If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere

New York, New York.
(A question, Frankie- if you can make it there, where the hell else would you want to make it?)

Leute, I've been trying to come up with a brief summary of my short vacation for days now, but work and life have gotten mightily in the way, and suddenly I need another vacation.
Highlights include:

-a party in Brooklyn, given by a beloved, attended by folks from all over, past and present; I drank a tiny bit too much and ended up flirting with my own darling date for hours and hours.
(Did I get lucky? oh, but I already am lucky, and isn't that an old joke by now...)

- The Russian Turkish Baths! Let me tell you, darlings, in a word- heaven. It's not what I expected of heaven, really, but by the time I left with my four companions, I felt truly marvelous. I had the Platza treatment, which was terrifying and wonderful- terrifying because I'd just arrived, and the Russian Sauna was hotter than hell (yeah, you think I'm kidding), and just in the nick of time I got buckets of cold water thrown over me, which is when the wonderful started- and a massage by a hulking Russian man with hands the size of baseball gloves. What's not to love? I even got a nice compliment on my Russian accent, which was sweet, considering that my actual vocabulary is now nearly evaporated.

- much later, a delightful dinner at marvelous Moto, which looks like it was transplanted directly from Prague or Berlin- or maybe I've just been in SF too long; places like that don't seem possible here.

- Sunday night was to be a surprise, and I was patient for at least six weeks over this one- surely a record. I ran through the gamut of possibilities in my head over and over, with no luck. After a lenghty and confusing tour of Times Square- just to throw me off- we at last reached Danny's Skylight Room, where, my dears, J had tickets for us to see Blossom Dearie herself, playing piano and singing just a few feet away from our beaming faces and cocktails. Aferwards we met her; she signed our cd cases (mine had been cleverly stolen out of my bedroom), listened to a moment of love-struck babble, and graciously had her picture taken. If I was extremely fond of her music before, I'm now a total fan of the lady as well.

- Dinner followed, and a more romantic meal has never been enjoyed by me in my 32 years. The lamb chops melted in my mouth, but the apple tart was even meltier, and the house-made chocolates that were served with coffee were the absolute meltiest. Plus, we were there late, and had lots of privacy in the back of the restaurant, which was lover-ly indeed.

That'll have to tide you over for now, gentle readers. I haven't even told you about the Met or Central Park or the pizza and bagels, or staying out until 4, just because we could. That'll have to wait for another time.