Andrew and I went to New York last month. In the middle of Irene. Which, depending on how you look at it, was either the best possible time to go or the worst.

First, let me start by saying we were never even close to being in danger. The city handled things beautifully, people were prepared, our hotel bent over backwards to make sure we were taken care of (this included the manager making breakfast for all of the guests on the morning of the hurricane). While other areas were horribly impacted by Irene, Manhattan was basically untouched. We were safe.
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I didn’t have high expectations for this salad.
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Frittatas are always MacGyverisms for me.

We wake up late on a Sunday morning wanting something other than smoothies for breakfast. I look in the fridge and assess for a theme.
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The summer I was 8, I spent every day playing with the same friend. We realized this about halfway through the summer and had deep discussions about how we hadn’t gotten tired of each other yet and how we really should keep track of how many days in a row we’d played together since we were surely breaking some sort of Guinness World Record.

When you’re a kid, it’s easy to stay connected. When you’re an adult, it’s easy to lose touch.

Even if you really make an effort to get together with your good friends, there are so many obligations and scheduling conflicts. Husbands, jobs, kiddos, gym, laundry…it’s an endless list.

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