Well

Or, at least, well enough. After too many days of sickness and lollygagging, both Jess and I are back to work.

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Night Life

While my trip to LA a few weeks back was exceedingly productive, there were a handful of meetings (and a talk to give at USC’s film school) that I couldn’t quite fit in. So, the first half of this week, I was back in Los Angeles for a very short trip – in Monday morning, out Wednesday afternoon.

And while the trip was certainly worthwhile from a business perspective, it was the non-business stuff that made it truly memorable. Mainly because, the second evening, I got to share dinner with Ole Eichhorn, a long-standing online friend whose kind words and wisdom I’ve much appreciated over the years.

But also because, the first evening, I ended up having drinks at the bar of the Thompson Beverly Hills with a middle-aged black guy who was in from Atlanta ostensibly to visit his friend (who lived in LA, and was at the bar) but really to celebrate his eighth anniversary with his Canadian mistress (who was also at the bar, and seemed more than happy with her ‘other woman’ status), all of whom were chased off by Ridley Scott’s wife, a late-50’s eurotrash cougar who kept buying me drinks until I had to excuse myself to the bathroom and sneak out of the bar before she realized I was gone.

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Do I

The problem with getting engaged is that you then have to get married.

I don’t mean be married, which I’m actually quite excited about. I mean get married. As in, have a wedding.

Here in New York, it appears that a large percentage of women come in to the wedding process having spent countless years pre-planning their dream events, locking down all the details, except for the final, apparently least important one: the groom.

Jess, however, is the exact opposite: she (inexplicably) likes me, but doesn’t much give a damn about the rest. So, immediately post-engagement (back in November), we were starting from scratch. We Googled up and contacted venues then about a fall ’08 wedding, and were repeatedly told we were already far behind the ball.

Admittedly, we didn’t cope with that too well; for a while, we just ignored the whole wedding thing completely, sliding further behind. But after answering ‘when’s the big day?’ questions vaguely and evasively one too many times, a few weeks back, we decided to re-kick off the search in earnest.

With Zipcar wheels, we travelled the far reaches of Westchester, hit quirky venues in the outer boroughs (there’s a farm in Queens? Who knew?) and tried to find fun spots in Manhattan where an evening’s event might come in at less than our combined salaries.

Yesterday, among the seven or so options to which we trekked, we found the first where we’d actually be happy to tie the knot – Mark Twain’s old estate, up in Westchester, now owned by Zagat’s top-rated caterer. Amazingly, the place is right in the middle, cost-wise, and there are still a few September dates available.

So, come tomorrow, we’re placing a 7-day ‘courtesy hold’ on one of those dates. And while we’ll still keep looking at a few other contenders over the course of the week, odds are pretty good that will stay our final choice.

As Twain himself explained, “love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.” His house, then, seems an auspicious spot to marry, with the hopes of proving him right.

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Quick Update

The weather here in New York is nearly biblical – rain has been pouring torrentially all morning long – so I’ve been playing hooky and working from home.

Which, I think, I well deserve, after having trekked dutifully into the office all last week despite my inevitable post-too-much-travel cold.

By now, however, I’m nearly back to full health. Which means, of course, it’s time to get back on another airplane. Yes, the travel continues. And, likely enough, the erratic blogging. Consistency’s a bitch.

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Errata

1.

Despite about four thousand people viewing it, after three days it was only my own mother who noted that the entry “Does Not Compute” was mistakenly titled “Doe Not Compute”.

2.

Headed to JFK this afternoon to fly to Vegas for a quick weekend conference with the owners of all the CrossFit-affiliated gyms (like our CrossFit NYC).

Due to weather delays, however, the flight was eventually pushed back to where it would have landed too late for me to make the connecting flight (the last for the night). So after five delightful hours of airport time, I headed back home. Now I have just enough time to squeeze in a few hours of sleep and a shower before heading back out the door for a 5:30am flight tomorrow morning.

As I then fly home from Las Vegas about twenty-four hours after I land, looks like my plan for striking it rich Bond style at the Baccarat table have been foiled yet again.

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