yes you are.