Finally, I made my first-ever call to 911. You see, I was subbed out and standing on the sideline when I heard car tires squeel and a crunch of plastic. I turned toward the street and saw a Jeep jammed up the curb. Right after I turned, the Jeep slowly toppled over on its side. I just stared for a good minute with my hands on my face like Macauley Caullkin in Home Alone. Then I got out my cell phone and stared at that. "Is this a time when you're supposed to call 911?" I thought. Unsure, I asked Dana. She thought it wasn't a bad idea, so I did it. I told the woman there was a car accident between 23rd and 24th Streets on the West Side Highway. She told me there was no West Side Highway down that far. I looked at a street sign. Sure enough, it was 12th Avenue. Before we knew it, half the firetrucks in Manhattan were screaming down the block. The man in the Jeep was okay, but, according to Stacy and Brian who ran around to help, he was quite intoxicated. We played on through and were victorious once again.
Saturday morning we (sadly) took the tree to Mulch Fest- a very cool citywide program where they'll turn your old Christmas tree into mulch.
I took advantage of the 70 degree January weather to run all my favorite neighborhood errands (Sahadi's and Caputo's) and then went for some ribs with Heather and Keil at PJ O'Hanley's. When it's warm out they put a smoker out on the patio and make the most ridiculously huge ribs.
Then it was off to Manhattan to go see New York City Ballet's Sleeping Beauty. It was decent, but ABT is just so much better.
Sunday was a fairly lazy no pants affair (yoga pants don't count) until it was time to go to Erica's for a little Sunday night supper club action. Yum!
Last night I watch that thing they called the BCS Championship at my sister's place. What the heck happened with college football this year?
I'd like to sign off by pointing out that I talked about football, ribs and ballet in the same post. I'm such a Renaissance woman.
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