True story: This past weekend I attended my best friend's wedding at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, the culinary mecca in New York's Westchester County. In the middle of dinner, my husband excused himself to go to the men's room and, upon his return, starting furiously typing away on his Blackberry. "What are you doing?" I asked, horrified that he was checking work emails or news headlines in the midst of a celebration. "I'm sorry but the bathroom here smells amazing and so I looked on the bottom of the scented candle—which was hard because it was lit and full of molten wax but I did it—and now I have to write down the name so I don't forget," he whispered. The name? Burn Hinoki Temple Incense. The whispering? Because the man sitting opposite us was a college sports trainer.
Gee, this men's room smells terrific!
True story: This past weekend I attended my best friend's wedding at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, the culinary mecca in New York's Westchester County. In the middle of dinner, my husband excused himself to go to the men's room and, upon his return, starting furiously typing away on his Blackberry. "What are you doing?" I asked, horrified that he was checking work emails or news headlines in the midst of a celebration. "I'm sorry but the bathroom here smells amazing and so I looked on the bottom of the scented candle—which was hard because it was lit and full of molten wax but I did it—and now I have to write down the name so I don't forget," he whispered. The name? Burn Hinoki Temple Incense. The whispering? Because the man sitting opposite us was a college sports trainer.
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