Happy Saturday! I rarely dedicate time on weekends to blog, but I wanted to drop in for a quick hello. I’m writing this from a hotel room in Philadelphia with a soundly-sleeping boyfriend beside me. BT and I decided to make a quick two-day trip to the city of brotherly love since we’ve clearly caught the vacation bug since our ski getaway in Colorado and now e-mail each other while at work about future vacation plans. Since when did I become such an explorer? My incredible ability to never leave New York for months at a time (and not lose my mind) is waning, and I find myself dreaming up different lifestyles in various cities. Regardless, I’ll be on my way back to New York later this afternoon and will be able to spend Saturday night in the city that truly has my heart. Not to say that Philly hasn’t treated me well (recap of eats, drinks, fun and more drinks to come), but Saturday night in my city can’t be beat.
Before I begin my last day in Philly, let me share a meal I cooked (contrary to popular belief, I still cook often, despite the fact that this blog has become a recounting of my over-the-top dining out habit) the night before we left. I arrived home from work on Wednesday evening after skipping out on two workout opportunities, cardio kickboxing (don’t ask) and hot yoga. Neither seemed appealing, and I wanted some quality time in the kitchen in order to prepare something satisfying and delicious for myself and BT. I also was eager to spend some quality time, as always, with one of my best friends, my closest confidant and partner in (foodie and otherwise) crime. Because I overanalyze every situation, I felt guilty for passing up a workout opportunity to make dinner for my boyfriend. What kind of pseudo-feminist am I? Have I given up on taking care of me just to cook a meal for the man in my life? These thoughts were running through my head as I stirred a pot of spicy black beans, pounded some chicken breasts and covered them in a homemade spice mix, and mashed avocado to make my mean and spicy guacamole. Once the meal was prepared, I ran off to my local nail salon to get a quick manicure in anticipation of our mini-vacation. Upon my return to BT’s apartment, the man of the hour (for whom I spend many a night awaiting to eat late dinners with) greeted me with a boquet of red roses and a sneaky smile on his face.
It was a simple gesture, red roses on a Wednesday evening just because. And my skipping of a workout, giving up the kind of me time I consider important, was my gift to BT. Relationships, I was reminded, are reciprocal. A give-and-take kind of game, if you will. I give food and take flowers, and in my mind this is a pretty sweet deal.
Alright, that’s enough of my dabbles in deep thought. I’m off to explore Philly before my return to New York. But I must get to the original point of this seemingly random weekend post: I was given the opportunity to write a guest post by my amazingly talented and awesome friend Leslie over at the whole plate! It’s my attempt at being brief in describing my search for passion and purpose in a career as a twenty-something. Happy weekend reading, friends!