I don't mean to scare you or to make light of the end of a person's time on earth, but I am fairly certain that the other shoe is about to drop - big time.
It isn't enough that I'm married to the perfect damn man. (Has Country Girl mentioned that we have very little in common?) :: rim shot ::
And it isn't enough that I've been pretty fortunate in life, even if it did take a long time and lot of hard work. Fortune nonetheless.
And that fortune extended itself - made itself at home and put it's feet up - this week as I've travelled to the San Francisco area for a conference.
So I get to the airport gate at HSV just as the plane is boarding - no wait - and once on the plane am seated next to a very quiet, very thin lady. Score 1.
The plane is grounded for 45 minutes and it looks like I'm going to miss my connection, except that once in the air we get an unexpected tail wind (breath of angels, anyone?) and arrive in Atlanta on time. Not just on time, but they've changed our arrival gate to B31. At Hartsfield, where the approximately 147 mile trek between terminals involves a TRAIN RIDE, I'm sure I'll never make it to the next gate on time. So we get in at B31, we deplane and I discover my connection boards at B32. So I just strolled myself a cross the way and right onto that next plane. Score 2.
On the flight to SFO I am seated (in the middle, but that's okay) beside a boy who - my hand to GOD - was Robert Pattinson's brother. Okay, maybe not his brother but DEFINITELY his first cousin. He was so damn cute - cute, not handsome or sexy or anything, just cute...I am getting old - that I had a difficult time not touching him in his sleep. I mean, like if my nephew was asleep beside me and he lolled forward, I'd pat his back or something motherly. Not this boy. Hands to myself...just enjoy the view. Was that a five hour flight? Really? MY how time flies! Score 3.
My "shuttle" to the hotel turns out to be a chauffeured town car with a LOVELY Persian (Iranian) driver named Ted, who I helped select a cell phone for his son (the wrestler at SF State) while en route. He will pick me up very early Friday morning and return me safely to the airport. No Bone Collector here. Score 4.
Upon check-in my room gets screwed up so I end up...with a FABULOUS room - very large, many windows, great light - with a STUNNING view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. Just happened to notice that as the sun was coming up the morning. Score 5.
In a break-out session today I avoid like the plague the entitled, self-important bitches from Hewlett Packard and Apple and Microsoft and befriend a PhD candidate from Finland named Anne who turns out to be one of the coolest people I've ever met. And she thinks my friend Liz, who is presenting, is a rock star. Score 6.
Weeks ago I made reservations for myself and Liz at Alice Waters' Chez Panisse, which any American Foodie will tell you is the birthplace of all modern American (eat fresh, eat local, eat in season) cuisine. California Cuisine. The Godmother of it all. So I had reservations. Liz and I invited Anne and the Maitre d' was able to squeeze us all into a lovely little table. And, oh, did I mention that this week is "Celebrating Black Truffle Week" at Chez Panisse? Score 7.
This isn't the cooking blog but I have to tell you that we had Baked Goat Cheese with Braised Belgian Endive and also Cardoons with Potatoes and black truffle and egg appetizers; Black truffle pudding souffle with spinach, celery root and chantrelle mushroom entrees, which may very well have been the most amazing things any of us has ever put in our mouths; and creme fraiche panna cotta with candied kumquats and citrus tuile for dessert - and several glasses of AMAZING wine. We ALL were sure we'd died and gone straight past St. Peter, do not collect $200 to heaven. Anne couldn't believe they have food like this in America. I stole a rock from the garden and a lovely waiter gave me a menu. :o) Score 8, 9 and 10.
So even though I was pulled out of the meeting today to work on a freaking fire drill for a boss's boss's boss who is either bi-polar, manic depressive or just pure evil, it doesn't matter. Jesus could call me home tonight and I'd be ready to go.
Celebrating Black Truffle Week. On someone else's dime. Can you beat that?