oops. I am so married. I forgot to post valentine's day.
Here's my favorite valentine poem. It was sent to Cooky by her first husband, Sherman. She'll never get a blog so I'll publish for her:
If I give you amphetamine
Will you be my Valentine?
Simple, to the point. Appealing. The sixties were a simpler time. I would know. I was 12.
We had dinner at Montage and are going to see Buddy Guy at the Roseland Saturday night. A valentine's week. I had never been to Montage. The pasta was good, but the gooey butter cake was memorable. The perfect combination of sweet and salty and mmmmm. Montage is messy and loud and there were people in sweats and in red-velvet valentine hair-dos, long sculpted curls that did not move, would not move in this morning's arctic blast.
Arctic blast my ass. Where is it?
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