soup (finally) and martunis

After a largely unproductive day, I finally got around to making my soup this evening. Part of the delay was that I'd been needing to go to the grocery store and get (among other things) more milk, which I also finally got around to this evening.

Anyway, the soup morphed from cream of asparagus to cream of asparagus, sugar snap peas, and carrots (also known as "cream of all the vegetables in my refridgerator that were about to go bad soup"). I think I slightly undercooked the carrots (I hate overcooked carrots, so I have a thing about cooking them), but other than that the soup turned out pretty well. I wouldn't serve it at a dinner party, but I certainly like it. And although I had the lid of the food processor securely fastened, I left the top off of the chute that's in the lid, so the steam was able to escape. And I thank you all for your disaster-avoiding soup-cooking advice.

Like I said, my day has been wholey unproductive other than that. Last night I went to bed "early" (mindnight) with the intention of getting up "early" (maybe nine?) but ended up sleeping past noon. I spent a few hours reading my various news sources and doing some emailing, and then I became inexplicably tired again and took a two-hour nap. I know I've had some sleep to catch up on, but this is freakin' ridiculous. But I'm feeling reasonably perky now, so maybe it's not too late to get something done. I was supposed to hang with The Scientist tonight, but he had an experiment run long (such are the hazards of beng friends with a neuroscientist), so he had to cancel on me (which is more than reasonable, because I recently cancelled on him on two separate occasions, so I guess this is my karmic reward). At the grocery store I ran into one of the precious little econ undergrads that I know through E (and also just through, you know, being in the same department), and he said they might be going out later and that he'd call me. A part of me feels like going out (doesn't a part of me always feel that way?) but another part of me knows I should probably stay home and get some stuff done. I guess I'll just see what happens.

***

Well, as it turned out, what happened was that S called while I was writing this post, and he wants to go out for a few drinks, so that's what we're doing. We're going to a piano bar called Martuni's (a piano bar that specializes in martinis that I've been to once before with S and B (about a year ago when she was staying with me). When we went last year, I had sort of neglected to have dinner, and I had a couple manahattans, and then one part of this nice older gay couple that we met encouraged me to finish his martini, and well, I started to feel a little dizzy, so I headed for the restroom, but there was a line, and for some reason it didn't occur to me to go outside, so, as a result, I got a tiny bit sick on my sweater (just on my sweater, and not on the floor, might I add). So our waiter, rightfully but also unnecessarily snottily, kicked me out. Obviously, I've been too embarassed to go back ever since, but S insists that they won't remember me. My hair is twice as long and I'm 20 lbs lighter, but I'm still not so sure. At any rate, it was a fun place, and I learned a valuable lesson that night about food and alcohol that I managed to remember until this summer in India (although I still maintain that I would have been fine had we not gotten into a speeding, weaving, Mr. Toad's-Wild-Ride of a rickshaw).