We got back from the city late last night, after an entirely satisfying visit to my old stomping ground.

My friend Ridgely manages a restaurant at the Seaport, so Nick and I had a gab-filled lunch with her and my old pal Julie. Then later in the day, we went to Simon’s apartment where I also used to live (Simon and I being roommates for so many years of my NYC life). We hung out awhile and then grabbed a falafel on St. Marks before the show. Then on to Kathy Griffin whom I adore (“Where are my gays?”…screams and applause…”OK, where are my women?”…screams and applause…”Where are my straight men?”…straight men noises and applause…”Sorry, I have nothing for you here tonight”), and to finish the evening, we went to a chocolate restaurant (chocolate pizza, anyone?) for dessert, before driving home.

I was assured, as I always am when I return to NYC, that my quality of life is infinitely better for having moved away and as we drove out of the city I said to Nick for the 3rd time that day, “I’m SO glad I don’t live here anymore.” And when we got home and I slipped into the sheets, it was with a superior sigh of contentment that however I ended up in Philly (because it’s been a circuitous path leading me here) must have been Kismet, but I am ever so humbled to call it home.