Drove into The Big City yesterday for lunch with an old friend and to have my photo taken. The lunch I was looking forward to. Having my picture taken… I’ll choose the root canal, please.
(Lunch was at Phoebe’s. Food was good, not great, but the atmosphere was wonderful. (Nota bene! They have a coffee shop, serve breakfast and have WiFi. Might be a good public writing space.)
After lunch and lots of good chat, it was off for the pain and torture sessions. Background: Syracuse was hatched a wonderful new magazine, Central New York, a few months ago. They don’t have a web presence yet, but it is very much along the lines of Philadelphia Magazine; articles about the region, interesting people, arts calender, etc. It has an outstanding design and extremely high production values and is enough to make a Central NYer proud.
So anyway, they let me write a small piece for it that will come out in November. Which made me very happy up until the moment they asked me to come down so they could take my picture. “You don’t have to do that,” I said, as the hives broke out. “I had a new PR photo taken in May. Really, it’s nice. It almost looks like me.”
It wasn’t good enough.
So that’s how I came to be standing in downtown Syracuse at 2:30 yesterday afternoon (across from the Post-Standard** building which is very cool), wearing a winter jacket and bright orange mittens, holding a bowl of salt potatoes that were nestled in a bed of dry ice (to make fake steam) contorting my face into bizarre expressions of salt potato lust. I’m just grateful that we didn’t cause any accidents.
Once I got over feeling really dumb, it was fun, so a big shout out to Linda, Tim, and Dave for showing me such a good time.
**Congrats to the Post-Standard staff for pulling down 29 Associated Press awards!