The breakfast art installation is by Daniel Spoerri and is at MOMA in New York. Soon I will walk to SoNo Bakery for breakfast - the first day when there is even time to do this. The morning air clear and cooler after a day of high humidity and late rain thunderstorms that caused electrical blackouts in various parts of the city. We spent Wednesday (granddaughters, daughter, baby, me) in Manhattan playing tourist and walked miles in the city. Although it was hot, we somehow survived long enough to initiate a rescue - early dinner at Serendipity restaurant.
A place where, when you enter, feels more like a vintage junk shop than a restaurant and perfectly illustrates the definition of serendipity ala Horace Walpole:
the art of finding the unusual, or the pleasantly unexpected by chance or sagacity. Upon closer inspection, you see the chocolate and books, antiques, the restaurant beyond - a hodgepodge of Tiffany chandeliers, plastic Buddhas, Barbie and Ken lunchboxes,
The food is good, the atmosphere fun. We somehow managed, after eating, to disappear a huge frozen mocha/cappuccino dessert which, in the guilty afterglow, made us think we'd just eliminated any chance of looking like Lichtenstein beach beauties,
but then we walked thirty-plus blocks to Grand Central Station - stopping along the way for a bit of guiltless shopping at Sephora. By the time we were near the station, the baby's stroller was filled with not only his necessary gear (lots of it for such a small being) but also shopping bags, purses, food, other stuff. Baby Dante was on his mother's shoulders far ahead of us and - looking very much like a shopping cart bag lady - I pushed a babyless overflowing stroller, walked and dreamed about sea breezes and showers and remembered why, when I lived on the east coast, I stayed away from the city in summer. We arrived home tired and gritty, but having had a great girls day out (with one small male-type person).
Serendipity indeed.
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