Witherspoon Grill

Okay, so last week my husband and I went to dinner at my mother's. We left after a lovely meal, and we didn't want the evening to end, so we drove to Witherspoon Street and parked. We popped into the bar at Lahiere's, but Chris was preparing to close - but he was very very nicea bout it. Back outside, we huddled together in the wind and trundled down to Witherspoon Grill, where we sat at the bar. The bartender was on the surly side, but took our order. We asked if dessert could still be had, and she said no. It was 10 p.m., and after she gave us our drinks, not particularly pleasantly, but well, it was nightime and maybe she was tired, we asked again if she could check with the kitchen about dessert; we were happy to order something that didn't need preparation, perhaps just slicing. She agreed to do that, not happily, and stalked off kitchenward. She returned bearing a slice of cake and forks. Later my husband and I wife tried to figure out why the attitude. Who knows? Is it excusable? I don't know.

Seeing Eye to Eye

So I go to the eye doctor today. And I steel myself -- as everyone else in America does I'm sure -- to not get annoyed at having to fill out form after form and once again submit the same insurance card though there has been no change in years. There was, however, a new form, on purple paper that I had to fill in. I picked up the pencil on the counter and got halfway through when the nurselady told me to quit using the pencil and use the pen. I asked why. She said because the pencil could be erased. I asked who would possibly want to erase my form. She didn't answer and said, "All forms need to be filled out in pen." Oh, that's right, I forgot it's illegal to use a pencil. Oh, yes, and you can't cross out with a pen. A one hour wait to see the doctor. At least I had brought a book. Sigh.

Sotto segue

Friday night my husband and I went out to Sotto for a quick dinner. Pizza. Quite yummy. Then we went to Witherspoon Grill at 11 for a nightcap. We sat at the bar. The place was winding down dinnerwise, and the bar wasn't really very crowded. I had Irish coffee with a fillip of green on top of the whipped cream. I couldn't tell if the bartender was supercilious or just amused by us. I ordered dessert, too. I think it was called Toasted Almond Pound Cake. What I got actually looked kind of appealing. A nice wedge of cake with whipped cream, ice cream, and the cake was covered in some kind of sauce. I was puzzled by the cake covering. So, I tasted the ice cream and the whipped cream and a tiny piece of the cake. Also yummy. But as I ate more of it, there was a sort of burny taste in my mouth that I couldn't quite figure out. Anyway, I think what they did was toast the cake under the broiler (hence Toasted in the name), but they over-toasted it so it was slightly burnt. Then they had to cover it with sauce to disguise it. How much of it did I eat? Well, I was totally curious by the burny taste, and so I ate more of it than I should have. It was only much later did I figure out what really happened. Sigh.

Saturday night was spent at the Passage Theater in Trenton watching the six one-act plays written by locals. All the plays were based on a painting. Nice conceit. All very nicely acted. Packed crowd. Will not comment further on this.

Sunday afternoon I took my daughter to Argonautika at the McCarter. EVERYONE had said it was a MUST-see. So, Sunday was the last day. We got seats on the last row of the orchestra, which wasn't as bad as I thought was going to be. The couple next to us said they always ask for the back row for their season ticket subscription. Did I like Argonautika? I was bored....Can you believe it? The must-see and I was tapping my foot. Yes, yes, yes. Very dramatic visually. But, could I have missed it? Oh yes. The couple next to us in the last row left at the half, or as those in the know say: intermission. It's one of those plays where if you asked me to write a good review, I could do it; and if you asked me to write a bad review I could do it.

Dinner followed at On the Border. I ordered chicken tacos, but got beef tacos. Sigh. But, they didn't charge me for it.

The Gentle Voice of Reason

I've noticed in the course of my many years here at the university that the most effective leaders, managers, deans, administrators, are the ones who don't raise their voice and who listen to all questions with not the least hint of irritation. It is almost counter-intuitive: They aren't physically commanding or domineering, but thoughtful and almost gentle. It goes a long way to soothing ruffled feathers, gathering consensus, and setting a good example. I don't know if the university trains workers to be this way, or if this is the cream rising to the top.

This of course has nothing whatsoever to do with faculty, who have been known to raise their voices loudly and often!

Show-off

I was driving to work today, and I was going down Harrison Street, toward the shopping center, and in the opposite lane a car cruised by. It was a sleek, beautiful white Mustang convertible. The driver, une femme d'un certain âge, had the top down, and she was smiling. It was 8:30 in the morning, and it was sun shiny, and it was 29 degrees. I was so jealous!

Break and Fast

Last Friday I went to see Sympoh, a break-dancing group, at the Frist theater. The theater is compact, and all seats are good. The place was packed, kids yelling and chanting and shouting at the performers. The Battle was the best, the red vs. the blue. Isn't it wonderful to go to college in this day and age, where you can find almost any kind of extracurricular group? And if it isn't there, you can start one.

The next day I made my way to Lake Carnegie to watch the first crew race of the season. Princeton women's first varsity won by golly! Beautiful sunny, but windy, day. The crowd along the lake clustered in groups; at the end of the race, everyone just peeled away.

Prom dress shopping

So, the other day I get an email from Lord and Taylor saying there are lots of prom dresses for sale. I'm happy because my daughter needs a prom dress. I am canny enough, for once, to remember that I had an email link to some coupons from Lord and Taylor, so I print them. Sunday, my daughter and I went, coupon in hand, and she tried on 17 dresses. She chose the 17th as THE one. The dress needed altering, so the saleswoman kindly called the alteration department, which sent up the only tailor on duty that day, Tommy. Tommy, from Naples and here in the US 40 years, measured and tucked, and blew his chalk gun on the skirt to mark a new hemline. It sure was nicer than going to TJMaxx.