New York sort of hibernates during the first few months of the year–the holidays are over, friends choose wine and a movie over going out, hair stops being washed, oversized sweaters and leggings become appropriate for not only lounge-wear but also office-wear, and, with a smudge of lipstick, club-wear. In the dreary months of JanFeb, we are ugly, pale, and miserably cramped into our tiny apartments. But then comes March. March! An excuse to buy floral everything. March! Dining al-fresco. March! Whereas winter day-drinking in sad, spring-time day drinking is perfectly acceptable. Le duh.

Some highlights of my warm and wonderful St. Patrick’s Day weekend:

[Ever since the weather has gotten nice enough to grocery shop rather than order all our non-going-out meals on Seamless Web, the boyfriend and I have been popping into the Food Emporium on his corner (or, when we are not lazy, the Trader Joe’s fifteen blocks away) to make easy weeknight meals. Here, prepared by yours truly without causing any considerable damage to the kitchen: roasted asparagus, breaded chicken breasts, mushroom risotto and fresh salad. Served with wine, of course]

[Springtime arm party: Coach boyfriend watch (gift from the manz), Forever 21 neon bangle, vintage skull bracelet, thin gold bangle (gift from the manz momz)]

[A boozy St. Patrick’s day brunch. (I promise I was wearing green under that jacket). On Saturday, we gathered 20 of our friends for bottomless brunch at De Santos in the West Village, which, after an hour-long wait, was well worth the $40 for an entree + unlimited bloodies, mimosas, and bellinis. Perhaps fearing that post-wait, we would revolt and rush the restaurant, turning over tables and chugging pitchers of pomegranate bellinis (our group was very hangry), our delightful waiter kept  the pitchers full and kept them coming. I highly recommend this place for groups looking for a cheap bottomless brunch]

[Birthday Cake Dessert at STK in the Meatpacking District. The manz surprised me with a delicious steak and lobster dinner here Saturday night. In return for being awesome, I surprised him by not photographing our entire meal. This, however, had to be shared. Best. Dessert. Ever.]

[Post-dinner drinks at The Gansevoort rooftop. Little girl, big chair, bigggg drink. Although The Gansevoort attracts a pretty obnoxious crowd for bottle service and dancing on tables, it’s a great spot for a nightcap on a nice night if you’re on a date, gay-te, or girls night in the Meatpacking District. The cocktails are pricey but seriously strong and the views from the rooftop pool area can’t be beat (Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m, sorry that I borrowed that necklace without asking. And I’m also sorry that I won’t be returning it)]

This week promises highs of 79 (goodbye forever, polar bears. You were cute, but I don’t think the Baby Bogos will ever get a chance to meet you) , and I plan on a lot of outdoor dining, running slowly jogging by the River, and packing up my winter wardrobe and sending it off to my parents. Happy Tuesday!