Great weeks, even better weekends. Little time to blog.

There was the party on the roof deck in Roosevelt Island, attended by quite a crowd of cancer researchers. Most of them smokers. Some of them not limited to tobacco. I spent most of the evening debating with a couple of students of philosophy. At the end of the lively conversation we exchanged our Second Life avatars.

There was the evening of Pedro's surprise birthday party, where all this third husband thing started and were I discovered some kind of little Brazilian bonbons I could kill my mother for (well, actually I could kill my mother for so many reasons this might not be the best way to convey my fondness for those thingies).

There was the Saturday at Park Slope. I had never been there, except once, for a party. I liked it, really like it. The houses are beautiful, the shops are not all Gaps.

There was the Sunday a bunch of us met at the fake beach near the Coney Island boardwalk for the social/cultural/political tour given by Juan (if you could see me, I am giving him a standing ovation). Some of us (Andrea, Pedro, Andrea II, Jimena, Jose and yours truly) ended up having a late dinner at Tatiana in Brighton Beach, which is like what I imagine it must have been like in Odessa in the 50s.

And the other Sunday, yesterday, when we had dinner and I-need-two-hands-to-count caipirinhas (I am using "we" in a very broad sense, I am afraid most people were basically eating, while I was managing to eat like a pig, drink like a sailor and talk non-stop, too) at Esperanto. One of the guys in our party is somebody with whom I work but had never socialized with. Yesterday I discovered he's a kick-ass photographer whom I have mentally hired for my next year birthday bash, although he does not know it yet. The main purpose of dinner (to me, but then again, it's my blog so I am the only one that matters) was for me to meet my future third husband. I had seen a picture of him on the wall at Pedro's birthday and it was love at first sight. I finally met him yesterday. Well, maybe "met" is a little stretch. Let's say I got to say hello. A very meaningful hello, evidently, one that will alter the course of his life, but still only a hello. In person he is actually handsomer than in pictures, and his command of the triangle is impressive. His hip movements ain't bad either. Then again, and I know how this sounds, he might be too handsome. Not as in "too handsome for me" because, as you might know, I have had my share of devastatingly beautiful men. Just maybe a tad too pretty. Maybe I have just outgrown prettiness. I known I have outgrown my phase of "there's never too much muscles" and I now prefer a slightly more natural built. I must admit though that I still get a little overexcited when I am surrounded by bodyguards and secret service. A guy from work used to say that earpieces are sex toys to me. He is right. A humongous guy in black with a cable coming out of his ear and an air of murderous purpose makes me weak at the knees. But I digress. After dinner yesterday we went to La Esquina, neat little place I wasn't aware of. To get there you start at a dingy diner looking taquería, walk through the "Employees only" door and down to the kitchen and through it.

And last but not least, the Ramadan dinner with Meriem's parents. They are very interesting people, just like their daughter, but they are also sweet and kind and you can't help but wonder what went wrong! Even more amazingly, her father is an optimist!