gratitude-a-thon day377: another sunny day


It’s positively alien to wake up everyday and know it will be great weather. That’s the way it is here in Miami. Of course I’ve been on dozens of warm weather vacations to Islands that are like this in the past, but this is different because my sister Joni is actually living here, so it’s real. What a concept, not having to consider a pagan ritual for a sunny day, not praying to the Gods for some warmth, not turning on all the lights in your house and blasting the heat to pretend it’s summer (stop judging). You just get out of bed, look outside, and there it is, sun, warmth, happiness.

We New Englanders are in a perpetual conversion about the weather. What it’s doing, what it’s going to do, what it just did. But here, nobody even mentions it. It’s a given that the weather will be nice. Wow. What a fucking concept.

gratitude-a-thon day 375: one of those meals

Mandolin, nestled in Miami’s art district is an outdoor cafe serving Greek and Turkish food that is fresh, gorgeous and totally delish.

A perfectly perfect dinner. A beautifully beautiful restaurant. A simple breeze, no humidity and no coat. Take that you miserable Boston winter. You’re barely a memory.

There are little moments of beauty all over. These orchids growing in this tree was one of them.
Right? Right?
Not only is the food really excellent, the service is personal and a total 10. The waitress stopped everything to give us the Tzatziki recipe, which was as creamy as a cloud.

gratitude-a-thon day 374: a perfectly curated LSD trip

The entrance has an oversized lampshade over a super ginormous comfy couch.

You know how Eloise lived in The Plaza, well I found the hotel I want to live in. It’s called The Delano and it’s in South Beach. And I want to move in today. I wouldn’t need furniture or anything. Just my clothes. It’s shabby chic meets Alice in Wonderland for some white hot perfection.

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Each nook and cranny of this long entrance hallway has offbeat furniture, like a lucite piano, and chairs with faces on them. It’s like an awesomely curated LSD trip.
This table for two is at the end of the pool, in the pool. C’mon, this is freaking amazing.
The pool is flanked by little cabanas, all white with striped pillows.
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I hate sushi, but damn this bar made me want to love it.
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The rooms are all white. Here it is folks: HEAVEN.
A pose before dinner. And a plea to move in.


gratitude-a-thon day 373: Why this year’s Boston Marathon kicked some serious ass


I’m a day late, but the absolute awesomosity of the Boston Marathon hasn’t left me yet (and yesterday I couldn’t write because I left for Miami at 6:00 a.m.), so here are five things that made this year’s Boston Marathon one of the best days of the year (or any year).

1. There were 36,000 runners (my friend Dan being one of them, who cruised to the end like he was taking a run in the park on a Saturday morning), more than a million spectators, and if you were part of either group (or just watching on tv) you could see that there is so much more good than there is bad in the world.

2. The weather Gods convened and said, “Yes, this day’s weather will be beautiful whether you are fleet of foot, or sitting on your gluteus maximus drinking a cold one.”

3. I saw runners with cameras on their hats, three sets of bunny ears, six tutus, one pink mohawk wig, a man with two blade legs, a man with no hands, a kid on crutches, numerous flag holders from numerous countries, hundreds of “Boston Strong” shirts, and hundreds more with the names of those lost in last year’s bombings emblazoned on their shirts, a blind runner, a disabled runner running with a guide, thousands of charity entrants, moms and daughters, fathers and sons, friends and for the last time Dick and Rick Hoyt. And every one of these people, I realized, had a story. It was emotional.

4. Spectators were excited and supportive and downright nice to each other. There was no jockeying for positions or snarky “get outta my way” looks on the sidelines. We were partners in bringing back the finish line.

5. There was one arrest for disorderly conduct. This thing went off without a hitch. It was everything that last year’s marathon wasn’t. It was resilience, athletic beauty (Rita Jeptoo beat the course record and Meb Keflezighi from San Diego placed first), grit, joy, and a polite fuck you to the ugliness that ground this city to a halt on April 15, 2013. We’re back. From heartbreak hill to Copley Square. This city is back up and running.