With a late departure and notification of all Express lanes closed for who-knows-what, a delay of ten minutes befell upon my drive. Distractions were plenty, but from the passenger seat as opposed to the vehicles surrounding me. Disturbing the driver with non-constructive opinions is ill-advised, yet it happens frequently to those unaware of the implications of their actions.
Continuing with more thigh work, both feet were threaded through the tension straps. Remaining in a lying position on the Carriage, the legs were lowered to the point where a neutral spine could be maintained. With the resistance of two red springs, this was quite the challenging starting position. The partially deflated ball was placed between the calves, slightly above the ankles this time. While squeezing against the ball, we would lower the legs with an imprint spine and lift back up to neutral. Scissors and Double Ds - in both directions! - were also executed while attempting to keep the Carriage as still as possible. Finishing this segment was the stretching of the inner thighs by extending the legs beyond the Reformer in a V-shape and pressing them down towards the Carriage.
Tension cable-bases exercises are particularly interesting in that they expose lack of mobility. Where flexibility is lacking, the range of motion becomes limited. Where strength is lacking, the cable quivers as the body moves. My left side, the infinitely weaker side of my body, struggles to resist the red springs, such that even maintaining the neutral starting position is a challenge.
Rotating 180 degrees to face the footbar, arms were threaded through the hand straps and raised from hip height to slightly above the shoulders. We would then extend the palms outwards while inhaling, and contract the pectoral muscles while bringing the hands back to the raised position before bending the elbows and lowering to hip height once more.
Wrapping up the class were several stretches, ranging from a tension-affixed child's pose on the Reformer, a standing rolldown, and shoulder rolls - three in each direction.
Lunch was slated for 1 PM at Terroni Price, prompting a speedy change of clothes and rushed brushing of compressed strands.
We had requested the patio, and were gestured towards two flights of stairs to the rooftop. There, another hostess table was positioned. One of the members of staff, dressed peculiarly in a Sherpa-lined jacket and runners, greeted us lethargically before impatiently revealing our seating options for the meal. The tables in direct sunlight were dismissed in favour of a round table with high stools by the bar.
A different member of staff asssisted us with clarifications: the Tonno, which had piqued my interest initially, was described as roughly six slices of seared tuna - a small portion unfit for ssharing. This led us back to the Branzino, which had been received splendidly during our last visit and further recommended for sharing given its inclusion of two whole fillets.
Given my previous week's supper at Papa Giuseppe's, I was less than keen for another platter of Spaghetti in Canna a Mare. This difference in opinion caused hostility to appear, followed by a disagreeable stomping off while I scanned the assortment for some similar style of tomato-based pasta. We ultimately settled on the Rigatoni all' Amatriciana, which would swap splashable spaghetti for easy-to-stab shorties.
Contrary to expectations, neither the Green Apple Juice nor Fruit Peach Nectar was crafted in house. Both beverages adopted the format of teensy glass bottles: the Fruit Peach Nectar priced at $2.25 for 4.2 oz (124 ml) and Green Apple Juice at $4.25 for 250 ml. Caps removed and ice-filled glasses in accompaniment, the viscous fluids were consumed steadily over the course of the meal, though without much marvel.
Rigatoni all' Amatriciana was a platter of hollow, cylindrical noodle cooked el dente and luxuriously coated in tomato sauce. A faint dusting of pecorino decorated the top, while bits of Italian sausage peeked out from underneath. Garlicy without being overly pungent, and chewy without being undercooked, the speckled amalgamation was exemplary of a foundational Italian pasta dish.
With the lifting of directional floor arrows, I suggested roaming the merchandise shelf and ground-level café within the restaurant. Baked goods such as croissants and biscotti were sponsored by Sud Forno. The mini bombolone were quite attractive, though purchases were withheld given our next stop: a pending café visit.
The profile was, at best, slightly more robust than the average Americano with milk and sugar.
Smaller in volume than the Cream Drop, my iced Espresso Tonic was about the same size as a Starbucks' Tall - 12 oz-ish, I'd say. At its surface was a slice of dehydrated lemon, which contributed visual appeal without the bitterness of submerged citrus peel, though didn't serve to enhance the overall composition vastly. It was, at the end of the day, merely an iced black coffee without any hints of brown sugar or zestiness.
The walls were tainted and scraped, the sink filthy and exhibiting signs of rust, and the lock finnicky. I was barely able to access the toilet behind the jutting square sink. As I scanned my surroundings while washing my hands, I thought to myself: "How horrible it would be to get stuck in here."
"You turn the lock." came the unbothered voice of the male member of staff.
"I did!" I responded, equal parts frustrated and panicked.
"Turn to the left." grumbled on the other side of the door.
A faint click was heard. "Ah." I sighed in relief as the grumbling footsteps faded into the distance. It dawned on me that, beyond the menu assortment, there were many other aspects that required knowledge unique to the café. Supplementary information would not be provided either, not even upon request.
With each attempt, I have noticed progression in rolling capabilities. With each Mother's Day cake request, I have also witnessed distinct improvements and surge in awareness in the chemical specifics of baking.
There, my straight strands and meticulously chosen attire would be punished by the invasion of greasy, meaty odours. Any residual perfume would be overtaken by the unnecessary venture for takeout. I wallowed in frustration at succumbing to incessant, unreasonable demands.
Respect is delivered where deserved. Effort is summoned where justified. Trust is not an element to be reinstated once lost.