Tonight I went to an opening at a gallery where my mother used to work in Tribeca*. Andy Bernard art critic Camille: that art was bad.
And it was. So, so very bad.
BUT! It was worth the subway fare a few times over for the lovely compliments I received (I am sorry, but I love being the young, fresh-faced sex kitten in a room full of droopin' old lady Persian cats) and for the nice people I got to meet. I so rarely get to immerse myself in the refined art world's social scene sans my mother, so it was a super treat to do it tonight.

After I got home, I went for a little walk on Amsterdam and spotted these cuties:
Some bitch (she was not a bitch, I am being sensitive) inside the store said "UM, SOMEONE IS TAKING PICTURES OUTSIDE" in a very "I am the boss of everyone, this could be an emergency, be ready to call the authorities" sort of way, so I popped my head in and said "these are fantastic! The knuckles on the little bloody fingers?!" and then had a mini conversation with the chick who had knit them. That chick was totally happy, but the others were scowly and apprehensive. Overall, though, good interaction!

Also. I kissed and made up with the person I fought with Saturday. I think we'll get together this weekend and I'll knit while he watches a movie. Doesn't that sound cozy? Yes.


* I hate when people write Tribeca as TriBeCa. Don't don't don't do it.

-Camille