“I have to admit,” Annie told me over brunch last week, “I was nervous about picking out a place to eat.”
“Really?” I asked. We were at Kneader’s, where I had just enjoyed a good breakfast sandwich. “Why?”
“You eat at all of these fancy places,” she explained. “All I could pick was a chain restaurant.”
“I don’t mind that,” I said. “It was good, and I don’t eat fancy all of the time.” In thinking about it, though, since Annie keeps up with my life via my blog and Facebook, I could see how it may appear that I live a jet-setting lifestyle filled with tasting menus and Met operas rather than the life where I fall asleep on the couch while eating take-out for dinner.
“You should post photos of you eating at McDonalds or something,” Annie suggested.
I wrinkled my nose. McDonalds is not my cup of tea, but I could certainly post photos of my “real” life. And so I resolved to faithfully document my next meal and/or activity.
Except my next meal was Emily and I splitting a Belgian waffle with creme fraiche and frites with fancy dipping sauces.
And then she, Ben, and I went to the broadcast of the Met’s “L’Elsair d’Amore” (which was excellent, btw).
Hmm. Maybe my life is more jet-setty than I thought.