Well, it was a week, all right.

After hounding Admin over and over to finish up the Fin sites and get those people on their way, we’re nearly there– no perks for me though, since it was all crazy cell phone badgering him while running around town trying to round up some new paying clients from last year’s leads.

The problem is that anyone with money is feeling fat and happy with their fat bonuses arriving this month and don’t really care what anyone else thinks.

Hello? Wall Street? Everyone else in the universe thinks you cheat and doesn’t see how your seven figure bonus benefits the economy enough to justify bailing you out with taxpayer guarantees. So let’s prove that trickle down works and hire a hot PR person to square up your image!

And businesses who do need me are playing it cautious when it comes to new expenditures, so instead of cozying up to Admin in a warm Starbucks while he works my sites and knowing my mortgage is getting paid, I’ve been pounding the pavement like an out-of-work actress trying to keep my prospects warm and channels open.

At least the Fin web project is working, sort of– we’ve been getting some interesting input from readers and (apparently) some clients returning to the restaurant in curiosity after finding the blogs on Google– someone even picked up one of the books Chef mentioned on his blog, read it and then came in for lunch to talk about it.

At least he wasn’t smashing up some kids’ toys at the time, and was able to come out for a friendly conversation and good client bonding moment– so Georgina told me.

More on this later, I’ve got to get to the gym and back before the big game today– go Jets!– and I want to write about that too.

It’s true, I am absolutely shattered with doing too much stuff this week, for work and Mom (another book signing this week) and drinking gin with friends today watching the Jets win (Jets, baby!) to end the week–

I actually fell asleep on the couch and woke up with a blanket over me alone in the apartment, and I had promised myself I’d get back to this blog project for FIN– a good idea, but I confess that blogging is hard work if you mean it, especially the making time for it, and so I promised myself, and so here I am working on my laptop late on Sunday night before I get properly in bed– it’s a holiday tomorrow so the phone won’t ring as much, at least.

Admin has gotten the sites linked better now and finally finished the themes– now if I could just get them to talk about food– Henry’s the only one who’s getting me, really– I got wet just reading his post about Kindai tuna, made me want to run in and plunk down $500 on dinner for two, which is exactly the idea.

Last I read of Chef was something about wanting gay “Holmes-on-Watson action” in the new Sherlock Holmes movie—

I mean honestly, does this sound like a man you want touching your food?!?

That one put me off this project for a couple days in there, but that’s not an excuse, just despair talking– I spend way too much time with this guy trying to get him to help himself, and Georgina gets to personally help Mark Sanchez with 40 oysters while I’m still in Pittsburgh with the flu.

I’m going to bed.

I am SWAMPED with work catching up, but just had to jump on here and say “Jets, baby!”

They have a big thank you to the fans on their website but I want to say “thank you” for rewarding us with some late season grit and breaking the cycle of per-post-season collapse. I love Rex Ryan, but Mark Sanchez is HOT!– I just found out he was at the FIN bar on New Years’ Eve, too, and I missed it staying back in the ‘Burgh with my sister’s kids and the flu!!

Didn’t miss them stomping Cincinatti on Sunday though–thanks guys, I’ll be watching the repeat weekend!

So I didn’t make it back to the city for New Year’s Eve.

Not for Fin, not for Chef, not for no one.

Last Sunday, I joined in the Pittsburgh-wide post Christmas ritual of watching the Steelers game. Fortunately they won, which makes for much cheerier holiday conversation with the locals you don’t know as well. Cases of Lite beer and a big pot of chili at the house, so thank God I took the time to make a beet/carrot/romaine salad with goat cheese and cashews, because my insides were done with the ever meat-centric Pittsburgh meal planning.

Even so, on Monday, watching the snow flurries out the window of my sister’s house, I was getting ready to pull out my laptop and start getting back to it when my head started to twinge in that more-than-a-hangover way. I figured a cozy pre-emptive nap was in order to make sure I would be heading back on time, but by Tuesday morning I was so stuffed-up miserable I knew New Year’s Eve at Fin wasn’t happening, at least not with me ready to play.

I knew Sis and her husband were wanting a night out without the kids, so since I was already curled up mostly useless in a blanket reading the twins stories to keep myself from stewing about work, I offered to stay into the weekend so they could get out and rage.

I mean, if you’re already going to babysit on New Year’s Eve, and you know you’re not going to be in top form, what the difference between an aging rock and roll foodie and a pair of four year old boys?

An easy choice for me, because the inevitable tantrums wouldn’t be fueled by Jim Beam.

So now I’m back and going to watch my Jets try and make the playoffs tonight with a friend, some delivered sushi and a bottle of old vine red zin I’ve been saving from last year’s trip to Paso Robles.

Now that’s more like it.