I’ve just gotten home from dinner with the always-smashing, nothing-but-dashing Keaton. We started with Lillet at the Alibi Room, where the handsome but awkwardly lanky waiter accidentally brought us an extra drink…quelle horreur! We then moved on to Le Pichet, where we scandalized the eavesdropping couple at the next table with our racy stories. It serves them right for listening. For those of you who are waiting and wondering, there were no gizzards to be had this evening, as there were on our last Le Pichet outing. [I’m so proud of those gizzards, and apparently I’m not the only one—Keats has also been telling all sorts of people about our culinary bravery.] We continued our theme of sharing little plates,…

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It’s awfully quiet in here.If you’re there, dear reader, welcome to the beginning. That’s right, Molly’s blogging! As I’m already learning, you have to take yourself pretty seriously to do this. For as long as I can remember, whenever someone has asked what my pet peeve is (honestly, I’m kind of averse to the idea of pet peeves, but that’s another story for another time), I’ve replied, “People who take themselves too seriously.” So it would appear that I am / we are treading on perilous ground here. Just so as to wipe away any scrap of mystery, let me explain what I’m doing. My mission statement, in a large nutshell: This is my space to start writing for myself…

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