I called
cattitude at 7 to tell him I had just finished at the gym. He told me he'd been in the process of reaching for his cell phone to tell me he was leaving work, and suggested we meet somewhere for dinner. So we rendezvous'd at Trattoria Spaghetto (on Father Demo Square in the West Village), where I had conchiglie torero, the vegetarian pasta dish I get when none of the specials are appealing. Then we walked up to Varsano's, partly for chocolate and partly so I could update Mark on
baldanders's health. Update because
gothgeekgirl had told him about the stroke a few days earlier. (
roadnotes, Mark Varsano sends his best wishes to you and Soren.) Yes, 8 and a quarter million people in this city, and I'm passing on family medical news at the chocolate shop, in a neighborhood I've never actually lived or worked in. I like it here.
( you also get gym numbers, if you like )
( you also get gym numbers, if you like )