The back of the SUV, post-vacation.

This fly seemed to really like my wine.

I must admit, I never held an affinity for country music until I moved to Texas. I think if I had stayed in the Midwest, I’d have been shocked to see this gigantic Virginia Beach crowd come out for Brad Paisley.

I like sitting near the front on buses and planes, so that when I arrive at my destination I can hurry right off. This is the view from my favorite spot on the Bolt Bus — my de facto bi-weekly mode of transportation to Washington, DC.

In my first Project 365 post, I chronicled my wi-fi-less adventures at Peacefood Cafe. Since swearing off coffee three years ago, I now choose from the tea menu when I go to cafes (at Starbucks, it’s a Grande No-Water Soy Chai Latte). Today, I ordered a $4.50 brazilian nut chai at Peacefood Cafe — one of the worst food purchases made in recent memory. Apparently, I’m not meant to go vegan.

Meals involving pasta are usually the easiest to fix on a busy night. This one is a bit more involved than marinara over noodles, but still quick to prepare — hot pasta (in this case, cheese tortellini) tossed with olive oil, minced garlic and freshly shaved parmesan cheese, with salt and pepper to taste. Delicious.

Here’s Dan Kennedy hosting the NYC Moth GrandSLAM. The theme was Risky Business, and the stories ranged from being a hustler to scamming JP Morgan to backpacking across Australia to pulling in union favors for a drug-addicted brother. It was my second time attending a Moth event, and by far the better of the two nights. If you’re not in NY or LA to attend an event live, you should definitely check out the podcast.

A picturesque ride back to Manhattan via the Metro-North Railroad along the Hudson River. We watched the sunset along the river, then I fell sound asleep on Rob’s shoulder. It’s true what they say; sometimes you need a vacation after the vacation.

The towns along the Hudson Valley contain a series of dichotomies — from an old-fashioned Main Street to the highway, from 10-stall farmers markets to national-chain restaurants, from large chain hotels to quaint bed and breakfasts. As we drove around, I was struck by the beauty of these small town traffic lights strung up across the intersection.

The locavore movement has seen an explosion in recent years, and Blue Hill at Stone Barnes is a huge champion of it with their farm to table concept. Rob managed to snag reservations for my birthday weekend. We walked around the greenhouse, chased after the fowl, passed by the this stack of wood, and ate one of the best meals of my entire life.

Waitress brings around a basket of eggs to educate us on how they’re obtained.

Me: “Are those eggs from the chickens in the coop next to the greenhouse?”
Her: “No, the chickens you saw are the ones… we eat.”