Thanks a lot, Sheraton!

On a business trip outside of Baltimore, I stayed at one of the Sheratons in the area.  I have stayed at this hotel before and find it pretty comfortable plus they have a nice breakfast buffet with an egg station.  I loves me a good egg station.  The rest of my business team was arriving later in the day, so I went to the hotel restaurant by myself for breakfast.  I do not have a problem eating by myself - my own independent spirit combined with an insane business travel schedule makes me fairly OK with being my only dining companion.  The waitress-- a starched vest wearing, gray pompadour sporting older woman - asked: "And who will be joining you?"  I said "It's just me."  She replied "Oh, so no body loves you" and she squeezed my arm in some sort of mock sympathy.


Seriously?  I didn't realize I ordered a side of shame and pity with my eggs!  Thanks a lot, Sheraton!  What a great way to start the day!  And she added a 15% tip to the check, even though the receipt clearly states that tip is only added for parties of 5 or more.  I thought about protesting the mandatory 15%.  When I was in grad school, I dated a Marine and his favorite saying was "Is this the hill you want to die on?" when contemplating whether he should make a big deal out of something.  Well I didn't want to die on gray pompadour butch waitress hill, so I just let the 15% go.


There is something about me that makes waitstaff want to touch me.  It is a bit of a joke among my close friends.  Whenever we go out to dinner, they watch to see how long before the waiter/waitress squeezes my arm, my shoulder or rubs my back.  Strangers like to touch me for some reason.  I find it disconcerting but am somewhat used to it by now.  But at least normally waitstaff don't accompany the squeeze/rub/pat with a statement that no one loves me!  I am hoping this is not the new trend. 


The evening desk clerk at the Sheraton was a very nice man with a fun personality and very courteous demeanor, so what the Columbia, MD Sheraton lacks in restaurant waitstaff etiquette their night desk staff makes up for it. 

Destination: Baltimore, MD

I watched a man get a pat down from the TSA as I stood in the very slow moving security check line at the airport.  I rarely get pulled out of line for the full body scan - and haven't been subjected to it since the whole "Don't touch my junk" debacle reared its ugly head.  While I don't necessarily relish anyone seeing an invasive body scan (especially after all the holiday sweets I have gobbled up!), I don't get on the soapbox screaming about my liberty in peril. 

Perhaps these thoughts of liberty and junk and pat downs kept me so preoccupied that I didn't realize my car keys were in my pants pocket.  I walked through the metal detector with no problem and no beeping.  It wasn't until I was re-packing my lap top and putting my shoes back on that I realized the big wad of metal in my pocket had somehow gone undetected.  Had the extra holiday pounds somehow created a flesh shield in which metal could no longer be detected? 

I'm always torn when things like this happen with the TSA.  Like when my computer bag went through the X-ray with a one liter bottle of water in it without being stopped.  Part of me wants to go back and say "Hey TSA screener, wake up!"  But the other part of me feels like I got away with something ... a secret thrill.  Or maybe it's just the cosmos' way of making up for the time when the TSA screener confiscated my half-full 4 ounce bottle of lotion because it was one ounce over the 3 ounce allowance.  Or as some sort of cosmic apology for when some airports scream at me to put my shoes on the belt and other airports scream at me to put my shoes in the bin.  Make up your mind already people, I fly too much to deal with all your nonsense!

My latest destination for Lily on the Lam is Baltimore, Maryland.  I'd like to say I had a late dinner in a quaint bistro that reminds me why Baltimore is a colorful melting pot of history.  But nope - I had a burger from room service.  It was pretty darn tasty, though.  And the room has complimentary Starbucks coffee and Tazo teas - extra points for that. So way to go, Baltimore!  I'm Lily on the Lam with a belly full of red meat and quality beverages at my disposal.  Overall, not a bad way to start a trip in a new city.

Chef Mario Batali vs. "Biggest Loser" Trainer Bob Harper - Eataly - New York City

Restaurant:  Mario Batali's Eataly - Italian Gourmet Food Center
Location:  New York City, NY
Date: September 2010

This post is dedicated in honor of the premiere of NBC's "The Biggest Loser: Couples" (Season 11) on Tuesday, January 4th, 2011.

I try to visit New York City several times each year for shopping, Broadway and the greatest sport of all - eating.  While my love of open spaces and clean air precludes me from living in Manhattan, I do love to visit.  On my last trip to NYC, I was ecstatic that Mario Batali's temple to Italian food: Eataly had recently opened.  My UK friend, John, was visiting NYC for the first time and I told him we absolutely had to go to Eataly for lunch. 

I was gobstopped at the shiny white food hall.  The variety of amazingly scrumptious delights - pastas, meats, seafood, bakery, gelato ... oh Mario Batali, how I love you so! 

Wandering around Eataly, I stumbled upon the most amazing sight of all.  Ravioli?  No.  Aged Italian cheese?  No.  Italian beer?  No.  NBC's "The Biggest Loser" trainer Bob Harper was there at Eataly - in all his svelte, vegan, taut, toned fabulousness.  Now I could wax on forever on how seeing Bob Harper at Eataly was a tremendous cosmic joke.  It was like someone served me a 14 layer cake and then vomited on it while I was trying to get the first bite!  Or more accurately, like an Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor blocking the entrance to a bar.  Come on man, I wanna get my binge on! 

I was so looking forward to diving into some hedonistic carb-loaded delight for lunch at Eataly and there was Bob Harper, dressed all in black, blocking my road to calorie nirvana.  Damn you, Harper! 

I lived for a couple years in Los Angeles and became quite used to seeing celebrities on a daily basis, it became almost blase.  "Ohhh Michael Douglas and Kobe Bryant AGAIN ... sigh."  However seeing "The Biggest Loser"'s Bob Harper threw me into a slackjawed seizure disorder.  UK John looked at me as if he was trying to figure out whether he needed to shove something into my mouth to keep me from swallowing my own tongue.  I believe I said "Blah - grr-- argh- globulous -- ballucious -- BOB HARPER!" between salivia-expelling gasps. 

UK John had no idea who Bob Harper was, but God bless him - UK John went over to Bob (who by this time was standing behind us next to the cheese stand-- DAMN YOU BOB HARPER, QUIT BLOCKING THOSE GLORIOUS BLOCKS OF FAT AND LOVE!).  UK John tapped Bob Harper on the arm and asked if he would be so kind as to be in a picture with UK John's apparently epileptic friend.  Bob graciously agreed and wrapped his arm around my waist for the picture.  (BOB HARPER, DON'T SQUEEZE MY LOVE HANDLES!) 

Bob Harper is even skinnier than he looks on TV.  A monumentous advertisement for a vegan lifestyle, exercise and healthy living.  You would think that being in "The Biggest Loser" trainer's presence, I would have looked around Mario Batali's Eataly with new health-conscious eyes, walked away from all the food and headed out for a 20 mile run.  But no....  Sadly, sadly, no.  After taking a picture with Bob Harper, I gaped at him with bulging eyes as I tried to suck in my stomach and stage whispered "I LOVE YOU!"  Yes, I did.  Sigh.

Am I a twelve year old girl?  Do I subscribe to Tiger Beat?  Why was I acting like such a fool?  Bob looked at me with pity and walked away.  I felt slightly ... OK more than slightly ... stupid.  But my feeling of stupidity was temporary and fleeting.  My picture with Bob is forever!  I should print a life-size copy of the picture and put it on my fridge and my elliptical. 

I'd like to say that the power of Bob Harper was stronger than the allure of orange croc-clad wearing Mario Batali's cuisine.  I'd like to, but I'd be lying and 2011 is all about honesty.  :)  After taking a picture with Bob Harper, UK John and I were ready to have a celebratory lunch!  Eataly has small mini restaurants within the food hall.  Each mini restaurant has a theme - a meat restaurant, a seafood restaurant, pizza, vegetables ... and each one had a waiting list.  Each section looked better than the next, however we chose our cuisine by the one that had the shortest wait list - the seafood restaurant. 

I'd like to say that after being in Bob Harper's skinny ass presence I ordered a 3 ounce portion of steamed fish and a glass of tap water.  I'd like to say that, truly.  After being near one of the world's top trainers, I ordered the ... FRITTO MISTO.  Yes, deep fried seafood and an Italian beer in a pale ale style.  UK John ordered the swordfish, a specialty soda and we shared a side of roasted fingerling potatoes.  Maybe if I had met Jillian Michaels I would have been too petrified to make such a caloric choice.  That's right, I'm blaming Bob Harper for why I ordered deep fried seafood.  OK, no I am not.  :) 

Yes, I met the world's top trainer and then ate deep fried food.

The lunch was absolutely worth the wait for a table.  The fritto misto was light and savory (regardless of the fat and calorie count).  The seafood - fish, shrimp and calamari - were all perfectly cooked.  The Italian beer brought out the flavor of the seafood and cut the fat from my tongue.  UK John's swordfish was the real culinary treat of the lunch - thick and covered with a seasoned breadcrumb - it was hearty and a flavor revelation.  While I still love "The Biggest Loser" trainer Bob Harper in my own pathetic fan way, the star of the day was Mario Batali and his wonderful Eataly.  I'll gladly do a few (hundred!) miles on the elliptical for another bite of Mario Batali's food.

Extraordinary Swordfish!

I look forward to more trips to Eataly in the future.  However if the next time I go there, I see Jillian Michaels in front of the pizza restaurant section I may have to run out screaming.  Run out with a "to go" bag!  :-)  I'll be watching Season 11 of "The Biggest Loser" while on my elliptical, Bob- I promise! 

Don't tell Bob I ate Fritto Misto!

Unfortunately in the battle of Chef Mario Batali vs. "The Biggest Loser" Trainer Bob Harper, my stomach chose Mario!  It would have been a smarter choice if my fleshy abs chose Bob ... maybe next time! 

1.1.11 Happy New Year's 2011!

For those of you wondering, 2011 did not start off with purple hair.  Or at least my 2011, did not.  I went back to the multi-color crayon pack that is my neighborhood drug store hair dye aisle and picked a new flavor of chemicals.  I went from cherry creme - which turned my hair purple to chocolate creme.  Evidently "creme" is in.  Once again, my hopes and dreams were set upon a $8.99 box of toxicity.  OK, a tad bit overly dramatic.  Regardless, I gave the at home hair dye a whirl once again.  It should have been called "Backwater swamp mud" color-- because my hair is now a one tone matte muck color.  But it's better than purple.  I have a sales meeting with a prospective client and purple hair doesn't necessarily say "dependable and businesslike."


After getting the hair color somewhat under control, I decided to next focus on the eyebrows.   Eyebrow waxing - paying for a little bit of pain.  My own foray into S&M.  I tried a "spalon" I hadn't been to in years.  The woman - an overly perky for 9 a.m. chick - waxed my brows in such a manner that I looked both surprised and sinister.  I prefer for people to get to know me for a little while before realizing I am evil versus just taking a look at the hair growth above my eyes and figuring it out.  I don't mind looking surprised though.  I'm trying to cut down on caffeine, so it helps if at least my eyebrows look alert. 


For New Year's Eve I had friends over for dinner - I brought out enough food for a small angry army - cheese fondue, beef wellington, pesto parmesan bruscetta chicken, loaded baked potatoes, green bean casserole, spinach salad, cheese rolls - and my friends brought decadent desserts.  We rang in the New Year watching an intense fireworks display from my waterfront windows.  It was a fantastic way to say goodbye to 2010 and a hello to 2011!


Some friends slept over - welcome to Lily's Bed and Breakfast!  Had additional friends over to join my B&B guests for a New Year's Day brunch.  Another huge lavish display of caloric insanity - egg casseroles, peaches and cream oven baked French toast, baby quiches, cinnamon rolls, fruit, mini bagels, roasted rosemary potatoes, Bloody Marys and more!  My neighbor and her 3 year old came over to take part of the festivities.  The 3 year old girl was several hours past her nap time, completely over-excited and ended up peeing on my rug.  Having someone pee on your rug may be a good luck symbol in some country out there, but as I was on my knees scrubbing my thick wool rug I wondered what kind of ominous foreboding foreshadowing forlorn misfortune this urine-soaked event could mean for the remaining 355 days of 2011.  Only time will tell!


The road is calling - whether I want to hear it or not.  While I'm not necessarily looking forward to upcoming business trips, I do look forward to checking out some new places. 


I'd like to say I spent the first day of 2011- 1/1/11 - reflecting on 2010 and setting solid resolutions for the New Year.  But no, after all the guests left I spent the early evening in a food coma asleep on my couch with contented felines passed out around me.  2011 is all about honesty, people.


Happy New Year!