A Light In My Piazza

Spent the day in NYC Saturday with the three most precious people in my life, seen above. The weather was fine and the spirits of the Gotham tourists even finer; the day started off with a bang when we found a perfect parking space - free! - on the streets of the Upper East Side, and remained consistently felicitous.



In the Metropolitan Museum, we looked at a wonderful exhibit of Matisse paintings and textiles and wandered through the Modern Art wing until I found myself face to face with Picasso's portrait of Gertrude Stein. Something intensely magical about standing two feet away from that much history after having spent so much time this spring delving into the world of Gertrude and Pablo.

A meander through Central Park led us past the Turtle Pond and the Delacorte Theater to the Belvedere Castle, where a wedding was taking place in the Shakespeare Garden. Pressed Alex into service to snap a digital memento of the moment:



Down in the Village, we dined at a little bistro called Danal on E. 10th Street, where the food was delightful, the service was gemütlich and the ambience had potential - except that our dinner on the patio was marred just a little by the roar of the air conditioner unit. The boys dashed off to the Astor Place Theater for a performance of Blue Man Group while we lingered over a scoop of sorbet, festooned by sparklers, before heading for Lincoln Center for the MAIN EVENT: a performance of The Light in the Piazza.

So maybe eventually I'll get around to writing an analysis of this amazing musical. I've read Michael Feingold's assessment in the Village Voice, and I'd say it's pretty fair and balanced, but this was not a night for analysis. It rocked my world, folks. Details at eleven.