The Cheeeesy Sisters

Megan and I have this ritual established now for when I come to visit her in New York. I usually head to Williamsburg at some point during my stay, we hop on Megan's scooter - or just walk - with nephew Toni somewhere in tow, to the Bedford Cheese Shop.

We'll taste a couple of cheeses - chevre, blue, brie - you name it, and act like we know something about what we're tasting (some of the signs say, for example, "tastes like manure," so I pretend like I would enjoy eating something that tastes like manure). Megan says she likes the "gnarly" cheeses and usually opts for some blue cheese that smells like rotten feet - fitting, since this is all too often the smell of her own feet. We usually grab a loaf of ciabatta bread as well.

And since little Chichi is a starving, tortured artist (I did Megan a favor by torturing her when we were little - I helped put the torture in the tortured artist), the big sister usually pays. Sometimes, I think we think we're rich, buying expensive cheeses and generally living the high life in New York City on big sister's dime.

Next, we head to the wine shop, and little sister has to remind me that there are no - zero, zilch, nada - good wines in New York City to be had for under $10. So, we proceed to find the cheapest, but best tasting, bottle we can get and head back to Chichi's apartment, where we'll drink the wine, eat the cheese and bread, put our feet up on her coffee table, try to defend our cheese from ever-encroaching Toni and perhaps watch a little Chelsea Lately.

As Ned has been known to say, "I wonder what all the poor people are doing today."

Ahhhh. We do live the good life in New York City.